The Dark Sacrifice: A Horror Novel

by Jay Bower

  Even though she was so young when it happened, she remembered Todd’s stoic face during the ceremony. She pictured him watching the dagger in Father Sam’s hand as he spoke to the gathered participants. She knew that to rid themselves of the demons and the evil that threatened to devour all of them, they must perform this ritual. Nathaniel Browne stumbled upon the need so long ago, and they were charged with continuing the sacrifice. Her family, along with the other descendants of the founders, knew of the responsibility. Each of those families had suffered this loss. Now, she’d been called to carry out her duties.

  The moment had finally come; the one she’d feared since Noah’s birth. She loved her son dearly. The time spent with him, watching him grow from a tiny infant to an inquisitive toddler had forged a bond she’d never forget. It was precious time. Now, like the other families, the Evil One was forcing her to give over her first-born son’s life in exchange for a reprieve; a moment of peace for all.

  She closed her eyes against the thoughts flooding her mind. The memories of Noah learning and playing, and all the times he told her he loved her and her endless hugs. She wanted so badly to ignore the call of the Ritual and run away. They’d deal with the consequences. But her father’s voice in her head told her how important it was and how blessed her son would be for performing bravely. She, too, would be blessed beyond measure for thinking selflessly of the greater good. Her mother especially took pains to comfort her daughter after she witnessed her brother Todd’s noble sacrifice. Her mom’s soothing words after watching Todd’s sacrifice played over and over in her head.

  “Dear, it’s going to be okay. Your brother, God rest his soul, did his job admirably,” she remembered June saying. “He was brave, Meah. He will inherit a greater place in Heaven for his sacrifice. It’s the proper thing to do. He knew it, and you know it, don’t you? Someday, Meah, you might be the mother of a Chosen one. Then you, too, will witness this great event. You will be filled with pride for your son. It is a blessing beyond measure.” The words felt hollow back then, but now, Meagan wrestled with their truth.

  She stood with her hand on the knob, not wanting to open it. It turned on its own and she opened her eyes. The door slowly creaked open and Noah stood with his hand on the inside knob.

  “Oh, hi, Mom. What are you doing out here? You scared me!” Her heart beat fast, startled.

  It was now or never. “Son,” she started. The sounds of his game came from the television.

  She heard blood rushing in her ears.

  She heard her parents urging her on.

  She heard Benny tell her it was time.

  She heard Patrick, her loving husband, talk sweetly to her.

  “Son…it’s time.”

  “What, I have to get off now? We were doing good. Mom, can’t I play for a little longer? I don’t want to go to bed yet.” She smiled at him through her tears.

  “No, son, it’s not time for that. It’s time. It’s time to get ready for your glory.” His lips turned down, all joy leaching from his face. He cast his gaze to the floor.

  “Mom,” he said quietly, “I don’t…I don’t want to go. I mean, I don’t have to, do I?” She ran her hands through his hair, messing it up.

  “Yeah, son, you do. It’s not something that can be undone. It’s the way of our people. You must be brave, Noah. There’s still a chance you may not be The One. I know you’ve seen things, but all the candidates do. It’s time for the Decision. Get your shoes on. There’s no more time for worry; only time to be brave. You want to be remembered for strength and courage, not weakness, don’t you? Now go, get ready.” Noah darted back into his room, slamming the door.

  Meagan leaned against his door and wept. She slid to the floor and cried into her hands. Her mom told her how difficult this would be, but facing it now, she understood. She wanted to do what was right, but she wanted her son—her little boy—to come through unscathed.

  Noah opened the door after a few minutes. “Mom,” he said in a clear, monotone voice, “I’m ready. I will not be weak.”

  She marveled at his newfound courage and it lifted her spirits. The little boy within was still there, but his body language and demeanor had changed. He appeared before her now, no longer as her boy, but as her savior. She wanted to hug him and hold him tighter than ever, but he walked past her into the living room and sat on the couch.

  “Mom, be strong. I am.”

  She tried drying her eyes and stood, straightening her shirt. Noah sat waiting patiently for what would come next.

