The night the Rhymer went whack
Chapter 15

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Reshod, indeed, WAS a killer.

That blood on his hands was just drops in the bucket to the numerous murders he had committed throughout the years. He was vicious, a cannibal and started at a young age when the world still had a little bit of law-ness to it. He’d eat his victims to dispose of his crime, like a cat, lapping up all the blood and human liquids. Whether immune or a developed taste, he’d kill for the flavor of human meat, and that extreme planted him as the leader of a band of criminals slash cannibals.

The elderly, like the African wild dogs, they’d begin eating before death. Same for the disabled or any person that couldn’t fight back. The fresher the blood the better as these non-scavengers roamed freely.

He never told his crew where and how he developed such a reckless craving for killing, but he was adept, vicious and dedicated. So, for years his murderous crew wreaked havoc developing a keen eye for their victims and feeding on the undesirables and the ones who couldn’t protect themselves. And even with that despicableness, most of the public turned a blind eye. Why? Because only the strong survived and it wasn’t just the gangs that got rid of the invalids, they were the easiest and first targets for all rapists and murderers as well.

The young, up and coming, law-disregarding teenagers got in on the action as well, using the downtrodden as target practice and bait. It was common to find an elderly person’s decomposed body still tied to a tree with knives, arrows and axes still sticking out of their torsos. Seeing the vast destruction of society, many families would take matters into their own hands and kill other relatives with down syndrome or handicaps so that they wouldn’t become prey to the world’s criminal element. Even newborn babies with defects were immediately disposed of. As well as an elderly parent. If their child didn’t murder them, they’d commit suicide in order to avoid a grisly fate.

This was no world for love and nurturing.

Victims were never scarce and there was always a curiosity to what sat behind the high walls protected by scores of dogs. A curiosity combined with envy of that growing empire and all the riches it must contain, and most importantly, the un-stressed human meat. There were other havens across the globe, pockets of solitude where citizens could escape to survive, but most didn’t last long. Ambushed and invaded, they never flourished for more than a few months or maybe a year or two. But The Sound Factory had been around close to fifteen. Guard dog protected, it had been a destination for every human being that could remember the old world and desire its return and it grew as a result. With a similarity to the Vatican of yesteryear, Straffe had created a heaven on Earth, a pre-world-collapse empire, and Reshod was obsessed with gaining entrance.

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