A TASTE OF YOUR OWN MEDICINE

Jake swiftly pulled on his police jacket as he exited his flat. Slamming the front door firmly behind him, he double checked that it was secure. He couldn’t be too careful; this block of flats was notorious for thieves and addicts who leapt at any opportunity to force themselves into poorly secured properties.

After successfully completing his probation as a trainee constable, Jake appreciated his time at his new appointed headquarters. Having been a police officer for only a few months now, Jake was happy with his routine every morning, in spite of the dubious area in which he lived. Leaping down the flight of concrete graffiti riddled steps, two at a time; he felt a tinge of excitement. Today he was having his appraisal, and he knew he would be rewarded in some way for his thorough and committed work. After living in this run down English town for most of his life, Jake was determined to work for the police force, he felt someone had to try and protect those residents that tried to earn a decent and honest living.

His father had been one of them, but he had been brutally stabbed as he waited for the number 83 bus. Tom Staples had been eliminated with a single thrust; he died instantly, and alone. The culprit was never found; most likely he was a junkie in dire need for cash and a hit.  Jake was then only twelve years old.  His mother suffered severe depression as a result, and ended up sectioned in Garlands Hospital.  Heartbroken, Jake was brought up by his regimented grandmother, god rest her soul.

He drove carefully down the thoroughfare, even though the streets were particularly quiet this early December morning. He never took advantage of his status; he abided to all the rules. Jake was a perfect example of a perfect citizen.  

Surrounded by a concrete and corrugated jungle, he focused on the large elongated sixties flat-roofed building, that was surfacing into view.  This was where he worked, Tamerton Police Headquarters. Flurries of light snow landed randomly against the windshield, creating a dancing display of saturated crystals.  He turned on the wipers and the heater, a roar of warm air blasted into his face. He revelled in the dry heat as it stroked his clean shaven face. A couple of minutes away from his destination Jake pondered on the day’s agenda. He made mental notes of what he should say during his appraisal. He was very keen to create the right impression, prove to them that he was the man for the job. Jake also reflected on the extraordinary dream he had in the early hours, but it was so perplexing, he found it impossible to remember any detail, just a mixture of moving forms jumping up at him. He was anxious yes, but not to the extent of having strange dreams, shunning this thought, he turned left down St. Mark’s Road.

Driving into the car park, he felt a pinch of optimism as he pulled up next to Detective Reeves’ Mazda estate.  Donald Reeves was his boss, mentor, and his friend.

It couldn’t get much better than this, he thought. My father would be so proud of me. A smile lingered, and a feeling of pride rippled from within him.

As he got out of his old decrepit car (there was no point buying a flashy set of wheels in this neighbourhood, it would only be stolen or annihilated), he marched purposefully to the back entrance of the corroding building. Pushing the doors open with both hands, he entered the vacant and hushed lobby.

Sensing a slight apprehension for the first time this morning, Jake found the silence disquieting. Normally a few colleagues were busying themselves, going about their daily duties, coming off their night shift, chatting and issuing pleasantries to each other. Maybe many were on emergency callout he mused.

Aiming for the locker room, Jake strode towards the door, and peered in.  A few lockers were open, some belongings were scattered randomly; books, a jacket and a boot lay isolated on the laminate floor.  Still no sign of anyone, he turned round and urgently walked down the hallway to see if he would hear anyone or find a fellow co-worker.

He then heard a sound.

From an area off to the left of the corridor he heard a squelching, lapping sound, rather like a dog guzzling some water.

Focusing on the sound, he trotted to the room, calling out for his colleague, Mandy. She usually was in early, chatting happily about her nights out, and how she loved her new found freedom. Jake on the other hand, was content to be in Fiona’s life, a hairdresser by day, and a babysitter by night.  Time alone was indeed precious these days, and when they got together, the wait was well worth it. With that thought, Jake smiled, though his fleeting reflection was tainted with trepidation.

Reaching his destination he grabbed for the door handle, but then violently jerked his hand away.  He felt a wet, clammy sensation spread into his hand. Looking down, he saw the crimson coppery substance gel round his palm. Now fretful, he wiped his hand against his trousers, and delved into his belt pouch for his ASP. Looking frantically around him, he found no one else at hand, he was completely alone.  He slowly and reluctantly pushed down on the moist door handle, feeling a tremendous sense of dread. His mouth now drying, heart hammering, he tried to swallow the huge lump that was forming in the back of his throat.

The door now fully open, he witnessed the vision before him.  It left him reeling. He could observe, but could not comprehend the images that his mind was absorbing.

