There is no sound on the other side for a moment. Is he still there?
And then, he speaks.
“So have I.”
At the Late Night, Double Feature, Picture Show
by Jessica Verday
he worst thing about cannibal Girl Scouts are the badges. You would think it’s the fact that they want to chase you down and strip the flesh from your bones. I mean, what’s worse than that? But you’d be wrong.
It’s the badges.
The badges tell you exactly how those little green devils will turn your skin into bite-size Fruit Roll-Up pieces. Trust me, I’ve seen it happen before.
The one that was tracking me now had four badges: knot tying, tree climbing, fire building, and archery. Basically, that meant she could shoot me with an arrow, hang me from a tree (with a proper knot, of course), and then roast me over a big ol’ campfire.
Girl Scouts. They’re doing it wrong.
A twig snapped behind the bush on my right and I honed in on it, focusing again on the task at hand. Waiting for the little girl to come out and just show herself already, so that I could do my job and prove to everyone at home that I was part of their team.
Well, a bigger part than I already was.
My phone vibrated, the special one-two-three vibration that told me it was Andy. I ignored it and tried not to think about how much my back was killing me.
“Come on,” I whispered. “Nice, juicy piece of meat sitting right here.” I was pretending that my shoelace was tangled and I’d been fidgeting with it for the last twenty minutes.
Something crunched in the woods. There was a flash of dark green, and she catapulted herself at me from the trees.
“Hrrrruuunnngggghhhh!”
She made the unintelligible sound midlunge.
I sidestepped and whirled out of the way. Little brown shoes and carefully styled blond curls went flying as she crashed into the tree on my left. She couldn’t have been more than ten. Hands raised into dainty claws, she turned around and came at me again.
Fishing for the pouch on my utility belt, I counted the seconds as she came closer and closer. One Mississippi . . . Two . . .
And then she was on me.
Sixty-five pounds of squirming, snapping, biting child that wanted to tear off my nose, ears, fingers, anything she could get her little chompers on. She opened her mouth wide, using both hands to hold me down. Tiny bits of fragmented flesh were caught between an ingrown baby tooth and a new adult tooth.
“Damn it!” I yelled, fingers finally grabbing hold of my saving grace. The one thing that would hopefully distract her long enough to stop her from turning any of my digits into her next Happy Meal. “Stop! Here!”
I withdrew a piece of turkey giblets. It’s the closest thing to human flesh that I’ve found without it actually being human flesh, and I thrust it up under her nose. Her face turned frantic, nostrils flared as she greedily grabbed onto it with both hands and shoved it into her gaping jaws.
She ripped and tore her way through the entire thing. I pulled up my watch and timed her.
Eight seconds. Not bad.
Her eyes glazed over and she looked down at me, a tiny smear of blood staining the corner of her mouth.
“That’s it,” I said. “You’re not getting any more.”
She cast a glance at my arm. The one that I was still holding up to look at my watch.
My fingers groped at my belt again, but the pouch was empty. I’m out of meat. “You were supposed to restock me, Andy. You little shit!” I said between gritted teeth.
The girl didn’t care. Her eyes were glazing over even more, but there was still enough wildness there that made me uneasy. Her mouth opened . . . teeth bared . . .