He groaned, the wadded bandanna muffling guttural sounds escaping his lips. Tears dampened the blue cloth twisting into his cheeks. His hands felt clamped behind him, duct tape digging into his wrists. He was fairly certain they’d disjointed his shoulders.
But that was the least of his worries.
With cold precision, they grasped the food processor lid, chopped at the chute, shortening it by half. They flicked the switch and it whirred to life.
His cries erupted anew as they inserted his fingers. Groans escalated to squeals as bloody flesh splashed into the container. He fainted. They smiled.
While humming a snappy melody, they grasped his other hand and inserted each digit. The food processor groaned as it sliced through living bone. Seeing the container full, they unlatched it from the base and flung the contents against the wall before reconstructing the device and resuming. They then worked on his toes, his nose, and finally his flaccid, quivering penis. They stood over the sanguineous mass that was once his body and watched for signs of life. Then, final twitches erupted through what was left of his limbs. With one clean swipe, they sliced each side of his neck. Blood oozed from the new wounds.
With their work finished, they silently exited the house. Blood dripped from their hazmat suits as they slid into the inky night of small town Minnesota. One streetlight buzzed in the quiet alley; a lame attempt to expunge darkness. One of them proceeded to the van and slid open the door. Plastic lined the interior. He stepped inside and removed the white, crinkly suit as another man exited the vehicle with two large labradors. Another man stood at the door watching the huge dogs lunge forward.
“Suppose he’s dead yet?” he said as they approached.
“Dunno,” the other one answered, holding the door wide. “You sure they’re hungry enough?”
“These bastards will eat anything,” he replied. The man unlatched the hounds and they leaped inside.
“Finish ‘um off,” he whispered.
Watch for Chapter One. Arriving soon! In the mean time: