Tastes Like Pork, Chapter 5

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Chapter 5

She could hear the heaviness and resignation in his voice. He Wentworth knew that his end was drawing near, and it was good that he was accepting it. She went to the thick stone desk on the other side of the room, and indicated that he should sit in one of the chairs facing the desk, also hewn of stone but worn enough through years of use that the seats were smooth and concave.

She settled into the large stone throne behind the desk, her own seat thickly padded with the back and seat covered in red microfiber that she’d begged Beth to get for her years ago. She’d made several of the thrones in various parts of her underworld domain, and used the blood-red fabric as a signature color for her rule.

“The next few days will be the most difficult of your life,” she began, making eye contact and holding his cold stare. “But it will end. You will have 24 hours from the time that you are released at midnight tonight. You are free to use that time however you’d like. Most people try to get as far away as they can, but I would strongly advise against that, because you have so little time and the dispatcher will find you – he will not rest until he does.” She paused to let that sink in a bit, but Wentworth never even shifted in his chair.

“Magpie is the small town at the base of this mountain. If you follow the road I release you on, it will eventually double back and end up there. My advice would be to pay a visit to Dawson’s Saloon, get yourself something to eat, buy some time with a woman, and make your peace with dying. If you still have time leftover, do something that you’ve missed since you were consigned to the Gully. Enjoy your last day. At midnight tomorrow night, the dispatcher will come for you. And once he has you, he will do to you the unspeakable acts that you have been found guilty of performing on others. Do you understand everything I’ve explained to you this far?”

Wentworth nodded, his eyes looking a little glazed. Luckily, it didn’t matter whether he understood or not. He’d sold his soul, basically.

She opened the file on her desk, and picked up the pages within. Raising one eyebrow after she’d scanned the crime roster, she looked up again. She had grown to enjoy the man’s company over the years, and as she often did with the long-stay occupants, she had forgotten his exact crimes.

“It’s I presume you know what I’m referring to?”

When course nodded. “I – –” he cleared his throat. “I do.”

Rachel closed the file and slid it away from her. At the end of the retribution cycle, you will be dispatched. And by that I mean you will be killed, just to be clear.”

Wentworth nodded, his face ashen, and his eyes weary. “I understand,” he said. “Am I allowed to ask how long the retribution. Is?”

“It will be as long as the dispatcher deems it necessary.”

Later that night, Rachel escorted Mr. Wentworth through a maze of passages to a small opening on the nonpublic side of the mountain. Stepping just outside onto a wide ledge just outside the entrance, she gazed wistfully out on the quiet world shrouded in near-darkness with just a tiny sliver of moon barely hanging in the sky.

“It’s time,” she said, one arm swinging wide as if opening a door. “You are free to go. Use your next 24 hours wisely, and may you know peace when you lay down to rest.”

Wentworth hesitated for only a moment before taking a tentative step onto the dirt road outside the cave. The world had changed a lot since he’d taken his first step in, and she wondered what insights he’d have just from the small piece he could experience in Magpie. Silas would report back, she knew, but he wasn’t exactly a hard-nosed journalist.

Taking another tentative step, and then one more away from the cave, the man finally started to jog. Rachel watched until she couldn’t see him any longer, and then, with one more wistful glance at the moon, she turned and went back to her dark and peaceful confinement.


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