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“Was a time when all it took to feed the thing was a single potato,” he said with a cigarette dangling precariously from his mouth. “Not even that, maybe half of one, and it was good.” He flipped the steaks on the grill and reached for his spice mixture. After a few quick dashes, he set it back down and pulled the cigarette out of his mouth for a long exhale. “Didn’t even have to cook ‘em, either. Just cut a few chunks off and toss ‘em at the thing.” He said, miming the motion of tossing something from his free hand. He placed the cigarette back in his mouth. “Least that’s what I heard back when I first got here. Frankly, I think that’s bullshit; hard to believe it was ever small enough to hold in your hands.” He dabbed sweat off of his brow with a towel draped across his shoulders. “Them are about done. Do me a favor and get ‘em on that platter for me. I have to get more from the cooler.” He handed his tongs to the boy to whom he had been speaking, whose mouth dangled and hung open in a stupor. The boy took them up with a loose grip, his eyes fixated on the grill before him.

The man took one last drag from his cigarette before putting it out in an ashtray on his way to the walk-in cooler. He placed his hand firmly on the door handle and strained against the rusted mechanism before it finally gave way. He opened the door and walked inside, embracing the refreshingly cold air despite the pungent odor within. Inside was lined with rows of metal shelves, with boxes neatly stacked in tower-like formations, four boxes to each tower, with the one closest to the door sitting at half that height. He picked up the two boxes closest to the door and exited the cooler, kicking the door closed behind him. As he approached his grill, the odor of charred meat filled his nostrils. 

“Shit!” He shouted as he slammed the boxes down on the countertop next to the grill. He snatched his tongs out of the boy’s hand and pushed him out of the way. In a few swift motions, he pulled all of the steaks off of his grill and laid them on the platter beside it, each steak brandishing a blacker crust than the last. “Motherfucker.” He mumbled, annoyed. He sighed and turned to the boy. “You can’t leave ‘em on there that long.” He picked the platter up and held it in front of the boy who took a quick step back. “Would you eat that?” The man said. The boy quickly shook his head. “Neither would it.” He said, pointing the tongs back toward a set of double doors.

“I’m sorry.” The boy said quietly. 

The man set the platter aside and started opening one of the boxes. “That’s alright. Just don’t let it happen again. A fuck up here and there’s okay, but too much and-”

A cart covered in white cloth came to a stop beside them, the squeaking of its wheels cutting off the conversation. “Mike, where’s yours?” Said the older gentleman behind it. 

“About to be in the trash.” Mike said. “New kid’s still gettin’ adjusted.” 

The man behind the cart narrowed his eyes at the boy, then turned his attention back to Mike. “Get him straightened out.”

Mike waved the man onward and started laying more steaks on the grill. He wiped his hands on a towel hanging off of the grill and grabbed the seasoning mixture once more. “We’ll have to double time it, but we should be able to have two batches done by the time he comes rolling back around.” After a few quick dashes of the seasoning, he placed the mixture back down, picked up the platter of burnt meat, and turned back toward the boy. “Go ahead and throw this in that trash can for me.” The boy took the platter from the man and carefully slid its contents into the trash can behind him. “I just want you to get a feel for things today. Tomorrow we’ll start going over specifics. For now, watch me.” He pulled another cigarette from its pack and lit it. “What’s your name, anyway?”

“Tyler.” The boy said. 

The man nodded. “Tyler.” He repeated. “Knew a kid in school named Tyler, mean little bastard, used to talk all kinds of shit ‘til I knocked him on his ass. Sometimes I wonder if we’ve ever passed by each other without realizing it.” Mike started flipping the steaks on the grill. “So tell me, Tyler, what’d you do to end up here?” Tyler stood in stunned silence for a moment, mesmerized by how casually Mike spoke while handling the steaks. “Probably none of my business.” He said with an awkward chuckle.

After another moment’s silence, Tyler responded. “I held up a gas station last year.” He turned his head downward. “Accidentally shot the cashier and…”

“Killed him?” Mike said. Tyler became silent.

Mike laughed and pulled the cigarette out of his mouth. “Damn, you took the fast track, didn’t ya?” He laughed a little longer before replacing the cigarette. “Guessing that wasn’t exactly how you saw that scenario playing out in your head, huh?” Tyler kept his head turned downward. “Sorry for laughing, kid. My mouth fires off faster than my brain can shut it, sometimes.” He laughed again and quickly added “No pun intended.” 

Tyler raised his head back up. “It’s okay.”

