The Dark Sacrifice: A Horror Novel

by Jay Bower

  “Meagan, are you all right? What about Noah? I heard about the attack and about Eric. He’s at the hospital, but he’ll be fine. What happened? How did it—”

  “We’re fine, Patrick,” she said slowly. He badgered her with questions before even giving her a moment to reply. She wanted nothing more than to let it all sink in, to understand what it meant, and to react like she should. Patrick’s incessant questions drove her mad. “Noah is fine, Patrick. Don’t worry. We’ll see you later when you get home from work.”

  “But Meagan, I’m worried. Noah—” he said before she cut him off.

  “Like I said, Noah is fine. He’s playing his game and he’s just fine. Patrick, really, don’t worry. I have it under control.”

  “Do I need to come home? I can, you know.”

  “No, dear, it’s all right. Now please, we’ll see you later. Love you.” Before he said it back, she hung up the phone. She sank in her chair, eyes closed. She needed a break from Patrick’s constant questions. He treated her like a suspect in a crime, but she hadn’t done anything wrong. She took care of their child. She raised him. She taught him how to read, how to write, how to add, how to live. How dare he accuse her?

  The walls of their living room, covered with family photos that Patrick hung for all to see, felt suffocating. Needing to relax, she went to the kitchen and poured herself a glass of wine. She didn’t realize how high strung she was until she heard Patrick’s voice on the phone. It set off a storm of feelings inside her that threatened to boil over. The second glass of wine helped the storm subside. By the time she had finished a third glass, it was a distant memory, and the black thunderclouds had become merely thin wisps of white tendrils streaked across the sky. The knots of tension had unraveled.

  Sitting at the kitchen table, she stared blankly out the window. Her mind raced in its slightly hazed state. All her life she had been prepared for this and now that the time had come, she didn’t feel any better about it. She knew what needed to be done, and the pieces of the puzzle were falling into place. Of course, she’d need to confirm it all…you always had to, just in case…but she saw no other way. She’d follow through. No way would she be counted amongst the timid, the weak, the scared. She knew better than to fight it; the consequences of failure were grave. That much, she knew all too well. Not from experience, but from lesson after lesson. Each time she went through her studies, it was stressed over everything else. You couldn’t be selfish; you had to be willing to follow through. If you tried to deny it, things would get ugly fast. No, she wouldn’t deny it, no matter what. She would be counted among the faithful. Her name would go down in history like those before her and memorized by others. In the end, it would be the right thing.

  Noah came in the kitchen a few minutes later for a snack. “Mom, what can I have? We got any chips or cookies?”

  “You can have an apple or a banana. You really do need to eat healthier, son.”

  He frowned at her. “But Mom, please? I had a rough day. Can I have a cookie?”

  She sighed. “Yeah, I guess you can. But only one,” she said quietly. Watching him take a cookie out of the cookie jar, she felt a pang in her chest. Her love for him knew no bounds. “You know what, Noah? Have as many as you want. Okay?”

  Eyes wider than the cookies, Noah beamed. “All right!” he said, stacking his plate high with cookies. He carefully poured himself a glass of milk and sat at the table with her. He dunked a chocolate chip cookie in his milk and took a big bite, smiling at his mom. She smiled warmly back at him.

  “You are a special boy, you know that?”

  “Umm, yeah sure, Mom.” He downed another cookie, smiling as he did. She stroked his hair.

  “No, you are. Remember what I’ve been teaching you for years to get you ready…do you remember?” The chewing slowed, his mouth reacting to her news.

  “Yeah, Mom, I remember. Are you sure?”

  She closed her eyes and nodded. “Yeah, I’m afraid so. It will be fine, son. You will do good. I promise.” Avoiding her eyes, he looked down at his plate of cookies.

  “I’m not hungry anymore. You want these?” he said as he pushed the plate away. Meagan smiled.

  “No thanks, they’re for you.” He placed the cookies he was holding back on the plate beside his half empty glass of milk and got up from the table.

