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Meat Wagon
1.1k Plays6 months ago
Originally written for Creepy’s 31 Days of Horror, Meat Wagon is the tale of a rain-soaked traveler who finds what he needs in a quiet South Jersey town. There are a few embellishments, sure… But Meat Wagon contains some very real characters and events. Written, narrated, and sound designed by Owen McCuen.
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Transcript
Discovery of a Hidden Town
00:00:01
Speaker
The gravity had just let go of me, I suppose. Like a pulse from the infinite dark of a black hole, there's a pocket of folks living in a miniature holler between two medium-sized hills just off the highway in southern New Jersey. You get there, and there you stay. Until you leave. Which most people don't. Some folks do, I guess, and they probably don't wind up there again. after what I've seen and heard and done, you might wonder how nobody comes to snatch you up after you're gone. The folk there ain't afraid that you'll send the authorities or anything because you've walked in their shoes and left some strange tracks along the way. Besides, I wonder if the place isn't cloaked by some means or other, making it invisible for people to find on purpose.
00:00:56
Speaker
Ever look up at the sky and try to look directly at a star only to find that it's not visible when you do? You can only see it out of the corner of your eye when that ancient twinkling pinprick is searching in the dark part of your vision to make itself seen. Then you look back and poof.
Navigating the Town's Oddities
00:01:17
Speaker
I was living on my own doing vagabond jobs to make ends meet. They met on occasion. The ends, I mean. I was fresh out of family and friends and wasn't working this particular week, so one afternoon I headed down the highway to shop at a farmer's market I knew of way down south. The chickens were biggest turkeys, and the turkeys were goddamn dinosaurs. Free range and juicy they were, and cheap. Per pound they were good eating for the money, and worth the drive down $2.95.
00:01:49
Speaker
Drinking coffee, smoking a cigarette, and reading a map while I drove with my knees, I reconointed a back road that appeared to be a shortcut to the delicious meats I'd been craving. The rain was fairly biblical that afternoon, as I recall. My wipers were flip-flapping across the windshield. I cranked the radio to cover the noise of all that storm. Then, like a nightmare sequence in a film, the music started to slow down and sound all sickly. The wipers slowed down too. And everything went all weird, like I was sitting inside a car-shaped snow globe full of hand sanitizer. The gauges wound down as my car drifted off to a stall. I steered it over to the side of the road so I could check for any call boxes or payphones nearby.
00:02:40
Speaker
I hadn't been able to afford my first cellular device yet, so finding telephones on the roadside was inside my bones. The car was useless, so I didn't even bother to grab my keys from the ignition as I got out of the vehicle to walk up the road a piece. I didn't peep a phone box, but I saw an appliance garden up ahead of ways. The rain had slowed down just a little, so I was only mostly soaked as I squished my way along the roadside toward a graveyard of refrigerators, washers, dryers, hot dog rollers, and industrial-sized microwave ovens. Looked to me like some of those machines had been planted there, while others had been unearthed, like mummified monoliths waiting for a scientist with a brush to dig them out of antiquity.
00:03:26
Speaker
A clothes ringer lay there like the shattered visage of Ozymandias, beckoning the mighty to look upon its works and despair. After a brief moment of despair, I approached a small storefront that seemed to be part of the frigid air estate. A small hand-painted sign was propped up against the porch. Dear processing and tire repair was written in a scrawl that one might describe as aggressive. The front door squealed open and I stepped inside. Shelves and pegboard lined the walls of what was essentially a screened-in porch. The counter was piled high with stuff that nearly hid the wide open register. I looked around at the wares, wondering if there was anything that I could purchase as a penance for seeking assistance. On one shelf was a box of fan belts and a jar of pickled pig's feet. Another shelf was set aside for cans, apparently.
00:04:21
Speaker
There were cans of off-brand WD-40, Roach Killer, compressed air for cleaning keyboards, and a single warm can of Busch Light with a typewritten price tag that had been torn from a piece of decent quality resume paper. The tag was taped to the can. 79 cents. Not bad, I guess, if you're really thirsty. Rolling papers, herbal supplements, beef sticks, pet toys, pacifiers, rat traps, hemorrhoid cream, toothpaste, a yellowing box of pregnancy tests, and a mismatched socket set. There was even an alternator for sale in a greasy box nestled in between a jar of Sancha and a rusty pipe wrench with an adjustable jaw. Nobody was behind the counter, so I ventured a little farther in, dripping a trail of rainwater behind me in lieu of bread crumbs back to the door.
