Animalism

by Jeff Cates

“Wild dogs? I suppose they flame-broiled their victim too?”

“I’m sorry, Captain, I just didn’t…”

“Officer Jameson, you just didn’t believe that any human is still capable of this sort of atrocity.”

“I guess so, Captain. I’d heard rumors that there were mentally challenged survivalists up in the Dakotas still doing this sort of thing. But this is Texas!”

“I want you to call in all available policepersons. And have them bring their canine assistants too. We’re going to run a complete sweep of this area. And tell everyone

to use their eyes and ears.”

“Ears, Sir.”

“Flies, Policeperson Jameson. They do make noise when they feed upon decaying remnants of dead flesh.”

“I’ll pass the word, sir.”

“Over here, Sir. The ground is still warm. It seems to be some sort of a hole filled with ashes that’s been covered.”

“A deep pit.”

“I beg your pardon, Sir?”

“It’s a term used during my grandparents’ time. Citizens used to lay the carcass of a murdered herbivore over hot coals. They’d bury it and allow the heat of the fire to slow cook the flesh of the creature. Then citizens would

dig up the animal and eat it.”

“You’re serious, Sir?”

“Yes, I am Policeperson Jameson. I’m not proud of it, but I had relatives who took part in this ritual animalism. Of course, times back then were less enlightened.”

“I think I’m going to be sick.”

“Sir, over here. We’ve located what appears to be a short section of the femur.”

“Laser cut, Policeperson Gonzalez?”

“No, Sir. You see the striations along the bone. It appears to have been sawed by something mechanical.”

“I don’t see how they could have gotten an animal of this size close to a power source.”

“It wasn’t a powered saw, Sir. The pattern

of striations is not uniform enough.”

“You’re saying someone did this with a handsaw?”

“Yes, I am.”

“Can you tell if the creature was alive when this occurred?”

“I can’t imagine anything that big holding still for this sort of thing.”

“You’re probably right. I imagine our detectives and their canine helpers will retrace the path the animal took to get here.”

“There’s not much left here for me to do. Like to join me for lunch?”

“I’d like to, Captain, but I promised Policeperson Jameson I’d provide counsel for her during lunch at Sylvia’s Salad Emporium.

You know, just to help her recover from the trauma.”

“Very noble, Policeperson Gonzalez, I’ll make a note of that in my report.”

“Thank you, Captain.”

“It’s too bad you can’t make it, though. I had something special in mind.”

“What’s that, Captain?”

“Never mind,” he said as he climbed into the police hovercraft. The door hissed as it sealed itself.

He palmed open the insulated compartment next to the driver’s seat. “Ummm! It’s still hot.” He lowered his voice. “Perhaps another time, then, Gonzalez. After all, I do make the best Texas deep-pitted beef this side of the Pecos.”

Up ahead, the headlights of a car illuminated the dark as it turned onto the street.

Israel ran out into the lane, waving his arms frantically. “Help!” he shouted.

Alfie couldn’t wait to get to the cemetery that morning. When the young man appeared in her headlights, it was a shock to her heart when she stepped on the brakes, and they didn’t work. It was a bigger shock for Israel.