Welcome to
Carnage House

– this is your trigger warning

Don’t Feed the Animals

by Edward R. Rosick

BRANDON WILLIAM DAVIES fumbled with the firewood outside his tent. It was the third weekend of October, and the seventeen-year-old Lincoln Park High School senior had set up camp amid the towering oak and pine trees of northern Michigan.

“You need some help out there starting the fire?” came the voice of Casey Marie Cumminsworth, also a senior at LP High, from inside the tent.

Brandon allowed himself a moment to fantasize—again—about her. She stood just three inches shorter than his six-foot height, with lean, muscular legs that had propelled her to multiple state track championships, c-cup tits, and long blonde hair highlighting a porn star face. He had been asking her out for the last nine months. But even though he was the backup quarterback of the football team (and would have been first-string quarterback if he hadn’t told their idiot coach to fuck off during spring practice), Casey had repeatedly turned him down.

Until now.

On a crazy whim, and armed with the knowledge that she had just broken up with her college-freshman boyfriend, Brandon had asked her if she wanted to go camping in the Blackstone National Forest. It was an isolated tract of land in the far north of Michigan’s Upper Peninsula with a few small, primitive campsites. To his amazement, she said yes.

Casey stepped out of the tent wearing tight jeans that accented her perfect ass and a red flannel shirt that showed off her ample cleavage. “C’mon, Brandon. We need to get that fire going to make dinner. I’m famished.“

He reached over, rubbed her thigh. “Maybe we should have dessert first.”

She laughed, pushed his hand away. “Naughty boy. I have more fun on a full stomach. Eat first and then play.”

Oh, this is going to be a great night, he thought, sitting back while Casey expertly arranged the wood and got the fire going. Brandon considered himself an in-charge alpha male and not some woke soy boy. Yet he had no trouble giving off the illusion that he was one of those pussies who believed girls were on equal footing with men. If it made them happy—and thus, more willing to make him happy—so much the better.

With the temperature dropping into the low fifties and thick clouds rolling in and hiding the setting sun, the heat from the fire felt great. Brandon had put out his hands to warm them when a loud crack! came from the woods adjacent to their campsite.

“What was that?” Casey asked, anxiety in her voice. “You think it could be a bear?”

“Probably not, but you never know. Want me to get my gun?” Brandon had brought his father’s twelve-gauge shotgun and a full box of shells, both stored in the back of his new Jeep Wrangler parked ten yards from the tent.

“No,” Casey said with conviction. “I told you before, I don’t like guns. Guys who play with guns are usually guys with small tools.”

“Guns are weapons, not toys,” Brandon said. “Not things to be played with.” He snuggled next to her. “And believe me, I’ve never had any complaints about my size.”

Casey laughed. “We’ll see about that.”

Believe me, baby, you’re going to do more than just see.

“Anyway, like I told you, I need to eat first.” Casey threw a branch of wood from a pile they had collected after arriving at the small clearing. Beyond the campsite lay the expansive forest, where bushy-tailed fox squirrels—red, brown, and black—chattered like monkeys in the trees.

“I’m so glad that old man at the gas station told us about this place after we found out the state campsites were full,” Casey said as the fire blazed. “It’s beautiful here.”

It had taken an hour driving on a dirt road to reach the encampment, a Depression-era commune set up for the Civilian Conservation Corps, according to the old man. All the buildings had long since rotted away or been torn down, leaving a smooth, clear area, perfect for setting up a tent and with no one else around to disturb them.

Brandon grabbed another piece of wood from the pile and was about to throw it on the fire when Casey stopped him.

“Did somebody write on that wood?” she asked, grabbing it without asking from Brandon’s hand.

We’re going to have to get the rules straight here tonight. I’m the one in charge and if this split-tail doesn’t like it, I’m just the guy to give her some well-deserved discipline.

“Don’t feed the animals,” Casey said, peering intently at the rotting wood. “Why would someone write that?”

“Who knows? Probably some eco-nut,” Brandon mused, snatching the wood from Casey and tossing it on the fire. “Let’s get dinner going.”