The body of his dear friend Mandy was being consumed by Sarah, the desk Receptionist. She sat astride Mandy, her clawing hands rummaging violently through the contents of her abdomen, ripping out the innards and ramming them into her mouth. Sarah’s mouth was mottled with a drying flaky skin, her face colourless, apart from the claret blood stains that was awash on her sallow face. Lustfully Sarah lapped and licked a flaccid organ. As she ate, she grinded her vulva against Mandy’s sexual parts, throwing her head up in ultimate ecstasy.  The liver she gorged was dripping in thick glutinous blood, threads of sticky fibres hanging loosely from the stem of the malleable flesh.

Not immediately noticing Jake, Sarah continued to devour and rub into Mandy, her eyes so wide and wild, they protruded crudely.  Stunned, Jake clenched his baton tightly, his heart hammering viciously. Sarah slowly looked look up at him; annoyance now shadowing her face. Having her meal and sexual gratification interrupted, she was enraged. Getting up from the ruined remains of Mandy’s corpse, Sarah clumsily headed towards Jake, a foul and wretched odour emanated from her gore splattered naked body draped in half eaten entrails. Jake turning on his heel ran out of the room and down the hallway to the overnight cells. Here he hoped to find some of his colleagues or maybe a few prisoners, some allies, backup, and some explanation. Behind the locked heavy duty doors, he prayed that he would find some help, a companion even.

Looking behind him as he ran, Sarah was near approaching, the stark strip lights accentuating her blood soaked form. As she followed Jack down the corridor, she still held a piece of Mandy’s spleen protectively against her naked breast.

Turning left past posters, events display and helpline numbers, Jake could hear faint strangled cries, they seemed to be coming from the very area that he was heading for. Eager to call out, but reluctant to draw attention to himself; Jake remained quiet. Only his pounding heart, each booming pulse echoing louder than the background noise, reminded him that this was no hallucination.

Suddenly, looming from the gent’s toilets, a large form staggered into his path. With a slump, Detective Reeves fell heavily to the floor. Most of his skull was missing, the brain gnawed away, white tubercles of cartilage protruded out from the base of the spinal stump that starkly stuck out from Donald’s bloody suit’s collar.  The fear etched on the vestiges of his remaining face, was palpable.   Jake horrified, ran faster, not daring to look at his friend, or to find out what or who did this gruesome deed.  Sickened, he reached the entrance to the overnight cells, petrified at what he might find. Sarah had thankfully shuffled off, feeding on the carcass of Reeves; Jake could hear the violent echoes of mastication travelling down the empty hallway.

 With a sense of irony Jake uttered under is breath;

“Moments like these, you need a fucking gun.”

His ASP felt particularly inadequate. It shook within Jake’s now tenuous grip, suddenly feeling heavy and useless.  Jake felt defenceless, isolated, frightened.

The thought of finding survivors of this horrific place was his priority.  Only then could he flee and escape from this horrendous and hideous nightmare.  The keys were clipped into his belt; this was his only hope to find some other person that was not eaten, or, eating human flesh.

Jake warily opened the door to the corridor that gave access to the four overnight cells. Here he was met with such visual carnage; he felt the bile rise from his stomach into his mouth. Spitting out the acrid vomit, Jake looked around the blood splattered passageway. The mesh covering the long stripped lighting was covered in a gooey substance, reminding Jake of mashed oranges and pureed tomatoes.  The light started to buzz and then it flickered, giving off a murky glow of scarlet light. With Jake looking up, blood dripped onto his nose and into his month. A canvas of globulous thick matter, adorned the once white washed wall. The floor was carpeted in gristle, bone, innards and faeces.

Each door was made from heavy iron, containing a food flap and an eye hole. He noisily stumbled against a chair that was lying on its side behind the door from where he came. It was draped in oily viscous blood.

No one was present at this moment, though he could hear a sound coming from behind one of the substantial doors. The sound was muffled, and it reminded him of someone trying to talk with a gag around his mouth. Nonsensical burbling was all he could detect. There seemed to be more than one obscure voice, different tones and pitch suggested this. A sound of sloshing water interspersed each muted voice. Jake felt hopeful, maybe some of the prisoners were still alive, and with the keys, he could set them free, they could help him escape this butchery.

As he reached for his keys to unlock the cell, he discovered it was already open. He didn’t even have to place the key into the lock; the outside bolt had been released. The door opened easily.

