Bodies On Ice

A Story by Brittany Diane

Curiosity killed the cat and Cynicism is alive...even if they aren't.

A local sandwich shop, family owned of course because we wouldn't want people we don’t know poking their noses around here. Not this Place, there are too many secrets. Too many ghastly things to uncover.

We don’t have an ice maker in the back, you’d think we would with how important the back ice container is. So everyday, four times a day I have to fill up six buckets of ice in the front and pour them into the back container. So where is it all going?

“You’re always taking ice back there, what’s it for?” Edmund, an obnoxious regular asked one day. In Edmund's defense, they are all obnoxious.

“We’re icing the dead body in the back.” No smile, no humor. No lies. He smiled anyways, told me I had an active imagination and rustled my hair. I took the ice back, did my job and went home. This was my life. Work, “home school”, sleep, repeat. Nobody around here talked to anybody except each other and sometimes attempted customer chit chat. Even then, too much of that would get you in trouble. Bleak would be a nice break from my current state of existing. I’ve been told it’s only because of my age. Seventeen unofficially, Forty-seven in reality.

“Casius, we need more house sauce. Get on it.” The order is called from the back. I moved to the basement, just one floor above Jagger. It always felt dirty here, but it’s hard to see the dirt when everything is grey. I unconsciously pulled out a stewing pot, tossed in chilies and pre-chopped herbs. I tugged on the hose and watched as the sticky metallic liquid filled the rusted silver container. It slushed around as I pulled and pulled until suddenly, almost menacingly it stopped.

“Jagger, I’m dry.” I complain into the intercom. There’s a loud moaning followed by anguished groaning of the pipes. I close the door and begin pulling again at my station. The mixture bubbles. Fresh metallic aromas fill the air, once gagging, now it was comforting.

I proceed to distribute bottles to the front. The door dings and a cute girl shows up. I feel bad for her at least, she has no clue. Oh well.

“Need a sandwich?” I asked quietly.

“Need a job.” She replies. I fight a scoff, she only thinks she wants to work here. She has no idea.

“We’re not hiring.”

“You’re never hiring.”

“People don’t leave much around here.” If I leave the room she can’t keep talking.

“Why do you never hire anyone else around here?” She nearly shouts. I hate it when I’m wrong. Apparently, there are a select few who can continue a conversation even when their counterpart has left.

“Because we’re not interested.” Cute but annoying.

“Well is there a manager?” Very annoying.

“Yes. Me. We’re not interested.” I point out. I wasn’t really a manager, but then we didn’t actually have one. I left, maintaining my duties. It was quite in back, and quiet up front. Just how I liked it.

Bang. Bang. Bang. On the staff door.

“Can I help you with something?”

“There is something really inky about this place. You never hire anybody. You never really talk. Your customer service is terrible. I just thought I would tell you that I’m going to find out what is so weird about this place, even if I have to find out without you.” She left abruptly. Mother wasn’t going to be happy.

“That girl was back again? What a bothersome one she is. We will take care of this, or rather, you will.” I knew what she meant, I didn’t know if I could. She was annoying but certainly she didn’t deserve that fate. I didn’t have a choice, it was as good as set in stone when mother gave an order.

Three days and no sign of her. She got bored, or frustrated and gave up. At least for her sake I hope that’s the case. The door opens, I look up with a sigh. Of course she didn’t.

“What can I get for you?”

“You can get me a copy of your meat purchase receipt.” She leaned on the counter.

“I can’t divulge personal business information. Sorry.” She’s been researching, that could be problematic.

“Why not, got something to hide?” Yes, I did but that was none of her concern.

“No, business records are confidential.”

“Isn’t the customer always right?” She was quirky.

“I don’t think you have ever purchased anything from this establishment. Therefore, you are not a customer.”

“Just a curious town citizen then.”

“Just a nuisance.” It slipped out. I wasn’t normally this way, she irked me right to my very core and made me feel things I hadn’t felt in a very long time. Maybe it was just the feeling of being alive.

“You know…that food truck never comes here. I asked around.” She pointed out. “So where does your food come from?” She asked again. Customers already eating were starting to pay attention. I needed to end this, mother wouldn’t like a slip up.

