Festival of Fear by Graham Masterton Read Free Book Online Page A

have me gutted and minced up like the rest of this stuff?’
    Mr Le Renges smiled and shook his head; and it was at that moment that the slaughterman who had been talking his dog for a walk came on to the killing floor, with the hell beast still straining at its leash.
    â€˜If any of my men were to touch you, John, that would be homicide, wouldn’t it? But if Cerberus slipped its collar and went for you – what could I do? He’s a very powerful dog, after all. And if I had twenty or thirty eyewitnesses to swear that you provoked him . . .’
    The Presa Canario was pulling so hard at its leash that it was practically choking, and its claws were sliding on the bloody metal floor. You never saw such a hideous brindled collection of teeth and muscle in your whole life, and its eyes reflected the light as if it had been caught in a flash photograph.
    â€˜Kevin, unclip his collar,’ said Mr Le Renges.
    â€˜This is not a good idea,’ I cautioned him. ‘If anything happens to me, I have friends here who know where I am and what I’ve been doing.’
    â€˜Kevin,’ Mr Le Renges repeated, unimpressed.
    The slaughterman leaned forward and unclipped the Presa Canario’s collar. It bounded forward, snarling, and I took a step back until my rear end was pressed against the stainless steel vat. There was no place else to go.
    â€˜Now, kill !’ shouted Mr Le Renges, and stiffly pointed his arm at me.
    The dog lowered its head almost to the floor and bunched up its shoulder muscles. Strings of saliva swung from its jowls, and its cock suddenly appeared, red and pointed, as if the idea of tearing my throat out was actually turning it on.
    I lifted my left arm to protect myself. I mean, I could live without a left arm, but not without a throat. It was then that I had a sudden flashback. I remembered when I was a kid, when I was thin and runty and terrified of dogs. My father had given me a packet of dog treats to take to school, so that if I was threatened by a dog I could offer it something to appease it. ‘Always remember that, kid. Dogs prefer food to children, every time. Food is easier to eat.’
    I reached into the vat behind me and scooped out a huge handful of pink gloop. It felt disgusting . . . soft and fatty, and it dripped. I held it toward the Presa Canario and said, ‘Here, Cerberus! You want something to eat? Try some of this!’
    The dog stared up at me with those red reflective eyes as if I were mad. Its black lips rolled back and it bared its teeth and snarled like a massed chorus of death rattles.
    I took a step closer, still holding out the heap of gloop, praying that the dog wouldn’t take a bite at it and take off my fingers as well. But the Presa Canario lifted its head and sniffed at the meat with deep suspicion.
    â€˜ Kill , Cerberus, you stupid mutt!’ shouted Mr Le Renges.
    I took another step toward it, and then another. ‘Here, boy. Supper.’
    The dog turned its head away. I pushed the gloop closer and closer but it wouldn’t take it, didn’t even want to sniff it.
    I turned to Mr Le Renges. ‘There you are . . . even a dog won’t eat your burgers.’
    Mr Le Renges snatched the dog’s leash from the slaughterman. He went up to the animal and whipped it across the snout, once, twice, three times. ‘You pathetic disobedient piece of shit!’
    Mistake. The dog didn’t want to go near me and my handful of gloop, but it was still an attack dog. It let out a bark that was almost a roar and sprang at Mr Le Renges in utter fury. It knocked him back on to the floor and sank its teeth into his forehead. He screamed, and tried to beat it off. But it jerked its head furiously from side to side, and with each jerk it pulled more and more skin away.
    Right in front of us, with a noise like somebody trying to rip up a pillowcase, the dog tore his face off, exposing his bloodied,