Fresh Ingredient

CW: Themes of cannibalism

“I tell you, I’m losing my mind. They weren’t kidding about the ‘Big Dark’ at all. Add in the ‘Seattle Freeze,’ and you get the perfect recipe. Enough to even drive an introvert like me right off the cliff.”

Verity Sadler stared out the window of her tiny one-bedroom apartment. She could just make out the outline of Mount Rainier through the swaying pine trees, shrouded in a deep blue hue of the night, a shade you only find in the Pacific Northwest. As she spoke into the phone receiver, she pulled at a strand of her curly red hair and held it up, checking for any hint of gray. Nothing there. Not yet. Give it a few more years.

She pulled at the telephone receiver cord to undo the knot that had somehow formed. It drove her crazy to be tied down by something as antiquated as a cord, but cell phone coverage was spotty and there was something nostalgic and warm about using an old phone. Heck, if the landlord was insistent enough to have one, she might as well use it. The cord gave way to allow her the few extra inches she needed to remain looking outside her window. In a few minutes, though, it wouldn’t matter. The blue would turn to black, and even the trees would slip out of view.

“Yeah, but you’re not in Seattle,” her sister, Lila, offered.

“Might as well be. I think this whole state follows that idea, at least it seems to me. Ashford might have a reputation for being a fun town for a day trip, but not so much for living,” Verity replied.

“Well, you made the choice to go there. If you don’t want to end up eating leftovers in front of the TV every night, you’ll have to put yourself out there.”

Verity sensed that commentary before Lila even said it.

Yes. She made the choice to come here, but work didn’t offer much of an option. Taking part in research as to environmental impacts on Mount Rainier wasn’t going to pay much to begin with, and making the trek from the big city every day seemed out of the question. The worst part was that she was only a month into a six-month “deployment” here, and she was still on the downslope of sunset times… earlier and earlier each day. Spring seemed a lifetime away at this point.

“Don’t they have a church or something?” Lila asked.

“Really?”

“I know. I’m just trying to spitball ideas. Probably would be worse anyways. Churches may say they want outsiders to stop by, but rarely act that way when they do,” Lila admitted. “So… thinking about what you like to do… maybe a cooking class or something?”

Verity had her immediate “no thanks” answer on the ready but was taken back by the suggestion. Sure. Cooking.

“I wouldn’t think they’d even have that out here, but let me check.”

She pulled out her laptop and did a quick search. Cooking classes in Ashford. It yielded a single result: Come Connect @ the Co-Op! Community Falls Co-Op welcomes you to join us for a night of cooking fun!

“Apparently my little sister isn’t as dumb as I thought,” Verity noted.

“Thanks, I know my big is,” Lila countered. “So what’s it look like?”

“Well, Date Night in Bangkok is definitely not an option, but maybe Cozy Mountain Dinner?”

“They teach you how to cook deer? Or maybe Bigfoot?” Lila snickered on the far end.

“Whatever doofus. While you’re making lame jokes I’m already signed up.” Verity filled in the last personal details with her payment information and hit Submit.

“What’s the worst that could happen?” she asked to herself.

— —

Verity sat in her car, engine running, staring at the entrance to the Co-Op. She listened to the ending of the latest episode of her favorite true crime podcast and felt like kicking herself. The last few episodes focused on women who went missing in rural mountain towns, albeit in the Blue Ridge mountains, clear across the country. “Way to go, girl,” she thought to herself. “Just scare yourself to death a bit more, why don’t you?” As much as she loved the mystery of every story, it always set her on edge a bit more than she’d like, given her current living arrangement.

The store itself sat in darkness, having closed an hour earlier. She found it slightly odd that they didn’t keep the lights on for the stockers to go about their work, but maybe they took care of that in the mornings. The side of the co-op which housed the cooking class was well lit though. She noticed a single older lady setting things up inside, shuffling around bowls and cookware along the long cutting board-type counters.

A few other “students” started to stroll in. Oddly enough, they seemed to appear from nowhere. Verity had the only car in the parking lot. But then again, that’s Ashford for you. Small enough town to walk just about anywhere… even if it was under 20 degrees, windy and lightly snowing. She should have found it picturesque, like something from a storybook, but could only keep thinking about missing mountain girls.