Smells of freshly cooked hamburger filled the early night air, and the couple quickly ate. After finishing, Casey seductively licked her fingers. “That hit the spot. I’m going to the tent to freshen up. Then we can have dessert.”

Brandon squirmed against the growing erection in his jeans. “Give me two minutes to finish my burger and I’ll be in.”

He was so intent on watching Casey glide to the tent that he nearly jumped at the loud clicking noises behind him. Click click … click click. Turning, he saw a dozen scraggly fox squirrels surrounding the campsite. “Decided to come out of your tree and see what’s up?” he said aloud.

One of the boldest animals, large, dark red with scars on its face, approached Brandon, stopping two feet away. It sat on its haunches and looked at him with beady brown eyes.

Just like my old man said—squirrels are just big rats with hairy tails.

“What do you want?”

The squirrel screeched at him, displaying abnormally long incisors and swishing its bushy tail back and forth.

“Are you hungry?” Brandon held out the blackened remnants of his burger.

The squirrel starred at the meat, nose twitching. Brandon could have sworn the critter was drooling.

“Didn’t think you forest rats liked meat, but—” he threw the quarter-sized chunk of burger in the air. The squirrel caught it like a Labrador retriever catching a ball, gobbling it down.

“Huh.” Brandon almost had time to think about the oddity of a squirrel eating meat when Casey emerged from the tent.

She was naked, breasts taut, nipples hard, pudenda shaved and glistening with wetness.

“Are you ready to eat your dessert?” she asked, seductive, pushing one, then two fingers inside her pussy.

Brandon was undressing before he was inside the tent. Casey grabbed his shoulders and with surprising strength, flipped him over on his back and tore off his jeans. Straddling him, she reached behind to guide his aching cock into her.

“OW!” Casey yelled.

Brandon pushed himself up on his elbows. “C’mon, baby, I know I’m big, but—”

“It’s not you,” Casey said, rolling off him. She touched her leg, which was sticking out of the tent flap, then turned to him, her face horror-struck at the blood dripping from her fingers. “Something cut my—” She screamed as three large squirrels clamped their teeth into her calf and chewed at her tender flesh.

“Brandon, help me!”

A wave of nausea washed over him. Squirrels—fucking squirrels!—were tearing at Casey, their sharp incisors mauling her. Casey slapped at the squirrels but they held fast. Blood gushed from her mangled leg.

Brandon scurried into the far corner of the tent, cupping his quickly shrinking dick with both hands. Casey violently shook her leg before jerking it inside the tent, dislodging two of the crazed creatures. One still stubbornly hung on, long sharp teeth buried deep into her calf muscle. Casey pounded on the squirrel with both fists while Brandon looked on in disbelief.

The squirrel finally let go, scampering out of the tent to join the others with a chunk of bloody meat in its mouth. Casey held two hands over the ragged tears in her leg. Blood that had sprayed the insides of the tent during the melee now dripped off the nylon walls like a warm summer rain.

Casey gaped at him, eyes wide in shock and fear. “Brandon, close the fucking tent!” she screamed, backing into the corner beside him.

Brandon sat paralyzed, unable to comprehend the madness that had fallen upon them. Casey yelled again. He finally shook off his mental lethargy and zipped the front flap shut.

The teens sat without speaking for a moment, the only sounds their labored breathing and Casey’s moans of pain. Think, think. Opening his backpack, Brandon dug around, looking for something, anything, that would be useful in fending off another squirrel attack.

I know the shotgun isn’t in here, but—he wrapped his hands around a large black anodized aluminum flashlight. Pulling it out, he smacked it into one palm, the resulting sting giving him a bit of hope.

“Why in the hell didn’t you help me?” Casey muttered. “Those fucking animals were attacking me and you… you just sat there.”

Brandon switched on the flashlight, its bright beam illuminating the dim interior of the tent. “I just freaked out. I’m sorry.”

“You’re fucking sorry all right.” She shook her head. “You got anything in that backpack to help stop the bleeding?”

Brandon pulled out a thick roll of gray duct tape and held it out to her.

“Duct tape? What did you have in mind for tonight?”

To talk you into letting me bind you up and fuck you raw, which doesn’t appear to be happening now, Brandon thought with a shrug. “I always carry it,” he lied.