Sandra, and with some uncertainty due to the demolished body, Frank lay entwined in a bloody and mangled pile. These were Jake’s colleagues; Frank was the civilian night duty watchman, Sandra a fellow constable. Each body had been ravaged, torn, mutilated; only their faces remained in one piece.  Surrounding the shattered bodies, human debris littered the floor. Seeing their expressions and how they must have felt as they were torn apart left Jake filled with such repugnance, that he crumbled to the floor, and wept. He knew that he may well be the next victim to be ravaged.  With a fleeting melancholy reflection he pictured his parents when they were all together in happier times, and of his girlfriend Fiona, going about her innocent daily routine. God how he wished he could be engulfed in her mundane innocent bliss.  Jake longed to see the sunshine, make love, and drink a cold beer. In reality he was surrounded by complete devastation and human destruction.  With this notion, he resolutely rose from the floor. He pushed aside splintered bone and flesh with his foot. Wanting an end to this horror, and with an urgent hunger to experience normality again, he walked to the second cell. He harboured a lingering hope that he was not alone in this torturous abhorrence.

The door was unlocked, but closed. He looked into the peep hole. Here, one of his colleagues was feeding upon a torso. The decapitated head lay next to the feeding creature. The face on the head was expressionless this time, but still completely undamaged.  The ribcage, spread- eagled apart, lay in a mass of solidifying blood and pulp.  The creature that had once been Brian mumbled and chatted to himself as he smeared the thick oozing bowel across his mouth, and then sucked out the stagnant excrement from the entrails. The garbled mutterings that came from Brian was keeping him thankfully distracted; he never noticed Jake’s presence.  Carefully Jake put the key into the lock and turned it. He felt a tinge of resolve as he locked the creature in the blood coated cell. Only then did Brian look up, hearing the key as it turned. His eyes manic with malevolent reckless hatred, he leapt up and banged against the door in a violent fury.

 Jake, full of disgust, moved onto the other cell door. He felt a strange sense of detached curiosity and felt more than prepared for the next horrific image that he may face.

The inarticulate sounds became more apparent but still indiscernible as he slowly approached the third cell door which was slightly open, enabling Jake to scrutinize the inhabitants through the crack in the door hinges.

Three police officers were feeding upon one of the prisoners. Guy, head of Transport Police for the area, had the prisoner’s genitals in his fist, the limp and pathetic piece of superfluous skin proved to be of great interest to Guy, as he stretched and tugged at the expandable membrane and then greedily shoved it into his bloodied mouth. The victim was a heavy man, obvious due to the amount of yellowing fat and blubber that lay beside the open and split body.  Jake watched as a horrific possibility occurred, the prisoner could still be alive, the eyes twitched and his legs quivered rhythmically. Jake prayed that the movements were only due to involuntary reflexes.

 Trevor, a promising detective constable, was licking the ground, stuffing urine and blood drenched pieces of muscle and lumps of meaty skin into his slavering maw.

 An odorous and vile stench filtered into Jake’s nostrils, causing him to gag repeatedly. The other frenzied feeding colleague, that Jake recognised as Stanley the caretaker, had his head inside the prisoner’s rib cage. Jake heard the bones splinter apart as the creature burrowed deeper hungrily.  Again the victim’s face was never touched, only a horrifying expression remained.

On the bloody floor next to the prisoners’ exposed corpse lay an Alsatian dog; the legs and jaw were snapped and dislocated, as if they were stapled back together crudely and haphazardly. Hanging from the cells barred window, a belt had been twisted around an exposed spinal column, so only the legs hung freely amongst the massacre. No upper body was evident; it probably had already been consumed, stripped clean. The legs were slender, still with stockings, a tattoo on the ankle was that of a rose. Jake knew this to be Sally. Daily she served him coffee and egg sandwiches at the canteen. Appalled, and feeling as if he was watching the whole scenario from a different dimension, he still insisted to himself that his only chance of survival was to close the cell door without any of the creatures that were once his friends, from noticing.

Standing directly behind the door, he intended to seal the room in the hope that they would eventually consume each other, until there was nothing left.  This indeed was a risky task. Standing away from the spy hole, he took a few deep breaths, when the latch clicked, he would promptly turn the key and bolt the door.

As he began to carefully close the door, an arm immediately thrust through the opening and searched for Jake’s throat. The half human shrieked urgently.  Jake with all his strength slammed the door shut onto the bony arm, feeling it mash under the weight of the huge door. Forcing the key into the keyhole, with a shaking hand, he turned the lock. The arm hung loosely, twitching spasmodically.  A pained roar came from behind the door.  Panting and exhausted, he leaned back and tried to close his eyes, but unrelenting stinging sweat prevented any dark respite from the recent horror. Perspiration and tears then dribbled into his mouth, he could now taste his own fear.

After the previous cells, he was fearful to check the final one, but with his training and his instinctive conscientiousness, he forced himself to walk to the final door. There was no sound coming from this particular cell; just maybe, here he would find a survivor, an ally.