 “You got me beat, anyway. I got hooked on heroin back when I was, maybe, a little older than you. Started stealing from my folks and got kicked out. Had to feed my addiction somehow, and that unfortunately ended up with me stabbing a guy over eight bucks.” He paused for a few moments in quiet contemplation. When he spoke again, his usually loud voice was much softer. “Thought I paid my debt to society, but.” He ended with a shrug. “Can I have that back?” He said, pointing at the platter with his tongs.

Tyler held the platter up to Mike, tilting it slightly and resisting the urge to wretch as the juices upon it came into contact with his thumb. Mike barely had a grip on the platter himself as Tyler turned back around toward the trash can and dry heaved, and when he saw the charred meat at the bottom of the can, the contents of his stomach let loose. 

“You get used to it.” Mike said over the sound of Tyler’s groaning. “Might take a few weeks, but you will. There’s a fridge over there if you need something to wash that taste outta your mouth.” Mike pointed at a mini refrigerator a short distance away from the trash can. “Mind grabbing me one?” 

Tyler spit one last time into the trash can before making his way to the refrigerator. He opened it and was relieved to see that it was only filled with bottles of water. He took two bottles from the refrigerator and walked over to Mike, who had just finished pulling the first batch of steaks from the grill. “Here.” Tyler said.

“Appreciate ya.” Mike said as he took one of the bottles and placed it on the counter between the grill and the steaks. He began placing more raw steaks on the grill and seasoning them. “This thing prefers ‘em to be medium, but I ain’t ever heard it complain if it gets a few that are just over rare.” Once his grill was filled with steaks once more, Mike wiped his hands on his towel and started downing his water. Between gulps, he said “Least it isn’t taking all of this.” 

“Have you ever seen it?” Tyler said after taking a swig of his own water. 

Mike nodded. “Oh yeah. Fucker’s as massive as you’re thinkin’.” He paused. “Nah, probably bigger than that. You’ll get your chance to see it for yourself. We usually rotate out who pushes the cart each day and my day is…” He thought for a moment. “Well, shit, it’s tomorrow.” He chuckled to himself, ashes dropping to the floor as he did. 

Tyler’s grip on the bottle loosened just enough for it to slip out of his hands, splattering water across the floor that snaked its way into a drain situated underneath a metal table. He quickly bent down to try and pick up the mostly emptied bottle, though with each attempt he made to pick it up, the bottle rolled just out of reach. After several attempts, he finally picked the bottle up and absentmindedly raised it to his lips, and upon realizing what he was doing, quickly tossed the bottle into the trash can. He placed his hands on the back of his head and paced around for a moment, moving the short distance between the refrigerator and grill repeatedly.

“You good?” Mike said, glancing at Tyler as he stopped beside him.

All Tyler could do was nod his head.

After taking the latest batch of steaks off of the grill, Mike turned to Tyler and knelt down to be eye level with him. Tyler could see that Mike’s eyes were dark and sunken, and wrinkles had begun to form around them that hinted at his age. “Kid, I get it.” He said sympathetically. “I was right where you are now, watching some other smartass try to make light of this whole fucked up situation while I was pissin’ myself. But you gotta get it together, cause if you don’t, the last stop is the pens, and if I’m being honest with ya, I am sick and fucking tired of seeing people sent off there. Okay?”

Tyler nodded again while mouthing “Okay.” back to Mike. 

“Good.” Mike said as he slowly stood back upright, letting out an involuntary grunt as he did. He turned back toward the grill as the man with the cart came back around. “And right on time.” 

“This all of it?” The man asked bluntly, picking up the platter of meat. 

“Every last bit.” Mike responded with a grin. 

The man transferred the steaks from Mike’s platter onto an ever-growing mound of them on the cart. He returned Mike’s platter to the countertop next to the grill and began pushing the cart onward. As Mike had begun laying more steaks on the grill, he heard the sound of a shoe skidding and turned in time to see the man in mid-fall. The man let go of the cart before his forward momentum could send it rushing ahead of him, and cried out in pain as he collided with the floor. Mike raced over to the man to help him to his feet, catching more weight than he had anticipated when the man cried out in pain once again. They both looked down at the man’s ankle to see that there was at least no visible damage, but putting weight on it was not an option. 

Mike locked eyes with the man for a moment and saw that tears were welling up within them, the man’s breathing rapid. “It’s probably just sprained.” Mike said reassuringly. “Come on, over here.” Mike helped the man to his feet and slowly walked him over to the grill and leaned him against the counter. After making sure he was steady, Mike dragged a metal table over to him so that its edge lined up with the countertop. “I’ll take over cart duty, you just focus on grillin’, alright? I’ll keep the new kid with me, so all you gotta worry about is keepin’ them steaks comin’. Should be enough in them boxes to keep you going for the rest of the shift.” 