  Meagan went to the kitchen and poured herself a glass of vodka, the only alcohol she kept in the house. She downed it quickly. Her mother told her to keep a level head about her when the time came, but the pure torture of knowing her only child might be the next sacrifice of the Evil One was too much to bear. She calmed her nerves as best she could and cleaned herself up.

  A car pulled in the drive. In a panic, she ran to the front door, half-expecting to see Patrick, which would have become a huge mess of a fight. He, of course, would try to stop her. She’d try to explain it to him, but knowing his heart, he would fight her to the end. As she pulled the curtain to the side, she saw Benny in his squad car. He waved at her and she held up a finger, telling him it would be just a minute.

  “Noah, let’s get going. It’s time for the Decision. Benny will take us where the other boys are. We’ll find out who’s been called. If it’s you…” she started before her body convulsed.

  “If it’s me, Mom, I will do what you taught me. I will be brave like Uncle Todd.” She nodded, sobbing again. It took her a few moments to control her emotions enough to turn off the lights and escort Noah to the door. She turned back to the cold, quiet, empty house. “Let’s go.” They walked to the car.

  The smell of mint was strong when they got in. Meagan noticed a large bump in Benny’s jaw.

  “So, Noah, are ya ready for the big event? Are ya ready to show everyone how brave and courageous you are?” Benny asked. In the rearview mirror, the boy’s face showed no expression; only quiet concentration.

  “Yes, I am, sir. I’ll do what’s required of me,” he replied, monotone.

  “Well good, son! I know what ya face ain’t easy, but it is important. It’s a relic of our ancestors, and regardless of how we feel about it, it’s the only way. I’ve seen many a boy have second thoughts right at the end, and you know what? They miss out on an extra special place in paradise. You don’t want that, do ya, son?” Noah shook his head. “Thattaboy. Meagan,” he said, “you sure do have a fine young man there. I consider this an honor and a privilege to take you to the Decision.” He spoke loud enough for Noah to hear. The boy’s expression didn’t change.

  “I know Al wanted to get him, but I thought it better if I did,” he said quietly to Meagan. “He went and got Eric instead. And Chief Wayne, he’s got Timothy, the third one.”

  Meagan tried picturing the boy, scrunching her face.

  “He’s a little younger. You might not have met him yet. Good kid, I tell ya.”

  She leaned back in her seat, not saying a word.

  “Well, Noah, I promise it will be a quick decision. It always is. He knows before we ever get there. Once he lets us know, we proceed carefully, but it’s always best if ya do like ya been taught. You gotta stay brave, no matter what, okay?” He checked in the mirror again and the boy still sat like a statue. “Your mom will be there and so will we. Just trust in the Ritual. It’s the only thing that matters. Got it?”

  “What about my dad? Will he be there?” he asked. Meagan shot Benny a worried look.

  Benny answered, “No, son, I don’t think so. He don’t know how important this is for us here and what good things are coming to you. I don’t think he’d understand the truth of it. Not like you do.”

  “But, he’s my dad. Shouldn’t he be there? This is for him, too.” Noah’s voice wavered the slightest bit.

  “Son, I think it’s best if he don’t see,” Benny said, ending the conversatio
n. “We’re here now. Looks like they’re all ready. I guess they’re just waiting on us. Are ya ready?” he asked as he parked and cut the ignition. Noah watched out the window at the boys with the Keepers and their own families.

  “I am.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  PATRICK FROZE AND TURNED around slowly. “What do you mean?” He glared through a veil of anger at the frail old man across the table. “You telling me my son is in trouble? I swear to you, old man, I won’t hesitate to put a bullet through your skull right now. No one touches my son. No one.” Anger bubbled within Patrick. A sickening sensation overcame him. Virgil’s evil, destructive, sickening words needed to be silenced. He was not above taking care of it.

  “Sit down,” Virgil said quietly. “Please, you need to hear this.”

  Reluctantly, Patrick took his seat again. He tensed his arms and sat up straight, his senses at high alert. “So…” Patrick asked, “what else?”

  “As I started to say,” Virgil began, “there are three other Keepers besides myself. We are in charge of carrying out the…sacrifice.” He looked from the table to Patrick’s face full of hate. He continued. “From time to time, we’ve carried out the rites prescribed by Nathaniel Browne with the aid of the natives.”