The bolt was unlocked, but the hefty door was shut. He leaned into the eye hole. With a rush of sudden excitement and relief, he saw a man sitting on the edge of the meagre bed. Not an iota of blood or bodily matter cluttered the cell. It was clean and neat. As soon as he felt the elation of finding a fellow survivor that had not been harmed, he suddenly felt suspicious. This was due to the way the man was sitting calmly, reading a book. He was extremely well dressed, his black shoes shone with immaculate brilliance, as did the dark blue suit that was tailored perfectly, albeit rather dated in its style. The face was handsome, angular. Ambiguity surrounded his age.  Golden hair flopped over his brow as he read his book intently.

Not knowing what to do, and feeling a sensation of fresh unease, Jake gingerly opened the bulky door.

The figure now alerted by the sound, looked up at Jake. 

“Can I help you?” The man inquired cheerfully.

Taken aback, Jake felt chilled to the bone; this was not what he was expecting to hear.

“You can’t stay here, we have a critical situation!” Jake answered abruptly.

“Yes, I am fully aware of that, and its going well isn’t it.” The stranger replied arrogantly.

“On your feet, let’s make a move!” Jake ordered. Though there was a slight tremble in his voice, he tried to sound authoritative.

“Presently. At least let me finish the page.” The gentleman continued to read his book, adjusting his monocle that was carefully placed within his left eye.

Jake realised that the atmosphere in this cell was calm and serene; the walls seemed to emanate a physical glow, their pristine white surfaces reflecting all available light bathing the sole occupant in an enveloping aura of brilliant illumination.

Amazed, Jake moved closer to the man, who at this time seemed engrossed in his book.

Although perplexed by this peculiar man, Jakes hairs on the back of his neck bristled with agitation.

He obviously has no idea what going on, Jake thought to himself wryly.

“I am ordering you to come with me and to leave the premises, NOW!” Jake started to feel annoyance surface within him, but it was also fuelled with incredulity.

“Jake, you can’t tell me what to do!” the man uttered smoothly.

Astounded Jake trembled; he felt he was diminishing into a chasm of unreality once more.

“Who the Fuck are you?”

With an air of contempt and dismissivness, the man simply, yet carefully said;

“I am trying to release you from this depravity within which you so gaily dwell.

 Well, it’s been a long time coming hasn’t it. Besides I loved this place in the late 1800’s. Things were done properly then. High standards, respect, and appropriate punishments were carried out.” He added wistfully.

The stranger got up, and casually leaning on his elaborate cane, he adjusted his cravat and took off his monocle. With a sharper tone and with a chip of intimidation, he continued;

“Faces and expressions are like trophies for me, believe me, I do remember them all, and I do mean ALL, the good and bad, including yours, goodbye Jake.”

Jake heard footsteps rapidly behind him, turning around to see who or what was approaching; he clutched his weapon in earnest. Bob Hilton a Detective Sergeant on the force leered towards him, arms outstretched and with a sudden jolt, grabbed Jake and began to tear at his face. Fighting back with immense force, Jake pressed Bob to the ground and pounded him with his ASP. The blood coated sub-human was far too strong for Jake.

“Why and how did you do this, who the hell are you?” Jake spluttered in a desperate effort to deliver a coherent sentence.

“Call me a corrector, of a kind.  I have come to rid this pathetic society from its low and worthless existence, and I have to start somewhere. I know you are one that has tried to lead a respectable and clean life, but quite honestly I have to be brutal.

Set an example. No room for sentiment.  See yourself as a sacrifice Jake. It’s unfortunate that you of all people have to see this, but necessary it is.  In the long run, your world will be a better place. I have brought eternal damnation on earth to demonstrate to you and others how you all have become.  All I do is touch one person, and they turn into the mirror of today’s society” the outsider continued;

“So simple isn’t it. You all are nothing more than consuming greedy leeches. You all lust in your own world of profanity and violence. Simply, you have become materialistic, blood draining, selfish, and sexually wanton heathens. Society today.

Good gracious, now we see the true colours. Here I illustrate to you how society has become. One is getting a taste of one’s own medicine dear boy. ” The stranger was staring directly at Jake, holding his gaze as Jake struggled with the creature, the odd compulsion to read his book was now on hold.

Jake urgently fought back.  Feeling Bob’s huge hand suddenly plunge into his abdomen, his supple flesh tore like fabric. His sternum shattered as Bob rummaged and reached deeply to clutch his beating and frantic heart. Feeling the heat of his own blood as it splattered and layered his face, Jake felt the moment his heart was wrenched from within him, an odd disconnection, exclusion, not only of a body part, but of his entire essence. Supreme agony engulfed him, Jake blacked out into an appreciative nothingness.  The stranger sat down as he watched Jake’s demise through hooded eyelids, and continued to read.  He licked his finger and turned over another page.