“Enough of that. Get in there and meet someone,” she stated to herself, looking into her rearview mirror and trying to find confidence in there somewhere. She switched off the engine and headed inside.

— —

“This was a mistake,” she thought to herself.

Verity looked around at the other participants and figured this must be the balance of the under-30 crowd for Ashford. Counting herself, there were eight students. From the banter prior to class, they certainly all knew each other, though none seemed to be “together.” She tried to make small talk as she could, but received only a few head nods in reply. Almost everyone said the same thing. “You’re not from around here, are you?” Even the little old lady leading the class wasn’t welcoming. She took down Verity’s information and shuffled her off to her working area on one end of the counter. That left only one person near her, a guy about a foot and a half taller than Verity. For that matter, everyone in the class was about a foot taller. It made her feel a little bit like a kid.

The guy next to her finally leaned over to break the ice.

“Hey, I’m Goran,” he stated, reaching out a huge hand.

“Verity. Thanks…” she replied as she felt his firm grip take hold. She looked up into his eyes and would swear their color was simply black, as if his pupils took up the entire eye. She started to draw back as he held her hand for just a second too long.

“Not from around here, are you?” he asked.

“Uh. No. That easy to spot, huh?” She pulled back her hand and shrugged. What are you going to do?

“Don’t mind mother so much. She doesn’t take to outsiders as well as the rest of us,” he stated while motioning over to the woman running the class. The woman looked up when he did and gave him a knowing nod, like they were in on a joke or something. Small-town drama that Verity wasn’t part of that made her want to leave even more. She stopped herself, though, and forced herself to stick things out… at least for the class.

“She’s your mom?” Verity asked.

“Well, not as you’d think about it. But close enough,” he answered cryptically as he put on his apron and sorted out his workstation.

Verity ignored the odd answer and put on her own apron. She looked over the bowls and spices set before her. She didn’t bother to move anything, figuring Mom knew best.

— —

“Welcome to co-op cook night,” the woman proclaimed to the class. “A special welcome to Variety…Sadler? Our newcomer.”

“It’s Verity, actually. But thanks,” Verity replied, blushing enough to match her red hair.

“Of course, dear. We wouldn’t want to get that wrong, would we?” she countered. “Just be sure to lean over and ask Goran for help if you need it. Now. As we usually do, a starter drink to get things kicked off. Bring up your glasses, please.”

The others in the class filed up to the front as the old woman reached under her workstation and pulled out a decanter filled with a dark, red liquid. They each went back with a full wine glass. Verity remained at her station, looking down at her empty glass.

“Dear?” the old woman asked.

“Sorry. Just water for me. I… just isn’t my thing.” She reached her hand down into her pocket and rubbed her thumb on her sobriety coin. Remain strong.

“I see. Too good to share a drink with us?” she replied as she squinted her eyes in a disapproving look. Verity looked down to avoid the judgmental stare. Again, she thought about being anywhere but here.

The woman grabbed another decanter from under the counter, this one filled with a clear liquid. She shuffled over to Verity and poured it into her glass. She returned to the front and grabbed her own glass.

“Well. Hopefully, you’re okay with the rest of our agenda,” she said as she raised her glass to the room.

“To him,” the lady almost shouted. The room countered with raised glasses and a unison reply.

“TO HIM.”

Verity raised her glass to join in with the group. She took a swig of it.

Water. Just water.

Oh my god, could this get any weirder? This was the exact reason Verity chose to avoid a church group, only to end up in some same dynamic with a bunch of locals. She half expected them to claim to be drinking blood. No such response, but they downed the wine as if it were water and they had just come out of the desert. She noted a small bit drip down Goran’s chin, then looked back to his eyes. They were even more black than before.

A million thoughts ran through her head all at the same time. Maybe it’s time to go. Come up with a reason. Any reason. Just get out of here. It isn’t safe here. You’re going to end up as the subject of one of your podcasts. JUST LEAVE!

But she didn’t move. Something held her in place.

The old woman went to the refrigerator behind her and pulled out a large tub, about the size of a container people use to store holiday junk in the garage. This one was clear though, allowing Verity to just make out the contents. A liquid of some sort sloshed around, dark in color. Multiple items in the liquid bounced along the sides of the container, just touching enough to show an outline. They appeared to be about the size of a small chicken.

