Every city has secrets only the citizens know.

Everyone in Hampton knows not to take a cab after dark. Nothing against cab drivers. The good ones that is.

It hadn’t been six months since the auction of old radio cabs that the first piles of bones started appearing.

Now there’s a hierarchy of bad men: Assholes, bastards, cunts, maniacs, and killers.

But what this savage soul filled the streets of Hampton would green the gills of the wicked.

It started small. Those tiny cairns of cat skulls and crossed paws. Little tributes to street corners that might remind the scholarly of followers of Bast.

But this wasn’t Memphis of the Pharos. This was Hampton of the mosquito guided river path that led down from Knoxville.

The newspapers and street talk took to calling him “The Chewer”

All his victims ended up being gnawed on.

As months passed it became common for the boys in blue to find abandoned cabs with two or three bodies worth of tooth marked bones. Sinews stripped and marrow cracked. A hungry beast tread heavy in Hampton’s shadows.