Eat and Enjoy

“Are you hungry?”

“I reckon I'll let you know when my stomach wakes up.” Jake said, grinding the backs of his calloused fingers against his bronze eyes. Yawning, he tried to get up, stretching as he went.

“What?” His shoulders and chest raised to almost sitting height but his waist wouldn't move and his feet didn't shift more than an inch or two. An object stretched across his waist; tight, broad and pressing into his abdomen.

“Seriously, what?”

Propping himself up on his elbows, he looked past his faded denim shirt. A broad, black strap held his midsection, binding him to an upholstered table barely wider than his narrow frame. His legs were held by smaller, tighter straps fastened at his ankles, his work boots were gone and his jeans were neatly rolled up his calves.

“Hey there man, look this ain't not even a lil’ bit a joke, man. We're not doing this. I reckon you should get in here and let me go.” His breathing quickening, Jake tugged at the straps until the veins bulged in his arms the way they did when he had to wrangle a rowdy bull. Panting from the lack of results, he rattled his feet until his ankles burned. He rattled them some more. The table wouldn't budge and made no sound.

“Calm down Jacob. Is your stomach awake now? Are you hungry now?”

“My name ain't Jacob, it's Jake. Come in here and lemme go, you sick shit! Come in here so I can see your face!”

“Are you hungry Jacob?”

“Get in here!”

“Jacob, be reasonable. We need to know if you are feeling hungry.”

“I need you to come in here and get me out these damned things and tell me what in the hell is going on man!”

“Jacob. Come now.”

Jake inhaled something bitter but familiar. Where had he smelled that before? The gym? Somewhere in town? The ranch? Definitely not the ranch, he didn't use weird chemicals on the ranch. He had smelled it recently though, maybe before he went to bed. Maybe while he was asleep.

His vision swam, he could barely hold on to the strap to pull at it and his legs weighed more than a bale of hay.

“Perhaps you'll be hungry after you wake once more.”

Disjointed voices spoke in blurred murmurs just out of reach, then ceased to exist all at once. Jake’s eyes throbbed and his temple was buzzing. Shaking his head vigorously then abruptly deciding that was not helping, he slowly tried to sit up, thinking he was having a hangover. He could not straighten his upper body. Wide-eyed, he started to thrash and claw at the strap at his waist.

“No! No, no, no! Let me go! What do you want with me?” His voice crumpled on his tongue like a used washcloth and fell from his mouth in a hoarse, broken whisper.

“You have been raising your voice for hours Jacob. That's very rude to your hosts. We would simply like to know if you're hungry. That's all we've asked. There's really no need to shout.” Jake coughed, tasted blood and tried clearing his throat but ended up coughing until he was gasping.

“Ah, I see. Perhaps you are thirsty then? Could I interest you in a glass of water?”

“All I'm interested in,” Jake began, the words as dry as his forehead was wet. "All I want is to be let go. Why am I here man? I reckon you must have the wrong person. What is this?"

“Oh Jacob, that is not an answer to my question. Alas, we'll leave the water here. We do have other matters to attend to, we'd rather not be late. Please let us know when you are hungry.”

To his left, a masked figure placed a small tray with a single glass of water atop a small, circular, metal table. Startled, he pulled back and squinted. Through still blurred vision, he tried to make out any of the person’s features but in one motion, they were enveloped in darkness.

A single light somewhere above him, illuminated the table and not much else. Beyond the faint ring of light that barely allowed him sight of the glass of water, there was nothing else visible in the room. He couldn't determine where the voice had come from either. It had sounded as clear as Hailey did sitting on the old fence enclosure while he leaned against it and watched clouds with her.

The voice had sounded familiar at first.

“Who are you?” Jake called, then winced, swallowing against the burning near the back of his tongue.

“Who we are is irrelevant. Are you hungry now Jacob?”

“Damn it to hell man. Ain’t no one who knows me who calls me Jacob. Let’s just say y'all have the wrong fellow. I’m just Jake Smithson, alright. My name’s pretty common, I reckon y'all have me confused with another man. Just let me go. I haven't even seen a face. We can all just forget this whole mess.” Jake sighed and took the water, downing it in three gulps, refusing to think too deeply about how refreshing it tasted or how much his stomach was now growling. How long had he been wherever the hell this was?

