Hunger Pangs

Part 7

Narcisse let me out of the storage unit so I could go pack a suitcase. A lovely little suitcase with everything that I'll need for my new life of ruthlessly slaughtering the innocent to make a fabulous buffet. Do not hyperventilate on the way up to your apartment, Mirri. I wouldn't be surprised if he followed me here too, just to make sure I'd come back.

I drag out a plastic shoe box from under my bed. It is filled to the brim with a cornucopia of pharmaceutical delights. Red pills, blue pills, white capsules, uppers, downers and pain pills all nestled in vacuum sealed foil packets. Oooh shiny!

Half of these pills are unknown to me. When people bring in medications to get rid of they can't be donated or given out again. It's not safe. So the pills get dumped in the biowaste bins. I've collected them over the years like a magpie.

In my dark moments, I've contemplated just ending my own complicated and taboo existence, but I never could go through with it. I couldn't do that to my parents and I harbor faint hopes of making it to Heaven, eventually. God forgives everyone and everything, right? So I just collected the pills. At least they wouldn't end up in the water supply making mutant fish.

A wild glimmering of an idea: I could use these pills to drug Narcisse and then Forbo could do his crazy hunter thing. Then I could run away really fast from Forbo. At least it's a straightforward plan.

Okay, I admit it's incredibly stupid. I should just pack up the car and drive to the next state. I still have to try to save Phil and Leslie. I dial my cell phone and wait until Forbo picks up. Is my musical ringtone really that annoying? No wonder only insane men are calling me. I make a mental note to change it, if I survive the night.

"Forbo, it's Mirri," I plead when he answers. "Don't hurt them!"

"Why not?" My gut tightens with dread. He's probably already killed them.

"Are they still alive?! I found the ghoul! He works alone!" Oh please, oh please...

"Where is the ghoul, Mirri? Tell me now before I do something you'll regret."

I'm reminded how much I despise him. Maybe Narcisse is the lesser of these two evils.

"He's in the old storage building behind the clinic--" I stammer and he curtly cuts me off.

"Got it."

"Wait! I can help you! Narcisse is really strong and fast and--" And I'm listening to a dial tone. He hung up on me. Of course he did.

Pacing back and forth, I gnaw on a plastic dental floss pick. I'm not planning on attending Narcisse's horrible slumber party. I'm certainly not going to be murdered and dumped in a ditch somewhere by Forbo. One way or another, I'm ending this.

I empty the shoebox into a plastic bag and shove it into my overnight bag, piling some scrubs, zipper bags and surgical gloves on top. Never can have too many pairs of gloves. I scribble a letter to my parents that I love them, and thank them for raising me, then leave it on the nightstand. They will be so devastated if I don't survive this. Then I pray, like I would as a child, to God for mercy. I hope that He loves even me, one of His most pitiful and horrible children. Grabbing my bag, I take a deep breath. No turning back now.

At the old storage building, I smell delicious fresh blood almost instantly. Oh crap. I swallow hard, grab my bag and creep over in the shadows of the setting sun, probably sounding more like a rampaging elephant than a ninja. There's a body lying in the corner of the storage building lobby and it looks terribly familiar. Forbo. Damn it. Damn him.

Where is Narcisse? Is he hiding? Is he waiting for me? Nothing.

The dark puddle around Forbo's body is barely congealed and the flies are just starting to notice. I move closer and I have to stifle a shriek at the sight of Forbo's glistening bowels spilling out from under his tattered shirt. His right hand is still clutching that stupid knife with mangled fingers. His brown eyes stare lifelessly at the ceiling.

Leaning against the wall for support, my stomach growls while my heart threatens to beat out of my chest. Looking on the bright side, I guess I don't have to worry about my parents' safety anymore, do I?

I snap on a pair of gloves. I reach into Forbo's pockets and steal whatever he had in his possession including my phone (I'll take that thank you very much), a set of car keys, a leather-bound notebook crammed full of scribbled notes, and a small caliber handgun, loaded. Oh yes, a large wad of tightly rolled bills. These all get shoved in my bag, hidden under the scrubs.

As an afterthought, I close his jaundiced eyes. He did have such long eyelashes.

There's different scented blood on the knife blade and I take a small taste, spitting it out immediately. So bitter! That must be ghoul blood. I guess pure-bloods don't taste very good. Not that I had any plans to snack on Narcisse.

What to do, what to do? Think Mirri.

Narcisse must have been badly wounded or he'd be here feasting and packing away innards for late night snacks in his little plastic housewife containers. I bet he's holed up in the upstairs apartment.

Gosh, wouldn't it be nice if his new little buddy brought him some fresh small intestines? He did mention that he always eats them first and he wouldn't have had time to defrost anything yet. Now what this delicacy needed was a little seasoning. A little pharmaceutical seasoning.

"Sorry Forbo," I whisper, "It would be a shame to let all this lovely meat go to waste and I assume that you really don't mind right now." Grabbing his knife, I cut a length of small intestine, unraveling it from his abdominal cavity like a fleshy ball of grisly pink yarn. Probably need more than that, Narcisse is going to be hungry and I don't want to be the main course.

I must be in some sort of shock because carving up Forbo's guts shouldn't be this easy. Why aren't I crying? Should be a sobbing nervous wreck, but I'm not. I catch myself humming softly during my butchering. That's just messed up, Mirri.

Oh well. Time to stuff the turkey.

Working quickly, I shove pills into the slack intestinal cavities, making sure to push them way down with my gloved fingers. The wetness of the digestive juices should soften up the capsules so they won't be crunchy, the ghoul shouldn't notice that. One pill would knock me for a loop, so I'm hoping fifty will flat out kill him. I stuff in as many as I can without stiffening the intestine; they go into a zipper bag. My stomach nervously grumbles. One small piece is on the top, unstuffed, just in case I have to play food taster. I'm not looking forward to eating Forbo, I'm really not.

Okay, did I forget anything? Better grab the knife too, I stick it into the sheath I found around Forbo's leg.

I hope Narcisse is really hungry. Ravenous. I know I would be; I'm always starving. I'm salivating so much that I have to wipe the drool from my lips, and spit. One little bite wouldn't hurt, right? No. I steel my resolve, I will not eat any part of Forbo. I take off my gloves with a snap. It's just too intimate and I don't want to remember the taste of his entrails. He was going to kill me and my family.