  “I’m gonna go play, Mom,” he mumbled. His face, so full of life moments ago, had lost all traces of its youthful exuberance. Cold eyes stared at her, and his lips tightened in a white line.

  “Sure,” she managed to say. He walked to his room and closed the door. Sounds of him talking to his friends over the headset soon followed. She knew it would be tough for him, but he’d get over it.

  When Patrick got home later that day, Meagan had already finished off the bottle of wine. He walked in the kitchen to potatoes boiling on the stove and chicken in the oven. “Hi, Meagan,” he said and kissed her. She could deal with him now that she had a bit of liquid preparation to take her edge off.

  “Hi, dear,” she replied. He sat down at the kitchen table and didn’t say anything for a while. After a few moments, he spoke.

  “Meagan, can we talk?” Patrick’s voice cracked on the last word and he cleared his throat.

  “About what?” she replied, absently stirring the potatoes.

  “About what’s going on. About our son. About this place, really.”

  Turning to face him, she replied, “What about our son and this place?” The spoon in her hand switched as she spoke.

  “Don’t you think things are getting…weird around here?”

  “What do you mean by that?”

  “Well, not so much in our home, but here in Brownsville. It’s just…odd…don’t you think?”

  Anticipating his questioning, she peered at him with a hardened gaze. “I don’t think there’s anything out of the norm going on at all. I think maybe you’re trying to connect the dots of something that isn’t there. I think you’re overreacting to a couple incidents.”

  “Overreacting?” he shouted, slamming his fist on the table. “Are you serious? I have seen plenty of strange things, and many of them involve our son! How long can we keep shrugging it off?”

  Her eyes narrowed and she shook the spoon at him. “Patrick, our son is just fine. I’ve told you al-ready. Go check on him yourself. I’d appreciate it if you’d quit treating me like I’ve done something wrong, too. I am not a criminal or a suspect. I’m your wife and the mother of our child.”

  “Meagan, you are not a criminal, and I don’t act like you’re a suspect. I’m worried about Noah…and you. I’m concerned that this move has put a lot of stress on both of you. I don’t think my job is any worse than before. In fact, I think it’s been better. I wanted a new life here with the both of you. I wanted an easier time, and I wanted to be there for Noah. I’m not sure what’s different now with us, but something is. I don’t like it, Meagan.”

  “Everything is fine. Everything is all right, trust me,” she said in a soothing tone. She put the spoon down and sat next to him, putting her hands over his and staring deeply into his eyes. “We came here for a reason, and it will turn out exactly as it should. You don’t need to worry about Noah and me. We’re fine. I know he’s had a few accidents, but what boy doesn’t?”

  “Accidents? I wouldn’t call what happened at your parents’ or what happened on the Fourth or today just accidents.”

  “Patrick, dear,” she said, “we’re here for a better life. It will be a better life for all of us. Now stop worrying, please. It’s all right.” She squeezed his hands until the hissing pot called her from the table.

  “Dad!” Noah said, entering and running to Patrick. Patrick gave him a long hug and kissed him on his head.

  “Hey, son, how are you?”

  Noah beamed. “I’m good, Dad. Wanna play a game with me? Please?”

  Patrick melted at Noah’s earnest plea. “Let me get changed really quick and I’ll be right there, okay?”


  “Awesome! I’ll get the controller set up.” Noah bounded back to his bedroom.

  “He’s a special boy, Patrick,” Meagan said, stirring the potatoes. “He really does love you. He’s a unique child, and one that will do what’s right. Don’t worry about him…or me. We’re fine, really.”

  ***

  PATRICK WENT TO CHANGE, and Meagan’s words replayed in his head. He thought about everything that happened since their arrival in Brownsville. Like Meagan, Benny didn’t seem to think there was anything out of the ordinary. Could it all be just in his head? Did he have an imagination like Noah’s that ran rampant? As much as he wanted to believe Meagan that everything was fine, something felt off. He didn’t know what, but he intended to find out. More and more, he thought about Virgil and his cryptic message. He’d have to bite the bullet and find out what the old man knew. Things weren’t quite right, and maybe Virgil might help him get rid of his strange feeling that everything was about to collapse on him. This was his family, and he wouldn’t let anything happen to them.

