Portents of Fear is a horror fiction podcast which is intended for mature audiences.
Discretion is advised.
Welcome, Fearlings, to another weird and horrifying tale made just for you.
I am your host, Mashulu, and I'll be your guide into the macabre and mysterious.
Tonight we find out what's on the menu with The Chef.
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so you don't miss a single terrifying story.
The rain poured across all of LA mercilessly.
A blocked storm drain pushed water back onto the streets,
and the freeways were clogged with traffic.
It was a mess of the highest order that Katie needed to make rent.
She was short a thousand bucks, and she knew her landlord was just itching to get her out
and convert her unit into a luxury apartment.
It was more than that, though.
She had bills piling up that she had no idea how she was going to pay.
Her rideshare app was lit up like a Christmas tree.
On the worst days when no one should be on the streets, everyone is, she lamented to herself.
But really, it was a good thing.
To make her rent and bills, she had to spend the next eight hours
in her dinky 10-year-old Prius driving people around.
At that moment, she wasn't sure which was worse,
days where God was trying to flood the world,
or days where he was using the sun to burn the city out of existence.
Her app chirped as she dropped off a very chatty man at a medical building in North Hollywood.
He was a 50-year-old dad who had just found out he had ADHD
and needed Katie to know his whole life story.
He was nice, but wow could he talk.
When he was gone, she checked the app.
She had lots of options, none of them good.
But at least the chatty daddy tipped well and gave her five stars.
Smiling and pretending care was always a moneymaker for her.
She pondered her options.
There was a trip out to LAX, but the rider had three stars,
and that meant a bad tipper or just a straight-up jerk.
There was another short trip to Panorama,
but she'd have to do a ton of those short trips to get what she needed.
Plus, the roads in that part of the valley were terrible.
It's more like an off-road experience when it's raining.
The third ride was long.
It started in Burbank and went all the way into Bel Air.
In that weather, the drive would be a slog.
The estimated time was one hour, but with any luck,
the passenger would tip well and not talk a ton.
Katie pressed accept and made her way back to Burbank.
The pickup wasn't far.
She pulled up to the figure waiting in the rain.
The door opened and a man in a very nice suit got in.
He had to be six foot three, and his vibe was,
I'm very wealthy and highly cultured.
Katie couldn't peg his age, maybe 40.
He was handsome, someone who knows their way around a woman.
Katie snapped herself out of it.
She hadn't been on a date in a while.
Are you Mr. Fontaine?
She asked.
I am, he replied in a deep voice.
And you are Katie, my driver for this trip?
I am, she smiled at him in the rear view mirror.
Pulling out, she checked the app and saw that the five was the best route.
I figure we are going to be riding together for a while.
You look very young.
Are you in school?
Mr. Fontaine asked while looking out the window.
Katie turned onto the freeway.
It looked like a river of red light slowly moving inch by inch forward.
Yes, I'm a student at Otis College.
I'm a painter and character designer.
Any plans on where you want to work?
I want to work for the studio someday.
Join the art department and help make movies.
That sounds exciting.
I hope it is.
I still have a year to go.
What about you?
She figured it was going to be a long trip and he seemed nice.
Might as well make the best of it.
I am a personal chef for the rich and famous.
You can call me Ryan.
Now that sounds interesting.
Can I call you chef?
That's acceptable too, chef replied.
What is it like cooking for the rich and famous?
Like cooking for anyone else really.
Most of the time that is.
Though they tend to be pickier.
He let out a chuckle.
What's the strangest food you've ever made?
The priest was moving about five miles an hour.
This guy better tip well, she thought.
Baby elephant.
What?
No, really?
No, he smiled at her in the rear view mirror.
I thought I was going to have to kick you out of the car in the rain.
It would be justified.
Elephants should be protected.
Joking aside, most of my clients are vegans.
My job is creating amazing plant based dishes.
Vegan often makes most people think of eating salads all the time.
But there's a lot to cooking without animal products.
Are you a vegan?
She asked.
No, I couldn't be in a city with Tommy's Fat Burger and In-N-Out.
That would be insanity.
You don't look like someone who would eat fast food burgers.
Or take rideshare for that matter.
I do not eat fast food often.
Maybe three times a year.
But I think if you really like a food, you should eat it.
In moderation, of course.
As for taking a rideshare, I don't drive at all.
I lived in New York and Paris for several years and never needed a car.
It's easier for me to let a professional like yourself take the wheel.
He smiled at her.
Katie had never thought of herself as a professional.
Anything.
Not having a car in LA is weird.
Or I guess it used to be.
What was Paris like?
I have no idea.
I was either in the kitchen or sleeping while I was there.
Tell me about this school.
I can imagine it costs a lot.
It does.
I have way too much student loan debt.
Plus, living in LA is not cheap.
But it's a great school to meet other artists.
Networking is a huge part of getting a job in the industry, which is funny.
Because most of us are terrible at it.
I'm trying to meet as many people as possible and build a good portfolio, Katie said,
while trying to merge out of a lane that was more water than concrete.
But yeah, it's not cheap.
The cost of everything is going up.
