| General Fiction posted March 7, 2014 | Chapters: |
...9 10 -11- 12... 
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Things are taken up (or down) a notch.
A chapter in the book Yosemite
The David Vernon McMahon Diet
by michaelcahill
NOTE HIGH VIOLENCE!
The author has placed a warning on this post for violence.
The author has placed a warning on this post for language.
| Background A catastrophe of unknown origin has put campers at Yosemite into a survival mode. Get along and survive or die is their option. |
In the last installment options were discussed. One of the biggest problems was the deterioration of the mental patients that were clients at the board and care owned by Carlos and run by Johnny. It was discussed that the clients were a decided threat to the safety of the group and should be eliminated. The final word was that they would be eliminated annonamously and that no one would know who did what. We pick up the story after a nights sleep with the campers awakening.
The next morning we awoke to find David Vernon McMahon lying by the fireside with his throat slit ear to ear. He had no expression on his face indicating he was probably no more aware of his death then he was his life. There were no signs of surprise or regret to be found on anyone. It didn’t even prompt the curiosity to inquire as to who had done what amounted to this favor.
It was assumed that it was one of us. It certainly had occurred to each of us. It was almost a courtesy that whoever did it made no attempt to cover it up. Had they moved the body or set up some form of cover-up it would have certainly led to speculation and concerns that something or someone outside of our circle had done this. No, it was one of us and thus perfectly acceptable within our current morality.
It seems that we had agreed to a plan and were now carrying it out. No one tried to get eye contact or scrutinize anyone's expression or mannerisms. We knew where the ultimate responsibility fell. Each shoulder felt a little heavier even as a collective sigh of relief was exhaled. It wasn't me. I don't know any more about it and I never would.
“So, what should we do with it? I mean should we preserve the meat? Does anyone know how to go about it?”
It was Lacci that posed the question on everyone’s mind. It prompted a few chuckles, as she was the youngest and most innocent looking of the group. I noted that she referred to a human being as "it".
I reflected on our morality or lack of it and more specifically, my own. I did not attend church and hadn't for many years. With my long hair and outspoken ways, I wasn't received well there. I invited that reaction I have to admit. I never make it easy for anyone.
Christine had a complex belief system that would be difficult for most to understand. She believed in a higher power and seemed to find validity in every religion that we discussed. She didn't believe any one religion was the true religion and she didn't believe any religion wasn't the true religion. Yet, when I spoke with her, her views made perfect sense and she struck me as very spiritual.
Jen and Carlos were Catholics and Carlos was rather devout. He had rosary beads, prayed, and read from his bible on a regular basis. Jen was reluctant to talk about it. The others I hadn't spoken to about the subject. I hadn't conversed with the others beyond either practical or polite matters.
Somehow, we had become a group of murderous renegades on the verge of cannibalism. That wasn't a dramatization on my part. There was the murdered body of David Vernon McMahon laying there and a discussion of how to preserve his meat for future consumptions was about to be entered into. Did we look the part?
The women for the most part looked well kept under the circumstances. The men looked more predisposed to such thinking with their long unkempt hair and wildly growing unkempt beards. Only Carlos made any effort at any grooming other than general rudimentary cleanliness. His beard and hair were neatly trimmed and looked for the most part, as he always had.
I was certainly an icon for crazy forest dweller. I already had long graying hair. Now it was crazy long and unkempt. For some reason this greatly appealed to me. It somehow removed any need on my part to act with any propriety.
It took this circumstance to realize that I resented having to do this in my former existence. In many ways I enjoyed aspects of our plight that I’m sure most people wouldn’t. What had been a curiosity to me in the past became much amplified here.
Men for the most part have been very wary of me almost bordering on fear. Women on the other had found me to be gentle and kind and had not the least bit of fear of me. Can’t say why. But, it is of interest to me. In truth, I don’t know why I affect anyone the way I do. I wonder if anyone does. This not to say that I am blind to the evidence of a lifetime. No not at all. I am keenly aware of how I am reacted to. I don’t understand it but, I am totally aware of it. Well, too much of my idle musings.
The discussion of our impending cannibalism was chillingly brief. It consisted of a couple questions pertaining to skills and knowledge concerning the matter. The morality or willingness or the group to participate was not brought up as a topic of discussion. The morality was academic and the willingness apparently was a given.
Joe and Linda seemed to have the most knowledge as to the preparing and preserving of game. Joe’s experience came from his previous camp and Linda’s from being an avid hunter. They set about the carving of David Vernon McMahon in a somewhat orderly way. I could see that he wasn’t a very meaty chap and that his organs looked less than delicious to say the least. Morbid humor was the order of the day.
