She couldn’t remember how she was talked into eating the people alive. She couldn’t even remember if it was her who needed convincing. Part of her thought it could have been her who convinced the others to do it. The greed of human flesh robbing her of any sane thoughts? There was even talk of opening their own restaurant where other people could come and dine on the delights of humans — something they often joked about as they sat around, on a Sunday afternoon, making up potential menus.
“Adam’s Apple Crumble,” she muttered to herself with a smile on her face.
“I’m sorry?” the cashier asked as he walked back over to her.
She snapped back to reality, “Nothing. I’m sorry. Here.”
She had put a fake address down on the sheet which she handed back to the cashier. She had no intention of going home to get the money just in case her husband was still alive and she was dragged back into the argument. She had made it this far and was damned if she was going back just to try and get away from them again. She decided she’d have to raise the money some other way. Find the money to pay the cashier back before the police were alerted. She didn’t want to go home but she knew she couldn’t have the police go there either.
If her husband had survived, or any of the other family members had survived, she knew it would be bad enough with them hunting for her. She didn’t need the police hunting her too. That would have been too much.
“Thank you,” said the cashier. He placed the form on the side.
A fake address to slow them down if she didn’t manage to get back, with some cash, in the next twenty-four hours. She’d make it back. She had to. She gave the cashier a fake smile and left the petrol station.
She jumped into the front seat of the car, turned the ignition, and drove from the forecourt. She drove for a few miles down the road, with various scenarios running through her head, before she suddenly pulled the car over to one side. Nervously she climbed out and walked around to the boot. She opened it up and looked inside, “I’m sorry,” she said, “I’m going to need to borrow some money.”
Michael laid in the boot, his hands and feet bound and a gag around his mouth… His eyes full of fear.
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Copyright
© Matt Shaw
The right of Matt Shaw to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by him in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
All Rights Reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any format without written consent from the publisher, except by a reviewer who wishes to quote brief passages in connection with a review written for insertion in a magazine, newspaper or broadcast.
The characters, and story, in this book are purely fictitious. Any likeness to person, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
WITH THANKS TO:
Elena Helfrecht of Apokryphia Art
For the awesome job she did with the cover design and photography.