The man tried to steady himself using the table while gritting his teeth. He kept his head down as Mike called Tyler over to him. “Thank you.” The man whispered. 

Mike grabbed the cart handles and started walking slowly while waiting for Tyler to catch up with him. He looked down at the floor for a moment, noticing a few splotches of cooled grease that had been misshapen by a shoe print, and dropped the towel that was across his shoulder on top of it. The pair walked toward the set of double doors at the far end of the kitchen. The cart collided with the doors and pushed them open effortlessly, its contents wiggling slightly, but remaining mostly in place. Before them was a long hallway with a slight decline that ended in a sharp bend. The squeaky cart wheels echoed loudly within the hallway as the sounds of sizzling steaks fell away. Overhead, fluorescent lights hummed with a few flickering infrequently, while others showed no signs of life at all.

“Sorry for rushing your training along.” Mike said flatly. “Things have to move quick here; there ain’t much room for anything but shoving food in that thing’s gullet.” His own breathing was shaky. “I don’t know how to say this nicely, kid, so I’m just gonna say it.” He paused for a moment as they rounded the corner. “Do whatever they say and don’t freak out.” 

They came to a stop before another set of double doors with two more men standing to either side. They both stood much taller than Mike and Tyler, their tall stature complemented well by their physique. “John fucked up his ankle.” Mike said to the two men. “So I’m filling in while he mans my station.” He jerked his head back toward Tyler. “New guy just started today, so I’m showing him the ropes.” 

The two men nodded and pushed the doors open, clearing the way for the cart to be pushed in. Mike and Tyler stepped inside, stopping in front of another man who stood even taller than the men that opened the doors. He was hunched over slightly, as it seemed that standing upright would put his head into the ceiling. From underneath a hood, his bloodshot eyes quickly darted between Mike and Tyler several times before fixating on the cart itself. 

The hooded figure stood at the center of a T-section of hallways. Behind him was a doorway made up of plastic strips that stood mostly motionless. Beside him was a short hallway that ended abruptly with another set of double doors, though these were locked by a chain and padlock around the handles. From behind the doors came a low rumbling, not dissimilar to the growling of one’s stomach. Without taking his eyes off of the pair, he selected two steaks from the platter on the cart and placed them upon two separate plates on a table before them. 

“Oh, come on, man.” Mike said with exasperation. “Just because we swapped out?” 

The man did not respond. He proceeded to cut away pieces from the steaks.

“No one would be stupid enough to try to fucking poison it again.” Mike continued to protest. 

The man remained silent until he stepped away from the table. “Sit.” He whispered, his voice akin to the croaking of a frog.

“Fuck.” Mike said while rolling his eyes. He walked around the cart to the table and sat down. When Tyler didn’t follow, he turned toward him and said “Come on, kid. We gotta do it.” With that, Tyler made his way around the cart and took a seat next to Mike.

From behind them, the hooded man croaked again. “You will each consume three of the pieces that have been cut away.” He commanded.

Tyler spun around to look at the man. As their eyes locked, Tyler quickly turned back around with a shudder. The eyes he looked into, though bloodshot, appeared glazed over with a translucent yellow substance, with cataracts appearing over both pupils. Their focus on Tyler, however, was unmistakable. He then turned to look at Mike who already had one of the pre-cut pieces of steak on his fork. Mike took a deep breath and looked at Tyler before quietly repeating “We gotta do it.” Tyler looked back from Mike to the plate in front of him. The pieces stared back at him as their juices oozed out from them. His were noticeably rarer than Mike’s, but he picked up his fork and plunged its prongs into one of the pieces. He lifted it up to his mouth, closed his eyes, and placed the piece into his mouth. To his surprise, he found it to be akin to eating any other cut of meat, though the flavor was unlike anything he had ever tried before, and as the pleasant flavor faded away, bitterness took its place. He chewed for a moment before swallowing, and as he felt the chunk of meat slide down his throat, he was overwhelmed with the urge to vomit. He turned back to Mike to see that he was already standing back up while wiping his mouth, having finished consuming his allotted three pieces. 

Tyler swallowed hard again before stabbing his fork into another piece and lifting it to his mouth. “Faster!” The tall man shouted. Tyler’s body involuntarily convulsed, and the fork slipped out of his hand, landing on the table in a loud, echoing clatter. He hurriedly picked it back up and shoved the piece of meat into his mouth, trying not to chew it for long before swallowing it, and simultaneously stabbing his fork into the third piece. He swallowed, opened his mouth for the third piece, and let out a sob. Despite his best efforts to recompose himself, Tyler’s sobs continued until the fork fell once again, rolling off of the table onto the floor, the third piece of meat rolling underneath the table. 

