“Actually, factually,” shrugged Bowler. “However ya wanna say it, they eat people. Yes.”
“Good Lord!” Justin exclaimed, tottering on his feet. “That’s… that’s… barbaric! It’s incredible!”
“Yeah, it sure is,” said Bowler glumly. “I myself had never heard of ‘em. That is, until a big gang of ‘em grabbed me and hauled me here, to this shithole. See, I was tryin’ to get to California. I heard they got like, real towns and stuff. Normal people, not just bangers and survies.”
“Yes,” said Justin absently, struggling vainly to make sense of this bizarre new development. “That’s where we were headed as well.”
“No shit?” said Bowler. He slumped back onto his cot. “Well, it looks like we ain’t gonna make it now.”
There was a sort of shocked silence for a moment, but the Old Man found his voice soon enough, and, shockingly, burst out in laughter.
“Bwa ha ha!” he chortled. “That’s rich, I tell ya! That’s a fuckin’ good one! Evangelical cannibals! Can you believe it? Man oh man, just when you thought human beings couldn’t get any fuckin’ worse! Well, one thing’s for sure—they’re welcome to me! Shit, if they can find more than about a pound o’ stringy, gamey old meat on these bones, they are fucking welcome to it! Know what I’m sayin’? Good a way to go as any. But holy shit! I guess you didn’t see this comin’, eh Doc? Fuckin’ Christian cannibals?”
Dazed and sickened, Justin shook his head slowly. “No,” he said thinly. “I have to admit, it comes as quite a shock.” Then something occurred to him and he turned back to Bowler. “But what about you? If what you say is true, why are you still here? Why haven’t they eaten you?”
“I passed the first test,” Bowler said quietly, downcast.
“Test?” asked Greg, the orderly. “What test?”
“I ate some of it,” said the young man. He looked up, a desperate look in his eyes. “I was starving, man! I had to! And besides, I never took the second test! That’s why I’m still here!”
“Dare I ask about the second test?” said Justin, suppressing a shudder.
“Yeah,” said Cass. “What about that?”
Bowler gave a shrug. “What they call the Sacrament. What you and me would call killing. See, they wanna make sure you’re, I don’t know, dedicated or whatever. So they hand you a knife and tell you to do the dirty work. Sorta proving yourself, I guess. Anyhow, that’s sure as shit where I drew the line. No way. And since then, they just keep me here. I guess they figure I’ll give up, sooner or later.”
“And do you continue to consume human flesh?”
“Only once a month,” said Bowler. “When they make me. Otherwise, we get other stuff to eat. Eggs, fish sometimes, bread and cheese, some fruit. It’s not like these guys only eat meat.”
“I see,” said Justin. “Only when they make you. And I take it that you are not going to change your mind? You aren’t going to take the second test?”
The young man snorted and shook his head. “Fuck no!” he said. “Why would I wanna join these freaks? Shit, from what I seen, these guys are about as fun to be around as a gang of Plague-ies. No, soon as I can, I’m gonna bust outta here. These guys are seriously fucked up.”
Suddenly Greg the orderly (what was his last name, anyway? wondered Justin) stood up from his cot, drew Justin off to the opposite corner of their cell, and, his voice strangled and tense, hissed into Justin’s ear.
“Dr. Kaes,” he said tersely, “you shouldn’t listen to anything this man says. He could be one of them, planted here to lie to us.”
“Oh, I don’t know,” said Justin evenly. “He seems harmless enough. He didn’t kill anyone, after all.”
“So what?!” Greg spluttered. “He’s still a cannibal! All of these people are insane, Dr. Kaes! They eat people, for God’s sake! We can’t trust any of them! And besides, who knows what this man has done? He could be lying about all of that!”
Justin frowned. “Well,” he said, “I’ll take that into consideration. At present, though, I’m afraid it doesn’t much matter. One way or the other, we seem to be trapped here.”
Muttering angrily, the orderly went back to his cot and Justin, recalling Lampert’s saying something about breakfast, went over to where the Old Man sat before the table and chairs. On the table was a cafeteria-style sectioned tray, loaded with what looked like the most wonderful breakfast Justin had ever seen: eggs, toast, bacon, not to mention a big pitcher of water. Suddenly his mouth filled with saliva, his stomach gurgled angrily, and, before he even knew it, he’d taken a seat, dragged the tray and pitcher to himself, and fallen to with a will, stuffing the food into his face as fast as both hands could operate.
Yes, it was cold and the toast was kind of soggy, but to someone who’d eaten soy paste for the last month or so, it was pure culinary bliss and he didn’t stop until the last bit of bread was used to sop up the last bit of congealing egg. Then he sat back, suddenly tired and achy again, and gave a satisfied sigh. Maybe he could get in a nap. Then he noticed Lampert, sitting across the table, smirking in a strange way, and something terrible dawned on him. The Old Man, perceptive as ever, saw his dismay at once and gave a chuckle.
“Don’t worry, Doc,” he said sardonically, “it was bacon. Pig bacon, I mean. Leastways, we’re pretty sure it’s bacon.”
“Oh God,” said Justin, his stomach roiling. “I just ate it, without thinking. Oh Jesus, are you sure it’s, what you said? Pig’s bacon?”
“Like I said,” Lampert shrugged minutely, “we’re pretty sure. I dunno, I guess if I had to say, I’d compare it more to venison. Tasty, though, whatever it is.”
Justin retched, his diaphragm muscle going into spasm all on its own, but he swallowed hard, forced it back down, and glared at Lampert.
“You might have warned me,” he said crossly. “Then again, I should have thought of it myself. I was just so hungry! At any rate, I think that I’ll avoid the bacon from now on. Or, for that matter, any meat. I’d recommend the rest of you do the same as well. No telling what sort of terrible things these people might try to give us.”
“Hey,” said Erin Swails wryly, “we didn’t eat any of it. Well, except for cannibal Bob over there.”
Nurse Cass and Greg both nodded. Bowler scowled and looked away. Lampert just shrugged again.
“Yes, well,” said Justin, swallowing gorge. “I suppose that was wise.”
Trying to sort things out, he sat forward at the table, elbows out, and tried not to think about his breakfast. He was still trying to sort out the ramifications of their straits and what, if anything they could do and making absolutely no progress whatsoever when he noticed that the Old Man was staring at him. Blandly, blinking once languidly, he stared back.
“Yes?” he said tersely.
“Oh, nothin’,” said Lampert. “I was just thinkin’ is all.”
Justin sighed. Oh no, he thought. He knew that this sort of exchange almost always preceded another of the Old Man’s rambling dialogues. Oh well. He had little else to do at the moment. Still, tired and traumatized as he was, he wasn’t sure he could listen. He sighed again and gave up.
“Thinking about what?” he asked unenthusiastically, lowering his head to the table.
“Oh, lots o’ stuff,” said Lampert. “Like how you’re gonna get out of this little predicament, for one thing. But it also occurs to me that these cannibal dudes aren’t really all that different from any other Christian religion.”
That got Justin’s attention; he sat up and looked at the Old Man with raised eyebrows.
“How so?” he asked. “After all, most Christians do not eat people, now do they?”