The Belly of the Beast

Samantha Stevens was dead, hanging from the crossbeam in the old barn – a trap set by the crazy bald guy that had kidnapped her. A trap that Jon Stevens – her normally observant husband - had walked right into.

Jon sat in a heap on the dirt floor, his throat raw from screaming, then crying, then cursing. First his son, and now his wife – both dead in a span of just a few months. No man should have to endure this. It’s bad enough the world has gone to hell after the electromagnetic pulse, but now he gets to live his own personal hell - tailor made for the man who failed to protect his family.

The sliding barn door opened. “Jon? I found the ladder that bald jackass used to get Sam up there,” said Jack. “Let’s get her cut down along with that other poor soul that looks like it’s been hanging a few days longer.”

Jon didn’t want to move, but he also didn’t want to leave Sam up there. He forced himself to stand. His head was a swirling mass of anger and grief. Baldy was sprawled out at the entrance – a well placed bullet hole in his head, courtesy of Jack, and an evil smile on his face. The wicked refrain from those lips echoed in Jon’s mind…

“I ain’t gonna kill ya, naw, naw...he’s gonna kill ya, yah, yah…”

I’m so sorry Sam. I didn’t know he boobytrapped the side barn door.

“Catch her feet,” said Jack lowering Sam as gently as he could.

Jon guided the body to the ground, crying again as he brushed her hair from her eyes. Anger swelled once more as he cut the rope binding her hands and feet and removed the noose from her neck. Her heart-shaped locket was still around her neck with the chain cutting deep into her skin. Working the necklace free, he glanced back at the creepy, grimacing dead man in overalls – I’d kill you again if I could.

After both bodies were down, Jon rolled them onto a worn tarp that had been covering some old equipment. Each taking a corner the men dragged the corpses out to the back side of the barn. Jack’s wife, Pam, came over from her watch post, and seeing the bodies she turned away coughing back the vomit rising in her throat.

“See anything, Pam?” asked Jack.

“Nothing down the logging road,” said Pam wiping her mouth and collecting herself. “But there’s something interesting in the old wood shop.”

Jack turned to Jon and handed him one of the two-way radios that had been hidden in a faraday cage on the farm. “Start digging a grave. I’ll be back after checking out the shop. Call on the radio if you need help.” Jon nodded and headed back towards the barn to look for a shovel.

Jack pointed his flashlight into the building that once was a nice woodworking setup but now laid silent, rusted, and filled with cobwebs. “It’s in the back end of the building,” said Pam. Jack pulled out his 9mm and quickly swept the area just like he’d done a million times as a state cop.

“Clear,” said Jack, as reflected light revealed something massive, metallic, and menacing. It was a gigantic bronze bull.

Jon found a pickaxe, but no shovel. He knew he needed to get started on that grave, but what he really wanted to do was sink that pick into Baldy’s smiling dead head. He knelt and looked closer at the demonic grin. Was it whispering to him? Wasn’t it gloating gleefully in having suckered Jon into killing his own wife? He tried to push the images from his mind. Then he noticed that every tattoo on this dead man was an implement of death: knives, nooses, guns, arrows, spears, and even a guillotine. The only one that seemed out of place was the picture of a giant bull.

“Well, obviously this bull wasn’t here when we scouted this place over a year ago. And it wasn’t here when we hid our supplies on the farm nine months ago,” said Jack.

Pam was running her hands along the underside of the bull. “Yeah, I think we would’ve noticed the pile of bull,” she said with a smirk. “There’s some kind of smooth button or something under here. Bring the light over.”

Pressing the button, Pam heard something release. The bottom side of the bull was actually a cleverly disguised panel. Pam found the catch, opened the bull, and drew backward as a cloud of dust spewed out. “Phew! It stinks!”

Jack was able to get his head and shoulders into the bull with no problem and shone the light inside. More dust and a few whitish looking rocks. It was gigantic. He could definitely fit in there to hide with room to spare but thought better of trying that out since no obvious air holes were visible. Not to mention there didn’t seem to be a way to open it from the inside. “Let’s check the rest of the property before it gets any darker. Bronze bulls aren’t just hauled out to an abandoned farm without a reason.”

Jon wasn’t sure how much more he could dig. The pick was great for breaking up the dirt, but he had to clear it from the hole by hand. The grave was a little over two feet deep now by his estimate. Even in the cool of early fall with the sun just going down he was sweating profusely. He drained his canteen and was about to rest a moment when his eye was drawn in the direction of the logging road. There were enough leaves still on the trees and the underbrush to obscure his view, but then he saw it again: a green light in the distance. Then another. And another.

