Fresh Flesh Read Online Free PDF

Everybody ripped off everybody else on the outside. The
smell was unbearable.
    Too much chicken. Not enough blood.
    He turned off the engine and hugged Sally. In
the glove box, Uncle Sal had packed plenty of ammo. He cradled
Sally, the sawed-off double barrel pointing like eager fingers
toward blood. Sally could smell it a thousand miles away, something
Torque could never quite figure out. He wondered if a vampire could
smell it that far away. No, he decided, vampires are pussies. They
can only kill after daylight, at night. Sally never slept; she was
ready for blood 24/7, 365.
    And boy was she ready now. She was trembling
in his hands.
    He got out of Baby Blue and, in broad
daylight, walked across the parking lot with Sally ready at his
side.
    Valentine's Day. Cupid had his bow and arrow.
Torque had Sally.
    A starry-eyed college kid waltzed out of the
front door, a bucket of chicken in his hands, a small grin on his
face.
    "First blood," Torque laughed, aiming.
    "Jesus Christ." The kid dropped the bucket,
chicken spilling on the stone walkway.
    "Wrong guess." Torque pulled Sally's trigger.
Only one barrel for the kid, his guess wasn't that far off.
    Torque was a perfect shot. The bullet
attacked the kid's white shirt like a meat sauce covered fist,
opening a fleshy hole one foot in diameter. The force sent the kid
rocketing through the glass doors, and shards flew like shrapnel
every which way.
    "Open says me!" Torque walked through the
shattered glass opening. The glass sounded like teeth crushing
beneath his footsteps.
    People screamed at the sprawled dead body of
the college kid and at Sally. She loved to hear them shriek her
name. In the heart of every scream Torque could hear Sally's
name.
    "Who's next?" Torque played the gun from fool
to fool. From the bald-headed black guy in the referee suit to the
fat bitch with too many children ( piglets , he deemed) to the
gray-suited man with a barbecue chicken face to the stoned-looking
kid in the corner (probably high on that crack shit) and his punk
rock buddy with multi-colored spiked hair.
    The Southern Fried Chicken (SFC) employees,
all spiffed up in their blue and white outfits, stood terrified
behind the counter. They all looked the same to Torque (they either
had small tits or no tits). The boss probably wanted it that
way.
    Silence is perhaps the most deadly weapon of
all, especially in the hands of a maniac, and Torque worked the
silence (coupled with a few wicked stares that would have stoned
Medusa herself) for several long frightening minutes. Once
satisfied he switched targets, pointing Sally at a freckly teenage
employee who quickly pissed himself.
    "Where's your manager, boy?"
    "In—in—-in—"
    He put Sally to the boy's throat. 'Do you
want to die?"
    "N-n-no."
    "Where's the fucking chief?" Torque screamed.
The boy squeezed his eyes, shuddering.
    "BANG." Torque laughed as the freckled
employee fainted dead away.
    "I'm here." An old man with a boy's face came
out from behind the chicken display. He was dressed in fine brown
slacks and a pressed blue shirt with a clip-on tie displaying the
SFC logo, another sight of ripping off a better known fast food
restaurant.
    The manager trembled.
    Someone moved behind Torque. He turned,
firing off a random shot. It was the punk rocker with the pink,
black and green spiked hair trying to run for it.
    Only now he would never run again.
    Sally had leveled him, and his head was a
caved-in pumpkin, oozing blood and brain out of a hole in the
skull. A lucky shot.
    "NOBODY FUCKING MOVE!" Torque raged, spittle
flying from his mouth. The dining room was frozen with eyes
watching Torque in exquisite fear.
    The weapon of silence was used for three more
minutes. This time the silence seemed much more eternal, for now it
was obvious that anyone who attempted escape would meet the same
unfortunate outcome. Torque was not a maniac searching for
attention; he was a puppet on Satan's strings, one of the ghastly
evils that had escaped from