Brent

Brent dug through the entrails, his hands slick with gore. “Where is it?” His right hand found something smooth and hard. “Yes.” His hand slipped as he tried to pull it off. He put both hands on it. It was stuck fast. He got his feet under him and pulled, but he slipped, falling backwards, landing on the head. He yelled in frustration. He dragged the body a few feet to where the floor was drier, a trail of blood smeared in its wake. This time Brent had a good grip, but as he hauled up on it, the legs came up with it. That was easily remedied though. He found his cleaver leaning against the wall, just where he’d left it. He had forgotten to clean it, so there was blood all over it and the handle. Would have been wasted effort anyway, it turned out. Despite the blood, his grip was strong on the rope-wrapped handle. As he hacked away at the femurs, blood flew in his face, and the bone splintered and cracked. He hacked his way clean through to the floor. He grinned when he finished and pulled at the thing. He wrenched the thing this way and that. There were cracks, snaps, and pops before it came free. Brent held it triumphantly up in front of his face. “A pelvis?!” Brent threw it down the hall as far as he could. It bounced and clattered across the floor before coming to rest against the wall. “Shit!” Brent kicked the body repeatedly, and frantically, every thump accompanied by a spray and patter of blood. He quickly tired, and stood over the body, panting slightly. There was blood everywhere, smeared on the floor, spattered on the walls, dripping from the ceiling. Brent caught his breath before hoisting the torso. He half-carried it, half-dragged it to the dumping room, where he dumped it with the other three. Even though he had to make a second trip for the legs, it was quite a lot easier that way; he should have been cutting off their legs the whole time. The dumping room was beginning to smell, he would need to change locations again soon. He used the hose around back to run water over his head until it ran clear. As he was putting on his clean clothes he really started to question whether humans had souls at all.