Clearing his throat, he huffed and lay back, his shoulder pulsed and his neck was stiffer than mud caked rope.

As spacious as the room seemed to be, a heaviness settled on the back of his neck. His shoulders drooped under the weight. The small crucifix necklace was both searing and freezing his skin. Were the walls closer than before? Why was the room spinning? Was that sweat on his forehead? The temperature had been fine until...

“The water!” Jake whispered, clutching his throat.

“Not at all Jacob,” the voice said, emphasizing the second syllable of his name. “Not at all. The water is pure spring water, purified as well. What you're feeling is external pressure.”

“External? What's causing that? Why? What's happening to me?” The voice was closer than before but not like the person had moved, more like the room was filled by it. It was everywhere all at once.

“You drank the water, thank you for doing so. How then have you not told us that you are hungry? You must be hungry now.”

“Man why do y'all want me to be hungry so bad?” Jake shuddered and ignored the chill rendering his back rigid. The room really was smaller somehow. Much smaller. The voice was on top of him now. Breathing on his face. Prickling his mustache. But there was no one in the room with him. Even the water bearer seemed to have melted into the darkness. But the very walls, the pressure from them almost pressing against his cheeks forcing him to pull his arms tight to his body and grit his teeth against the creaking in his arms.

“We have someone special prepared for you to enjoy Jacob.” The icy voice drained the feeling from Jake's face.

“W-what do you mean someone? You meant something, right pal. These kinds of jokes do a number on a fellow you know. My heart can't take much more of this.” His heartbeat galloped in his ear, thundering in perfect rhythm with his erratic breaths.

“What we've prepared for you should be most satisfying to your palate.”

Jake involuntarily gagged and a shudder rattled his rigid body.

Figures flowed from the shadows wearing plain black masks with no openings. Each wore full black, loose fitting hooded robes. A gathering of grim reapers. There were more than he could count, they crowded into the room, one behind the other, until there wasn't enough air to breathe properly.

“Who are you people? What do y'all want with me?”

“We,” they said in unified monotone,

“Our name is not relevant.”

“Consider us the voice of the horses and cattle who you gave no voice and no option.” Said the original voice. Jake’s head swayed, he couldn’t focus his vision.

“Are y'all animal rights people? You serious right now? So this is some kinda prank? I reckon y'all need to let me go before this goes too far. I ain't done a damned thing but follow family tradition and maintain the damned ranch like my pa and his pa and all the Smithsons before us. People gotta eat.”

“We are not ‘people’ Jacob, and we,” one of the figures lifted a fork with medium rare meat and brought it to Jake's mouth. The meat smelled like his grandma's recipe, slow cooked in bourbon then grilled just right over applewood coals. Jake gagged and snapped his face away from the fork and clamped his mouth shut, biting his lips.

“are simply following family tradition also. We couldn't wait until your fortieth birthday to take you. You increased the number of cattle by too great a number. Then you sold them all. Besides, now is the time. You don't have a son of your own yet, not that you can any more.” Jake bolted upright before remembering he was strapped down. His stomach and abdomen screamed in protest of the action but he braced himself on his hands, ignoring the fork now hovering in the corner of his eyes and tried to make his face level with the figure.

“Where the fuck is Heather you sick shit? You'd better not have hurt her!” Jake's chest was too tight, his neck taut, jaw clenched. His heart galloped like a thoroughbred on race day.

“Heather made great meals for you, didn't she, Jacob? Yes she did. She cooked and cooked and cooked. Cattle. She was an expert with Janet Smithson's recipes. Well, she's made a fine meal today, hasn't she Jacob. It smells almost as good as she tastes. Aren't you hungry Jacob?” Jake's hands moved quickly, aiming for the neck. He was slammed against the table before his hands fully extended. An elbow pressed into the centre of his rib cage, bone digging against bone to find purchase.

The figure with the fork waited while four black-gloved hands from above Jake's head reached over and pried open his mouth while other hands pressed against his temples.

“Eat and enjoy Jacob, but with haste. We are short on time. We absolutely must be present for the pyrotechnics display at the ranch.” They shoved forkful after forkful off perfectly cooked meat into his mouth and worked his face until he chewed and swallowed. He choked and spluttered, screamed and wept. Tears flashed from his eyes and he jerked under the strain of multiple hands keeping him in place.

“People have to eat, don't they Jacob? Do eat and enjoy.”