The echo of steel against flesh filled the air of a mostly empty meat packaging plant. It was being shut down for a reason. Too many health violations. It being the only source of income for the tiny town it's closure had ensured its death. Only a handful of people were staying behind. The man that was still butchering meat was a massive specimen. Wide shouldered, thickly muscled with lanky, greasy hair, flecked with dried and fresh blood. He wore a mask made of leather and hide to cover his deformed face. Overlooking the scene was a scrawny balding man, a scowl permanently carved onto his face. "Jess, we closed fer good now, go get that animal out of there." "M-me, sir?" dark-haired, short, bearded man asked hesitantly from behind him. "Yes you. Now do it."
The man chopping didn't even look up as Jess clomped down the metal stairs, "Hello, Hewitt." His voice wavered before he spoke again, "We shuttin' down the place today, you know that cause I done told you so. Shuttin' down fer good?" He got closer, clutching his clipboard to his chest, "We ain't packin' no more meat, ain't killin' no more animals, so just leave the equipment and you just get on home now, okay?" Hewitt kept working, steadily swinging down the cleaver to carve up the last of the meat. Jess was getting frustrated, "You need to leave I said. You need to get the hell outta here you dumb animal!" He ended up shouting. The larger, much more intimidating man froze mid-swing and slowly lifted his head, looking at him darkly. Jess could feel urine running down his legs, even the overseer backed up some out of fear when Hewitt raised his eyes to turn his glare on him. The man clutched the cleaver tighter before dropping it down on the table and walking back out, but he didn't leave. He'd get revenge.
Several hours later, just before sunset, the lights in the building started to be shut off. Hewitt picked up a sledgehammer and nearly silently crept up the stairs. The overseer glanced behind himself, "What the hell are you still doing here? Go home, we're out of business, you and your family are the only ones stupid enough to still be living in this shithole." The taller, wider man's chest heaved as he breathed harder, rage bubbling over inside of him as he made a swift move forward and raised the sledgehammer, bringing it down on his leg. The crunch was audible and blood sprayed from the arteries as he lifted the hammer to take out his other leg. The overseer when down like a stone, dragging a table and telephone with him. He reached for the phone and dialed for the operator, screaming like a woman with each strike.
The operator answered, her voice calm and uninterested, "Ma'am you'll have to speak more clearly." He screamed and squealed like a pig, the larger man walked closer, lifting the hammer in both hands as he glared down at the pathetic human squirming at his feet. "I-I befriended you… Hewitt…" he barely got out his last words as the heavy metal crashed in his skull, bursting it open like a walnut and splattering gray matter and blood across the floor and walls. As if confused over what to do now Hewitt looked around the room slowly, his eyes pausing on a chainsaw. His footsteps were heavy now that he was relaxed. He ran a wide hand over the handle of the chainsaw before he picked it up, liking the weight of it in his hands. There was almost a silent smile from behind his mask. He left the slaughterhouse without a backwards glance.
Walking down the dusty, deserted road he drug the tip of the chainsaw along the ground. He tilted his head when he heard and engine rumbling down the road, then glanced behind him as the tires crunched over the gravel as it pulled over. A door opened and he came to a slow stop. They must have found out already. A spindly sheriff raised his pistol, his arms trembling at the sight of the man that was a solid two feet taller and carrying a chainsaw. "Put down the weapon, boy. I seen what you did back their Hewitt, this doesn't have to be difficult unlessen you make it, so, just put down the weapon." He struggled to keep the fear out of his voice and pulled back the hammer of the revolver, "Don't be stupid…"
A second car door opened and Hewitt did a double take at the hunched over man, "I think we have a problem, sheriff." The thin sheriff turned just in time to see Charlie pull the trigger. He fell back to the ground in a heap, bleeding from several buckshot holes. Charlie walked over and dipped his finger into the blood, sucking it off his thumb. "Shit. I just killed the whole fuckin' sheriff's department." He started removing the man's watch and clothes, though there should be a change in the car, or even at his house that wouldn't have holes in it. His cold, beady eyes were already calculating what they would do next as he grumbled to himself, "Wonder what that felt like…" Hewitt stared down at the man, his brows raised in shock. "Thomas. Help me get this poor bastard into the trunk."