Tyler let out a long wail as he attempted to stand up. “I can’t.” He said. “I can’t.” 

“Just do it!” Mike shouted from the room’s entrance. 

Tyler continued to sob, his protestations becoming inaudible over the echoing sounds of his wailing. He collapsed himself onto the table, his cries muffled by the tablecloth. As his sobs grew quieter, he could hear a set of footsteps approaching him, though when he opened his eyes, through the thick tears, he saw that it was not Mike who was coming to comfort him, but one of the men who had stopped them on their way into the room with the cart. Looking past the one that was approaching him, Tyler saw that Mike was being held back by the other. Tyler tried to jump to his feet, but felt one powerful arm force his head back down onto the table while the other man grabbed hold of one of his arms. Tyler found himself being forced upright, the hooded man restraining his arms while the other restrained his legs. They swiftly carried him through the plastic strip door, behind which Mike’s own protests disappeared as he was escorted out the other side.

Tyler attempted to struggle against the two men as they walked with him through the darkening hallway, though he soon fell still as he realized his assailants withstood his resistance with little effort. Soon, they rounded a bend and passed through another set of plastic strip doors through which Tyler could hear the faint sound of muffled screams and cries, followed by a voice commanding them to be quiet. When those sounds died down, he could hear the distant buzzing of power tools that choked on the objects they dissected. As they passed through yet another set of plastic strips, they were met with frigid air, darkness, and complete silence save for the low rustling of the plastic strips.

Above them, Tyler could tell that something was there, but it wasn’t until his eyes began adjusting to the darkness that he came to the realization of what it was. Gently swaying above them as they passed were human corpses, their wrists and ankles bound together, with brown sacks placed over where their heads would be. They were lined up in neat rows, affixed to hooks whose chains extended into a dark abyss. Tyler attempted to struggle again with newfound vigor, and managed to free one arm from its captor. He wildly swung his arm around in an attempt to grab onto anything he could use to pull himself away. He tried to reach upward to one of the corpses, his hand falling just short of its wrists before being yanked back downward. The hooded man gripped his arm tightly, his long, pointed nails digging deeply into Tyler’s arm. Still, Tyler flailed around, his arm burning intensely as the nails dug deeper until a swift punch was delivered flatly against his nose. Tyler became still as blood flowed out of his nostrils, dripping onto the floor in intermittent splats.

“Let me go, please!” He pleaded. “I’ll eat it! I’ll do whatever you want me to do, just please let me go!” 

“The time for that is long past.” The hooded man said calmly as they resumed walking. 

“Please!” Tyler repeated. His sobs returned as he continued uttering “Please” repeatedly, the blood from his nose seeping into his mouth and turning the words into garbled nonsense.

They passed through another door and the air grew slightly warmer, but that smallest of comforts dissipated as Tyler heard more screaming and shouting, much closer now than it was before. They rounded one final bend into another hallway, at the end of which was a cage door. Behind the door were dozens of people, all quickly backing away into the corners of the room. Standing beside the entrance to the room was a guard who unlocked the cage door. It creaked open, and Tyler was hoisted up and thrown inside, landing on his side on the floor which reeked of excrement. He lay there for a moment, dazed from the punch he had received, listening as the gate was shut and locked. The people within the room encircled him and helped him to his feet, each moaning nonsensically at him.

As he came to his senses, Tyler looked at the men and women who were attempting to communicate with him and realized why their speech sounded more like babbling and groans. Their lips were held together through the use of wiring in a spiral formation, stitching the lips together with only one corner of each person’s mouth allowed to be open. Affixed to the walls were contraptions from which hung plastic tubing, the tubes dripping with a globulous, grayish substance that accumulated on the floor beneath each. In front of one of the contraptions stood one of the people who stared back at Tyler with one of the tubes dangling from his mouth. 

The more he looked around the room, the more paralyzed Tyler became. He noticed that the only source of light for the room came back from the entrance. As it flickered in and out of existence, he looked back through the cage door and locked eyes with a familiar, translucent, yellow-ish eyeball with a cataract over a dull red iris and black pupil. The eyeball stared into the room from across another hallway, its walls ending at the exact spot from which it stared. An eyelid slid across the eyeball, plunging the room into darkness once again for a brief moment, then reopened to light the room, brighter than before. Upon its reopening, the pupil of the eyeball was focused firmly on Tyler’s face, and the cataract that had obscured it before had left it entirely. The black pupil remained fixated on Tyler, reflecting his visage back to him, mouth agape, blood oozing from his nose. There he stood, eyes locked with the creature ahead of him, both unblinking until the eyelid once more slid across the creature’s eyeball, plunging the room into a never-ending darkness.

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