Psychopath

Barry's Bitchin Butchery

James needed a plan. He was pacing back and forth across the hotel room rubbing his temples, trying to come up with a plan. After ten minutes of pacing, he froze mid step and a huge smile found its way to his lips. He whipped out his phone and looked up Barry's Bitchin butchery, the name of the butchery Brian was being held in. Their website popped up. He scrolled through the page looking for something useful when he saw a flashing explanation mark icon in the upper right hand corner. He clicked on it and read the massage that appeared.

Help wanted! Need more drivers to transport meat from Henry's farm to Barry's Bitchin Butchery. Deliveries take place once a day, every day at 3:30.

There were a few more paragraphs if information, but James didn't bother reading them. He had all the information he needed. He glanced at his watch. 2:42. He didn't have a lot of time. He needed to find Henry's farm. Fast.

...............................................................

"So, do you think he'll come to help you?" Mr. Andrews asked Brian.

If Brian hasn't been tightly bound to a chair, he would have flipped the man off when he said this.

"Of course he won't! Your a complete and utter moron! James thinks using logic and reason! It doesn't make sense for him to come and save me, he doesn't need me anymore!"

Mr. Andrews chuckled.

"Brian, let me explain something to you. I've met a lot of people in my life, and I've found one thing that they all have in common. It doesn't matter if they are weak or strong, honest or deceitful, old or young, everyone needs someone. That's just how humans are. No one on earth is absolutely comfortable with being alone for their entire lives. Your the only one James can relate to, and he won't want to give that up so easily. He'll come, and when he does he'll agree with any terms I make to get you back."

As soon as the word "back" left his mouth, Mr. Andrews heard the sound of crunching gravel coming from outside. Frowning, he picked up his AK-47, quickly gagged Brian with a bandana and some duck tape, and assented the rickety wooden stairs that led out of the basement. Once he entered the upstairs, he closed and locked the basement door behind him and quickly opened the two double doors that led outside. Outside was a huge red pickup truck with animal carcasses in the back. A man, presumably the man who drove the truck, was standing next to the truck. He wore old jeans, so faded from the sun and covered in dust that they appeared light grey rather than their original dark blue. The man way shirtless, which wasn't too strange as it was the middle of summer. Mr. Andrews was wearing black dress pants, and a long sleeve white, collared shirt that was soaked with sweat. The shirtless man, despite seeing the AK-47 in his hand, walked up to Mr. Andrews with a grin.

"Hey there sir. I've got today's shipment, 3 pigs and a cow."

Mr. Andrews frowned, confused, before remembering that the building behind him was a butchery. If course they got shipments of meat.

"Oh, thank you! Just, um, hang the animal bodies on the meat hooks inside."

"Yes sir, but could you give me a hand with the cow? I think it may have been pregnant when we killed it, because its really heavy."

"Um, yeah. Sure."

Mr. Andrews rolled up his sleeves, and placed the AK-47 on the ground next to him. Him and the shirtless man then got on either side of the cow, Mr. Andrews carrying it by his front legs the shirtless man carrying it by its back legs. They carried it off the pickup truck and began making their way to butchery. About halfway there, Mr, Andrews noticed the cow had a large slit across its belly.

"Sir, do you gut you animals before you bring them here?"

"No sir, we don't. Why?"

Mr. Andrews realized why the cow was so heavy a second too late. The cows belly split open, and James, covered in blood and intestines, fell out, knife in hand. As soon as his feet touched the ground, he lunged at Mr. Andrews. The blade sunk hilt deep into his thigh. With a scream, he collapsed to the ground. James turned to the dumbstruck shirtless man.

"Leave. Now. You tell anyone about this, I will kill you. I know where you live."

The Man ran back to his truck and as soon as the engine stared up, he began driving away. When he was gone, James turned back to Mr. Andrews.

"Give me your phone, the location of Brian, and the password to your phone and I'll stop the bleeding in your leg and let you live."

Mr. Andrews didn't believe him for a second. He wasn't going to let him go. But, telling him what he wanted to know was the only chance he had at living. He gritted hid teeth and, ignoring the pain in his leg, he took his phone out of his pocket and tossed it to James.

"7623412. Brian is inside."

Janes typed the passwords in to make sure it worked. It did. James then walked away from Mr. Andrews, toward his AK-47. He grabbed it, flipped off the safety, and walked back toward Mr. Andrews. Instead of running, Mr. Andrews sat up and closed his eyes, preparing for the inevitable. James braced himself, and fired three bullets into Mr. Andrews chest. The AK-47 blew massive holes into holes into his chest. It created bullet wounds almost three inches in diameter. One bullet pierced his heart. He collapsed face first onto the ground, dead. A pool of blood began rapidly forming around him. James, not wanting to waste any more time staring at a dead body, sprinted toward the barn.