I'm not sure how young people do it, if I'm being honest, he replied.
I was lucky to have grandparents who helped out.
That is lucky.
My family did well before 2008, but not after.
That's rough.
I was in France when all that happened.
It made me stay there a year longer because I couldn't find a job to move back for.
Do your parents live here?
The chef asked.
No, they live in Missouri.
I have to go back and see them.
They think LA is too big.
They keep wanting me to give up art and move home.
They say it's safer.
They worry too much.
I can understand that.
But danger is a part of life.
Yeah, it is.
Tell me more about the rich and famous.
Gossip?
I can't tell you any names, but I have some stories.
I was joking about the baby elephant, but one of them did ask for a lion's stew to be made for them.
The person in question had gone wild game hunting and killed a lion.
They wanted to eat it to gain its power or something.
I turned that job down.
Chef went back to looking at the sea of cars around him.
Wouldn't that be illegal?
Yup, he replied.
Or at least I think it is.
Did you call the cops?
The only time the rich go to jail is when other rich people want them to, he replied.
That's a grim take, but true.
If you turn off your camera, I'll tell you a real secret.
This is how horror movies start, she thought.
Katie imagined getting killed in a Prius on the 118 on the way to Bel Air by a crazy chef and no one noticing.
She could hear her parents saying, I told you so over her grave, but she had to know.
Okay, but if you kill me in LA traffic or something, I'll be very upset, she said, looking back at him.
I won't kill you in the middle of traffic.
I promise.
She reached forward and turned off the camera.
Okay, what's the secret?
There is a group of cannibals in LA.
He locked eyes with her again in the mirror.
No, that can't be true.
This had to be like the baby elephant joke from earlier, she thought.
God's honest truth.
There's a small group of incredibly rich people who like to eat human flesh, chef said.
And you know this how?
I've cooked for them before.
What?
Holy God, he's serious, she thought.
Yep, I had no clue the first time till I was staring at a young man's arm in a kitchen.
It was surreal.
I got very sick for a moment.
It was awful, he said in a very matter of fact way.
Wait, you said the first time?
Are you saying you stayed and then worked for them after that?
There was fear in her tone.
She had lost all the color in her face.
If she tried to bail out of the car, this guy would be on her in no time.
I'm going to die in a Prius, she thought.
First, I never cooked a full person.
These cannibals are not hunting people down and eating them.
Then what are they doing?
Keep him talking and look for a way off the freeway.
I'll have to get on the 405, she thought.
We pay people like you.
I'm sorry, what?
She was stunned.
We pay people who need cash for a leg or arm.
We did have one man who sold us his entire body so his family would never have to worry
about money again, he said calmly, as if he was talking about buying a car.
Katie looked around for the next exit.
She had to get out of the car.
She had to get out of the car to safety.
But running across the freeway in a downpour was a bad idea.
You're not in danger, Katie.
We are not killers.
We are connoisseurs.
Now it's we?
Look, I'm not interested, she replied sharply.
Yes, we.
I am the chef, he stated with pride.
At least hear my offer.
If you say no, then all I ask is you drop me off at my destination and I'll tip you
what you need to pay your rent.
How much was it?
About a thousand?
How did you know exactly how much I needed?
We do our homework.
We know all your details, including just how much debt you are in.
We made sure you'd pick me up today.
It was all planned.
If you look at the car behind us, she glanced up at the mirror and saw a cop car.
Oh, thank God, she thought.
But then she realized it had been following them for a while.
There with us.
If you try anything stupid, like bailing out of the car to run, you'll be arrested.
If you really don't want to hear my offer, though, take the next exit and the police
will give me a ride the rest of the way.
She thought for a few moments.
They were still a ways from Bel Air and she could now pull off the freeway at any time.
Her curiosity got the better of her.
Okay, you have three exits to tell me your offer before I pull off and kick you out of
my car.
Fair enough.
I will give you five million per limb.
You choose how many.
Katie couldn't help but think about how much she could do with that kind of money.
But then she couldn't help but feel insulted, too.
That's a lowball price for a life without one of your limbs.
If rich cannibals want this flesh, I need to know I'd be set for life, she said firmly.
You don't think you could live a good life with five million in the bank, the chef inquired.
I'm 21.
If I live another 60 years, that's not enough.
I'd have to be independently wealthy.
Hell, a house alone would eat up a million of that money.
You could invest it, grow it into more, or I could lose it all.
Plus, what about taxes?
You give me five million, the government's going to want its slice.
No, these are 1980s cannibalism prices.
We live in the future where inflation is king.
Let's put our cards on the table.
How much would you want, he asked.
No, not yet.
I have questions before we take this macabre conversation any farther.
Are you going to drop me off at my destination, he asked.
If you give me a thousand in cash, she replied.
He held up a thick wad of money.
It's yours now.
Ask your questions.
How long have you been tracking me?
We bought your information off the internet from a broker.
We asked for a person who was in massive debt.
You were one of the top hits.
Plus, you want a career in the arts.
We knew money would always be an issue.
Rude, rude, maybe, but not wrong, chef replied.
What happens if I say yes?