Jon got on the radio only as loud as he dared. “Jack! You there?”

“Copy that. What’s up?”

“I think we’ve got company,” said Jon, turning toward the lights again. “I’m counting at least twelve green lights moving in our direction down the logging road.”

“Understood. Grab your gear and meet us behind the wood shop. Stay out of sight and don’t use a light.”

Jon quickly folded the tarp over so that the bodies weren’t obvious, grabbed his son’s dinosaur backpack, and headed around the backside of the barn to the far side of the farm. The high grass and the darkening sky helped his cause, but he also couldn’t see Jack and Pam. A slight whistle came from his right, then Jack stood up and motioned for Jon to follow. They settled just inside the tree line with a clear view of the back of the shop and the side of the barn.

“Were you able to get the bodies buried?”

“No. I had just finished digging when I spotted the lights. I covered the bodies with the tarp, but the fresh dig will be obvious if anyone starts poking around.”

Jack was watching the group through his rifle scope. All male of various ages. All physically fit. All armed. And all carrying identical backpacks with green glow sticks attached to the front and back.

“They just found Baldy. About half of them are spreading out for a search. Let’s move back a bit.”

Jon watched through his binoculars as two men dragged Baldy out of the barn toward the fire. The tallest man was by the fire and seemed to be in charge. “So, what did you guys find in the shop?”

Pam perked up. “Would you believe a giant hollow bronze bull?”

“Okay that’s weird – which reminds me…”

But Jack cut him off, “Shhhhhhh! Look there!” Two more guys emerged from the logging road. Each of them was holding the arm of a woman who was clearly gagged with her hands bound.

“Jack – there’s something interesting about the bald guy. He had a tattoo of a bull on his chest.”

Jack lowered his rifle, scarcely believing what he just heard. He didn’t put it together until that moment. It wasn’t by chance that there was a giant bronze bull here. He remembered reading a police report a while back that detailed a small cult that was slowly gaining a following in the area. No one knew where they were. Just chatter and a few pics on the dark web of the bronze bull standing over a fire. He lifted the rifle scope up again and moved it from person to person. Every man he checked had a bull tattoo visible. “I think we may have a problem.”

“The last time you said we had a problem, we were finding people beheaded,” said Jon.

“I think they burn people alive inside the bull. If I’m right, we’ll be wishing for a beheading if they catch us.”

The search party returned empty handed, and the leader seemed none too pleased. Jon could hear raised voices, but it was hard to make out what was being said. Then two of the men took the gagged woman into the barn. “Okay we’re gonna make for the farmhouse,” said Jack. “I’ll take point. You guys keep an eye on the group as we go.”

A few yards from the house Jack stopped. One of the goons was on guard out front. “Wait here.” Suddenly Jack was gone. About two minutes later, the goon was also gone. A faint whistle signaled Jon and Pam to come over to the back door. All three entered without notice. Jon kept watch.

Pam headed for the kitchen. “What are we looking for?”

“Remember when we scouted this place? We found old utensils, pots and pans, vintage tools…”

“And an old pressure cooker! I like where this is going,” said Pam.

“Exactly,” said Jack as he pulled the cooker out of a moldy cabinet. “Now here’s the plan.”

About an hour later, everything was set. Jon was on the second floor of the farmhouse overlooking the goons’ campfire with Jack’s rifle. Pam was hiding near the barn. And Jack was in the woodshop impregnating the bronze bull with the pressure cooker - complete with several goodies of the explosive and flammable variety - from his hidden supply stash. Then Jack clicked his radio three times to let Pam and Jon know things were about to start.

Jack peeked from behind the shop toward the fire. Well within my throwing range. He stepped back and launched a flash-bang toward the group. It skittered briefly and exploded, stunning ten of the men who were then yelling and groping about for their weapons.

The two guards that were in the barn ran toward the fire. Jon picked off one with the rifle, but another came running from the direction of the logging road. Pam entered the barn side door as the guards left. She signaled the woman not to speak as she was cut free. They both ran for the side door as Pam tossed a smoke grenade back into the barn.

Jack was sprinting along the back of the buildings staying out of Jon’s field of fire. But he wasn’t fast enough, as a bullet grazed his shoulder. Dammit! Jon shot the goon advancing on Jack and then bolted outside.

“You good, Jack?”

“I’m good. Let’s catch up with the ladies at the logging road.”

A few hours later, they were home tending their wounds. “I don’t get it,” said Jon. “What did you do with the pressure cook--”

KABOOOOMMMM!!!!

“Never mind.”