G Hopf - Driver 8 - A Post-Apocalyptic Novel

Earl cried out in pain. Blood flowed freely from the wound and ran down the side of his neck and onto his shoulder. “No, please don’t, stop, please,” Earl blathered.

“God no, don’t hurt us, no!” Nancy unexpectedly cried out.

Portia looked at her and said, “Be quiet, you’ll draw attention to yourself.”

Sobbing, Nancy replied with her head hanging low, “We’re all dead anyway, they’re going to kill us and eat us. NO THIS CAN’T BE HAPPENING!” She wailed and sobbed heavier.

“Nancy, shut up,” Portia urged.

“It’s no use,” Nancy cried her mouth hanging open and spit and slobber dripping down.

A glint from something bright dangled from Nancy’s neck. Portia looked closer and recognized it as her locket. “That’s mine.”

Nancy didn’t say a word, she kept sobbing.

“That’s my locket, you took it,” Portia snapped.

Nancy lifted her head and looked at Portia. “I found it on the ground.”

“It has my picture in it and my name on the back. You found it and decided to keep it, you fucking bitch,” Portia barked.

Earl cried out in pain as the Generate leader sliced off his other ear and held it high in the air. The brutal display pulled Portia away from her confrontation with Nancy. She now prayed she’d live long enough to watch Nancy suffer the same fate.

The Generate leader gave away the ear then turned towards Earl. Blood soaked his shirt. The Generate leader cut the shirt away and tossed it into the fire. He then cut his pants off him and threw them into the flames. Naked, bloody and shaking with fear, Earl continued to beg for mercy. The Generate leader called out, “Jacks, Flint, Graves come forth with your knives and remove the skin of our sacrifice.”

“NO!” Earl screamed.

The three men summoned stepped forward with long slender knives in their hands. Portia couldn’t help but admire the blades and by their design they were made for fileting delicate flesh.

The Generate leader stepped away and allowed the three to begin their work. Not hesitating and showing their skill, they began to cut, but they didn’t remove the skin. The one in front of Earl inserted his knife and slid it horizontal from left to right, from collar bone to collar bone, then turned the blade down and cut along the side stopping near the hip before cutting horizontal again from the waist across and up to the where he began. The others were cutting around the circumference of his arms and legs.

Earl screamed and shook uncontrollably.

Portia wanted to feel sorry for Earl but she couldn’t, though it was a brutal way to die, she felt he deserved every second of pain he was receiving.

The three Generates stepped back when they were finished carving on Earl’s body.

The Generate leader approached, nodded and said, “Remove the flesh and put it on the fire.”

The three Generates shoved their fingers deep into the top horizontal cut and together pulled. At first the skin barely gave, but on their second hard pull, it peeled back.

Earl shrieked loudly then passed out from the pain.

The Generates continued pulling until the front panel of skin was removed. One took it to the far left fire and placed it on the scalding hot grate which served as a grill. The flesh sizzled when it made contact.

The other Generates grunted and began to grow agitated.

Portia was mesmerized by the barbaric ritual, it was grotesque, beyond anything she’d ever seen, but for some reason she couldn’t take her eyes off of it. With her attention fully on what they were doing see didn’t notice that several of the women had passed out.

The three Generates pulled the skin from his arms and legs and put it on a grate. They continued to do this until most of Earl’s skin had been removed leaving his muscles, tendons and bones exposed.

Portia could see Earl’s chest gently rise and fall indicating he was still alive. It was awful but skill she couldn’t find an ounce of sympathy for him.

With the skin removed, the Generates went to attend to the cooking of the flesh.

The Generate leader came forward, removed his knife from its sheath and cut off Earl’s genitals. He held them up high and offered them to a woman close by who devoured them raw.

Finally, Portia pulled her gaze. She had reached her limit. A crippling fear came over her, this was how she was going to die. How could this be? She asked herself.

“Children gather, come,” the Generate leader called out.

Unable to control her curiosity, Portia looked and saw a gathering of fifteen children assemble at the leader’s feet.

“Claw come forward,” the Generate leader said motioning to a boy about ten years old. The boy stood up and came to him. The Generate leader put his hand on the boy’s shoulder and held out the knife. “Take the blade and cut the man across the belly, there,” he said using his own torso as a guide. The boy nodded, took the knife and stepped in front of Earl. The Generate leader stood behind Claw and said, “Do it, Claw, open him up for us.” The boy raised the knife, pressed it against the exposed abdominal wall and slid it across. Instantly, Earl’s intestines poured out and fell to the ground with a plop. Claw stepped away, handed the knife back and sat down. The Generate leader said, “Children, take the bowels of this man and pull them out. Take them and put them in the bucket; the women will clean them for later.” The children did as he said. The grand finale was now here. The Generate leader faced Earl’s dead body, raised his knife and plunged it deep into his sternum. From there he sawed until he had a foot long incision in his chest. He sheathed the knife, reached in with both hands and pried open Earl’s chest.

The sound of cracking ribs made Portia cringe.

Nancy continued to sob while others were still unconscious and even more cried knowing their fate would soon follow Earl’s.

The Generate leader reached into the chest cavity, grabbed Earl’s heart twisted it hard and pulled it out. Being the leader of this tribe, the heart was his to take and that he did. He held it high then brought it down level with his face. He examined the bloody organ and clamped his jaw around a ventricle and bit down. Using his incisors, he twisted and turned his head until he was able to bite off a large chunk. He chewed repeatedly, breaking down the fibrous tissue until he could swallow. Blood ran down his chin and dripped onto his bare chest. Not finished, he took another large bite.

The tribe grew increasingly agitated due to hunger. They longingly looked at their leader then to the Generates cooking the skin. They were waiting for the word to go eat.

The Generate leader finished the heart with one last bite. He swallowed hard, licked the blood from his fingers and raised his hands. He looked to the Generates cooking the skin and ordered, “Done. Prepare it.”

They did as he ordered and removed the charred skin and began slicing it into hand sized portions.

The tribe began to grunt and moan as their hunger was increasing.

A wind whipped from the north and washed Portia in the intense smell of charred flesh. She gagged and dry heaved, trace amounts of bile coming up gave her mouth a bitter taste.

The Generates finished cutting the skin and signaled with a nod to their leader.

“Go eat!” the Generate leader hollered.

Like a pack of wild and ravenous animals, the tribe raced towards the table stacked high with charbroiled skin. They kicked, punched, scratched and clawed to get their hands on a piece.

With the tribe busy eating, The Generate leader motioned towards the body of Earl.

Knowing what came next, the three Generates who had carved Earl walked over, took the body down and placed it on a long table feet from the last fire. Using cleavers, hand saws and knives they began to butcher Earl’s body. As manageable pieces were cut off, one of them would toss it on the grate and began cooking it.