By the time I came to...which was a week later in a hospital...headlines all over the world were screaming – “Cannibal Queer Raped Men Then Ate Them!” “Hundreds Feared Victims of Cannibal Queer!” “Police Seek Help to Identify Men Killed by Cannibal Queer.” Of course, that last headline was accompanied by a photo of the pile of bones and a trooper standing next to it, showing it was higher than his head.
Jeez, you’d think I was scary, or something.
Even more, Tom was being hailed as a hero for helping police track me down, and was credited with saving Greg from certain death. Seems that woman had called not only 911 but also Tom’s husband, who told them about his Apple watch. He didn’t wear it while jogging because he’d been mugged a few years ago and didn’t want anyone to see it, so it had been in an inside pocket of his shorts. When he came to from the serum, he’d maneuvered it out and hit the emergency alarm and that zeroed them in on me.
The sneaky little shit. I was so impressed, I didn’t even wonder why the serum hadn’t kept him out of it for the full two hours.
Now, I didn’t actually take a week to regain conciseness; they kept me in an induced coma so no one could talk to me. The State’s Attorney General was handling this case, along with state troopers, and he wanted to know everything he possibly could before having a go at me...mainly because there were certain issues they simply could not clarify.
Like: how could the bones be completely stripped of anything resembling human meat? As if they’d been boiled clean, but without the telltale signs of boiling. The marrows were still intact. And there was no evidence of a fire to boil the water. Or anything to hold the water to be boiled in. And why all of the bones looked freshly blanched. No dust. No insects on them. No wild dogs or coyotes trying to make off with them, and as we all know, coyotes do not have a discerning palate when it comes to bones.
It had coroners, physiologists, biologists, anthropologists, geologists, and even boy scouts totally confused.
It didn’t help that they found Molinaro’s uniform amongst the shredded clothing I was sleeping on. And that his service revolver had been caught behind some rocks near the cave’s mouth. And then they found the bullet the Beast had taken out of me and matched it to that pistol. And that I had a nice round scar in my back that was healed without having been sewn shut.
That last confused doctors because they did CT scans and MRIs and X-rays from all directions, with plenty of that special dye they used for them, and every one of them had the same response: “That wound should have killed him.”
At first, they figured I must have had a couple of accomplices, but could find no evidence to support that...I mean, other than the fact that there could be no other explanation.
That’s when stories began to circulate on the conspiracy platforms that I was really a demon who’d escaped from the depths of hell. So preachers and ministers and priests and bishops began using me in their Sunday sermons and talks with the politicians they owned about how I was an example of the evil growing in the world. Evil perpetrated by anyone they didn’t like or felt they could pick on without repercussion...usually the queer community.
Tom’s heroism was ignored by them because he had a husband. In fact, some claimed he must have been working with me to take that sweet young Greg to his horrific death, and never mind the reality of the situation. I even caught a clip of one reporter being stupid enough to ask the AG about that and getting "Are you fucking kidding me?" shot back at him. Of course, they bleeped the middle word, but you didn't need to read lips to know what he'd said.
And this was all within the week when I was unconscious. It was insane.
The day I was finally brought out of my induced coma, the AG came roaring in before I was fully in control of myself...and I told him everything. About the beast and the craft and the wall’s feeding habits and how it had made me extra strong then abandoned me the second trouble was approaching. Why not?
Oh, I gave them exquisite detail about who, when, where and how I took each man. Five days of descriptions in a really bland voice. I also admitted I felt nothing for all the deaths I’d helped bring about. Even let them know more than a few disappearances of young men over the decades had been like some other Beast making a pit stop for a snack and some fuel, en route to some planetary corner.
Needless to say, they didn’t believe me.
However, word did slip out and the ET crowd piled on against the religious scum. They had some nice little flame wars, online. All heard about in snippets on the news.
None of which mattered. I was declared incompetent for trial and slapped into a prison for the criminally insane, with the help of my public defender...who was very cute and got rather flustered when I told him so...while details that could not be explained were simply ignored by the authorities.
Well...except for a couple of Feds who wormed their way into the investigation, asked me a few questions about the Beast and craft, and shared some very concerned looks with each other.
Of course, the stories still continue, none of them based in reality. Books are being written about me by people who never spoke to me. At least a dozen guys have claimed to have escaped my clutches, which was pure nonsense but still got them time on news shows.
Well, except for that trans Korean who looked really hot and actually seemed intelligent about what was happening. He was the one who suggested I’d become obsessed with semen and saw it as some kind of power food, and that’s why he’d escaped death.
Once that was heard, nutritionists roared in with online videos discussing the pros and cons of swallowing sperm. All of them so very serious. Especially when they got into hardline discussions with the pseudo Christian crowd over the morality of it and the freaks crying the extraterrestrials were coming to make us into cattle.
So crazy house prison is where I still lie. What’s funny is, thanks to all that madness I found I rather liked being inside. I was given my own cell. The guards and staff dealt with me as little as possible, and the other inmates left me alone...except for one cute black lad who actually loved it when I raped him. Almost as much as I did. Over and over and over.
What’s even more fun? A message from the Beast appeared in my head, letting me know it was planning a return to our planet with some friends. Seems using a human male as the go-between when feeding on another human male greatly enhanced our nutritional value...and flavor. So they were, effectively, having a night out for dinner. The expectation was, I’d be not only the maître d’, I’d teach them how it works.
Me? Teach those things something? After what was pulled on me? I had to shake my head.
But then I got to thinking...it might be interesting. There were plenty of wars and revolutions going on around the world, where young men could vanish and no one be suspicious. And I could train some other go-betweens like myself...dead then not dead...to help them. Might even make my black kid one. He was so enthusiastic.
Only this time I’d want more in return than just the thrill of it. Money, for example. Lots and lots, so I could hire some real attack-dog lawyers to keep myself out of the looney bin, again. I’d seen how having a billion dollars made you untouchable in our legal system.
I guess that means Earth will be a deli to the universe.
What can you say but, “Table for four?”