  “Dad!” Noah called from down the hall, breaking his train of thought. “Come on, Dad, the game is ready. Aren’t you coming?”

  Patrick smiled. He loved that boy with everything he had. He may have missed some things when Noah was younger, but he was determined to do better. That was why he’d agreed to move his family to Brownsville.

  He walked into Noah’s room, the boy smiling at him. “Here ya go, Dad! Let’s play!” he said as he handed the controller to Patrick.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  PATRICK TOOK IN THE sleepy town of Brownsville on a late August Saturday as the sun was close to slipping from the sky. Benny drove the cruiser down Main Street. Patrick watched as a woman pushing a stroller stopped to admire some purple, pink, and white flowers in a planter along the side of the street. Long ago, the local Elks club had donated the money for the planters and they were under the care of a committee of one, the widow Virginia Ellert. Like clockwork she watered, weeded, and replaced the flowers as needed. Her personal mission was to make Brownsville beautiful.

  Main Street had three stoplights within a section of about ten blocks. It ran east to west directly through the downtown area. Back in the old days, a trolley car ran down the center of the street. It intersected two rail lines that went north to south but had long since been removed and rerouted to the remaining line on the western edge of town. That one ran across the westernmost edge of Main Street before going either south along the Mississippi River or north toward central Illinois.

  Patrick tried to imagine what it must have been like when the town was so full of life; when the trolley and trains constantly carried passengers and freight. Some of the old storefronts along Main Street were still the original brick facades and single pane glass windows. Surprisingly, the infamous tri-state tornado that whipped through the town back in the 1920s skipped much of downtown, but tore through the neighborhoods just north of it, destroying Longfellow School, now the site of Longfellow Park, where Noah and Eric were attacked by the birds.

  Patrick talked to Noah about the attack without Meagan around, but he didn’t get much from the boy. Noah’s story was the same one Meagan told Patrick. Namely, they were fine, and it was nothing more than a freak occurrence. Patrick asked around anyway, and when he found the boys that had swatted the birds with baseball bats, one of them told him he thought it was a sign.

  Patrick was puzzled. “A sign? What kind of sign?”

  “You know, a sign that it’s time,” he said before he took off to play ball with his friends. Patrick watched him go, no closer to an answer than before.

  As Patrick drove around with Benny, he shook his head as he thought about the boy telling him it was a sign. He wanted to believe it held no truth, but something nagged at him.

  “Hey Patty, ready for another night of fun?” Benny nudged Patrick’s arm, the scent of mint wafting through the car.

  “Benny, are you ever gonna stop that?”

  “Stop what?” he asked, smiling. Pieces of chew stuck in his teeth, giving him a disgusting grin.

  “That,” Patrick said, grimacing. “Chewing. It’s all over your teeth.”

  “Patty, I ain’t gonna give it up. A man don’t get to be my age by giving up what he believes in, ya know.”

  “You believe in chew? I’m sure you believed in electricity too when they decided to illuminate this fine town. Did you help them install it back then?” Benny gave Patrick a sour look and spat out the window.

  “Benny, what do you know about Virgil, the librarian?” Patrick finally asked.

  Benny hesitated. “That old coot? That he’s been around almost as long as me. He knows more about this town than anyone else. I guess if you want to know anything about this place, he’d be the man to ask, other than me, of course,” he said, winking at Patrick.

  They remained quiet for some time.

  Night overtook the late summer sun and more people headed outside. Parking lots along Main Street were full of kids. They’d pull up in pickup trucks, open the tailgates, and sit and watch traffic. When Benny and Patrick drove by, Patrick watched as hands suddenly disappeared, no doubt hiding some type of alcohol.

  “Shouldn’t we stop, Benny?” Patrick asked.

  “Nah, those kids ain’t hurting no one.”

