Horror 100 Volume 2

Grinder

Joey saw the grinder and knew there would be trouble. The tilt of the thing in the weeds of the abandoned Cheshire Flea Market, the rust on it, hinted at the monstrous.

His friends—Art, Charlie, Rupe—dropped the empty pop bottles and rebar they'd collected. They clustered around the grinder's gaping mouth. They buzzed, fidgeted, leaked steam through fixed smiles as they peered from under their snow caps into the black throat of the machine.

All but for Del, who hung back, small in his parka and frowning.

Joey shot a reproachful look at Del. His brother had to brave up before the others noticed.

"Cool as shit," Charlie said. He worked the grinder's wheezing crank.

"You could feed a whole pig in there," Rupe said.

"A baby pig, maybe," Art said, bending to examine the stains dripping dark from its reservoir.

"Babe the pig," Charlie laughed. Then they all laughed. Even Joey forced one. All except for Del.

Rupe was first to notice Del huddled outside them.

"You don't like that idea, Del?" Rupe blubbered, mocking.

"He looks like a baby pig," Art said.

"Maybe we should feed him in there." Charlie elbowed Joey. They shared a half grin.

"Look, he's quaking," Rupe said. "Baby pig's so scared!"

"He's not scared," Joey said. He knew that was a lie even without having to see Del.

Del was often scared. Scared of the water park, because there might be Jaws in the pools. Scared of Yeti in the snow. Scared of cars and spiders and bedtime without nightlight.

"Come on, Del." Joey motioned him closer.

"Man, he's almost pissing himself," Art tittered, pointing at Del's shaking legs.

"Am not," Del whined.

"He's brave as any of you." Joey pat his brother on the back. Even the brief contact betrayed Del trembling.

"The fuck he is," Charlie said.

"He is," Joey said. He followed with what he thought his Pa would say. "He'll prove it."

"The fuck he will." Charlie snorted.

"Del." Joey firmed his voice to Pa's tone. "Put your hand in there."

"I don't want to." Del's whine scratched higher.

"Aw," Rupe said, "listen to Babe squeal."

"Del." Joey set his grip around Del's arm. "Do it. Now."

Del lifted that hand. He slid it in the wide brown maw of the grinder. He looked away from Joey.

Joey stung. Del would do anything for Pa and do it with a smile.

Del rode bikes to show off for Pa even though he toppled from then. He'd been hit in the face by a football a dozen times, but still played catch with their old man. He took his whippings tearlessly even though Joey couldn't staunch his own tears.

The boys only laughed louder.

"Deeper, Del," Joey said. Del froze.

"Deeper," Joey said, and seethed to hear his voice so high-pitched. He didn't sound like Pa at all. "Now."

"No," Del whined, "it'll hurt."

"Now!"

Del's fingers twitched against the rusted teeth of the screw conveyor.