Chapter 2: Part 4: Sheltered Hunger

The October night had been cold to begin with and now it was raining. Nick Daniels had been trying to find a place to spend the night after procuring a fifth of Canadian Club whiskey with the profits from a long day of pan handling. By the time he had reached the cemetery half the bottle was gone. The alcohol was starting to warm his body and lift his spirits.

His coffee can collection cup rattled as he dragged it across the wrought iron bars of the cemetery fence. He jiggled the can at various tempos and when the fence ran out as a field of granite monuments spread out before him he continued the beat with singing. He thought about the irony of it, he had spent the day singing for the pocket change of the living, and the only time he felt like singing was here for the dead. Shrugging his shoulders he started up the gentle slope that led towards the mausoleums and service buildings.

"Shall it be the Cliffton resort tonight or the Walberg?" Nick came to a halt at the top of the hill and started up a game of ini mini miny mo as his hand swayed back and forth. Silently mouthing the word mo his hand finally came to a stop at the tomb of Charles Walberg. "The Walberg Astoria it is then... Hiccup. I'll just shtop off at the bar b'fore going to bed... Hiccup." Stumbling slightly he climbed the three marble steps and entered the covered archway grateful to be out of the rain. "Bartender.... I'll have a glash of whishkey, straight up! Top shelf... nothing but top shelf for me..." Swaying back and fourth wildly Nick lost his balance and fell against the entry way. With the alcohol weighing him down he slid down the wall and decided that this was as good a place as any to stay the night.

Pressing the bottle to his lips he took a deep draught. He winced as the burning liquid worked its way down to his belly. When he opened his eyes again a form slowly started to take shape in front of him. It was of a man stumbling towards him, another inebriated wanderer like himself probably. The form stopped it's hobbling pace as it reached the leading edge of a large willow's shadow. It was as if wanted to remain featureless.

"Hello friend! Not a night to be without shelter and strong drink! C'mon up and join me for a drink." Nick paused waiting to see the shadows reaction. When nothing happened he leaned forward out of the doorway fearing he might not have heard a reply due to the rain. "I said hello friend. Get out of that rain and have a drink!" He was starting to stand up when he thought he heard a faint sound from within the mausoleum. Yes, there it was, between the pitter patter of raindrops there was another sound. A clearly distinct sound recognizable to most pet owners, it was the clicking of nails on a hard surface. Surprised by the direction of the sound Nick turned to see yet another shadow approaching out of the darkness. It was that of a large dog and it lumbered along as if injured. "Here boy..." Nick tried to whistle but the only sound he made was a forceful push of air through pursed lips. "You all right boy?" Nick reached his hand towards the wounded animal and started to wave it towards him. "Shit boy you stink to high heaven! That's aright tho... I prolly ain't smelling to good myself."

The dog continued its advance towards Nick. As it came closer he could hear it's stomach rumbling along with something else, a low guttural growl. Just as the thought that this might not be a friendly animal crossed Nick's mind it leapt towards him and bit down hard on his right hand. The momentum of the lunge carried the dog past the entry way and onto the steps. Pulling his hand to his chest Nick realized that his pinky and ring fingers were gone, and that his other two fingers had been de-gloved of skin. "Holy Christ!" Nick turned to get up before the dog could attack again and came face to face with a nightmare.

Nick could only stare at the face before him. The scars and stitches that ran all over it spoke of incomprehensible torture. Nick tried to scream but couldn't. A vice like hand gripped his throat. His alcohol addled brain fought to keep consciousness even as his larynx was torn out by a ravenous mouth. Nick Daniels would never sing again. As the final flicker of life faded out in Nick the last words he could hear was "Me!" repeated over the sounds of mastication.






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