Her fingers graze the concrete slab as consciousness pulls her back to it's surface. The orange haze of dim lighting is illuminating her bronze skin, her chapped lips, and the matted dye red hair full of static. Cat Valentine is alone when she awakens and realizes there's a metal bracket between her upper and lower jaw and blood drizzles from the corners of her mouth.
A soft voice hums in the glitchy overhead speakers,
let's go below zero and hide from the sun, I'll love you forever where we'll have some fun.
The lyrics to Sia's Christmas jingle are slowed so much that it's haunting. Cat gasps as she jerks against her restraints and her face tilts up to see the contraption above her head. What. Is. That?
Here, in this room, there's mostly tarps. Teal plastic ruffles in a sharp wind from the air-ducts. It's unlikely that this was a classroom. It's much too big to be a storage closet. A room in an old school for cutting up big slabs of meat. Her panicky brown eyes close in on big hooks in the ceiling.
I want you to know that I'm never leaving cause I'm Mrs. Snow, till death we'll be freezing.
Every third one dangles with what must be rotting animal meat. Vaguely does she recognize the slanted tilted horned heads of goats. That's what most of them are. Through the tarps their shadows are apparent. They're all connected on some sort of conveyor belt. It's designed for slaughter and the contraption above her is the ass end of a wood chipper.
Silently she weeps.
Please don't cry no tears now, it's Christmas baby.
Out in the corridor, behind the heavy metal door marked '3', Detective Garcia contemplates. He knows that by opening this door he will set off what ever contraption is inside and potentially kill at least one of how ever many victims are inside. He also knows that if he does nothing and just walks away everyone in this building will die. It's impossible.
The images of Dicky Harper being minced in a game of human bowling are still fresh in his mind and time is ticking over so quickly. There's a little under an hour remaining for him to get through this building and only their perpetrator knows how many are in the lineup. He presses his back to the wall and slides down to sit on the cool stone floor.
"Run it down for me detective." Says Fabian Rutter, "It might help."
Garcia takes a deep breath. His eyes find a spot on the floor and he speaks, "I've got a very powerful criminal targeting and abducting people of all walks of life. Everything from children, to adults such as yourself. I'll never know what to expect beyond those doors. I'm stupid enough to walk in here alone and crazy enough not to tell anyone where I am. People who could help me are overseas and it seems like I'm looking at the top of a mountain and I'm not wearing my climbing gear."
"Your past failures are your climbing gear, detective. My motivation speaker Eddie Pinero says that when the top of the mountain seems too far out of reach to just focus on the next step. When you mess up and hit the ground you look around and realize the worst has already happened. Only place left to go... is up." Fabian tries to smile for Garcia.
The detective gives back a sheepish half grin and holds up his hand. Rutter takes the palm into his own and helps him to his feet. The two of them spin to look at the door.
"Let's go save a life." Says Fabian.
To show that detective Garcia isn't alone in this Fabian is the one to wrap his fingers around the metal fixture that holds the locks in place and braces them. The gears shift and Carlos presses the palms of his hand to the cold metal and together they open the door. The lights brighten and the girl on the slab screams. A whirring hum begins above her and the contraption vibrates with life.
The music cuts out and the demonic edited voice reveals it's self, "Hello Detective. I see you've survived another one of my tests. How's that throwing arm?" A guttural laugh glitches through and it continues, "The girl on the table is an actress from the hills of Hollywood. An arts graduate about to make her debut on the world. Child celebrities have it so rough, you know this from personal experience. So, why her? Surely my selection isn't random. You've had to notice this by now."
'No.' Garcia thinks, 'I haven't'
Fabian walks through the tarps pushing the tarps and gutted animals out of his way. He finds her and peers down into her eyes blocking her view from the contraption. He gives her a strong look of sympathy and explains who he is and who detective Garcia is. She listens intensely, terrified he's going to move away. Her hand goes up as far as it can against the restraints and she flexes her fingers roughly. He gets the hint and takes her hand into his own.