“It’s all farm fresh.” I lied. Smooth cover, age old.

“Oh really? What farm?”

“Business records, still confidential.” She huffed and stormed away in defeat. I was going to have to take care of this quickly.

I sat around late that night, making an extra batch of house sauce for the next day’s sale. It always took four hours and seven minutes, not a minute more, not a minute less. I heard rustling upstairs. There shouldn’t have been, nobody should be here, not even Jagger. I opened the door to short black hair and the back of a white t-shirt. I remained quiet, she had no clue I was still here. Good thing I was. I watched from the shadows as she poked around and lifted paper. I knew waiting for her to find what she was looking for was dangerous, but I was going to have to deal with her tonight, one way or another. I might as well let her be happy for a minute. The ice shifted in its container and she spun around.

“You shouldn’t be making noise.” She opened it and saw the tunnel that fed down, where we kept the bodies. Body right now, we were out. “Where do you lead to?” She whispered, walking around back and finding the door. “Oh God! Save me from this putrid smell.” She complained as the smell of the simmer sauce flooded out of the basement. I grinned, even God couldn’t save her now. Cynicism aside, she wasn’t wrong, it smelt terrible in large quantities. The bubbling pot boiled, splattered on her round cheeks.

She opened the cellar door, and down she went. We should start locking those doors, I noted. I knew I should stop her but this was fascinating, she was fascinating. She made life….interesting. Things were going to get very boring again with her gone.

I heard a scream. Two seconds later I saw a camera flash. Well that wasn’t going to do. She backed up right into my arms. I put one of my blood covered gloves over her mouth.

“It’s me.” I whispered. She screamed and thrashed harder. “You should have given up when I said we weren’t hiring. Drop the phone.” She screamed, tugged and finally dropped the phone she had used to take pictures. I smashed it. No pictures, no proof. I let her go, she ran from me, right past the half butchered carcass of an obese nurse.

“You people are fucked up.” She yelled. I understood that.

“I’d love to let you go. You’re pretty and ….well….interesting. I’d also very much appreciate it if you could keep your voice down.” I smirked.

“Then let me go.” She exclaimed, inching for the door. She grabbed the handle and took off. For a split second, I almost let her go. Instead I grabbed her by her hair and pulled her to the floor. Her head bounced off of the tile. Standing over her I stretched out my finger until my nails looked like talons and my eye shown bright with the hunt. “You’re a monster!” She shouted.

“Demon actually. I guess you don’t know all of our dirty little secrets after all. A smooth swipe of claws to the throat. Nothing but blood. Jagger answered the call to clean up the mess.

Mother and I stood over her corpse as she laid, arms crossed on her frozen resting place. Like an ice princess.

“I actually felt a little bad. It’s a shame that she wanted to know so bad it killed her.”

“Don’t feel bad Casius.” A cold emotionless hand to my shoulder, an empty gesture. “She wanted desperately to be part of this store. Now she is.” Her voice was hollow but she did smirk. Cynic. Wild chaos and sweeping wind filled the room as shadows and wild eyes gathered, coming to collect the soul.

Two weeks later a pale girl with short black hair entered the store at dawn, dressed and ready to work. She was the same as before, but then, we all were, just a little colder and a lot less human. I could see that it wasn’t really her, her body made up the lunch special after all but more like a dark version of herself in borrowed, crafted flesh.

“What kind of a world do we live in where the dead don’t stay that way?” I asked as she passed. No response. Dry Humor.

© 2015 Brittany Diane

Author's Note

I'm experimenting with a new style of writing and I'd love some feedback.

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Mister_Sir

I was planning on writing a story like this after watch the "Employee of the Month" episode of Teen Titans. But through a combination of academics and procrastination that did not happen. In any case, I love how you went about this particular story concept. And I particularly like how you made the family out to be demons at the end. I was personally expecting them to just be cannibals. And call be sick, but I am really glad that that b***h died or half-died or something, because I thought that she was an insufferable d****e.
So, anyway, overall I enjoyed this story and look forward to reading more creepy stories like this one. If you have not already, I suggest you check out the youtube channel, Katy Towell / Childrin R Skary.

Neurotically yours,
Mister Splitbrain