The Factory

By D. Norris

From the desk of FDA Inspector John Gilman Date: August 29 th, 1952

I’ve recently been part of a now closed investigation involving a medium sized
town near the woods in Connecticut. The case has been sealed shut and stowed away,
and all who were involved with the case or posses knowledge (myself included) of it
agreed to never speak of it to the general public. But I am going to break the shroud of
secrecy surrounding it, for good or for bad. I now find it is necessary that you, the people
be informed. Of course, you may now some of it already. During the summer of 1952,
newspapers across in the New England, and some papers from the rest of the country,
reported that the town of Forrestburg was plagued by child kidnappings and even a few
adult kidnappings requiring the force of around 150 police officers to deal with. The
papers told of a man, Harold Steinberg I believe his name was, who suffered a mental
breakdown and started to abduct and murder children and adults alike. However, there
was no man named Harold Steinberg involved in a spree killing. While that would
indeed be very tragic, the actual facts in the case are far more horrific.
My role of in the case began in early summer, or more precisely June 10 th. I was
supposed to inspect the Winkie’s hotdog plant in Forrestburg. I had never conducted an
inspection of the plant, but the original inspector had come down with a fever. So in his
absence, I was assigned to conduct the inspection.
I departed from Hartford, with one days worth of clothing and a small book, has
well has assorted gadgets (matches, pocket flashlight, etc), at twelve o’clock pm by bus,
and arrived at Forrestburg at four thirty. I got off the bus and walked a short distance to
a nearby inn, called the Black Forrest Inn. It was a bland, dull place, which was two
stories tall and was drab in every detail it exhibited. It’s once mustardy-yellow paint was
graying and peeling away, exposing crumbling brick masonry. I walked inside the inn,
and the inside was much like the outside: Old, stale, and crumbly, with a faded floral
wallpaper print. I walked up to the service counter asked for a room. The clerk was a
large, heavy-set old woman of about forty-five. Her face was squashed together, with
vague wrinkles appearing. Her graying brown hair was tied into a bun, and she was
wearing a simple dress and blouse. She was as plain as the motel, but had an air of
intense misanthropy, or possibly xenophobia surrounding her. She never spoke a single
word to me, but had a look on her face that was callous and mean. She led me to my
room, which was on the second story. Once I arrived at my room, I thanked her for
showing me up. She grunted and walked, almost limping, down the stairs back to the
counter, eager to be away from my company. I walked into the room and I set down my
bag on the bed and looked around. The furniture was basically two twin beds pushed
together, two nightstands (one on either side, with a lamp on top of both), and a dresser
with an old TV on top. There was a window to the side of the bed, but it faced another
building. There was also a bathroom, which was inelegant to say the least. Inside it was a
grimy toilet and tub, and a leaky rusty tap, with the same wallpaper but with a thin layer
of mildew covering it. I decided that I wasn’t going to stay here for the day, so I chose to
go on a walking tour around town.
I walked out of the inn and onto the streets of Forrestburg. Much like the inn, the
town itself was drab. The buildings I saw were all two or three story office buildings,
with the occasional apartment complex. I walked past several of those buildings, as well
as post office, before I arrived at the front gates of Winkie’s hotdog factory. The building
was the stark opposite of everything in the town: it was shiny and new looking, with
polished windows and bright gray walls. However, it made me uneasy because it was so
out of place. While true it was bright, it was sterile and industrial, with no heart, and it
seemed to be very cold and evil. The factory was comprised of one grayish white
monolithic building with two chimneys, with a something like a storing warehouse
jutting out of the side. Since my inspection was going to be tomorrow, I walked away
from the building, but my eyes were glued to it, focusing on the building until it was out
of sight. By now it was a quarter past five, so I decided to retire from my tour and return
to the hotel for diner and for sleep.
----------------------------
I woke up at ten past eight, and went through my usual routine. I got up, took a
quick shower, got dressed quickly, and went downstairs to get a light breakfast. I quickly
left the motel, as my inspection of the factory was scheduled for nine o’clock. I arrived
five minutes before schedule, but nonetheless the manger was waiting for me. He was a
tallish man, with a handsome face and short, brown hair. He looked to be about thirty
years old, with a few shallow wrinkles appearing. When he welcomed me, I noticed
something odd about his voice and demeanor. He displayed the same xenophobic
personality the clerk at the inn showed, and avoided eye contact with me. He was very
unwelcoming and quite introverted at least towards me. After coldly welcoming me to
the plant, he led me inside, to inspect it.
The inside of the factory was much like the outside: bright, shiny, yet oddly
sterile and faceless. There were several workers within, some scurrying about and some
standing at machinery and packaging stations. My guide, almost gently, grabbed my
shoulder, and said something about me zoning off. I snapped back, and nodded with a
smile. He did nothing, just turn away and continue the inspection. He started to lead me
around the processing plant, which was pretty much all on one floor. He explained the
way the hotdogs were processed, putting special stresses on the cleanliness of the plant.
From what he told me, leftover meat and cartilage, presumably from other processing
plants, came out of a hole in the wall, by conveyer belt, and was guided into a large
grinding chute. The meat was finely ground and processed, and then was shaped into
hot dogs by molds. The molds also compressed and cooked the hotdogs briefly. They
