Famished

Chapter One

Tuesday, 9 A.M. Branson, Missouri

“911, how can I help you?”
“Please come! My daddy is hurting my mommy!”
The dispatcher knew immediately that she was speaking to a young child.
“Sweetie, are you okay?” As she probed, she located the source of the call and the address. “You stay on the phone with me. Where are you in your house?”
“I’m in my Mommy’s and daddy’s bedroom hiding next to the bed.”
“Where are your mommy and daddy?”
“They are in the kitchen and it is quiet now, but mommy was screaming.”
As the child talked, the dispatcher switched to the police line. “I have what seems to be a serious domestic disturbance at 224 Oakdale. Be aware that there is a child hiding in the bedroom, and he is describing spousal violence. 228 are you available? If so, proceed.”
Officer Jack Blevins immediately turned on the siren and lit up his patrol car. He proceeded with urgency to the address. A single officer never enters a domestic call alone, so Jack immediately called for assistance.
“228 needs a back-up at 224 Oakdale.”
“332 here. 228 I’ll meet you at the scene.”
It was an older section of town. Jack parked in the driveway behind what appeared to be the family’s minivan. He did not anticipate resistance, as domestic disturbances could be resolved easily at the scene in most cases. He walked to the front door listening for the all-too-common arguing or screaming, but he heard nothing. He knocked on the door and there was no response. Still maintaining radio contact with the dispatcher, he asked, “This is 228. Is the child still on the line?”
“Yes, 228, he is still there and very much afraid.”
As Officer 332 arrived, Jack flagged him down. Jack, once again, knocked solidly on the door announcing, “Branson Police!” There was still no response. His back-up was fellow officer and friend, Bob Williams, that joined him. Jack was a ten-year veteran and had mentored Bob, who was in his third year on the force. Jack tried the front door and discovered that it was unlocked. He opened the door and slowly stepped in, announcing, “Branson Police. Is there anyone here?” The entryway was in the living room and he could see two hallways. One appeared to lead to the bedrooms, the other to the kitchen area. Jack and Bob went to the bedroom hallway searching for the child. They entered what looked to be the parent’s room and they could see that the phone was off the receiver. Looking around to the side of the bed, they saw a young boy that they guessed was about 6 years old. Jack motioned for the child to come to him, which the boy did, dropping the phone. Jack notified dispatch.
“This is 228, I have the child and I am taking him to my car. In case this gets loud I want him out of range.” Jack took the boy’s hand and guided him out the door. Meanwhile, Bob Williams waited at the front door, trying to hear any sound at all. Once outside, Jack asked, “What room are your folks in, son?”
Jack could see the boy was frightened, as his voiced wavered as he spoke.
“They were in the kitchen. Daddy was hurting mommy and she was bleeding and crying.”
Jack put the child in the back seat of the car where he would be safe. Once he heard the word bleeding, it was a hint that this might not be just a ‘talk down.’ Leaving the boy secure and returning to the house, both officers drew their tasers. Jack, standing 6’3”, was typically an intimidating sight. Once again he loudly announced, “Branson Police! Please announce your whereabouts!” There was no response. Silently, they slowly walked forward and peeked into the kitchen. Once they did, both were frozen by what they witnessed. The husband was sitting at the kitchen table, devouring his wife’s arm. The body was in clear view. It appeared that bite marks covered her face and torso. Jack stepped into view and ordered, “Sir, stop what you are doing and stand up. Put your hands where I can see them!” What happened next gave Jack a chill down his spine and he heard Bob gasp, “What the fuck?”
The man was loudly chewing and tearing at the flesh, with his lower face covered and dripping with his wife’s blood. He looked at Jack with wild eyes and just grinned. Jack recognized that look, as he had seen a similar look in the eyes of meth users, but this did not seem the case and he assumed this man had completely lost his mind. Other than ignoring Jack’s command, the man did nothing threatening. Jack stepped forward, pointing his taser. Once more he ordered, “Sir, standup and step away from that table. Put your hands where I can see them.”
Jack turned on his radio and called for help. “This is 228. Officers need assistance and a medical vehicle.” Jack tried not to focus on this horrific sight, because he was fighting his gag reflex. He had witnessed many things, but never cannibalism. When he stepped forward, the man arose and Jack could see by his wild eyed look that it was not going to end well. The man was unarmed, but snarled and showed his teeth, as if he intended to make Jack his next meal. Jack announced, “Taser deployed,” so that it was recorded through his headset. Jack shot the taser and released a strong jolt. It was strong enough to disable a normal man, but a man on meth or a completely insane person is another story. The man ripped the sensors off and came at Jack with full force. All Jack could say was, “Shit!”
Bob stepped forward. “I got this.” He announced to dispatch, “Taser deployed!” Bob fired his taser with the same result. The man tore the sensors off and was now enraged. While Bob had deployed his taser, Jack released his baton and was skilled at using it. As he concentrated on the man coming at him, he heard Bob say, “What the hell is this guy on?” Bob also produced his steel baton and prepared for contact.
As the man rushed forward, Jack struck him on the side of his left knee, which usually causes a person to collapse on the ground. Instead, the man let out a blood curdling scream and tackled Jack, as Bob began hitting him in strategic places on his body. Jack found himself in the most unusual fight he had ever been in. The man had no desire to hit Jack--only to bite him. Jack held the man by the neck, avoiding his bite as they rolled on the floor. Bob was just over six foot and two hundred pounds, yet his strikes had little effect, and Jack became fearful that the man would actually take a bite out of his neck.
Jack yelled, “Bob, deadly force! This bastard is going for my throat! Do it!”
Bob quickly drew his 9mm and fired one shot into the temple of the man point blank. The man fell to the side, and Jack slowly lifted himself off the floor. He was covered in blood, blood from the woman victim, which was already on floor, and blood from the contact of the attacker. Although surviving with not much more than bruises, he looked like he had been in a blood bath. Bob stood back in shock. All he could say was, “I had no choice…there was no way to stop him. I had no choice.”
Bob had never killed anyone before and, in addition to the horrific sight, he was sick to his stomach. He was coping with the fact that he had just executed a man. He began gagging and ran to the sink, vomiting. Jack just stood, exhausted. “What the fuck was that? The guy was completely insane and pumped up on something? He actually ate his fucking wife!” No sooner than he said it, Bob began heaving again.
Jack switched on the radio. “Officers need assistance! Send a medical vehicle. We have a civilian down. We’re going to need a medical examiner.”
Bob was finished heaving and turned to Jack. “I had no choice. I hit the fucking guy with everything I had.”
Jack looked about, surveying all the blood. “You saved my life. That guy was going to take out my carotid artery. I would have bled out....”