When we get to our destination, you log off your app.
We would go into the house and put you under sedation.
After signing some legal documents, of course.
Then a surgeon would remove the agreed-upon limb.
After that, I would cook it for the guests.
Meanwhile, you would be taken to the hospital by our police friends.
A victim of a tragic accident during a rainstorm, he told her.
That's the cover story?
We'd crash your car and the police behind us would file a false report.
You would be transferred by ambulance to a hospital where you would finish recovery.
Because of the accident, you unfortunately lost a limb or two.
And the money?
Insurance settlement.
How much of my leg or arm?
Katie asked.
She couldn't believe she was still driving with this guy, but she needed that thousand.
She missed the chatty daddy.
Legs, most of your upper thigh.
Arms at the shoulder.
How will one arm feed everyone at your party?
Now it was just getting weird, but she had to know.
Small portion sizes, and you're not the only one we are talking to.
There is another car right now driving him to the location.
He said yes to the five million.
We're taking his left leg.
Well, he's an idiot.
That's too low.
So you said.
Tell me, how much do you want?
She thought for a moment.
I'd want a hundred million for my left leg.
That's outrageous.
Take it or leg it, she replied with a smile.
No way he says yes to that, she thought.
The most we would do is 30 million.
We could even teach you how to manage and grow the money.
What do you say?
He looked back at her unblinking.
30 million.
That was more money than she could hope to make an art without creating a hit show.
And even then, did she really need her left leg?
She could still drive.
In fact, with that much money, she could get a driver.
Am I really thinking about doing this?
It's insane, she thought.
I need to think about it.
Take your time.
For the next 15 minutes, they sat in silence.
The cop car was behind them the whole time.
She thought about how unlikely it was that she would get a chance at this type of money again.
Would she miss her leg?
What would life be like?
He was right.
As an artist, it's very hard to make a steady income, even if you are super dedicated.
With 30 million, she could still work in art and never have to worry about rent again.
She looked at her app. She was getting closer and closer to the destination.
Okay, for 30 million and a financial planner, you can have my left leg.
Perfect.
See, you thought I was crazy to even think you would say yes.
But here we are, Chef said with a wide grin.
Don't push your luck or the deal's off.
They finally made it to the Bel Air Mansion.
The police drove right by as she drove up the circular driveway.
The chef was still in shock.
The police drove right by as she drove up the circular driveway.
The chef brought her into the home.
All she could see were workers getting ready for the party.
The place was beautiful.
She wondered how many of them knew what she was doing there or what they would be serving.
He took her to an office where a lawyer was waiting.
She signed an NDA saying she would never speak of this to anyone
and a bunch of other forms that shielded them from litigation.
But she did wonder how any of these documents would shield them from the fact that they are paying to eat her leg.
She went down into the wine cellar which had a medical bay in it.
The rich must be super bored to do all this, she thought.
Then what she was about to do really sunk in.
She became super nervous seeing the doctor and nurse waiting for her.
What the hell am I doing, she thought.
The chef stood by as the doctor spoke.
Okay, young lady, we are removing your left leg.
We will knock you out for the procedure and you'll wake up in the hospital after your terrible accident.
Now get undressed and get on the table, the doctor instructed her.
Wait, I ate like three hours ago. Is that going to be an issue?
She started to stall.
No, don't worry. We have it all worked out.
This isn't our first time.
Now get those clothes off and let's get this show on the road.
Cannibals were so chipper, she thought.
The nurse pulled the curtain shut and Katie undressed.
She looked at her left leg and took a deep breath.
I gotta get out of here, she thought.
Panic started to set in.
Um, I'm sorry, I can't do this.
She started putting back on her clothes.
The money would be nice, but it's just not going to work for me.
She pulled the curtain open.
It's natural to be nervous, but you know you need the money and you already signed the paperwork, chef said.
Sue me then.
This is nuts and I'm not doing it, she said sharply while putting on her shoes.
Okay, you are free to go.
You are free to go.
Really? I can just leave?
She really thought she was going to have to fight her way out.
Yes, we're not animals.
I'll even give you the thousand dollars I promised.
But the NDA is still in effect.
Tell anyone and we will ruin your life.
Understand?
She nodded her head okay and started walking to the stairs.
As she passed by the doctor, he took a syringe and sank it into her neck, pushing the plunger down.
The yellow liquid flooded into her veins.
Katie grabbed her neck and looked at the doctor.
You mother f***.
But she couldn't get the words out and fell to the ground.
Her eyes were still open.
She could hear and feel everything.
She just couldn't move.
The chef knelt beside her.
I'm sorry Katie, we were never going to actually give you any money.
We just wanted to get you down here.
Why pay for something we can just take?
Don't worry, we are going to eat every last bit of you.
Nothing will go to waste.
Tears welled up in her eyes.
Take her to the kitchen and hang her over the grate.
I've been wanting to make more blood sausages, the chef ordered.
Poor Katie.
It's a people who eat people world out there.
How would you have survived an encounter with the chef?
Be sure to tell us in the comments.
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Good night, Fairlings. Sleep well, if you can.