Twelve weeks, a day, and a chloroform nap after the fall.

  Slowly regaining consciousness, the first thing I noticed was the smell. The stench of unwashed bodies and human excrement filled my nose and made me want to vomit. Reflexively trying to cover my face, I felt the sharp edge of restraints holding my hands like a clothed Vitruvian man.

  Somewhere nearby, a fire cracked and popped, occasionally letting out a high-pitched whine as the chemicals trapped in its fuel burned away. Above that, I could hear the murmur of voices broken by bouts of sadistic laughter as my jailers tortured their victims.

  Then I heard it. The rhythmic slapping of flesh on flesh, followed by animalistic grunting, proved a suspicion I’d had for a long time about this gang and its members. Survivors came here in search of food, clothing, and shelter, but money was worthless when society was in shambles. As a result, people paid with the only thing they had; themselves.

  I didn’t have to see what was happening around me to know what I’d find. It wasn’t the first time I’d been part of a flesh farm, and it likely wouldn’t be the last. These people had gone feral in a matter of months and proven just how quickly society could crumble when personal direction was lost.

  The first thing I noticed upon opening my eyes was the state of destruction. Grocery store freezers flipped on their sides and their doors propped open to make makeshift beds. Broken shelves and the occasional piece of actual furniture used as tables and chairs. Not a single aisle was intact, and it was clear that any foodstuff from before the fall had long since been eaten.

  Some aisle dividers were used to create lean-to’s while others were encased in barbed wire to make cells for those destined to become dinner. Above, the corporate plaster tiling was black with soot from poorly ventilated fires.

  All this paled in comparison to the accountants themselves. Wrapped in leather that was never intended for use outside of a sex dungeon, nearly every person looked like someone straight out of a BDSM parody. One even wore a mask with chrome zippers over the eyes and a ring that promised easy access to his mouth.

  Last time I saw these idiots, I tried not to laugh at how stupid they looked in their pitiful effort to be intimidating. This was no different.

  “Finally awake, are we?” a familiar voice said.

  When the man came into view, I didn’t feel an immediate rush of anger. Instead, I simply felt resigned. It was obvious, really. They had a man on the inside, and his name was Daryll.

  “Awake is a bit of a stretch. The bed was lumpy, and I have an ache in my back. If anything, I need to speak to a manager about my sleeping arrangements,” I said, grunting as I tried to break the ties holding my arms.

  “I’ll get right on that, but something tells me that customer service won’t care too much about your feelings.”

  “What a shame. You know, most businesses live and die on customer reviews. What are people going to think when I tell them how rude and unaccommodating you are?” I didn’t really care who he was or why he was here. All I wanted was to waste his time. The longer I kept him occupied, the longer he was away from the other people they’d captured.

  “We have operatives in every one of the survivor camps around town, and we use your generosity and mild nature as our key to the camps. I’ve been with your group for weeks, but I’m willing to bet that today was the first time you’ve ever truly noticed that I was there,” He monologued.

  “I mean… To be fair, I still have no clue who you are. Even after our conversations, I know very little about you and I don’t really want to know it either.”

  “That’s the point. No matter how many times people actually talked to me, I remained in the background. While you slept, I stole food and brought it back here. Nobody even thought to complain about the guy volunteering to be awake all night.”

  “Well, yeah, do you think you were the only one stealing food from the collective? The reason we started the gardens in the first place was because there wasn’t enough food to go around. People are sneaking around every day and every night, attempting to fill their bellies with more than a few mouthfuls of food. It’s not just you; it’s parents, couples, caregivers, anyone that is concerned for their families, really. I’ve seen them coming and going. The people stealing food are rarely the same ones eating it. But at the rate they’re consuming the rations, I wouldn’t be surprised if our community eventually turns on each other.”

  “Good, we need society to continue crumbling. If we’re really lucky, they’ll tear each other’s throats out and eat the bodies for the chance at a proper meal.”