00:05:10
Speaker
an archway joined the storefront to a larger warehouse-looking space. There was a counter back there, too, more like one you would see at an auto mechanic's garage, though no automotive repair equipment seemed to be anywhere near this place.
Becoming Part of the Community
00:05:24
Speaker
Next to the counter stood two men with their backs to me. They were watching televisions. Five or six TV sets were playing assorted programs. One was just static, and at least two were in black and white. Were the shows in black and white or were they color shows on black and white sets? Couldn't say. I watched with the guys for a bit, then spied a service call bell on the counter. I gently slapped the bell, naively expecting a dinging sound, but the clapper didn't work. The dull clank served just as well though, since the men slowly turned around to regard me with blank stares.
00:06:04
Speaker
For a moment, I puzzled over how to ask for assistance without seeming vulnerable in this stranger in a strange land scenario. But in the end, I laid myself bare with the most honest declaration that could have fallen from my lips. I need a gas station and a cash machine. The men looked at each other. Then back at me. The guy on the right was wearing coral colored coaches shorts and a members only jacket over a bare chest. He shrugged. The fellow to his right, my left, wiped filthy hands on a filthier butcher's apron and turned back around to watch the programming already in progress. Back then I smoked camel reds, camel with a K. Quit these 20 years now and I don't want another cigarette ever again.
00:06:54
Speaker
But damn, those smokes were delicious. Can cigarettes be delicious? In any event, I reached into my pocket to pull out a smoke. It promptly disintegrated, having been soaked by the rain. Members only tossed me his soft pack, a palm while unfiltered. Together, we killed the pack while watching whatever it was that we were watching. The relative silence was broken by the yowling of the shop door being opened in the front room. I went back to the storefront area to find an elderly lady at the counter waving the can of Bushlight and a one dollar bill in the general direction of the cash register. In the till were three one hundred dollar bills and two quarters. I took the dollar from the old woman and placed it in the register. I tossed the two quarters on the counter and she left without either of us saying a word.
00:07:45
Speaker
Behind the counter I found a fresh pack of Paul Malls, so I took it back to members only guy, and we smoked and watched into the night. And there I stayed. Time passed, or it didn't. I took up residence on the floor next to the deer fridge. The floor of the warehouse was mostly concrete, like a garage, but there was an irregularly shaped patch of linoleum over by the salad spitter. It looked like someone had murdered a kitchen on that spot, but never bothered to clean up the crime scene. Most days I watched TVs and operated the register when someone upset the door to come in and buy something. I did leave now and again to do the stuff that people do in a small town. I would buy food that wasn't pickled pigs feet and beverages that weren't warm bush light.
00:08:36
Speaker
I dabbled in spirituality at this really sick church, but reptile handling wasn't my thing. I became aware of an undercurrent of stranger danger that had folks on edge when new people came through town. I could tell that they weren't welcome and was pretty sure that most of them were probably killed by the townies. Which begs the question, why was I still alive? Maybe it was my admission of the naked truth when I first entered that shop. Maybe it was because I knew how to make change. Either way, I'd become a local, I suppose. Life in that place was as slow and quiet as you please. People did seem to have stories of their own, though they weren't telling them to anyone. I interacted from time to time when I went to this place and that.
00:09:25
Speaker
There was a dilapidated theater about two blocks away from our shop. To most eyes, it would appear closed. The boards on the windows sort of gave that impression. But performances were held there once in a while. Mostly interpretive dance troupes and haphazard instrumental bands that played to scant audiences. Out in the streets, the residents shuffled about as if in a fugue state, like the entire population wandered out of the huge abandoned sanitarium that now served as a makeshift zoo. That being what it was, the town folk did come to life once every few weeks to gather on the main drag on the first Friday night slash Saturday morning of the month. The general store was an open-air flea market of sorts that popped up on those Friday nights. All kinds of goods were on display on card tables and snack trays along the strip.