  “Well, not yet, but if they drive drunk and kill someone, it will be something we could’ve stopped.” Patrick stared at a couple of rough looking kids sitting in the bed of an old Ford pickup. They didn’t bother to hide their beers, but instead raised them in a toast as they passed. “You see that? They didn’t even try to hide it!”

  “Patty, it’s fine. They’re good kids. They deserve to live like the rest of us; to have a good time and enjoy life.”

  Patrick shook his head. He stared out the window as Benny kept driving. They passed the last of the town’s three stoplights and a call came across the radio about a disturbance down at Doc Bishop’s place outside of town. Happy to get away from the hoodlums in town and do something, Patrick grabbed the radio before Benny could.

  “This is Patrick. We’re on it.” He found out a while back they didn’t care about calling out their numbers like in East St. Louis. Everyone in the department knew each other, and it was such a small town that it didn’t matter in the grand scheme of things. Benny shot a glare at Patrick, flicked on the lights and siren, and took off toward the farm.

  When they pulled up, Doc Bishop stood in his driveway waving them in. “I’m glad you boys came. Quick, come back this way,” he said as Benny and Patrick jumped out of the car. Doc Bishop was a local veterinarian specializing in livestock. Patrick guessed him to be about fifty or so. He had a wife and two sons, one of them still in town, and the other doing some kind of charity work in the streets of Los Angeles. How anyone went from a small town like this to the rough inner-city streets of Los Angeles, Patrick couldn’t understand. Doc Bishop’s farm was on a ten-acre plot south of town. A large red pole barn sat out back. Doc Bishop didn’t farm the land out here. Instead, he used it for animal rehab.

  They followed Doc Bishop around the back of the barn. The floodlight overhead faded and they found themselves in another pool of light streaming down on them. Just to the outer edge of the light, Patrick saw it. Or rather, he smelled it first, the odor drawing him directly to the grisly sight.

  Beyond the light lay a disgusting mound of flesh and bones. Patrick clicked on his flashlight and aimed. Black eyes glared back at him from the heap and he dropped the light.

  Benny laughed.

  “Damn, boy, ain’t you got it together yet? I thought the last time we saw something like that, you’d have learned to get over it.” Benny’s face was masked by the dark, but Patrick imagined a chew-stained grin flashed at him.

  “Look, Benny, I’m still not quite used to this kind of thing. What the hell is it, anyway?”

  Benny leaned in, his flashlight prodding around it. “Well, if I had to guess, I’d say it’s a cou
ple of goats. Skinned, too. See that?” he said pointing in the light, “That there is the tendons. I don’t see any hide. These yours?” he asked Doc Bishop.

  “No, I was helping them recoup from some weird sickness for Abernathy, and then a couple days ago, they went missing,” Doc Bishop said.

  Benny stared at the animals and Patrick walked closer to the gruesome sight. The beam from his flashlight caught something.

  “Hey, look at that. The ribcage. See that?” he asked.

  Benny and Doc Bishop bent, straining to see what he pointed out. The bodies were on their backs, their ribs splayed apart, lungs spread open like wings.

  “Hey, I think I remember something about that from the Vikings,” Patrick said.

  “So…you’re telling me we got Vikings raiding Doc’s farm, Patty?” Benny asked. In the dark, Patrick knew that grin was there.

  “No, I don’t think we’re facing Vikings, but that’s what they did. They called it a…blood angel. Yeah, that’s it. They used this tactic to scare the locals when they raided an area.”

  “But what did they do with the skin? See how it’s all gone? Even their faces…clean gone,” Benny said.

  Patrick furrowed his eyebrows. Bloody muscles attached to bones were in a disgusting heap on the ground. “Yeah, I don’t know about that,” he said. The stench sickened Patrick, and he walked away for a moment, breathing deeply before stepping back.

  Off in the tall grass, they heard quick footsteps. Benny turned his head. Doc Bishop spun around. Patrick pulled his pistol from its holster.

  “Put that damn thing away,” Benny hissed. “Ain’t nothing to worry about out here. You dang city boy,” he scolded. Patrick started to holster his weapon when they heard it again on the other side of them. The darkness hid whatever it was, but then suddenly, it was on them.