Flux

He was staring at the map on the wall, with its scrawled post it notes, newspaper clippings and serious amount of string but he was signalling towards the pieces of newspaper which were left scattered and piled all over the dingy brown carpet.
    Iain looked at his friend sheepishly through long, lank, unwashed hair.
    “Oh man, you’re a mess. Sorry we left you so long. We need to get you some help, come on; you can sleep at mine tonight.”
    “It’s OK Gary. I really am fine.” Iain was smiling, and took a step towards his friend, arms outstretched as if for an embrace.
    Just then, Bert reappeared from the kitchen. For a moment Iain thought he saw a flash of recognition in Gary’s eye, as if he’d caught a glimpse of the old man. That was right before the knife came down and pierced it.

    Bert struck with precision and a brutal, cruel clarity. After taking out both of Gary’s eyes he set to work butchering without bothering to make sure he was completely dead. First, he held a writhing, screaming Gary down with surprising ease before taking the knife and slitting him from crotch to throat; the screams turned to a gurgle. Reaching into the body cavity, Bert grabbed the innards in his fist and yanked. The gurgling stopped and Gary’s internal organs flopped to the ground.
    Picking something from the gory heap, Bert threw it at Iain. “Wrap that in cling film and put it in the fridge will you? I love a bit of liver for breakfast.” Catatonic, Iain complied. His will was broken. Bert followed him into the kitchen, fetched out the frying pan and started to heat some oil before returning to the living room. He came back into the kitchen a few moments later carrying Gary’s severed head by the hair. Pushing the lever to open the bin with his foot, he tossed in the head. “Sorry,” he mumbled to no one in particular, “but I don’t do brains.”
    “But I do like a bit of rump!” he said after going to carve his selected cut and placing it carefully into the pan. “Shame you’re a slob and don’t have any garlic or mushrooms or even any onions which aren’t green. But on its own will do, really taste the flavour.”
    The smell of cooking meat turned Iain’s stomach but at the same time, he became struck by hunger pangs. Guilt tried to gain some purchase on Iain’s consciousness but his brain had short-circuited and cut itself loose from the world.
    “Sure you don’t want any? Could have done with hanging a few days, but it’s delicious all the same.” Bert turned on the TV, settled onto the sofa and started to tuck into his steak.
    Iain shook his head, signalling he didn’t fancy anything to eat.

Chapter Thirty-One
    Busted

    “Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck…” Iain chanted his mantra from where he sat perched on the edge of the sofa, rocking back and forth. By the time day once again turned into night, he’d calmed down enough to take stock of the situation. Looking down at the decapitated, partially eaten corpse of his friend, Iain buried his head in his hands, hoping that when he reopened his eyes the whole mess would be gone and it was all another one of his dreams.
    Gary’s torso was still there when he opened them and Iain had also managed to cover his face in blood from his hands. How it had got there was a mystery, he hadn’t touched the body yet, or didn’t think he had. Panic started to take over. Iain recommenced his rocking. His head hurt; What am I going to do with the body?
    Own up. Call the police!
    No. I can’t do that. They’ll never believe me.
    Have to hide the body then.
    Where?
    He looked around the room for inspiration; he had no garden to speak of, and no way of transporting the corpse, so burying his friend out in the woods would be difficult at best. A fly buzzed lazily around the room before landing on the pulpy stump of Gary’s neck, right where his head should have been. The sight gave rise to feelings of revulsion and anger. “You’ll pay for this!” he shouted into the air; the threat directed at Bert who had long since made his exit, leaving Iain under no illusions as to who had to deal with the aftermath.
    Cut the body up and get rid of it a bit at a time? Maybe keep it in the fridge? He looked down again, dried blood spread out onto the carpet. What a mess. Best to get this cleared up before doing anything else. After much deliberation he decided the best course of action would be to store the body in the bath until such a time when he could dissect it and