Christine and I started a mock argument over which of us would eat his brain which our compatriots nervously laughed at. Suddenly Christine jumped up, pointed her finger at Tonnie, and said,
“We don’t have to argue about his wiener at least. She ate that!”
“No I didn’t!” she exclaimed “it's right there.”
And there it was just as she said. I don’t know why it was so funny. But, Christine and I couldn’t stop laughing at his poor shriveled up wiener lying on top of his seemingly inedible and blackened liver.
Then Jennifer said with a straight face “Why aren’t there more meats on sticks? Such a waste.”
Even the sight of me and Christine rolling on the blood soaked ground didn’t cause her to crack a smile. She just sat there stoically as though contemplating the proper techniques to employ at a wienie roast.
“Say Johnny. Looks like you’ve lost some weight. New diet?”
“Yeah. I’m on a new low nutrition diet called the David Vernon McMahon diet. It consists of David Vernon McMahon!”
More laughter, this time including Jennifer and less vociferously some of the others. It really was a rather macabre scene I suppose everyone bloody and in good spirits and David Vernon McMahon hacked to bite size bits.
Things returned to normal or at least normal as we had come to accept. Some of us ate the new food source and some didn’t. I had no problem with it, which surprised me a little. But, on the other hand, I am rarely motivated by guilt though I do feel a strong sense of guilt. I’m not exactly clear in my own mind as to why that is but, I suspect a lifetime of false accusations is no doubt a factor.
I do seem to attract very insecure and jealous mates which has something to do I’m sure with me being raised by a schizophrenic mother and not having a father. I don’t contemplate it much being quite satisfied with myself and how I have lived my life. I’m rather fond of myself and have attempted to do the right thing and try to never injure anyone in any way. I fail often but, I know my hearts intent and sleep very well.
Well, that aside circumstances were somewhat dire but not critically so. Our food supply was still ample and if guilt influenced some to avoid certain behavioral lines that meant more David Vernon McMahon for me and my cannibal co-horts.
Somehow, thoughts of a plan or dreams of rescue faded into the dark recesses of our consciousness in a realm where things like morality and decorum slept an uneasy sleep. The situation was clearly urgent yet, we couldn’t bring ourselves to treat it that way, and we existed day to day and left tomorrow for some future consideration when action would finally become a necessity.
The next morning we awoke to find David Vernon McMahon lying by the fireside with his throat slit ear to ear. He had no expression on his face indicating he was probably no more aware of his death then he was his life. There were no signs of surprise or regret to be found on anyone. It didn’t even prompt the curiosity to inquire as to who had done what amounted to this favor.
It was assumed that it was one of us. It certainly had occurred to each of us. It was almost a courtesy that whoever did it made no attempt to cover it up. Had they moved the body or set up some form of cover-up it would have certainly led to speculation and concerns that something or someone outside of our circle had done this. No, it was one of us and thus perfectly acceptable within our current morality.
It seems that we had agreed to a plan and were now carrying it out. No one tried to get eye contact or scrutinize anyone's expression or mannerisms. We knew where the ultimate responsibility fell. Each shoulder felt a little heavier even as a collective sigh of relief was exhaled. It wasn't me. I don't know any more about it and I never would.
“So, what should we do with it? I mean should we preserve the meat? Does anyone know how to go about it?”
It was Lacci that posed the question on everyone’s mind. It prompted a few chuckles, as she was the youngest and most innocent looking of the group. I noted that she referred to a human being as "it".
I reflected on our morality or lack of it and more specifically, my own. I did not attend church and hadn't for many years. With my long hair and outspoken ways, I wasn't received well there. I invited that reaction I have to admit. I never make it easy for anyone.
Christine had a complex belief system that would be difficult for most to understand. She believed in a higher power and seemed to find validity in every religion that we discussed. She didn't believe any one religion was the true religion and she didn't believe any religion wasn't the true religion. Yet, when I spoke with her, her views made perfect sense and she struck me as very spiritual.
Jen and Carlos were Catholics and Carlos was rather devout. He had rosary beads, prayed, and read from his bible on a regular basis. Jen was reluctant to talk about it. The others I hadn't spoken to about the subject. I hadn't conversed with the others beyond either practical or polite matters.
Somehow, we had become a group of murderous renegades on the verge of cannibalism. That wasn't a dramatization on my part. There was the murdered body of David Vernon McMahon laying there and a discussion of how to preserve his meat for future consumptions was about to be entered into. Did we look the part?