“Now tonight we’ll be making Mountain Man stew. If you pull out your mixing bowls, I’ll bring around your main ingredient,” the woman noted as she lugged the tub around the cooking classroom.

Verity still found herself unable to move. Was she having a nervous breakdown? Was this some odd reaction to seeing wine, or whatever it was, being drank right next to her? Was this a re-lapse? Maybe she had a drink and forgot already?

She was still able to follow the woman with her eyes, though. She observed the woman go to each station, reach her hand into the tub and pull out… something… and put it down at each station. She could see the eyes of the others as she did, and just like Goran, they were black as the night. As far as the item being placed in front of them, she refused to believe what she was seeing. It was too far away. She was wrong. Surely.

The woman approached Goran and slipped her hand into the liquid and pulled something from it. Her arm dripped a dark red fluid, as did the item she pulled out. Verity stared at it as the liquid drained off the top of it. Then she knew she was right.

It was a hand. A human hand.

Verity remained transfixed. Unmoving. Terrified. She wanted to leave but couldn’t. Something was holding her in place. Her muscles wouldn’t respond. Only her eyes could move.

The woman passed behind her, not leaving anything at her station, and went back to the front of the class. She slid the tub back into the refrigerator and took her place in front of her cutting board. The bloody hand sat on it and she grabbed a nearby butcher knife. She went to work on the hand, chopping off the fingers as if she were cutting up a cucumber or other vegetable. She gathered up her “work” and poured it into a large soup pot. She then motioned for the others in class to follow her lead.

Verity glanced to her right and saw Goran make quick work of his “ingredient.” He paused before finishing and put his finger into his mouth to taste his handiwork. He looked towards Verity and winked. A sinister grin crossed his face as he poured the fingers into his own pot.

Verity started to re-gain sensation in her extremities at this point. She could feel her foot moving ever so slightly. Her knee bent just a little. Whatever was holding her in place was starting to wear off. Her eyes darted outside to her car, sitting no more than a hundred feet away. In a matter of seconds, she knew she could make a run for it. Her keys were in her jacket pocket, hanging on the coat rack at the entrance to the class. Her mind continued to plot out her escape route.

The old woman raised an eyebrow at Verity. At the same time, Goran shifted to just behind her. Verity could feel him breathing on her neck. His breath wasn’t warm, as expected. It was cold. Cold enough to make the skin on the back of her neck ripple with goosebumps. She turned her neck ever so slightly.

Almost there. Almost able to move again.

“Oh dear. Don’t think you’ll be going anywhere. We appreciate the effort though. It’s always better when they try to run. It adds a little… something,” the old woman noted. “You see, to make Mountain Man stew the best way, you need that secret ingredient to give it that right… kick. A special spice that is only good when served… fresh.”

The old woman grabbed her butcher knife and closed in on Verity, as did the others in the class. They surrounded her. The breath of each of them turned colder and colder. She could see their breath as they exhaled, like the frost from a freezer. As they were about to box her in, she felt her hands clinch into fists.

YOU CAN MOVE!

Verity screamed at the top of her lungs and put her entire mental effort into shoving Goran back. It felt like hitting a brick wall. His strength was inhuman. Still, her movement startled him, and she pushed him aside enough to open a spot in the closing group wide enough for her to scramble through. Her legs felt like they were pushing through cement, but she managed to shuffle over to her coat and rip it off the rack. She continued to “run” as best as she could, making it out the entrance and towards her car. She thrashed her hand around the pockets searching for her keys. There!

She hit the unlock button and slid into the driver’s seat. She couldn’t help but look up as she hit the ignition button. The crowd remained inside. Nobody chased her. They just stood inside and watched her. Their black eyes evident from even this far away.

The car stuttered a bit but came to life. She was going to make it! She slammed it into “Drive” and tore out of the parking lot, tires screeching and leaving black marks on the pavement. She did a half donut on the small patch of ice before the car gripped the roadway enough to take off.

“What the hell was that!?!” she screamed to herself as she drove as fast as she could, away from town.

She glanced into her rearview mirror to see the co-op drop off into the distance. Fading away. Away from danger. Towards safety.

Then she saw them. The black eyes, looking at her through the rearview mirror.

From the back seat.

With her.