Chucks Steakhouse: Part Four

As soon as Gary peered through the door his face went white and his rage returned. Mike quickly put his hand on Gary’s chest to prevent him from throwing open the door and blindly barging in, but it was no use. Gary flung Mikes hand away, ripped the door open and charged towards their attacker, but Chuck was too quick. Chuck spun around with a look of delight on his sickly smiling face and descended on Jack’s unconscious form, pulling his head back by the hair to expose his throat upon which he threateningly placed a knife. Gary froze so quickly Mike ran into him like he was a brick wall.

“So nice of you to join us for dinner!” Chuck said happily.

Gary took a step forward and spoke through gritted teeth, “Get away from my br-”

“Ah ah ah!” Chuck interrupted, pressing the knife into Jack’s skin.

Gary fumed with rage and reluctantly took a step back. Mike stood silently behind Gary, using him to block Chuck’s veiw of the knife he was still gripping.

“Now, gentlemen, if you are going to be joining us I expect you to mind your manners. And that means following my directions closely, or you will never speak to your companion here again.”

“What did you do to my brother?” Gary said.

Chuck glanced at Jack’s leg and the pool of blood, “Nothing that he can’t survive, for a while. I need you all alive as long as possible.”

The skillet on the stovetop sizzled away.

“What in the hell are you talking about?” Gary’s anger was starting to boil up again. Chuck glanced at his skillet with concern as it smelled like it was starting to burn. He looked back at Gary and bared his teeth in a chilling smile at his question.

“I’ve been in the business of steaks for a long time.” Chuck said, “I know what part of the animal to take the best cuts of meat from, I know which way to slice a cut to make it beautifully tender, and I’ve of course developed a few of my own personal preferences over the years.”

Without taking the knife away from Jack’s throat, Chuck leaned toward the stove and was just able to reach far enough to turn off the burner beneath the skillet that had been cooking.

Mike took this opportunity to get closer and took a few steps forward to stand next to Gary, bringing the knife around behind his back keeping it hidden.

Chuck didn’t notice and continued talking, “Like many people I enjoyed a medium-rare steak when I first opened this place. I cooked myself a steak after closing up every night here, and I’d cook myself a steak and egg breakfast every morning. I felt like a king!” Chucks grin widened and his eyes gleamed with nostalgia. “Every night, and every morning, I would take the meat off the grill a little sooner. I had started my love affair with very rare, very bloody, lovely meat. I had long stopped cooking my eggs to go with my steak breakfast or anything else for lunch or dinner other than meat as everything had started to make me sick. Everything except a lovely, bloody steak. And then one day I couldn’t keep my beloved steak down. Out of desperation I tried other animal meats cooked up rare, but I found nothing that I could keep down or that was a worthy substitute. After a week of vomiting up everything, a craving began to take hold of me. I found my stomach growling from a delicious scent throughout my restaurant after guests had been seated and before the kitchen had even begun preparing any food. I served a beautiful young woman in a tantalizingly short and plunging dress one night that I could not contain my desire for. Her long lovely legs and large rounded breasts did not solicit the typical sexual desire from me though, no. They made my mouth water with an undeniable hunger. Then one night my fate was sealed by my careless sous-chef when he sliced a large piece of his thumb off. I was starving and lost control, stupidly attacking him with my restaurant full of guests. Worse than that though, because of my lack of control or understanding of my needs, I did not keep him alive and instead drained and butchered him like a common cow. I was able to keep his meat in my belly, but I quickly realized I was still incredibly weak and my craving had not been satisfied.” Gary’s eyes had gotten wider and wider as Chuck talked, a shocking realization coming over him as he stared at the meat in the skillet.

“You’re... you’re sick!” Gary blurted out.

Chuck laughed and replied, “Why yes, yes I am sick. But I’ve found the cure. And you three are going to help me prepare it.” Chuck adjusted his grip in Jack’s hair and pressed the knife harder into his throat, depressing the skin.

“Get into the walk in and shut the door.” Chuck said.

Mike looked at the door to the walk in fridge behind them and to his left. There would be no opportunity to get to Jack on the way over there, and his gut told him closing that door would be his final act.

“Like hell we’re goin’ in there.” Gary growled.

“Now that’s the kind of attitude that will get your little brother here killed.” Chuck said as he pressed the knife just enough to elicit a trickle of blood and causing Jack to stir. Gary flushed red with anger and gave Mike a look of desperation. Mike’s mind raced as he glanced around the kitchen for anything that could help them, then back at the walk in door. He studied the door handle. By some miracle, it was not a typical walk in door. It looked like the original handle had been broken off and that Chuck had improvised a one sided regular doorknob and deadbolt to fit in its place. He’d somehow cut crude slots into the door and the frame of the cooler to allow for it. True, there was still no inner doorknob or handle, meaning that once that door was shut, they’d be stuck in there. But Chuck would have to get up, freeing Jack momentarily, to lock that deadbolt.

“We ain’t got a choice, but I’ve got a plan.” Mike whispered to Gary as he began backing away towards the walk in. Gary looked back at his brother, lingering for a long moment before forcing himself towards the walk in. They opened the door and stepped inside. It wasn’t cold, and it was empty save for a bucket in a corner and a few filthy blankets on the floor. There was no handle on the inside of the door. Mike’s stomach dropped at the sight, thinking of how many people had possibly been imprisoned here.

“Now swing the door so it shuts behind you.” Chuck said.

Gary looked at Mike, willing him not to do it. Mike stepped forward a gripped the edge of the heavy door, pulling it halfway shut. With the door now blocking them from Chuck’s view, Mike placed the knife flat against the door frame, covering the drilled holes that the door handle would need in order to close. He pulled the edge of the door again, this time quickly to allow it to swing into place after he withdrew his hand. It worked perfectly.

Mike still had a grip on the knife by its handle preventing the door from clicking shut, but it appeared shut to Chuck on the outside.

“Get ready, we’re gonna slam this thing into him when he tries to lock us in, got it?” Mike whispered.

Gary blinked in surprise for a moment, then whispered back, “Got it.”

They listened to Chucks footsteps getting closer. Gary took a firm stance placing his hands on the door, Mike did the same placing his free hand on the door. Mike’s heart was pounding harder than he’d ever felt in his life.

He knew what he needed to do in just a few short seconds, and yes what he was about to do was scary in its own because if he failed, it could mean the death of himself and his friends. But the real reason his heart was pounding and his hands were sweating was because he was terrified that he would succeed. He’d never killed a man.

to be continued...