were then frozen, wrapped up in casing, packaged, and shipped off to their destinations.
Well, of course that is a rather simplified version, but that is the main idea.
My guide led me to the chute where the meat came out, to show me a the more in
depth process of the plant’s processing and packaging system, step by step. But while we
were at that chute, something utterly bizarre happened. More than bizarre: it was blood
curdling. While we were at that chute, I heard a most frightening sound. I heard a
anguished shriek, followed by quiet sobbing sounds. I heard it only faintly, but it was
enough for me to realize what it was, and enough for the hairs on the back of my neck go
stiff. My guide must have heard it too, because I saw him glance back at the chute. But
instead of the expected reaction to go to the door adjacent to the chute, to see what
caused the shriek, he grabbed my shoulder, much harder this time, and hastily led me
away to the next “phase” in the process. He continued to talk, his voice much more on
edge than previously, but my mind was still fastened on that scream, instead on meat
grinding and packaging. It wasn’t a scream of injury or physical pain, but more like one
of a deep anguish, a cry for salvation. Anyways, my inspection finished, my guide asked if
this factory met the FDA standards. I nodded, and he smiled wickedly, his xenophobia
seemingly evaporating. He led me out the factory, and thanked me graciously. I once
again nodded, and he once again smiled. I left the place, with the scream still playing
over and over again in my head. Whilst walking back to the inn, I came to a strange,
irrational decision. I decided that I was going to break into the factory, to find the source
of that horrid scream.
----------------------------
After a brief rest at the inn, I woke up at eleven o’clock pm. I gathered all the
essential tools I had available: a Swiss army knife, a small flashlight, and a book of
matches. I slowly exited my room, so not to disturb anybody and to avoid questioning. I
stealthily walked out of the motel, skulking around, avoiding the street lamps. I soon
arrived at the factory gates, and gazed at it for a moment. It was even more sinister at
night, and looked more like a dungeon than an actual factory. I shook out of this thought
and scaled the fence. I ran quickly to the front door, and broke the lock with my knife. I
turned the handle slowly, and pushed the door inwards. I realized that I was perspiring
heavily, and that I was committing a felony that might very well cost me, my job; but I
didn’t care. I pushed onward into the factory.
The inside was pitch black, so I pulled out my flashlight to light my way. I
weaved my way through the tangle of conveyor belts and meat grinders and packers, to
the door adjacent to that hole in the wall. Thankfully, it wasn’t locked, so I entered. The
moment I did, an acrid smell whooshed into my nostrils. The smell was a combination of
rotting flesh and the musty, damp earth. I stifled a disgusted cough, and continued
onward.
I shined my light around the room. The room was very long, my estimate being
200 yards. The walls seemed to be lined with prison like cells to the very end. Even
worse, the floor was sticky with blood, has were the bars of the cells. I hesitantly walked
forward through the darkness, shining my light in the cells, to see what they were
housing. The cells were unfurnished, and had a single drain, like that of a bathtub, in the
center. Blood was pooled on the floor and smeared on the walls, seemingly made with
human hands. Some even had grime-encrusted bones in them. I knelt down, reached
through the bars, and picked one up. I expected them to be cattle or pigs bones, but upon
closer inspection, I realized that these were in fact the bones of human beings. I
stumbled backwards in terror upon learning this realization. Why were there the bones
of humans in these cells?
When I fell back, instead of falling onto a wall, I fell onto something fleshy. I
turned around quickly, aghast, and stared in horror at what was behind me. It was a
sickly looking woman, with long, unclean hair, and with a dress seemingly made from
stitched up potato sack canvas. Her skin was covered in small scars, and very grimy. I
looked into her eyes and saw sheer terror, and curiously, grief. She obviously felt the
same has I did because she started screaming, her voice filled with both fear and sorrow.
I thought to myself that this must be the same woman whose scream I heard earlier. She
was crouching now, and I was level with her. She started talking, rather incoherently,
between sniffles and sobs. It was what I heard from her made me run from that evil and
accursed hotdog plant.
“Dizise…dizise…dizise kill all others…I only one left…they say I not enough to be
ooseful…they say going to go ‘altirnateev’ source….” She said raggedly, with impaired
speech. “dere were others, ‘ike me…we were made to ‘ive birth, over and over and
over….they dook the babies…hacked em up…fed em into the machine…”
Has soon has she finished talking, she began to scream and cry, the wails echoing
in the room. I simply sat there, paralyzed with sheer terror of what she said. I realized
what was happening…I realized what the cells were for…what was in the hotdogs…dear
God…the hotdogs…
I grabbed a bundle of the bones, and ran away. I’m not sure if she followed, or
simply sat there sobbing, her mind snapped by what was done and what she saw, but I
ran has fast has my legs could carry me, away from that evil, twisted factory. I ran away
from the town. I couldn’t trust any of them. Who knew how many of the inhabitants new.
As soon as arrived in the nearest town, I went straight for the police station. I
told them my story, and I handed them the bones I collected of the floor, for evidence.
They immediately closed down the factory, and secretly detained all the staff, and put
out that phony story of a killing spree, fearful of what would happen if the true story
should ever reach the public. They recalled all the hotdogs coming from the plant
(claiming they were contaminated with lead or some other toxin), but of course, nobody
knows how long this has been going on. Nobody knows how many were
purchased….how many were eaten…