00:10:16
Speaker
You could buy wedding rings, dress socks, hair pieces, dog collars, wallets, bike tires, and any other number of worldly possessions that someone might no longer be in need of. They were makeshift cocktail bars and tents into which one could slip for a game of chase the dragon. The festival lasted into the night and part of the morning. Those who had gotten a decent night's sleep stepped over those who hadn't when the meat wagon rolled into the center of town, blaring a rusty tune from the old horned speakers mounted on top. The jingle was clear and bright, calling peckish townspeople to gobble up all manner of savory meat treats. Steaks, chops, burgers, sausages, you name it. Rusty grills and trash can smokers got to cooking, and the sacred fragrances rose to the heavens, lifting the town spirits on high.
00:11:10
Speaker
There's no twist here, where you find out that the mystery victuals were actually human remains. It wasn't a mystery at all. Everyone knew that they were grilling up man meat along with pets that had been put down and horses that had broken a leg. Elderly family members who had fallen asleep under a pillow, careless bike riders who had gotten too close to traffic, and strangers who had come through town unannounced. The general store gave their possessions a chance at another go round and the meat wagon sent their bodies on a journey they never dreamed they would take. Eating your own takes a certain kind of nerve and grants a certain kind of power. Life in a small town. The first Saturday morning in October was a special day for the kids in the neighborhood.
00:12:01
Speaker
They heard it before they saw it, that telltale jingle blaring away, getting louder as it approached. The tune was a little less clear this time around. Maybe some moisture had gotten into the electronics and was causing a little bit of static. At any rate, the meat wagon rumbled down the main drag and set up its standard carnivores delight, while a small kiosk on wheels followed closely behind, staffed by a crumpled old woman whom all the youngsters called Nana. On and about this cart were displayed all manner of eye-popping garments made of luxurious fabrics. There were velour pants and shirts studded with jewels. There were child-sized business suits crafted from automotive upholstery. Red Riding Hood style cloaks were always popular, especially those that vaguely resembled swaddling blankets. I even saw a sock-hop poodle skirt that had been fashioned from the remains of a man's sport coat.
00:12:59
Speaker
But the most popular items were always Nana's masks. They were hyper-realistic human faces, not superheroes or cartoon characters, just everyday people like you and me. And they all bore Nana's handwritten guarantee neatly printed on the inside, genuine leather. Here comes the part where the story gets a little dark. Close to a year later, one night in mid-September, the guys and I were in the back watching the televisions as the channels surfed themselves. Four of the channels were static, and at least one of the others was playing American Gladiators. The front door groaned and heavy footsteps stomped around in the front room of the shop. Seconds later, a man's voice shouted, yo, hello, anybody here?
00:13:52
Speaker
more static, more gladiators. The footsteps got closer as a strapping young fella in a tie barged through the archway and stalked up to us. Clank, clank, clank, clank went the call bell. Members only tossed his cigarette on the ground, but didn't crush it out. The brash young man fairly yelled at our backs. Bro, customer here. I got a flat just up the road. I'm on my way to someplace important, so I need it fixed quick. You guys accept Diner's Club?
Dark Traditions and Morality
00:14:25
Speaker
We three turned around slowly and looked the man over. His face could be considered classically handsome, I suppose, characterized by a strong nose and a square jawline. A dimple in his chin gave the face just enough character without being distracting. It slapped the credit card onto the counter,
00:14:44
Speaker
but scooped it up after he was met with silence. When he did this, I noticed the chunky college ring, the gold kind with engravings on the sides and a faceted jewel in the setting. I admired the ring and wondered what hallowed halls this man had walked to obtain his higher education. It would require a closer look to find out, I had imagined. Of course not. Jesus Christ, at least tell me you have a Mac machine. That was what we called ATMs back then. So here was a man with car trouble in need of a gas station and a cash machine. Members only looked me in the eyes. I walked past the customer through the archway into the front room and over to a shelf by the counter. I fingered the jar of Sanca and the greasy box, then picked up the stained rusty pipe wrench.
00:15:39
Speaker
returning to the back room. I walked up behind bro as quiet as a church mouse. I raised the pipe wrench and swung it down hard like leather face, dispatching a nosy teenager. I pounded the back of dude's skull until he stopped twitching. At last, the peaceful white noise of the static channels had reclaimed the room. Members only turned his gaze to filthy apron who picked up a telephone. I don't remember him dialing. I know for certain that he didn't say anything. Members only picked his smoke up off the floor, and I restocked the shelf. Instant decaf, greasy box, wet wrench. Half an hour later, the meat wagon pulled around back.
