Just a Taste Part 16

Ch 16: Just a Taste

Dylan

December 21st, 2024- Woodside Motel- 7:22 AM

The two of us ate in silence. An undercurrent of tension and uncertainty filled the air. My hands trembled as I finished the tasteless eggs and slightly overcooked toast.

I've certainly had worse, but I'll have to ask Margaret for butter or spices next time. That way Isabella doesn't have to consume lackluster sustenance. 

Provided that we don't wear out our welcome before then.

Once she finished her breakfast and drank a bottle of water from my supplies, she announced, "I'm ready."

With a grin, I remarked, "Eager little thing, aren't you?" I gathered our trash and threw it away. My shoulders slumped as I stood over her. "Are you sure you want to know? You might not trust me afterward."

She grabbed my hand. "Yes, please tell me. I want to know the why, Dylan. And don't worry, my trust won't break so easily."

My eyes lock with hers; searching for any signs of hesitation, fear, or judgment. All I saw were two beautiful blue eyes, sparkling with excitement and curiosity.

Isabella was being honest with me. She just wanted to know about me. 

"Alright," I sighed, kneeling in front of her. "Just remember, you asked for it."

Six years ago…

Dylan Aldridge (fourteen), and his sister Everly (eight) have run away from their sixth foster home in the past five years. Finding themselves on the unforgiving streets of Oakland, California. A playground for street crime, drug distribution, gang-related violence, and child abduction.

This wasn't abnormal, though. In the six years the siblings spent within the foster system following their parent's double suicide, they had witnessed abhorrent events. Each seemingly worse than the next.

Children were beaten for 'misbehaving', others were raped by workers or fellow foster teenagers, and oftentimes, there wasn't enough food to eat. Meaning that they went hungry most nights, while fighting off the evil hidden beneath the state's nose.

Thankfully, Dylan and Everly had each other to endure all of it.

On several occasions, similar to this one, Dylan would get into fights for Everly. Trying to protect her from the filthy, predatory hands of the adults who were supposed to be trustworthy. Every time blood spilled, they were sent to bed without dinner, and the siblings would sneak out the window under the cover of night with nothing but the clothes on their backs.

Never to be placed in that foster home again.

At least this time, the weather was pleasant. It was May, but the sweltering heat of summer hadn't taken over yet. The night air was cool and refreshing; the ambient noises of the bustling, grey and beige city were quiet for once, allowing birds and cicadas to sing to their heart's content.

Everything seemed ideal for the siblings. They had lived on and off the streets several times, so they knew the routine.

The problem was: they were being hunted.

While setting up their tent at the end of a blocked-off alleyway, Dylan felt something... strange. An eerie, creeping sensation that he hadn't felt before. Almost as though there were a dozen pairs of eyes watching him at once.

"Bubba!" Everly beamed, tackling Dylan with an armful of blankets and two pillows. "Look what I found!"

Suspicion laced Dylan's features. He told Everly to keep a lookout for police, not to rummage for supplies, so where did she find those?

"Sis, where'd you get those?" he asked, eyeing the items cautiously. They didn't look torn or old. In fact, they looked almost brand-new.

"I was keeping an eye out, like you said, and a weird old guy walked by and left a bag of stuff on the hood of a car," she explained with a wide grin. "When he left, I took some stuff for us!"

Dylan pinched the bridge of his nose. "Everly, you can't do that! What if he caught you? We both know you can't run faster than a pissed off adult!"

Her smile faded. "Oh, I thought I did good. I'm sorry I screwed up, Bubba..."

Emotion twinged at Dylan's heart. He didn't mean to upset her, but she needed to understand how dangerous it was out there.

Taking the supplies from Everly, Dylan placed them in their humble abode, then wrapped her in a tight hug.

"You did great, Sis." he reassured her, kissing the top of her head. "I love you."

She looked up at him and smiled. "I love you too, Bubba."

Days passed without incident. The siblings gathered what they could during the daytime from the dumpsters of local restaurants or shops, and tried to hide or sleep at nighttime. Sometimes, it was impossible if the police were active, or if some community event happened.

For the most part, the two siblings stayed together. Strength in numbers and all that. However, if they had to be apart, Dylan would 'hunt' for food, while Everly stayed behind in the tent. Hiding under blankets and garbage to throw off fellow transient individuals.

The routine worked well.

Until one day, it didn't.

It was raining; frenzied winds tore through the city, destroying everything in their path.

Dylan hurried back to the tent. He knew that Everly couldn't hold it up or reinforce it alone.

As he rounded the corner, his worst fears were confirmed.