She stretched out her mangled leg. In the shadows of the flashlight, the torn flesh and coagulating blood appeared in sickening shades of gray and black.

Shrinking from the sight, Brandon put up a hand. “I can’t do it. I’m really squeamish about blood.”

“Fine,” Casey spat. “Give me the damn tape.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Brandon watched Casey wrap the wide tape around her macerated leg, each go-around causing her to cry out in pain. She finally stopped when her lower leg, from ankle to knee, was wrapped tight.

“Why the hell… did those animals act like that?” Casey asked, her voice cracking.

“I don’t know. I mean, there were a few of them watching me finish my hamburger, but shit… they’re just squirrels!”

“Just squirrels?” Casey said incredulously. “Look at my leg, Brandon. Are squirrels supposed to do that?

“No, I mean, I don’t know, I mean, fuck, Casey. We’ve got to get out of here.”

“No shit, genius,” she said, pale as a Halloween ghost. Was she going into shock? What the hell was he supposed to do if she passed out?

Casey looked around the tent. “Is your gun in here?”

Brandon shook his head. “No, remember? You said you didn’t like guns, so I left it in the Jeep.”

“Don’t be putting any of this shitstorm on me,” Casey shot back. “You’re the one who wanted to come camping out in the middle of bum-fuck nowhere.”

“It’s not my fault!” Brandon yelled. “You think I knew that there were crazy man-eating squirrels here?”

Casey starred at him icily. “Man-eating?”

“You know what I mean.”

“Yeah. I do. You and your bullshit misogynistic—”

Her words were cut short by something throwing itself against the tent. The wall bulged in, brushing Brandon’s hip. He scotched away, holding the flashlight out like a sword.

“Shit,” he cried. “They’re trying to get in!”

“We have to get to the car,” Casey said. “Now.

Brandon looked out the back window, his coal-black Jeep Wrangler just yards away.

From the sound outside, more animals were gathering around the tent. He turned to Casey. “Can you make it to the Jeep?”

Casey shook her head, tears streaming down her face. “I don’t think I can put weight on my leg.”

Leave her here. The thought formed in his mind like an exploding star. The bitch will just slow you down. Without her you can make it. With her you’ll be the main course.

“Listen, Casey, I’ll go get the Jeep, run over any of the little shits that I can, and come get you.”

“No!” she yelled, eyes bugging out in fear. “You’re not leaving me!”

“Casey, I—”

“You’re not leaving me!”

Just fucking leave her! The same voice in his head, more insistent.

Brandon looked at her thin, skeletal face in the shadows. She wiped away tears, and blood smeared her cheeks like crazed circus clown makeup.

He took a deep breath, slowly exhaled, thinking, I can get us both out. I can be the hero. I carried a two-hundred-pound linebacker on my back for ten yards when I ran the winning touchdown at district finals last year. Casey can’t weigh more than one-forty, tops.

“All right, Casey, I’ll help you, okay?” Brandon quickly zipped up his pants and pulled on his blue and gold varsity jacket, while Casey put on her flannel shirt and attempted to get into her jeans.

“I can’t pull my jeans over my leg,” she said, wincing.

“That’s okay. You can moon those fucking squirrels when we drive out of here.”

Brandon hunched over while Casey wrapped her right arm tightly around his neck. He hooked his left arm around her waist to hoist her up. She whimpered in pain, but said nothing.

“I don’t hear anything out there,” Brandon said quietly. “They’re not trying to come through the tent anymore.”

“Maybe they left,” Casey said.

Maybe they did, that annoying voice in his head chirped. Maybe the squirrels left and were replaced by bears! You gonna be able to outrun a hungry bear, second stringer?

“Fuck you,” Brandon muttered under his breath.

Casey frowned. “What?”

Brandon shook his head. “Nothing.” He took a deep breath, tried to slow his pounding heart. “This is what we’re going to do. I’m going to open the tent, then we’re going to haul ass to the car. Any of those animals try to attack us, I’ll smash their heads with my flashlight. No matter what happens, don’t let go of me.”

“Not a chance,” Casey grunted, tightening her grip. “Okay—I’m ready.”