  “And where would that leave you once they start hunting people?” I asked, knowing these fools hadn’t thought it through.

  “Oh, we’ll be fine. I have it on good authority that our latest acquisition regenerates every time he gets hurt.”

  Fuck.

  ~~**~~

  It didn’t take long for the sick bastards to line up with knives drawn and ready to carve a hunk of meat from me. They expected me to resist, and I would’ve probably fought much harder if I hadn’t experienced something like this before.

  I struck a conversation with them when I could. Not only did my indifference to being mutilated make them uncomfortable, but I figured that a conversation with your meal can really ruin an appetite. Their eyes said it all. The longer I stood and took the knife without protest, the more the feeling of unease intensified. But they were starving, and I was the most convenient source of food available.

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  “The best way to cook thigh is with low heat for several hours. It keeps the meat tender and juicy,” I said to a young man holding a fistful of my leg.

  “That’s fuckin weird, you know that?” he said, shuffling away uncomfortably.

  “If you would’ve given it a few more minutes, you could’ve had a rump roast!” I shouted right as the next person in line took their pound of flesh.

  I felt myself bleeding out, but I knew it was only a matter of time before the power that kept me alive reared its ugly head once more. They’d spent the last several hours cutting into me, but they’d stopped hurting others once I became the main course. That was something, wasn’t it?

  The line trickled away as the last of the accountants walked toward the fire with their prize. Not long after, sounds of merriment rang through the building while they feasted on my flesh. I was stuck and being used for food. It wasn’t the worst thing I’d ever experienced, but it certainly wasn’t great. They kept it going for days, maybe weeks. Time blends when life is nothing other than agony.

  Every morning, a group of people would show up to carve off the choicest parts of my body while giggling. Clearly, they had a fascination with disfigurement, but were limited by the fear of prison before everything collapsed. When they weren’t dissecting me like a middle school frog, I had to listen to the sounds of their debauchery.

  I tried to keep a blank face while they did their sick work, but it was incredibly painful. In the fugue of anguish, I had only one desire: to escape and destroy this place. I couldn’t maintain the fa?ade for much longer. Between the pain and the knowledge of what was being done to the innocents as payment for a life off the street… Well, it made me want to watch it all burn.

  I had an idea, but it would suck and the chances of it working were slim.

  If I could get a hand free…

  My dreamlike state of planning was ripped away as they pulled me back into reality, using only the voice of a particularly enthusiastic tormentor.

  “Well, if it isn’t my favorite little meat bag. What’s the best thing on the menu tonight?” Razor-lips moaned as he slid the tip of his knife across my body. When a drop of blood fell from a wound in the palm of my hand, the accountant gave an involuntary shiver and a cry of delight.

  The sexual fixation he felt from the knife was clear from the start, but the reaction to my hand was something new. It pained me to consider, but in that moment, I knew it would be easy to convince the man to cut it off. I hated losing a limb, especially since it took so long to match my skin tone, but in a situation like this, it was the best of the bad options.

  “Hey there, Razor,” I said sensually, playing into his fantasy. “You know, I’ve been thinking about something all day for you and I have an answer.”

  “Oh, really?” He salivated, going visibly weak in the knees at the thought of inflicting pain on another person.

  “Tell me, have you ever had hand?” I knew I was laying it on pretty thick, but he needed to cut off my hand if this plan was going to work.

  “No… I always thought it would be too much work with all those bones.” With a jerk, the accountant stabbed his knife into the meat of my palm. I wanted to scream, but doing so would bring more attention than I could afford to our conversation.

  “That’s exactly what makes it so good. Those finely tuned muscles are more tender than any other part of my body. It’s exquisite, toss it in a stew, and the meat will just fall off of my bones.”

  “If it’s that good, I’m going to enjoy every bite and probably come back for more tomorrow. If not, well, I’ll just have to get another serving of penis like I had the other night.” I felt the tug of steel against flesh as my skin separated. It was slow, methodical, and the most excruciating thing I’ve ever experienced. I felt my hand going slack as the connecting muscles and nerves were severed. In the end, the appendage was little more than the meat these sick bastards thought it was.

