‘God, no. What for?’
‘Well, I just thought you might… I don’t know—’
‘Listen, Roach, I’ve got no reason in the world to see Betty a second time.’
‘Don’t you want to fuck her again?’ asked Harrison. He was merely voicing what they were all thinking.
‘No need. When Jeff Maidwell fucks a woman, she stays fucked.’
Parfitt left the three of them, even Roach, doubled over with laughter and went outside to smoke a cigarette.
He’d had it lit for a few seconds when he saw Bob Torrance striding over to him from the slaughter block. He stopped leaning on the wall and straightened up. Torrance raised a hand in greeting.
‘How you doing, Parfitt?’
‘All right. You?’
‘Nothing a bolt gun couldn’t put right. Listen, I’ve got a job for you. You’ll get very decent overtime.’
‘What is it?’
‘Don’t worry about that. Just meet me by loading bay when the shift’s over. Wear some overalls and be ready to do some proper work for a change.’ Torrance flashed a humourless grin, exposing brown teeth, and slapped Parfitt on the shoulder. ‘Don’t mention it to anyone, understand?’
Parfitt had no choice but to nod.
‘Good man. See you tonight.’
Torrance walked away and disappeared back into the slaughter block. The rest of Parfitt’s cigarette tasted awful.
Fourteen
For the first time in many years Richard Shanti walked home. He still wore the sand-and brick-filled pack but he didn’t have the will to move any faster than a heavy-footed trudge. It took a lot longer; familiar landmarks he normally passed between in seconds took minutes to go by. When he reached the short drive of his out-of-the-way house, his legs felt wearier than on any arrival home in his life.
He saw Maya’s face in the window, concerned that he was home early. Already wondering why he wasn’t running and what it meant. He didn’t think she had any real concern for him. All she worried about was getting enough meat and staying a cut above the other women in the town. Her concerns meant nothing to him now. He realised that he didn’t love Maya any more. Perhaps this was the first opportunity he’d had both the time and energy to consider it.
Her face in the window was a cheap copy of what it ought to be. There should be a woman there who loves me or there should be no face at all. He walked past the window to the back of the house, shrugged off his pack and didn’t bother to wash himself off at the trough.
In the kitchen he smelled meat. She’d been cooking it for weeks now, more and more it seemed. The greasy taint of it smothered the kitchen curtains and adhered to the damp, flaky paint on the walls. He could smell it in her hair and clothes without going anywhere near her. She was sweating it, meat juice running from her pores, as she worked over the cooker preparing the family meal. She had raw meat on her hands and with those hands she was touching the vegetables he would later eat, rinsing his rice with the same unclean fingers.
He could tell she wasn’t sure whether to reprimand him for his early return from the plant or give him sympathy over whatever his problem was. She was deciding whether to care about him or not. That wasn’t love.
‘What happened?’ she asked eventually. On another day he might have believed it was a question of concern.
‘Where are the girls?’
‘They’re still at school.’ She dried her hands on a towel and approached him. ‘What’s going on, Richard?’
‘I’d like to see them when they come in. Wake me up, would you?’
He walked away from her to the bedroom.
‘Darling, I asked you a question.’
‘Don’t disturb me until they get back. I’m exhausted.’
In the bedroom he didn’t bother to change out of his running gear. He lay down diagonally across the bed and pulled a corner of the coverlet over himself as far as it would come. He could hear the confused silence in the kitchen while Maya considered whether to be angry with him or be safe and let him sleep. He knew she wouldn’t disturb him. She didn’t have the right.
He closed his eyes. All he saw were the faces of Chosen passing before him. Passive, loving eyes that did not even accuse. They spoke to him. Hhah, sssuuh. We know you. You are the one who blesses us with darkness before we give of ourselves. You are the compassionate one, the releaser.
He thought back over the years and the eyes that had passed before him. The souls. He knew what he had done. There was no way to atone for it. No punishment in this world that could repay him for his evils. In some unimaginable eternity, he would relive the death of generations of Chosen. He knew it was true.
Sleep would not come.
He saw mutilation. Skin punctured. Skulls breached. Blood wasted on floors and steel tabletops. The decisive thunk of cleavers through joints. The deft trimming of fat with long, fine blades. Chops and fillets tossed onto moving belts – separated from carcasses so swiftly the meat was still warm and steaming. Rainbows of viscera sorted into types by bloodstained hands. Drooping livers. Turgid kidneys. Fibrous hearts. He saw raw bones, obstinate nubs of flesh and ligament still attached, pale blue cartilage shiny with lubricant. Bones cooking in vats of simmering water, grey scum and pools of melted fat floating on the surface. He was paralysed. A panel opened in front of his eyes. He looked out from the restrainer, saw the bolt gun placed against his head, Torrance behind it smiling through his filthy beard.
‘There is no God. There is only meat.’
Hiss-
-click.
Hema and Harsha opened the door. He’d been in some weird half-doze, his unconscious mind believing the MMP plant as real as his own bedroom, his own home. He swallowed down the half-formed scream in his throat.
‘Hello, sweet peas.’
The twins stayed in the doorway.
‘Why aren’t you at work, daddy?’
He almost smiled. Kids had no time for subtlety. The dream faded quickly and he was glad.
‘Mr. Torrance gave me a couple of days off because I’m tired. I came straight home and went to bed.’
It appeared to be enough of an explanation. The girls edged closer to the bed.
‘Are you allowed to go running?’ asked Hema.
‘I can do whatever I want now that I’m at home.’
‘But won’t it make you more tired?’ asked Harsha.
‘Yes. It will make me tired. And that’s why…’ he pulled the coverlet tighter around him, ‘…I’m going to stay right here in bed for as long as I like.’
This elicited a small giggle from both of them and, though they still seemed wary – or was it shy? – they approached the bed twisting from side to side and knotting their fingers as though he couldn’t possibly notice them getting closer.
‘Papa?’
‘Yeeeeees?’
‘Will you tell us a story tonight?’
In the past he’d made time for stories before bed but over the last couple of years the routine had slipped. All his family habits had. He rarely saw the girls.
‘That depends.’
‘On what?’ They both asked.
‘Well,’ he said, feigning a long, broad yawn and snuggling further into the bed. ‘It depends on whether I wake up in time.’
‘Wake up in time for bed time?’ asked Hema.
‘Mmm hm.’
Harsha said, ‘But why don’t you get up now and then go back to bed after you’ve told us our story?’
Shanti yawned again. It went on for a very long time.
‘I can’t possibly get up now. I’m exhausted. Mr. Torrance has told me to rest and that’s what I have to do.’
‘Do you have to do everything Mr. Torrance says?’
‘Absolutely everything. He’s my boss.’