Brandon opened the tent and stepped out.

In the light of the fire that still burned hot and bright, they saw squirrels. Many squirrels. Brandon thought at least thirty but there could have been more. The nearest, the same red one he had fed, stood only a few feet away, teeth chattering in hungry excitement, long strings of drool hanging off its chin.

“Let’s go!” Casey hissed.

Brandon tensed his muscles for the run to the Jeep. The pack of squirrels slowly moved forward, their teeth clicking together in unison. Click click … click click. Brandon visualized their long, sharp incisors cutting into his balls. He glanced around and saw that the animals had surrounded them, the Jeep now unreachable.

Casey’s already tightly wound arm clamped down on Brandon’s neck.

“You’re chocking me!” Brandon grunted. “Let go!”

“No. NO!” Casey yelled.

Her nails dug into his flesh—the crazed harpy was trying to tear his head off. Brandon dropped the flashlight and used both hands to wrench her away. Without thinking, he raised her over his head like a powerlifter with a barbell and threw her.

Directly at the squirrels.

Casey’s arms flapped in the air like some ancient featherless bird before she hit the ground with a loud thump. The squirrels scattered for an instant, then descended upon her. Brandon stood petrified, watching the animals tear her apart. Casey’s agonized screams became muffled when one squirrel bit her tongue out of her mouth, while others pulled out her eyeballs and ripped off her ears. She still tried to fight but there were too many; the mass of creatures frantically dug into her body with razor-sharp claws in search of their bloody meal. One fat squirrel buried its head completely inside Casey’s pussy, the animal’s front paws pushing apart her muscular thighs, gouging thick, crimson furrows into her firm flesh. Others tore into her belly, pulling out thick ropes of bloody, shit-filled intestines and flinging them into the air.

Run, asshole, run! berated the tiny survivalist voice in Brandon’s head. He turned to the Jeep but more squirrels came loping out of the forest. Some stopped to feed on Casey. Others ran directly for him.

Brandon’s mind moved second by second, Paleolithic instincts bred in the harsh epochs of the ice ages surfacing and controlling his actions. He stepped back, his body throwing a dark shadow over the encroaching squirrels.

The fire! The voice screamed at him. Use the fucking fire! Brandon glanced over his shoulder at the flames and spied the thick, three-foot long branch they had used to arrange the wood. He spun around, grabbed the flaming bough, and thrust it toward the squirrels.

The animals stopped, moved back. Brandon stepped forward and crazy hope blossomed in his chest.

“Fucking forest rats!” he screamed. “You’re fucking crazy forest rats but I’m smart! I have fire and you don’t and—”

Brandon’s words died in his mouth when the first fat drops of rain erupted from the sky.

***

The next morning, a bright blue four-by-four pickup ambled carefully along the deserted two-track road through a forest thick with mist. It came to a stop at the clearing behind the rain-streaked black Jeep. Two sixty-something men, one short and skinny, the other taller and heavier, slowly emerged from the trunk. Both wore dirty coveralls over blue jeans and sweatshirts. The short one carried two plastic garbage bags, while the taller one carried a Mossberg double-barrel shotgun.

The short man ambled over to the disheveled campsite with a solitary tent standing near a soaked fire pit. He lit up a cigarette, looked around.

“So they never eat the clothes, Jed?”

“Why would they eat the clothes?” the taller man named Jed replied after lighting a cigarette of his own.

“I don’t know. You said they eat everything, like bones and all.”

“A lot of critters eat bones,” Jed said. “I don’t know any that eat clothes.”

“Goats eat clothes.”

Jed looked at the shorter man, who was called Roy. “Look, I know it’s your first time here, but let’s just do our job and head back.”

“Just tryin’ to be friendly,” Roy muttered, pulling on a pair of elbow-length rubber gloves. He nudged scattered bloody clothes with the toe of his shoe, then put on Brandon’s varsity jacket.

“Whataya think?” He swirled around, the too-large jacket draping over his bony shoulders. “Do I look like a star football player?”

“No,” Jed answered. “You look like an old man playing the fool.”

Roy frowned, took off the jacket, stuffed it in one of the bags. He rummaged through Brandon’s jeans, pulling out a wallet and set of keys.