00:16:26
Speaker
I helped to load it up with meat from the deer fridge and some other stuff that we had recently acquired. We smoked and watched the TV sets. Eventually I noticed that my coworkers had departed from the room sometime during the evening and I was left alone. Stretched out by the leaky refrigerator, I dreamed of nothing. Two weeks after that, the October general store was back in town. I bought myself a complete set of Popular Mechanics automotive DIY magazines and a big old college ring. Barron State College. Next day was Saturday, so the meat wagon rolled up like a parade float. The jingle was all but gone now, playing faintly under a crackling hiss. I ate like a Viking though, feasting on grilled jerk chops and a savory meat pie.
00:17:18
Speaker
Nana's costume cart was a hit as usual, highly anticipated by the kids for a whole year now. A few weeks later, the town celebrated Halloween. The guys stood in the back room watching the television sets, which were almost all playing static now, while I stood in the front room and handed out candy and matchbooks to the kids who came trick or treating. They were all polite and grateful, except for this one little prick who stared into his candy sack and shook his head before leaving without so much as a thank you. While unsure of the child's gender, I say his because of the masculine looking mask, but the square jaw and the dimpled chin. As he left, I eyed a nearby shelf with three lonely items on it. Decaf, box, wrench.
00:18:11
Speaker
With Halloween over in the meat wagon, Thanksgiving feast now in the rear view, meat sweats for a week and all the smells. The winter holidays were rapidly approaching. Not the least of these is the return of the light. What would the new year bring? Now that every single television set in the back room was tuned exclusively to static, voices within the white noise spoke of change.
Reevaluation and Future Prospects
00:18:37
Speaker
They revealed things to me. and offered some welcome advice. I shuffled among the town's residents until the meat wagons final trip of the year. There was no tune left to hear, just the crispy wash of all the frequencies all at once. I ate and drank and picked up a few trinkets, but change was on the winter wind.
00:19:02
Speaker
Deep into the chill of the bleak December, I sat on the front steps next to the deer processing entire repair sign and watched the stormy sky suck all the color from the world. Hands on knees, I pushed myself to a standing position and turned to face the front of the shop. That shelf by the counter had something I needed. The front door screamed as I entered. Grabbing the item, I strode with purpose past the counter, through the archway, and into the back room. The front door whispered behind me when I left. Down the steps, around the sign, past the appliance debris field, and along the roadside. Wasn't long before I passed a fancy car with a flat tire on the side of the road.
00:19:51
Speaker
Shortly thereafter, I came upon another car that had seemingly been there for years. Opening the hood was weird. You had to know the trick, which I did. Beside me, I placed a few items I'd taken from the shop. A patchwork socket set, the popular mechanics magazines, and the grimy box that had been sitting between the Senka and the murder wrench. After disconnecting the battery and some other wires, fiddling with a tensioner pulley and loosening a few bolts, I was halfway there. I removed the alternator from the soiled box and installed it where the dead one had been. Droplets, then sheets of freezing rain abandoned the colorless sky and plummeted to a splashy demise as I reconnected the battery.
00:20:39
Speaker
I turned the key that had been left in the ignition. The car had no business starting up, but it cranked a life just the same. A quick K turn and I was on the road back to the world that most folks recognize. I don't know exactly how long I was away, but I reckon it was nigh on three years. That was just before the World Wide Web had taken hold. And since I was living mostly off the grid anyways, it wasn't too tough to start over, as it were. A few menial jobs in shops and stores led to more steady ones, and eventually some sales leadership and middle management opportunities. Turns out that retail was sort of my calling.
00:21:25
Speaker
I'm a functioning member of polite society and pretty popular on two or three of those internet dating sites. Hit me up, ladies. I'm eligible. In fact, I've been thinking about going back to school. A degree from Barron state college would go nicely with this really sweet ring. Naturally, you won't find that back street on any New Jersey road, Alice. I looked a few times, but it's best not to check too closely. I don't lose sleep over my time spent in that weird little hamlet, partly because I switched to decaf coffee, but mainly because I found something soothing that puts me under every night. The interstellar soup of radio waves that play out as static on a television that seemingly has nothing else to broadcast.