It wasn't hard to get the man into the trunk of the cop car, if they saw anyone on the road back to the family home it would be easy to claim the heat had the new sheriff out of uniform. Before they got there Charlie explained very carefully that Thomas was to do just as he always did at the meat factory. Take the sheriff apart and break him down into usable cuts of meat. They'd never be hungry again, that was for sure.
After the car was pulled over and parked Thomas got out and pulled the man from the trunk, tossing him over his shoulder, the chainsaw still tightly gripped in one hand. It didn't take long to get to the basement and have him fully broken down. He brought some of the meat upstairs to his mother, a gentle old lady in his eyes. She set to work getting it cooked while Thomas went upstairs and laid down for a moment, closing his eyes.
He didn't know why, what had driven the image of the little redheaded girl back into his brain, but there she was. Smiling at him just as sweetly as the last time he'd laid eyes on her. How long had it been since he had seen her? Heard her voice? The man wondered what she was doing.
Charlie shouted up the stairs for him to get down there, knocking him out of his thoughts. He pushed himself up and out of the bed, stretching before he stomped down the stairs. Dinner was still being set out so he waited in the pantry, watching his family. Charlie stood at the head of the table, staring them all down, "That slaughterhouse meant more to this town than them fools will ever know. Just a matter of time now before this town is overrun by bikers and hippies. Us? We're stayin' right here. We will never abandon the place of our birth." Momma looked uncomfortable and Uncle Monty just stared down at his plate. "We're on our own now people. And alone, we will rise about it all. People may not remember what we say here tonight, but they sure as shit gonna remember what we do. Thanks to the good sheriff here." Charlie laid his hands on the pot filled with tonight's soup, lifting it and placing it in the center of the table. Momma's eyes went wide, she hadn't known. There was a look of horror between her and Monty. What had they gotten themselves into? "We won't go hungry tonight. Matter of fact, we ain't never gonna starve again." Monty nodded slowly, but Momma still looked horrified. Charlie started spooning out the soup, filling each bowl. "M-m-mmm." He took a deep, long breath of the smell, his nose centimeters from the fluid in the bowl.
"Charlie!" Momma finally spoke up, "Say grace." There was no point in trying to stop it, the least they could do now was thank the Lord for this meal.
"Momma I told you, Charlie's dead, it's Hoyt now. Sheriff Hoyt." He told her sternly before closing his eyes and lifting his head. "Lord thank you for the bounty you have provided us. Amen." He looked into the pantry from where he stood, "Tommy. Get in here and eat, boy." Thomas glanced between the members of his family before he leaned over his chair and started to eat, not bothering to sit down and actually join them. He wanted to go back upstairs.
That night he dreamt of the girl.
The boy with the mask walked down the street on his way home and watched as a little redheaded girl in a soft green dress had rocks thrown at her as she beat the tar out of one of the boys picking on her. The boy got angry seeing them hurting the girl and ran at them with a cry of rage. He was bigger than they were, and scarier. They fled with their own screams. The girl swayed, falling to her knees as she clutched her head. Blood dripped down her pretty, round little face. He touched her jaw, lifting her head up so he could look at her better.
The boy picked her up quietly, watching her as she stayed quiet for awhile. Finally she spoke, "What's your name? No wait. I can guess! You must be Thomas. You're a grade above me right?" She smiled timidly as he nodded. He could feel her trembling. She must be scared of him too, "That was real brave of you, scaring them off and all. M-my name is Rose. But most people call me Rosie." He looked at her softly, thinking that it was such a pretty name. He listened for her talk for as long as he could, but she fell asleep against his shoulder as he carried her to his home.
His Momma was angry at how late he was, the sun had nearly set by the time he walked up the steps, but when she saw the girl in his arms she hurried him inside and had him lay her down on the couch. She woke up long enough for them to put some bandages on her brow and tell them her phone number before she said she was tired and put her head back down to rest some more.
The boy stayed with her while his momma called hers, watching her pretty face as she slept. Maybe she would be his friend, he thought, maybe she wouldn't care what he looked like. The sound of car tires on gravel had him hiding. New people never liked looking at the boy. Her mother and father and a boy that looked just like her came to the house and knocked to collect the girl. She was carried off by them and he watched from the window, desperately wishing she didn't have to go. He wanted her to stay, that sweet girl that wasn't so scared of him, that had talked to him like he was a human. He put a hand on the window and whimpered softly to himself. Would he ever see her again?