Dumpster in Long Island

Greta’s mouth tastes a bit like an iron bar as savory blood fills the gaps between her teeth. She smiles a closed lipped smile and swishes the blood about in her mouth. Around her tongue, a piece of meat rolls around. She uses her back teeth to grind the raw flesh to a pulp. Each motion of her jaw, chewing back and forth, emits a meaty, fleshy sound that echoes around in the dumpster. Finally, after a number of passes, the meat is tender enough to pass and she swallows what particles of it are left.

“Barbie girl, more like Barbie horror doll now.” She laughs as she delights in her power. Her newest victim is a thin one without a lot of fat on her bones. The meat is nice and lean, a little tough, but lean.

The poor young lady must have been heading home from clubbing, wearing an outfit like she had been. Every inch of her sleek and sexy legs had been visible. Seeing all that bare flesh excited Greta too much and she had acted quickly to intercept the lone woman. Her long blonde hair made a good handle to drag her into the dumpster behind this day time café. Greta finally dubbed her Barbie based upon her obvious implants and pink sweater. It was all just too funny as the girl screamed and Greta had taken her first bite of the once sweet girl.

Greta leans back for a minute as she chews on another chunk of ripped off thigh flesh. Just then, a clank of metal on metal resounds through the dumpster. Greta peers up to the lid of the dumpster, her mouth still full and her chin soaked in Barbie’s savory nectar. The lid starts to jostle a bit and she spits out the thigh meat and sits up in annoyance. The lid swings open. Whoosh! It bangs against the wall of the building with great force and the lid actually snaps off.

Greta leaps out of the rusty, green canister with all her might. Bits of half eaten sandwich, cardboard coffee cups, coffee grinds, and tufts of blonde hair (flesh still attached) follow Greta and roll out of the sides of the bin. The stench of old coffee sticks to Greta as she is grabbed by her leading arm and thrown to the concrete ground.

Greta screams out in pain and quickly spins around, now sitting on her butt rather than her face. She meant to grab the intruder, but he’d been too quick. She hastily returned to her feet, while wiping some of the blood from her chin in the same motion.

The man actually laughs, just lightly, as she runs straight toward him. She isn’t sure why he’s laughing, but if it’s because she seems unable to defend herself, he’s in for a surprise! He grabs Greta by the arm again and allows her momentum to continue on past him into the front of the rusty, now dented dumpster. She gets her shot in too with a brutal knee to his midsection.

Both of them collapse for a moment under the agony of their conjunctive impacts. It doesn’t keep them apart for long as they go at it again, Greta now with one plausibly broken hand. In a series of coordinated motions, she begins to overpower the man.

She notices that there is more than one of them as something smacks her atop the collar bone and side of her face. This impact sends her back to the ground, scraping her remaining serviceable hand deeply.

“Now now Devochka. Let’s not make this introduction too bloody.” The man that clocked her from behind steps over her in a domineering fashion.

She remains on the ground and stares up at the pipe wielding man.

He stomps on her leg and leaves another nasty, bruising wound. “Maybe just a little more bloody.”

The other man laughs lightly again, from the flank of pipe man.

“I’m warning you,” Greta growls. “You don’t know what you are dealing with.”

There is silence for a moment as pipe man motions laughing man toward the dumpster. After a moment, pipe man nods at Greta. “Oh, I believe that I know exactly just what we are dealing with.”

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“She’s mine!” Greta desperately croaks.

“I might have to try a bite. She still seems to be breathing. I can smell it.” He takes a long and deliberate drag of the air with his nostrils. “Oh yes, I do believe I’ll have to try a bite, she must be a red meat lover. The victim of yours, I mean, heck, you could be one too...”

Greta interrupts, “Between the two of you, there will be nothing left for me!”

