“Keep calm. You’ve got to lie low. You and the boy,” I whispered sharply. “Keep your heads down and eyes closed.”

“My . . . my husband . . .”

“Lady, we might be able to see his lungs, but at least they’re moving. We have to hope for the best.”

I heard El Beardo stomping back our way. I took once last glance at the Hugheses and nodded. They bowed their heads nervously.

Junior came in through the swinging doors and stood there like some sort of Cro-Mag on vacation, looking around the slaughterhouse, bobbing his head. I coughed and made sure I caught his attention.

He looked at me and let out a long, greasy fart. It sounded like popcorn going off in a wet sack. His dull eyes stayed dull, but the corner of his lip rose like an excited dog’s leg. I assumed he was grinning.

“What you doing out there?” I asked.

He grunted and walked toward where I was tied on the floor.

“Forgot to lock the door,” he said.

“Afraid customers will come in while you’re eating somebody?”

He leaned down and slugged me so hard my lip split. Then he just kneeled down and waited for me to recover. When I looked at him like what the fuck, he went on.

“I ain’t afraid of anybody,” he spat. “Anybody comes in here unexpected, dies. Plain and simple. Paw always said nobody can tell if they ain’t nobody to tell.”

I raised my eyebrows. It was about all I could muster. I’d guess if there was such a thing, right at that point I was peaking on whatever concoction I’d consumed earlier.

“Too bad,” I muttered. I didn’t really know what I meant.

He seemed to, though. He laughed. “Too bad for you, dumb fuck!”

I walked into that one.

While he laughed I worked the cuffs around my wrists. I was fucked-up and weak, but I used my numbness to my advantage and pulled hard enough to break my wrists. I hit pay dirt. The pipe moved. Or maybe it was the room. Something moved at any rate.

His laughing turned to a raspy cough and then he was alternating glances at me and the Hughes woman. But it was the sound from his stomach that worried me most. It was loud, and rumbled. If I had to guess, I’d say the cannibal’s stomach was growling hungrily. Not what you want to hear.

And then he licked his lips, catching a string of dripping saliva that slid off his yellow, fuzzy tongue.

He was hungry.

I made my move.

“You look like you need some meat, Junior.”

He looked at me like I understood.

“I need strength,” he said. “I need another soul.”

I said slurring just a bit. “Then why don’t you eat me?”

El Beardo went slack-jawed.

“What?”