Read Online Grimm: The Chopping Block by John Passarella - Free Book Online
Authors: John Passarella
Ads: Link
restart the game from your last save point without losing everything you had worked so hard for. Unfortunately, real life had no save points. What was done, was done, for better or worse. And sometimes forever. Some choices had fatal consequences.
The large man strode toward Gino, reached into his pocket and withdrew a ring of keys.
“You, little piggy, go to hell before me.”
As the man towered over him, Gino finally noticed that he wore a white apron, a butcher’s apron, discolored—no, stained… stained with dried blood. Not a stretch to believe the blood was human. The butcher dropped to one knee beside Gino and reached for the heavy iron collar around his neck.
Gino pulled away from the man, as far as the chain would allow, which wasn’t far enough. The butcher grabbed Gino’s hair in one hand, knuckles pressing painfully into Gino’s scalp as the man’s other hand fitted a key to the padlock dangling above his clavicle. He fought to overcome his paralyzing fear, grasping for the rage that had infused him only moments ago. Free of his collar and chain, he would have a chance to escape. He tensed, waiting—
—and felt the cold metal fall away from his chafed throat, the hinge at the nape of his neck uttering a single squeal of protest as the collar fell away.
Gino lunged at the much larger man, desperation providing the brief spark of adrenaline needed to fire his muscles.
But the butcher growled, a sound that couldn’t have come from a human throat, and a meaty fist snapped out and struck Gino across the jaw. Gino imagined it felt like a right cross unleashed by a heavyweight boxing champ in his prime. One moment he was lunging forward with deadly intent, ready to wrap the chain connecting his wrists around the butcher’s throat, the next he was staring up at the ceiling, not quite sure how he had fallen.
He gasped for air, like a fish tossed on the deck of a boat, helpless to avoid the club. Rubbery-limbed, he tried to protest as the butcher looped one fist around the wrist chain and dragged him across the floor and up the wooden stairs, his head awkwardly striking each step on the way up.
Once through the open doorway, the butcher dropped him to the floor and locked the door behind them. Gino tried to speak but the words came out jumbled.
“Don’t—you do—don’t have to do this—you can end this.”
“Quiet,” the butcher said, grabbing the wrist chain again. “This will be over soon.”
At the end of the hall, another door awaited them.
That’s where he takes them
, Gino thought, terrified, his mind racing.
The place where they scream
.
Gino’s iron chains rattled against the cement floor, and clanked together as he rolled onto his stomach and tried to stand. But the butcher moved so fast that Gino’s hands and feet could gain no purchase.
The door swung open, revealing an uneven cement floor angled toward a drain in the corner. Though the butcher had apparently hosed the floor, some streaks of blood remained. A long metal countertop stood in front of the far wall next to a large walk-in cooler in the corner, large enough to hang several sides of beef.
Before he had time to dwell on what the walk-in unit might contain, his attention turned to a metal crossbar on the floor, attached to a cable that rose to the ceiling and came down again at an angle to a winch with a hand crank.
“What—what is that?” he asked, his mouth almost too dry to speak.
But he didn’t need to ask. He knew. The question was merely a stall for time, to slow down the process, for him to think of a way out of his current predicament. He just needed some time to think. A little more time—
The butcher released Gino’s wrist chain so he could close the door. He strode to the counter and strapped on a thick leather belt slotted with knives in various sizes. Lastly, he picked up a leather sap and slapped it against his palm, as if testing its weight.
Gino scrambled to his hands and knees a moment
The large man strode toward Gino, reached into his pocket and withdrew a ring of keys.
“You, little piggy, go to hell before me.”
As the man towered over him, Gino finally noticed that he wore a white apron, a butcher’s apron, discolored—no, stained… stained with dried blood. Not a stretch to believe the blood was human. The butcher dropped to one knee beside Gino and reached for the heavy iron collar around his neck.
Gino pulled away from the man, as far as the chain would allow, which wasn’t far enough. The butcher grabbed Gino’s hair in one hand, knuckles pressing painfully into Gino’s scalp as the man’s other hand fitted a key to the padlock dangling above his clavicle. He fought to overcome his paralyzing fear, grasping for the rage that had infused him only moments ago. Free of his collar and chain, he would have a chance to escape. He tensed, waiting—
—and felt the cold metal fall away from his chafed throat, the hinge at the nape of his neck uttering a single squeal of protest as the collar fell away.
Gino lunged at the much larger man, desperation providing the brief spark of adrenaline needed to fire his muscles.
But the butcher growled, a sound that couldn’t have come from a human throat, and a meaty fist snapped out and struck Gino across the jaw. Gino imagined it felt like a right cross unleashed by a heavyweight boxing champ in his prime. One moment he was lunging forward with deadly intent, ready to wrap the chain connecting his wrists around the butcher’s throat, the next he was staring up at the ceiling, not quite sure how he had fallen.
He gasped for air, like a fish tossed on the deck of a boat, helpless to avoid the club. Rubbery-limbed, he tried to protest as the butcher looped one fist around the wrist chain and dragged him across the floor and up the wooden stairs, his head awkwardly striking each step on the way up.
Once through the open doorway, the butcher dropped him to the floor and locked the door behind them. Gino tried to speak but the words came out jumbled.
“Don’t—you do—don’t have to do this—you can end this.”
“Quiet,” the butcher said, grabbing the wrist chain again. “This will be over soon.”
At the end of the hall, another door awaited them.
That’s where he takes them
, Gino thought, terrified, his mind racing.
The place where they scream
.
Gino’s iron chains rattled against the cement floor, and clanked together as he rolled onto his stomach and tried to stand. But the butcher moved so fast that Gino’s hands and feet could gain no purchase.
The door swung open, revealing an uneven cement floor angled toward a drain in the corner. Though the butcher had apparently hosed the floor, some streaks of blood remained. A long metal countertop stood in front of the far wall next to a large walk-in cooler in the corner, large enough to hang several sides of beef.
Before he had time to dwell on what the walk-in unit might contain, his attention turned to a metal crossbar on the floor, attached to a cable that rose to the ceiling and came down again at an angle to a winch with a hand crank.
“What—what is that?” he asked, his mouth almost too dry to speak.
But he didn’t need to ask. He knew. The question was merely a stall for time, to slow down the process, for him to think of a way out of his current predicament. He just needed some time to think. A little more time—
The butcher released Gino’s wrist chain so he could close the door. He strode to the counter and strapped on a thick leather belt slotted with knives in various sizes. Lastly, he picked up a leather sap and slapped it against his palm, as if testing its weight.
Gino scrambled to his hands and knees a moment
Similar Books
