Manflesh

By Heather Wielding

The world has changed. Food is scarce, and hunger a constant companion. As new products start arriving to grocery stores across the US, consumers turn their hope to John Smith, the founder of Manflesh Corporation. Little do they know that Manflesh is feeding them meat taken from human beings...
No secret can remain hidden for all times, and as bits and pieces of truth begin to drip out, John Smith finds himself in a desperate situation. A new illness is taking over, and Manflesh Co becomes an easy scapegoat. But is it alone to blame? Is there another secret hidden in the darkness behind John Smith...

• Language: English
• Publisher: Heather Wielding
• Release date: Feb 22, 2016
• ISBN: 9781310489556

Book preview

Manflesh

by

Heather Wielding

Copyright 2015 Heather Wielding

Smashwords Edition

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Chapter One

Sir?

What is it now? Richard White, President of the USA, asked.

It was the year 2019. The war had just begun, and a girl named Julia still lived with her parents in the faraway land next to a sleeping giant. Richard White had just started his second term as President, and was quite pleased with the way things were going.

War machines sowed death upon all those who rebelled against Richard White's will, and his assistants kept the hookers coming.

Life was good for Richard White, part from the problem with feeding the people of the United States of America.

Land was scarce, and livestock had all but disappeared within the past decade. During the hours he spent with his good friend Jack Daniels, Richard White liked to amuse himself with images of people eating out every animal that had ever walked the planet. First the dinosaurs, then the mammoths, and now cows and pigs and chickens. To him, it was a scenario most hilarious, but to the general public, the lack of meat caused a serious problem.

Without food, the nation would starve.

Richard White had tried buying food from abroad. It seemed every other nation struggled with the same problem.

There was no food left. Everything had been eaten.

Well, almost everything. There were still greenhouses that provided the people with greens of all kinds, which were carefully rationed now that the armies across the ocean needed to be fed, too. As the population grew and took over more and more land, livestock just sort of vanished.

Meat was now grown in laboratories. Real meat was available only to those who were willing to pay for it.

Richard White had tried the synthetic meat grown in a Petri dish under a UV-lamp. It hadn't tasted like much to him, and when his assistant told him it was supposed to be pork, Richard White had to spread his smile really wide to keep from vomiting.

He still couldn't understand how anyone would willingly eat that tasteless garbage.

A new proposition, Sir, the assistant said from between the door. He was reluctant to come in, and Richard White couldn't blame him. He knew he could be a bit harsh toward his staff.

Bring it in, boy, Richard White ordered. Don't be shy, I won't bite.

And then again, a part of him wanted to do just that. The boy was pretty, just the way Richard White liked it.

Somehow, he reminded him of Kevin.

As the proposition landed on his table, Richard White reached for his phone.

It seemed only appropriate to thank the youth who had entertained him so just a few nights ago. Otherwise he might regard the President ungrateful and rude.

***

Going over the proposition gave Richard White the chills.

After having read it, he leaned back in his chair, staring idly into nothingness.

It would be a while until Kevin arrived, a while until it was time to start socialising with his dear friend JD, a while until the merriment of the evening began.

It was plenty of time to make the decision.

Only Richard White didn't really want to make it, one way or another.

If he said yes, the people would be fed.

If he said no, thousands would starve to death.

The world is over populated, Richard White told a bottle of Black Jack. I would be doing it a favour.

Only he'd be doing the world the same favour, no matter how he decided.

That synthetic crap tastes like crap, Richard White told the proposal.

If he said yes, he could improve the taste. Everyone would be happy. And the people would never know. They would eat, and be happy, and everything would be well.

What the hell, Richard White said, and dabbled his signature onto the proposal.

He put it into the case that said going out. It would wait there until morning, and then some assistant would take it, carry it out into the world, and another assistant would make it come true.

Richard White leaned back in his chair, closed his eyes, and reached for his good, loyal friend Jack Daniels.

At least that would never taste different, no matter how the world starved.

Chapter Two

Look, dear, she said, picking up a vacuum packed piece of meat, real meat. She held it for a moment, savouring the feel of it, returning in her mind to a time when you could walk into any 7/11 and pick up a similar piece of meat. It was plentiful back then, when she was just a girl. Now, however, you had to be really rich in order to eat real meat every day.

Reminded of life's downsides, she glanced at the price.

She frowned, looked at the piece she was holding again, and studied the price tag once more.

Quality meat, she read out loud, mixed with synthetic fibres grown in a government owned laboratory. 1,09 a pound.

She looked at her husband, eyes wide with disbelief. How can this be? The price of pork's been sky high for ages!

He shrugged, a tall man who used to be handsome. Years had broken him, turned him bitter and bent. She still looked at him with love in her eyes, but sometimes he had to wonder. She was still lovely, still beautiful, still filled with the innocence of youth. She could have done so much better, and still she stayed with him, patient and calm when he lashed out at her.

Was it pity that kept her to him? Or did she really love him?

He didn't know, and sometimes he was too numb to even care any more.

It's just meat, he said, but it didn't bring her down.

