Chapter 14 #2
Deacon’s look is quizzical as he brushes by me, and I turn to watch him set a bucket under the pile of organs. In they go, making soft, thumping noises that have me retching and clamping my teeth together so I don’t actually vomit, though it’s a very close call.
“Waste not, want not.” Deacon shrugs. “Just because it isn’t what you’re used to doesn’t mean there’s anything really wrong with it.
” I stare at him, nonplussed, and Deacon pauses to eye my expression.
“Oh, but we are slow, aren’t we?” He sighs.
“Do you need a few more moments to work it out? Or would you like the answer given to you?”
Without waiting, he picks up the bucket and takes it to the door, where he sets it down. But when Pearl comes to sniff around the opening, he gives her a fond smile, reaches into the bucket, and fishes out a lump of organ with his bare hand.
Pearl doesn’t hesitate. The moment it hits the ground with a wet thwack, she’s on the meat and chowing down happily, her stubby tail wagging. I nearly lose my breakfast then and there, and it’s a Herculean effort on my part not to spew chunks.
“Oh, fuck,” I murmur, having to turn away when she crunches down on whatever it is, making a wet, fleshy noise as her lips smack together around the meat. “What are you doing with that?” I ask, unable to do more than gesture toward the pieces still on the table.
Deacon doesn’t answer right away. He moves around the workshop, moving things, picking things up, and finally turning on a hose to swish away some of the gore on the floor that swirls around the drain in the concrete. “You sure you want to know?”
No, I’m really not. But I turn to face him, one hand still over my mouth and nose to protect me from the worst of the smell. Whatever he sees in my face either amuses him or convinces him, though I’m pretty sure it’s the former, and Deacon gives a small snort.
“Well, your friends have been out in the heat and the sun for a few days. That’s not exactly sanitary, you know?
But the pigs don’t mind much. Still, I’m not really a fan of giving the neighbor’s hogs bodies that haven’t been properly butchered first. Feels like the neighborly thing to do, you know? ”
“The…” I trail off, my blood running cold. I sway, my knees nearly buckling, and I wish I had something to catch myself on. “Hogs?” I finally utter. “You feed people to livestock?” I can’t miss the casual way he talked about butchering humans, making it clear he’s done this before.
Many times, given his comfort around the subject and the way this place is set up for slaughter. From the drain in the floor to the tools and the table; now that I’ve noticed them, I can’t stop thinking about it.
“Not usually. Only the bad pieces, the scraps. Hogs eat everything, you know.” He steps closer to me, the apron around his torso spattered with old blood.
“You really haven’t figured it out, Sadie-Rae?
” When he’s close enough, he reaches out to tug my hand away from my face.
“Just breathe,” he advises. “It only gets better if you can go nose-blind to it.”
“I don’t want to go nose-blind to any of this. It’s awful,” I protest, trying to jerk my hand free. But he doesn’t let me, and when I stubbornly raise my other to my face, he drags that one down as well so that he’s holding both of my hands in his between us in some parody of affection.
“Too bad. Now answer me.” With a small jerk, he pulls me off balance so I’m standing right in front of him, close enough that my feet brush his boots.
“Have you not figured out what all of this is for? What we are?” There’s a mischievous glint in his eyes that troubles me, but I slowly shake my head from side to side.
“I don’t understand what you’re asking.” I don’t want to say something wrong to offend him. Not when I’m this fucking close and in a not-so-great position in the Shaw’s slaughterhouse.
The thought turns my stomach, and my brain can’t help drawing parallels between this and the auto shop. For a moment, I swear I can hear Scotty’s echoing screams, along with the roar of the chainsaw as I shoved it through that man’s chest.
“Oh, Sadie, Sadie.” The amusement on Deacon’s face grows.
He twines his fingers with mine, keeping me close to him.
“Like I said before, we only give the pigs the scrap meat, or the spoiled shit. They’re a convenient disposal system, and well…
” He rolls his shoulders in an almost modest shrug.
“Help thy neighbor, right? No one around here is rich enough to turn up their noses at free livestock food.”
He goes quiet, searching my gaze, and I can feel that he wants me to ask. “What do you do with the rest of it?” I finally force myself to whisper once the silence and the curiosity become too much.
“Well, like I said before, Sadie-Rae”—he leans forward, until his lips are brushing my ear—“waste not, want not. And there’s a lot to want on a body that other people waste. All it takes…” His lips stroke along my ear, his teeth sharp against my skin.
“Is getting a taste for it.”