“Don’t worry Devochka, my companion, I call him Glaive, isn’t much of a man eater.” Pipe man corrects himself as he looks up at Glaive, “Or a woman eater for that matter. Glaive prefers the flesh of animals. Dogs mostly. You don’t even know the first thing about what you are. I can see it all over your face. Didn’t even know you could still eat animals did you? It’s still a lifestyle choice. Some people make the choice to only eat fish; it might affect their health in some way. For us, though, the difference is stark. You’ll see Devochka.”

He has some sort of accent, but Greta can’t quite place it. “So what now?”

He waves an arm in the air as if he is making a grandiose statement, “Let’s get introductions out of the way before we have dinner together...” he pauses, “They call me Iggy, and who are you, Devochka?”

“My name is Greta.”

“Greta! Welcome to the life of the dead.” Glaive bares his teeth and laughs through them making a strange wheezing sound.

Iggy waves off Glaive’s witticism and launches into a monologue aimed at Greta like a lecture, “You are not alone in your new found anatomy. We are not alone in that either. We are not the only three. There are many like us throughout the world. Surely, you don’t remember the exact moment and incidence of your passing? Most of us do not. Most of us never learn the truth of the matter.

“In recounted tales of our transformation and our death... there is one commonality. A dread fog stands over the area of our deaths. This is no fog that pours in from above or from some simply weather pattern. This fog is said to creep up from the ground. The fog pours through sewer vents in the cities and in the country side, the fog rolls up from the very dirt itself. I have grown to assume there is a wretched being called Nagzaru Kezet. Perhaps, it’s my upbringing.

“Nagzaru finds the desparate dying, she usually goes for those that will be the most entertaining for her. The greatest documented tragedy that I can find of her existence is her name in mention during World War Two. It was early on when the Soviets launched an air attack on Hungary without provocation, before they joined the Nazi’s in their battle against the Communist forces. Locals said that a mist began to appear across the border of Hungary and Russia. The Hungarians provided troops to Nazi Germany during their fight against the Soviets. One of these forces was the Karpat Group. Right off, at the border crossing battles into Russia, several hundred Hungarians along one stretch of the battle line disappeared.

“The commanders and the politicians thought, for certain, that these men deserted in the foggy opening moments of late June, 1941. Rumors amongst the locals traveled to the commanders’ ears that desertion must not have been these soldiers’ fates. This was proved true only days later as the men in the companies of the Karpat Group that disappeared came into view to turn the tide of the early battles heavily in the favor of the Hungarians and their German allies on the border.

“The Karpat Group then distinguished itself through several battles against the Soviets, including the Battle of Uman, mere months later. Many captured Soviet soldiers reported unloading round after round into some of the leading units of the Karpat Group. These men that they shot never went down... for good. The Soviets knew not what to do to stop the invincible men. Later, in the prison camps that these Soviet POWs inhabited, rampant reports of crazed Soviet cannibals made their way up the German chain of command. These cannibals, said to be the same that reported the ‘invincible men’ were cordoned off into another camp, without ease.

“Some of these men of the Karpat Group, said to be invincible, were transferred home to round up the Jews for Nazi officials. Others continued with the Karpat Group until the Battle of Stalingrad, at which time, the ‘deserter companies’ did finally desert.

“It is my belief that they then left military service to go their separate ways. They spread across the world, and at some times, their plague spreads with them.”

The story sends shivers up Greta’s spine. Now, she is certain, Iggy’s accent reminds her of an Eastern European, Russian or something.

Iggy shrugs after Greta fails to verbally respond, “So that just shows you the scope of this thing, Nagzaru Kezet. By now, even if that was the first event, it’s bound to have spread worldwide.”

“What exactly are... why exactly tell me this? I didn’t ask for a history lesson.” Greta stands her ground unsurely.

“You are going to need protection and allies. We can provide you with that. You’ll just have to do use some favors in return every now and again.”

“Alright, let’s say, I bite.” Greta finishes her statement and Glaive laughs.

“There’s something I need you to do. I need you to fly to Northern California...”