  When I say he took his time, I mean it. After thirty long minutes of cutting, the last fiber of skin gave way, and the hand was gone. My hand was free for the first time in days, but I had to keep my cool.

  “Enjoy,” I said around clenched teeth. I could feel the power within already working its magic as blood stopped flowing and skin regrew. “Let me know how that works out. Remember, hand needs to cook for several hours.”

  “That’s perfectly fine,” he said, sucking on one of my fingers while staring at the healing skin. “I’ll be back for the other one if this is even half as good as you say.”

  Waving my digits in a sensual goodbye, Razor-lips walked away from my prison fully unaware of just how fully he’d been played.

  Now, I could slip my arm free of the restraints.

  ~~**~~

  “Chuck!” a man gasped when he finally reached the leader of the survivors, “Chuck, one of the Mutated found us. It was only a scout, but we’ve confirmed that a large pack of them is about five blocks over.”

  “Did you kill it?” Chuck asked, immediately breaking off his conversation with Rebbecca, the electrician.

  “No, we captured it. One of Vandre’s traps went off and caught it in the chest,” he replied, taking an offered cup of water and sucking it down in one motion.

  “Kill it, and drag the body away from here. We can’t have the main pack picking up its scent. When you’re done, clean the front entrance of the building with bleach to eliminate as much of our odor as possible. It’s not perfect, but maybe we can stay hidden just a little longer.” He said, turning to Rebbecca after the man was gone, “What about the tunnels? Are they safe?”

  “Safe and safe. Sure, we could live down there for a while, but the lack of space, food, water or even bathrooms would get old pretty fast.”

  “Shit. What can we do?”

  “I know nobody wants to hear it, but Vandre was right. We need to set more traps, make weapons, and build better defenses. And since we’ve pissed away all our time, it needs to be done before tonight,” she said, scribbling her thoughts on an old dry erase board they’d stolen from the office of a dead man.

  “Dammit, we just want to live our lives.” Chuck sighed, dropping his head.

  “Yeah, so do they. But it’s kill or be killed around here. we need to make the hard calls. Seal the entrances to the building and place any big furniture we can pull together in front of the doors. We have some food on stockpile so there’s no reason for anyone to leave for scavenging,” she explained.

  “Yes, but people need to see the sun.”

  “Then send them to the roof. I don’t see how we have another choice at the moment.” On the board, the electrician turned tactician drew out every point that needed to be protected. “Also, while we are working on the entrances, the elderly can start building weapons. It can be anything as long as it’s lethal, but we need it now.”

  “Ok, I’ll also send the kids down into the tunnels. It’ll be safer there.”

  “Make sure they follow the marked path to the substation. The room just outside the reactor chamber is blast-proof. Send Elizabeth with them. She was a teacher before and can probably keep them calm.”

  “This is going to be worse than the actual collapse for us, isn’t it? Can we get someone to help her make more cocktails?” Chuck said simply, motioning to a kindly-looking grandmother that was actively stuffing rags into bottles of vodka.

  “Sure thing. Ethel, who can you stand for more than five minutes?” Rebecca said, addressing the elderly woman.

  “Anyone from the bridge club? Anyone except Betty. The only thing she’s good for is not breaking a hip on bingo night, if you know what I mean,” Ethel said, nimbly crafting another firebomb.

  Rebecca turned and pointed to a young boy making caltrops in the corner. “That works. Roger, go get anyone but Betty and bring them here. I have a feeling we’re going to need as many of these bombs as we can get.”

  “Has anyone seen Vandre?” Chuck asked, drumming his fingers on the planning table.

  “Not yet, sir,” a young radio operator said from his chair, tiny legs barely reaching the floor as they swung back and forth.

  “We need to find him. Send out the scavengers and see what they find.”