There were others around the cold-storage now, others wondering like she had just moments ago, others reaching in and pulling out chunks of meat with big smiles on their faces.

Happy people pleasantly surprised at the grocery store. And still he couldn't help but wonder.

Where had the meat come from, and why was it so cheap?

Best get it while it lasts, he told his wife, reaching in for another piece, and then another.

He hesitated for a moment, and took out another chunk.

Might as well take one to Anne as well. She probably can't get to the stores, not in her condition.

She nodded, and pressed the meat closer to her bosom. The look on her face was something he hadn't seen in a long time: pure, unspoiled bliss.

***

Anne? Anne, honey, it's us!

She pushed the door open without waiting for an answer. Anne was their daughter, and needed her rest. Surely she wouldn't mind her mother coming in unannounced.

Mom? came Anne's voice from the living room. What are you doing here? I've told you to...

We were just at the store, she said, without listening to what Anne had to say. And there was a sale!

It was hardly a sale, he said, but her enthusiasm had rubbed off on him, leaving a rarely seen smile on his face. I think it'll be a permanent thing.

He'd had time to think about it on the way, and he'd come to a conclusion: either this was a typo, a mistake of some sort, or meat had come back to stay. He trusted it to be the latter. Had it been a mistake, the cashier would have been more than eager to correct it. The girl had said nothing. She'd added the numbers, and charged them. That was all, service with an almost-smile, goodbye, have a nice day, do come back.

And here they were, handing a chunk of meat to their daughter. Just like before.

Only before it would have been greens as well, and potatoes and cheese and coffee and chocolate. Most of that was gone now. The war had come and taken everything away.

And then the sun had spat out its deadly shower, and everything had changed even more.

Oh, Anne said, and put her hand on her belly. She was getting big. He didn't know how long it would be until her time came, but from the looks of her, it wouldn't be long.

This was their first grandchild.

We brought you some, she said, handing Anne a chunk of meat. It's real meat!

Real meat? Anne's voice was hesitant as she took the meat. You sure?

Yes, it said so on the sign.

And you believed it?

Well... She hesitated, and the smile wavered, wilted. Then it returned, though not in its former glory. Why would they lie?

Why would they lie in a sign? Anne asked. Her mother nodded, and the smile grew a little braver, a little stronger.

Mom, do you live in a barrel? They've lied to us as long as I can remember. They lie to us all the time, about things that really matter. Why wouldn't they lie to us about the origin of surprisingly cheap meat?

Her smile changed into a pout as she made a motion to take the meat back. We'll eat it if you don't want it.

This was a constant struggle. He didn't remember a day when the two had been at peace. She wanted one thing, and Anne wanted another, and neither could give in.

And he was stuck in between, forced to try and make amends.

Girls, he sighed. Can't we all just get along?

They glanced at him, so much alike he had to hide a smile. That was probably why they fought so much: they were exact carbon-copies of each other, both strong and wilful, both born leaders of their families.

Only Anne didn't have much of a family any more. Her husband had been taken by the war, and she was left alone with a baby on the way. She claimed she was doing OK, but neither of them believed it.

She was their only daughter, and would always hold a special place in their hearts.

Despite her mother constantly trying to diminish her from a woman grown to a child who used to watch her cook and clean and iron and dust.

Take the meat, Anne, he said. Try it. You need it, and the baby does, too.

She held on to the meat, and anger fled from her face. I guess you're right, Dad, she said. I could get by on anything but the baby...

She opened her mouth to say something, but he pushed her, and motioned her to shut her trap. She did, and he could almost hear the snap.

Anne straightened herself, and he could see something glisten in the corner of her eye.

If she was doing well, it was hard for her. And she did her best to hide it.

Thanks Mom and Dad, she said. I guess it doesn't really matter if it came from a pig or a lab. It's meat, and that's all that counts.

The sign said it's part lab-grown, part real, she said, knowingly.

Chapter Three

Steaks? the man asked the waitress. For fifteen bucks?

The waitress smiled a well-rehearsed smile. Yes, sir, it's a new speciality.

A new speciality?

Yes, sir.

He took a moment to study the menu. Can you tell me what kind of meat this is?

Unfortunately, the waitress said, I have not been offered that information.

In other words, you don't know, his date said. She was a tall blond, and the way she had gathered her hair on top of her head accentuated her height. I don't get it, she said, turning to him, why aren't customer servants allowed to say they don't know? I mean, it's not humanly possible to know everything that goes on in a restaurant or a shop or in the world in general? Why do they feel obliged to act like they know it all?

I don't know, dear, he said, and she clapped her hands, as though he'd proven her point, and turned to the waitress. See? It's not so hard.

The waitress smiled the well-rehearsed smile again. Yes, ma'am.

So, have you made up your mind? he asked.

I made up my mind when I first heard the words fifteen dollar steak. I'll have one of those, please.

A very good choice, ma'am, the waitress said, scribbling the order into her pad. And for you, sir?

I'll have the same.

Very good, sir. And to drink?

You got any red?

Only a few bottles, sir. The selection is listed behind the menu.

