“Want me to put my costume back on?” Natasha asked sweetly. “I think I could now.”

“Oh no, don’t worry!” her grandmother grinned. “I think you’ve got your prettiest outfit on right now and I’m sure that’s how you’d like to be remembered?” Grinning, the teen struck a pose at the end of the row of heads then worked her way down, posing playfully between them, kissing them on the cheek or pressing her cheek up against theirs until she reached the other end and recreated a mirror of her original pose. “Beautiful!” Mrs O’Sullivan beamed. “Now, if you don’t mind, dear?” She turned to Mollie. “I’d love a couple with you in! It’s your hard work that’s made this party so wonderful and given my little granddaughters their dream send-off!”

“Of course.” Mollie smiled kindly, posing first at the other end of the row so that she and Natasha provided living bookends to the severed heads then with her arm around Natasha as they stood together behind the heads, positioning their bodies carefully so that no interesting parts would be obscured then finally with the two of them kneeling in front. By the time they were done, Doug was signalling from over by the grill that their meat was ready. Mollie felt her stomach rumble and realised that she had not eaten since breakfast either and decided to follow them over to see if there was enough of Lydia left to claim a snack for herself. She knew she would be welcome to partake in the roast and the stew, of course, but they were still a little way off being ready.

Arriving over by the grill where Doug was starting to dish out the cooked meat onto paper plates and directing people to the buffet table where burger buns, salads, side-dishes, bowls of crisps and assorted condiments were available, Mollie sent Cole back over to the pot to get the lit put on which would cause the stew to boil more intensely and the meat to separate from the bones, suggesting that he ask the man who had been so eager to please her for assistance. As he ran off to do as he was told, she thought that she should probably buy him a drink or something later to make up for the joke which, she was the first to admit, she had probably taken a bit too far. She had only meant to tell him off, not expecting to be able to keep a straight face long enough even for that, but he had taken her so seriously, the temptation to keep going and to keep pushing the joke further and further had been too much!

As for Lydia, she still appeared somehow to be breathing but was in a distinctly sorry state. Starting with her face, both eyes were missing and, from the gurgling sounds she was emitting and the rivulets of blood running down from either corner of her mouth, her tongue had been cut out too. As well as this, someone also seemed to have harvested the meat from one of her cheeks. Her belly was open with about half the meat taken, now sizzling in thick strips on the grill, with part of her large intestine hanging out clumsily like an untucked shirt. Both biceps were completely stripped of meat, as here both thighs and the calf of her left leg was gone. She had no buttocks left to speak of and a strip or two had also been taken from her back. The fun was pretty much over now, Mollie understood, and soon it would be time to put her out of her misery, harvest what usable meat they could from the carcass and drop the rest of her remains into the stew but first she wanted to choose a piece for herself.

“Hang in there, girlfriend!” she smiled at what remained of her younger colleague, hoping that the warmth of the expression would carry over to her voice as she stroked her undamaged cheek. “Your meat smells great and everyone seems to be having a great time tucking in!” She had no idea if Lydia could still understand her or not and there was definitely no was she could reply but it felt rude not to try, to just treat her like a Serrano ham waiting to be carved. “Gotta get a taste of you myself!” she observed, stepping back and taking a look. “Wow, the guests really seem to have gone to town on you!” she chuckled with admiration. “You’re definitely a hit!” Lydia moved her head a little, made a noise and did seem to smile, or made a valiant attempt at one at least, suggesting that she did hear what Mollie was saying and found her observations pleasing. “Think it will have to be a nice piece of back-bacon,” Mollie continued, picking up one of the smaller knives and cutting a piece. “Oh and some nice leg meat!” She sliced a strip from the leg which still had most left. Lydia barely reacted to this at all. “Just let me get these on the grill,” Mollie told her conversationally, “then we’ll get you finished off, okay?” Another gurgle and rather sleepy-looking nod served as the most confirmation that Mollie could reasonably expect then she laid her selections on the grill, pulled out one of the company tarps which were generally used at the end of spit-roasts and spread it out on the grass behind Lydia’s frame.

After calling Cole back over and making a point of being friendly towards him, Mollie hugged Lydia from behind, reflecting that being naked for jobs such as this was actually far more practical than having to put on overalls or aprons over a uniform, and supported her as Cole undid the straps holding her wrists and ankles. Once the seventeen year old’s limp form was free of the restraints, Mollie gently walked her backwards and lowered her onto the tarp.

“I’m going to take your hair off first.” she smiled. “It’s pretty, can probably be donated.” Lydia gave a soft gurgle of affirmation from the back of her throat. Kneeling beside her, Mollie took a small knife and carefully cut all the way around her hair-line before gently peeling back the flesh of her scalp, removing her hair like a wig. “There we go!” she smiled down at her now bald friend, her skull exposed and pink from the bloody residue that clung to it. “Now it’s time to say goodnight.” She leaned forward and gave Lydia a gentle, tender kiss on the forehead before taking one of the larger butcher knives and positioning it carefully. “Thanks for being such a good assistant and for being so delicious!” she smiled down at her kindly. “Sweet dreams!” There was no need to hack at her neck as Mollie had done with the girls in the pot, just a swift but firm slice from one side of her throat all the way around to the other. Lydia’s chemically-thickened blood oozed into a gory pool under her neck, shoulders and head but did not spurt. Mollie kept cutting until she was all the way down to bone. There was no need to remove her head this time, just to ensure that she was finally and completely dead.

With Lydia now an actual carcass rather than just resembling one, Mollie quickly set to work stripping whatever usable meat she could find and piling it on a large tray that Cole provided. In the process, she ended up breaking off both arms and one of the legs but that didn’t matter. Once she had harvested all the meat and the organs that people might enjoy grilled, she bundled up the remains in the tarp and carried them over to the pot where she had Cole lift the edge of the lid so that she could pour them in. The aroma that greeted her as the lid was raised was absolutely delectable and she knew that in less than an hour, the stew would be ready to serve. Once the lid was off, the heat could be turned down to keep it simmering so that people could go back for more long into the evening, the flavours just becoming richer as the goodness was drawn from the bones. When everyone had eaten their fill, the remaining stew could be decanted into containers for Mrs O’Sullivan and any of her friends who wanted to take home then the bones would be tipped out and both they and the inside of the pot could be cleaned out with a high-pressure hose. They would take the bones back with them to headquarters for recycling but the large set-pieces and cooking equipment would not be collected until the next day. That, thought Mollie, was somebody else’s problem.

Most people by that time had finished their first helping of Lydia meat and many were excitedly waiting for a second while others were being a little more cautious, wanting to make sure they left room not only for the stew but for a good portion of roast Carl. The impaled young man had stopped twitching on his spit some time ago and was clearly, like all the other volunteers, now nothing but meat. Another twenty minutes, Mollie observed, checking on his meat with a small thermometer probe and pushing a roasting fork into his buttock to see the colour of the juices that trickled out, and he should be ready to serve!


To be continued...