  “You mean to tell me you kill innocent boys? Tell me why I shouldn’t take you in right now!”

  “Patrick, this goes way beyond any law we could have dreamed up. This is something more. You could take me in, but it won’t do you any good. If I die, it won’t remove the need for the sacrifice. It must be done. It’s a terrible thing; the Lord knows it’s painful to do. But—”

  Patrick interrupted him. “But what, Virg? You’re too damn scared of the devil to do the right thing? Screw this! You’re a murderer. All you people! You’re all crazy!”

  “Are we, son? Are we really all so crazy? Tell me, what did you see out there at Doc’s farm? Huh? Do you have any idea what those were? And what about the woods? I know you saw the hanging girls. You tell me who’s crazy!”

  Patrick fell silent, his throat dry. He grabbed the cup for a drink, but he’d emptied it. He slammed it back down on the table. Virgil didn’t flinch.

  “So, these things…they’re real?” Patrick finally asked, feeling stupid as he said the words aloud. Trained as a police officer to recognize facts from falsehoods, this reeked of lies and cover-ups. Nothing added up. Nothing made any sense. How could this old man sat here so calmly and talk about sacrifices as if they were an everyday occurrence? He talked as if it were a natural state of things. Nothing seemed natural about any of it.

  “Yes, Patrick, they are real. They’re the harbingers of the coming of the Evil One. They remind us of our duty. They demand the sacrifice. If we refuse, they bring a time of torture and evil and death. Just like what happened to Nathaniel.”

  “That’s crazy. You know, it old man. None of that shit is real.”

  “It isn’t? How can you have a God without an enemy? He needs the enemy. Otherwise, who do we turn to in times of need; in times of trouble? We wouldn’t know of need if there was no force to remind us of evil. No, Patrick; it’s very much real. You go ask those poor children who died so many years ago in the tornado that tore through town. You go ask those families who starved to death in the great droughts of the twenties. It’s more real than you will ever know.”

  Patrick ran his hands through his hair. These tales of spiritual gloom and doom were almost too much to bear. “Okay, let’s say you’re telling me the truth…which I find hard to believe.” He paused. “I want to strangle you for taking part in these absurd killings. I want to crush you, Virg. How can you blame those disasters on some cosmic penance? That’s bullshit, and you know it! Things happen. They always have, and they always will. How can you honestly believe offering a boy as a sacrifice will stop any of it? It’s called nature, Virg. Shit happens.”

  Virgil nodded. “I know how you feel about this. It’s not for the timid, but it’s something that must be done. I know it sounds cruel, but it must happen. The Keepers are charged with preparing the potential candidates. They are trained from infancy to be ready for this event. They are taught the seriousness. All the descendant families know about it, but they look the other way, because they know, son. They know it’s real. I wish there was another way, but there isn’t. It’s a real threat. The only reprieve is to offer the sacrifice.” He began to cry softly in the shadows of the dim room.

  Patrick’s mind refused to accept his logic.

  “Why are you telling me this? What does this have to do with me? Why bother to tell me a damn thing about your cruel deeds?”

  “Patrick, you need to know…because of Noah.”

  Patrick slammed his hands on the table and shot up. “What about Noah? What the hell are you planning to do with my son?”

  Virgil stared at him. “Patrick, he’s one of the three. Eric, that boy you found out in the fields; a boy named Timothy; and Noah. They are the three called out as candidates. There is a sacred ritual we—”

  “You won’t do a damn thing with my son! You lay a hand on him, and I’ll kill you and anyone else who thinks he’s your sacrifice. Do you hear me? I won’t let this happen! Your bullshit beliefs don’t mean a damn thing to me. I will not let my son get caught up in some made up psychopathic ritual!”

  A tear ran down Virgil’s cheek. “Trust me, I know how you’re feeling, as do the other Keepers and families who have lost loved ones. It’s not easy, but you must remain strong. They will have a better place in heaven because of their deed. They don’t suffer if they’re prepared.”

  “Are you crazy? My son dies for no one. Don’t you people know anything about being decent human beings? This is insane! You touch my son,” Patrick said, pointing at Virgil, “and I kill you.” He breathed deeply, trying to calm his nerves.