He turned his around. So it is.

I haven't had a glass of red wine since the sun exploded, she said, and he was quick to take a hint. They hadn't been dating that long, and he still wished to offer her anything her heart desired.

Unfortunately, her heart desired a lot.

A bottle of Cabernet, then, he told the waitress.

Appetisers?

Would you like an appetiser, dear?

I would like, she said, in the demanding tone he'd grown well accustomed to, a green salad.

Very good, ma'am. The waitress closed her pad, and smiled. I'll be right back with your wine.

***

What do you think it is?

She hadn't poked at her steak like he had, hadn't turned it or smelled it. She had just attacked it, and started wolfing it down like she was starving.

From the looks of her, he might even believe it. She was thin, although the fashion industry was already beginning to idolize women with curves, and her height did little to conceal her skinniness.

Does it matter? she asked. It's meat. Eat it. She paused to chew. Don't you like it?

There was hope in her voice, like she was beginning to grow certain she could finish his steak, too.

He took another bite. I don't know. There's an under-taste there.

I don't notice anything.

It's very subtle, it's like... He tasted, turned the meat around on his tongue. It's like pork, and not quite. And it's like beef, but not quite. There's something else there, and I can't put my finger on it.

Don't you mean tongue?

He laughed obediently. She was dominant, in and out of bed, and he'd already learned not to resist her.

In a way, he liked it.

I still don't notice anything, she said. But it is funny how they won't say where it comes from. She took another bite, and chewed, savouring the taste and feel of flesh grinding between her teeth. I've seen it at the shops, too. Mystery meat, they call it. Two bucks a pound, only it's ground, and half-synthetic.

This isn't, he said. This is full meat.

Sure is.

There must be a taboo-issue, he said. Why else would they hide the origin?

She shrugged. Could be. Maybe it's rat.

They both laughed.

It's too big to come from rats.

Does it matter? she asked. Really? I mean, we need to eat, and this is food.

I guess not, he said, and finished his steak.

Chapter Four

The make-up was off.

Jeremy had hung his red sequent coat for the last time.

The doctors had done a good job in returning his face to the way it used to be, back in the day when he was still called John and not Jeremy. Slowly, he let his fingertips run down the lines of his face, the lines that had once been so familiar and now seemed strange to him. He'd been Jeremy for five years. During those years, Jeremy's face had grown on him so that it was difficult to recall what he used to look like. Looking at his own face now it seemed strange for it to have escaped him.

One last time, John whispered to himself. One last time smile for the cameras, and then it's over.

The new Jeremy had arrived three weeks earlier. He had greeted the old Jeremy with a polite nod as they passed in the hallway, and it had been much like looking into a mirror, though the doctors hadn't yet perfected his face. This would be his first show, and the last one for the old Jeremy.

This would be the only time the two met before the public eye, the crowd that spent its time staring at a TV-screen.

Once, Jeremy had dreamt of a better life. He'd dreamt of being a real actor, not knowing that the Jeremy he'd replaced had once harboured similar dreams. He'd dreamt of red carpets, of making it big in the film industry.

And then the Mousetrap had happened.

The Mousetrap had ruined it all, but by the time it came into his life, his career had practically been over. He was old, used up, full of lines and wrinkles that turned into mountains and ridges on the silver screen. The few parts he'd gotten over the last years paid enough to keep a roof over his head, but money was quickly running out. He'd never made it big, never had the chance to stock up for winter, so to speak, and was close to calling it in.

And then the Mousetrap came to change it all.

At first, it seemed like a blessing. It was clean, it was safe (well, if you kept yourself out of the machines, remained on the higher levels of the House and didn't venture deep into the pits where monsters lived), and there was plenty of food to eat. John had signed the deal without much consideration, and helped himself to all the pleasures the House had to offer.

And then, the doctors had come with knives and needles and tools to sever skin. They'd taken his face, and given him another, a face handsome and even, and easy to forget. A pleasant face with little character. John had taken it like he took everything the House had to offer, and done what was expected of him. He put on his smile like he wore his red sequent coat, and sent innocent people to their deaths on TV.

And now...

Five minutes, John.

John. His name was John now.

An old man stood, and let out a heavy sigh.

An old man walked out of his dressing room, giving a longing look to the closet where the red sequent coat once hung.

An old man left the House to meet his death.

***

Paul?

Jeremy smiled an impossibly white smile. My name is Jeremy.

The assistant smiled a nervous smile that bore a bit of crookedness. Yes, of course. Sorry, Jeremy.

Jeremy's smile widened just a bit. That's all right. An honest mistake. Could happen to anyone.

Five minutes, Jeremy.

Five minutes. In five minutes, he would walk out of the dressing room as Jeremy, become the embodiment of a TV's game-show host, and be Jeremy until the end of his days.

The man inside the mirror put his smile back on. It had faded along the edges as he let his thoughts wander to the time before they had come to save him. To the time when...

Now is not the time for that, he told himself, smiling his impossible smile. Little lines deepened around his eyes, making his smile all the more contagious.

And deadly.

The red coat hung in a hanger on the