The women for the most part looked well kept under the circumstances. The men looked more predisposed to such thinking with their long unkempt hair and wildly growing unkempt beards. Only Carlos made any effort at any grooming other than general rudimentary cleanliness. His beard and hair were neatly trimmed and looked for the most part, as he always had.
I was certainly an icon for crazy forest dweller. I already had long graying hair. Now it was crazy long and unkempt. For some reason this greatly appealed to me. It somehow removed any need on my part to act with any propriety.
It took this circumstance to realize that I resented having to do this in my former existence. In many ways I enjoyed aspects of our plight that I’m sure most people wouldn’t. What had been a curiosity to me in the past became much amplified here.
Men for the most part have been very wary of me almost bordering on fear. Women on the other had found me to be gentle and kind and had not the least bit of fear of me. Can’t say why. But, it is of interest to me. In truth, I don’t know why I affect anyone the way I do. I wonder if anyone does. This not to say that I am blind to the evidence of a lifetime. No not at all. I am keenly aware of how I am reacted to. I don’t understand it but, I am totally aware of it. Well, too much of my idle musings.
The discussion of our impending cannibalism was chillingly brief. It consisted of a couple questions pertaining to skills and knowledge concerning the matter. The morality or willingness or the group to participate was not brought up as a topic of discussion. The morality was academic and the willingness apparently was a given.
Joe and Linda seemed to have the most knowledge as to the preparing and preserving of game. Joe’s experience came from his previous camp and Linda’s from being an avid hunter. They set about the carving of David Vernon McMahon in a somewhat orderly way. I could see that he wasn’t a very meaty chap and that his organs looked less than delicious to say the least. Morbid humor was the order of the day.
Christine and I started a mock argument over which of us would eat his brain which our compatriots nervously laughed at. Suddenly Christine jumped up, pointed her finger at Tonnie, and said,
“We don’t have to argue about his wiener at least. She ate that!”
“No I didn’t!” she exclaimed “it's right there.”
And there it was just as she said. I don’t know why it was so funny. But, Christine and I couldn’t stop laughing at his poor shriveled up wiener lying on top of his seemingly inedible and blackened liver.
Then Jennifer said with a straight face “Why aren’t there more meats on sticks? Such a waste.”
Even the sight of me and Christine rolling on the blood soaked ground didn’t cause her to crack a smile. She just sat there stoically as though contemplating the proper techniques to employ at a wienie roast.
“Say Johnny. Looks like you’ve lost some weight. New diet?”
“Yeah. I’m on a new low nutrition diet called the David Vernon McMahon diet. It consists of David Vernon McMahon!”
More laughter, this time including Jennifer and less vociferously some of the others. It really was a rather macabre scene I suppose everyone bloody and in good spirits and David Vernon McMahon hacked to bite size bits.
Things returned to normal or at least normal as we had come to accept. Some of us ate the new food source and some didn’t. I had no problem with it, which surprised me a little. But, on the other hand, I am rarely motivated by guilt though I do feel a strong sense of guilt. I’m not exactly clear in my own mind as to why that is but, I suspect a lifetime of false accusations is no doubt a factor.
I do seem to attract very insecure and jealous mates which has something to do I’m sure with me being raised by a schizophrenic mother and not having a father. I don’t contemplate it much being quite satisfied with myself and how I have lived my life. I’m rather fond of myself and have attempted to do the right thing and try to never injure anyone in any way. I fail often but, I know my hearts intent and sleep very well.
Well, that aside circumstances were somewhat dire but not critically so. Our food supply was still ample and if guilt influenced some to avoid certain behavioral lines that meant more David Vernon McMahon for me and my cannibal co-horts.
Somehow, thoughts of a plan or dreams of rescue faded into the dark recesses of our consciousness in a realm where things like morality and decorum slept an uneasy sleep. The situation was clearly urgent yet, we couldn’t bring ourselves to treat it that way, and we existed day to day and left tomorrow for some future consideration when action would finally become a necessity.
 Recognized |
The seriousness of the situation is becomming more critical has supplies run out and former mental patients begin to lose more and more control due to lack of medication. I've posted a warning and offer another one here. If you don't want to read about violent things happening then now is the time to stop reading. For those still reading along, I very much appreciate the support. The input has played a huge part in shaping the story and improving it. I hope you will continue to feel free to suggest and offer critiques. Thank you so much. mikey
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