“Only fifty bucks,” Roy said, leafing through the wallet. “That punk was driving a sweet ride but only carrying fifty in cash.”

Jed sighed. “Did you look in the tent for the girl’s purse?”

“Good idea.” Roy brightened. “Maybe there’s some more cash there.”

Jed shivered against a cold gust of wind that rattled through the trees. He looked about him, remembering when he had hunted deer and squirrel in these woods as a boy. But that was ages ago, back when life was simple and pure, before the state had leased adjacent land to an international oil conglomerate. Before that company pumped millions of gallons of toxic sludge and waste into the groundwater. After that, miscarriage rates skyrocketed in the county, farm animals were born with three heads or no heads at all, and squirrels developed a taste for meat.

Especially fresh, bloody meat.

But no one cared, at least not anyone with the means to do anything about the brutal shitshow—not the county, the state, or the feds. As a younger man, Jed had railed against the injustice, had tried to make a difference, and what did it get him? Nothing. Now he was a poor, potbellied, gray-haired man living in a leaky double-wide with no wife or kids to comfort him in his old age, his only companions stupid, greedy men like Roy.

“Bitch only had twenty-two in cash.” It was Roy, coming out of the tent. He carried the purse in one hand and the young woman’s black lace panties in the other.

“Bet she filled these out real nice,” Roy said, looking lasciviously at the underwear before sniffing them. “Man, you can’t beat the smell of young pussy.” He stuffed them in his pocket. “Was she pretty?”

Jed shrugged. “Yeah. Guess she was.”

Roy smiled. “You know, maybe next time there’s a pretty one we can have some fun with her before, you know—” He tilted his head back, looked up at the trees. “Before they get down to business.”

Jed sighed. “Maybe.” He wished he hadn’t brought Roy with him. The man was an ignorant predatory POS, pure and simple.

Not that Jed considered himself much better.

After picking up the rest of the clothes, along with the tent and its contents, Roy placed everything in the two garbage bags.

“You remember what to do, right?” Jed asked after Roy had loaded the bags into the back of the Jeep.

“I’m not stupid,” Roy said indignantly. “Gonna burn everything in my backyard incinerator. Then I’ll take the Jeep to your shop and get the boys to repaint it and put on a new VIN number.”

“That’ll do it.” Jed watched Roy drive the Jeep down the road, the vehicle disappearing into the expansive forest.

Jed made one last trip around the campsite, looking for any signs of the kids that Roy might have missed. Near the soaked remains of the campfire he found a class ring, its silver dulled with a coating of blood. Jed casually dropped the ring into his pocket before heading to his pickup.

A smattering of red and gold leaves floated to the ground in front of him. He looked up and saw four fox squirrels high in the trees, running to and fro on the thick limbs of a tall oak. Jed pulled the double-barrel tight against his chest, only loosening his grip when he made it to his truck.

Yer losin’ it, old man. A few damn squirrels running around with nothing to set them off and you’re about ready to piss your pants.

Jed fumbled with his keys before dropping them to the wet ground. He let out an anxious chuckle and had bent over to retrieve them when his eyes spied dull yellow among a pile of red leaves next to the passenger-side door.

Is that a clump of the girl’s hair?

Jed looked up. More squirrels in the tree now, continuing their frantic movements.

You little shits decide to come down to take a look at me and you’ll end up as stew.

Jed quickly walked in front of the truck to the other side, kicked the leaves with his boot. The yellow thing wasn’t hair. It was a crushed Styrofoam box. He picked it up, sniffed. The box was still pungent with the smell of cooked meat and eggs.

That idiot Roy was scarfin’ down a breakfast sausage sandwich on the drive over. If he didn’t finish it and one of those damn squirrels got into it

Jed just had enough time to scream, a scream as loud as his tobacco-scarred lungs could muster, before dozens of hungry squirrels swarmed down from the trees and fell upon him.


About the Story:
I've always loved nature and camping, but those damn squirrels running around and chattering like rabid monkeys always gave me the creeps, leaving me to wonder what if their tastes suddenly changed from nuts and acorns to tender human flesh? Thus was born this story...