The tent was ripped to shreds, blankets and used supplies thrown all over the place, and Everly wasn't there.

"Everly!" Dylan shouted, pushing boxes and trash cans aside. "Sis, where are you!?"

Hours flew by in a blur as Dylan frantically looked for his beloved little sister in the torrential rain.

Eventually, he collapsed from exhaustion in front of a closed bakery. A place that he and Everly rummaged breakfast from many hours ago.

Where is she? Dylan thought to himself. Everly knew that in an emergency we would meet up under the nearest bridge.

She wasn't there!

Feeling angry and hopeless, Dylan screamed. He unleashed every bad memory that he kept bottled up; finding their parents dead in the bathroom with wrists slit wide open, being beaten after asking for food, choking a man who tried to touch Everly's ass, and finally, today.

The day he failed to protect his sister.

When no more tears would come, Dylan slumped over, staring absently at the road. Passively wondering if being run over would hurt or not.

That's when he saw them:

Two men in ragged clothing, covered head-to-toe in blood, carrying red and white coolers, came out of an alleyway. Wicked smiles plastered on their faces as they walked by.

Dylan's stomach plummeted. Something bad had happened, and he needed to know what.

Following his instincts, he sprinted into the alleyway. Immediately, he saw three things: one, Everly's clothing ripped to pieces and tossed to the side, two, a discarded little girl that was missing a face, an arm, a leg, and whose chest cavity was cracked open like a can. And three, a meat cleaver lying next to the mess.

He should've fallen to his knees and sobbed at the sight. His beloved sister was murdered and butchered, after all.

No, instead, Dylan grabbed the meat cleaver and chased after the men.

Once he caught up with them, he viciously slaughtered both of them, then rolled their bodies into a drainage ditch.

Covered in his first victim's blood, he returned to the scene of Everly's death, gathered her remains in a nearby trash bag, and walked away.

Dylan walked until he reached a park. He sat on a bench, clutching the remains of Everly, and sobbed like a baby.

Nothing would ever be the same again. He would never hear her laughter, or see her grow into a beautiful woman.

All because a pair of monsters were greedy.

"Hello there," a man said, slowly approaching the bench.

Looking up, Dylan watched the strange man, blanketed by shadows as he got closer and closer

"What the fuck do you want!?" Dylan growled, hugging the trash bag. "Are you one of them?"

The man chuckled, shaking his head. "I don't know what you mean, dear boy. I saw you sitting there, and thought you could use some help."

"Don't bullshit me!" Dylan yelled, throwing a rock at the man. It struck him in the knee.

He buckled, grunting in pain. "Okay, okay, fine. I'm one of those guys, but I mean you no harm." He reached into his pocket and retrieved a baggie of dehydrated meat and a business card. "I saw what you did to those idiots. You have potential."

"Whatever." Dylan grumbled.

The man finally came out of the shadows, revealing his visage. He's tall, skinny, much older than he sounded, and he wore a black suit with a matching fedora. "My name's Mulberry. I work for someone who's purpose is to protect the natural order of things. Predators hunt prey, but not all prey deserves to be hunted. That young lady, I'm guessing she was your sister?"

Dylan nodded.

"Damn shame. Some men have no sense at all." Mulberry muttered, sitting on the bench next to Dylan. "If you come with me, I promise you two things: to prepare a burial for her, and that you'll never go hungry again."

"I don't care about starving. I want to become stronger, that way I'll never be a victim, and I can protect people." Dylan croaked, eyeing the items in his hands.

Mulberry smiled. "Deal." He opened the baggie. "Why don't we eat on it as opposed to shaking? You look famished."

Dylan wrinkled his nose. "Is it human meat?"

"No! Lord, I wouldn't offer that to you!" Mulberry gasped, sounding almost offended. "It's homemade jerky. Pork."

As if on cue, Dylan's stomach growled. He sighed. "Just a taste, I guess."

This decision changed Dylan's life forever.

Mulberry honored his word and buried Everly in a park two states away. A gorgeous, yet simple grave covered in wildflowers and seashells from the California coast.

Dylan never went hungry again, nor did he become a victim. His work with Mulberry eventually led him to 'The Man', and the rest is history.

And that jerky? Yeah, it was dehydrated human flesh. From a dead police officer. This made Dylan crave the taste and texture of it, although he never fully understood why.

Until he read Mulberry's case file, that is.

It's true what they say: no one is born a monster, but anyone can become one.

Disclaimer:

This is a work of fiction. All characters, names, places, and incidents are fictitious and the product of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, organizations, or events are entirely coincidental.

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