  “You know Benny’s boy, the one that’s in California doing charity work? He’s not out there, Patrick. He was a sacrifice. Many, many years ago. I helped. It was one of my first ones. I couldn’t sleep for a couple weeks afterwards. To this day, I still see his face accusing me. But it had to be done. Benny will tell you the same. Even your wife had an older brother, Todd, who was a sacrifice. We’ve all encountered the evil here at one time or another. We’ve all dealt with the toll the sacrifice takes on us. I wish there was another way, but there isn’t. It must be done. I don’t pretend that you, as an outsider, will understand.”

  Blood rushed to Patrick’s face as he listened to the old man. “Are you insane?” he shouted, throwing his hands in the air. “You’re talking about killing boys! That’s fucking crazy! No, no, no. You will not kill my son. Not now, not ever!” He stared at the dagger on the table. He felt disgusted and swiped it off the table. It crashed into a cabinet and landed on the concrete floor.

  “I’m truly sorry, Patrick, but it is in the signs. The lot has been cast. He is one of the three.”

  Patrick approached Virgil and leaned down, getting within inches of his face.

  “If you touch a single hair on my boy’s head, I will kill you. Do you understand?”

  Virgil looked at him, unblinking. “Say what you will, but it’s not in my hands.”

  Patrick backhanded him across the face, knocking the old man to the floor. Patrick stood over him. “Don’t tell me that! You will not touch him!”

  Virgil rubbed his cheek, a bruise already blooming on his old weathered face.

  “Patrick, I’m sorry,” he whispered. Blood trickled from his mouth. He breathed heavily and was still for a moment. Patrick thought he had killed the old man.

  “You deserve to die, old man. You and all these nut job people.” Noah’s face flashed in his mind. The boy smiled and laughed, enjoying life. No way would these backwoods, uneducated crazies kill his son because of their belief in some evil forces at work in their little town. His son would die for no one. His life was worth far more than their perceived peace of mind.

  Patrick’s disgust became rage. He wanted
to bloody the man and make him suffer for his part in the slaying of innocent boys. Nothing was worse than killing a child. It took a sick, twisted individual to take the life of an innocent human being. He would have no part in it, and he would stop it at all costs.

  “Why can’t you see that it’s wrong, old man?” he snarled at Virgil, bloodied on the floor beneath him. Virgil said nothing. His eyes were blank, as though the life behind them had vacated and left only a shell of a man. Patrick rubbed his eyes and grunted loudly. Rage welled within him again.

  He didn’t want to be like these people and treat human life so nonchalantly. “You aren’t worth it, old man.” Patrick stood and kicked the dagger.

  “My last warning,” he said as he stood at the doorway. “You touch my son, and I will make whatever you think you’re afraid of seem like a vacation. You don’t want to set me off.”

  He left the library.

  The cool dark air lifted some of his tension, but he still couldn’t believe what Virgil had said. He slumped down on the cold concrete and wept. All he could think of were those boys. All those innocent children killed for a bizarre belief in some evil force.

  ***

  VIRGIL LAY ON THE cool tile floor. His jaw throbbed. Blood filled his mouth. He knew he deserved it. He deserved a whole lot worse for what he’d done over the years. Tears flowed as he lay there, reciting names of the sacrifices from the first to the last. He didn’t want to add another name to that list. There had to be a way out, a way to end it all. Patrick’s anger triggered something inside him now, though he’d seen that look before on the faces of parents who didn’t understand.

  Thomas, he said in his head. Augustus, Jedidiah, Abraham, William, Todd. The names crept up in his mind, one after another. Jonah, Michael, Brian, the names continued. He couldn’t stop the flood of them, and he didn’t want them to stop. He needed to be reminded of all those lives laid down. All those innocents taken. He reflected on his life and wondered where they might be, had someone taken a stand long ago. He saw all those faces going to their deaths, believing in their cause. The names continued. Jonathan, Connor, Justin, Adam. His mind raced. He let them overtake his thoughts, flooding his mind with names and memories. He wept as they kept coming. Now, he wished for his own death, for a release from the torture Patrick had unleashed on him.