"This is Cat Valentine." Says the perpetrator through the intercom, "She got her life by ending another. Look around detective. The evidence doesn't lie."
Carlos sees what the killer is referring too; the photographs on the bodies of the dead animals. Pinned down with numbered tags are the developed photos taken on a disposable camera of her interaction with some individuals Carlos recognizes. He walks around the goat carcasses and turns his nose up at the men and women in the industry who took him down dark demented paths.
"You've played her game before. Now you'll both play for her life." The killer tells him, "I call this one; The Abattoir trap. Are you familiar with livestock agriculture detective Garcia? It can get terribly nasty. Humans gut animals for profit and it seems, as you've learned so far, they'll do it to themselves too."
There's a rough shift in the conveyor belt and the fur covered pelts jolt before they start moving. Cat Valentine let's out an animalistic wail.
"The only way to release her from her binds, Detective, is to dig a little deeper. Hidden in one of these animals is they key. How much blood is already on your hands? How much more can you dig out from under your nails to rescue her before she drowns in the entrails of gets impaled by the shards of bone? You're running out of time detective. The answer is obvious." The sound of his mechanical laughter is cut out and the creepy Sia Christmas song begins again.
Fabian looks over his shoulder at the stunned and Confused officer who's looking at the photograph on the goat before him and he asks, "Do you think you know this guy?"
"It's more than one person, I can tell you that much." Says Carlos and the goat moves away from him.
There's a look about Carlos. A puzzle in his mind. He appears lost but he's thinking.
He looks over at the other live stock bodies and examines what makes them all different. It isn't much to go on. Only sure difference is the photographs.
One of her with Dan Schnider. One with her leaving the home of Maria Menunos. Evidence of infidelity. Which one is it?
The first of many animals drops into the chipper and the sound of muscle, tendons, and hooves churning through the teeth of the chipper flip all of their stomachs before it rains down upon her pretty face the way sloppy lunch food falls off it's tray in the cafeteria trashcan. It's wet, chunky, and smells of decay. She's spitting onto the floor and Fabian wretches all over the concrete on the floor beside her table adding to the mess.
This wakes Carlos up. He begins rushing through all the goats he can looking at the picture on each one long enough to get a good idea as to what they are about and tries to quick-pace analyze them in his mind.
Don't cry snowman, not in front of me
Who'll catch your tears if you can't catch me, darlin'
The second animal to fall into the chipper gets jammed. There's a steady pulse convulsion of one; two; and three before it pukes out the entire quarter leg onto her stomach before it sprays her with the color red and some intestines lay around her neck like a sausage scarf. She's crying now and pulling so tightly against her restraints that her wrists are turning blue.
He finds one; a cute little photo of her and James wearing Santa hats in the snow. This was taken Christmas eve. The year Carlos realized he loved Kendall.
Don't cry snowman, don't you fear the sun
Who'll carry me without legs to run, honey
without legs to run, honey.
Fabian has positioned himself over her to catch the next hit. He's a resourceful man but it doesn't go unpunished a sharp bone pierces his shoulder blade and he cries out as the blood soaks his hair. He looks down at her and presses his hand to his lips. They both look monstrous.
Carlos's hands are buried deep in the stomach of the slowly moving animal pelt and his fingers are pulling apart at sacks of flesh until he wraps them around the metal hunk and he cheers. With brute force he's removing the key and stumbling backwards against the pale blue tarps. He races over to her and steps behind where her head rests. He finds the lock and it's when the fourth animal is beginning to swirl in it's blend that the jaws of the rusty metal key slink into the slot. He twists it with a clink and the three of them fall out into the slick slimy mess on the floor.
Don't cry snowman, don't you shed a tear
Who'll hear my secrets if you don't have ears, baby
if you don't have ears baby
The conveyor belt comes to a stop; the orange lights eclipse into a soft blue hue; and the hum of the chipper dies. It's over. They're all alive. They win this round.
Please don't cry no tears now, it's Christmas baby
My snowman and me
My snowman and me
baby
