The Scavenger's Tithe
Epilogue: The Dutiful Son
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The house was quiet again. The wet, rhythmic grinding had ceased, replaced by the heavy, humid silence of digestion.
Elias stood outside the lead-lined oak door, listening. He waited until the vibrations in the floorboards settled, until the house stopped holding its breath. Then, with the gentle, practiced motion of a nurse checking on a patient, he slid the deadbolt back.
He pushed the door open. The air that rolled out was thick enough to taste: copper, musk, and the sweet, cloying scent of raw suet. He stepped inside, his sensible shoes crunching softly on the debris. He didn't look at the mess on the floor: the scattered scraps of denim, the broken flashlight, the wet smear where the scavenger had made his final stand. He only had eyes for her.
She was resting now, her massive, gelatinous bulk slumped against the far wall, the obsidian eyes on her torso half-closed and rolling lazily in their sockets. She looked sated, her translucent skin glowing with a faint, pulsing warmth.
Elias walked to the edge of the mound, careful not to slip. He reached out, placing his clean, pale hand on the shivering jelly of her flank. It was warm to the touch, vibrating with a low, contented hum.
"I'm sorry, Ma," he whispered, his voice cracking with genuine emotion. He stroked the wet skin, his eyes soft. "I know I’ve been slow lately. It’s getting harder to find them. Harder to bring them here without people asking questions."
The Mother let out a long, wheezing sigh, her many limbs twitching in response to his touch.
"I promise I’ll do better," Elias said, leaning his forehead against her massive side, ignoring the slime that coated his skin. "You just rest now. I'll take care of the mess. I'll take care of everything."
He kissed the shivering flesh, a tender, reverent gesture in the center of the slaughterhouse.
"I love you, Ma," he whispered into the dark. "I love you so much."