They Ran Out of Meat - @mwangydan

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Ben decided to to use the long way round, through the poorest part of town. It was better to avoid Bill Hermit and his gang rather than to have to explain sprouted bruises to his uncaring father who would probably add a few more of his own. The rain painted the poor township a dull hue, and the smells that rose from it made Ben almost gag. 

He could smell the desperation. The faces that made his spine rattle. The menacing graffiti on walls with peeling paint. The growl of the stray dogs.

Eventually, he wound up in the last street before his own. The butchery stood out from the other buildings in its red paint and bright logo. Medium Rare, the shop's display window read in bold red letters, making his stomach rumble in agreement. He knew that the prospect of eating anything before dinner in his house was probably second to none, and he had a few scrunched up notes in his pockets. A meat pattie, or a meat pie, wouldn't do any harm.

The sign outside read, We sell T-bone steaks, fish fillets, meatballs, meatloaves, meat pies, hamburgers...all freshly processed human meat.

He laughed nervously. It was probably just a stupid joke, thought up by the sicko who owned the place.

The tables were deserted.

He walked over to the smiling brunette standing behind the counter.

"Hello, welcome to Medium Rare. How may I help you?"

Her voice sounded hoarse and frail, like something from The Exorcist.

"Sorry, I've got a bad cold," she apologised.

Although Ben wouldn't admit it, he had been scared shitless for a minute.

"Can I please have a meat pattie with nothing on it?"

"Coming right up. Hey Dale, one meat pattie to go."

"Oh, it's OK. I'll just have it here."

Her countenance changed into something of a smile before she spoke into the intercom once more.

"On second thought Dale, serve it up, and add a few fries to go with it."

Ben was about to protest, but she just waved him off.

"Don't worry. It's on me."

Two minutes after, she walked back to where he sat, on the breakfast bar, and handed him his plate.

As he delved into his meat sandwich, which had a foreign indescribable taste, and free fries he asked the brunette: "What's your name?"

"Kristen Curtis. I'm a student in Reynolds University uptown. I work evenings here."

"Nice to meet you Kris. I'm Ben. High school student at Reynolds Senior High, which is right before you reach the interstate."

They chatted for a while about school and campus.

"You're dead serious? How would you handle the sight of blood?" Asked a horrified Ben. Kristen had just told him that she was planning on becoming a surgeon.

"I've already got used to it. Hello, I work part-time in a butchery. To be honest, I kinda like it."

"That's creepy," remarked Ben. "But not as creepy as the sign on the front door over there."

He pointed to the sign above the door. Kristen laughed.

"That's just Alfred, the owner. He kind of creeps me out too. If it weren't for the bills, I'd have quit on the first day, but this job pays well so..."

Ben finished up his meal and handed Kristen a twenty. He stood up to walk out, but Kristen yelled after him.

"Wait a minute!"

Her hoarse voice was like nails against a chalkboard.

He turned to face her, his right brow raised as if asking: What the Hell, woman?

"Would you please follow me to the back, Ben? I'm just going to get my things. My shift's almost over and no customers are forthcoming."

"It's OK. I'll just wait here."

"I need you to help me carry one of my med projects. Don't worry, it's got nothing to do with blood."

"Alright."

Ben followed her through the door labelled STAFF ONLY.

She pointed at a skeleton consisting of a skull, ribs and a backbone.

He went on over to it.

The skull felt warm and moist, almost as if it had been extracted from live tissue.

"Eew Kris, how the heck did this thing..."

He hardly finished the words before something hard hit him on the head and his lean frame slumped to the floor.

"Finally, something to serve to the brothers in tonight's full moon," said Kristen, grinning at Dale.

His response was a blood-curdling howl.

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