by Jay Bower
The pain and anguish on Patrick’s face was the last straw for Virgil. He could do something. He would do something. As he lay on the floor, bruised and bloody, he determined he would find a way to end the madness. Patrick was right. This made no sense. There had to be a way out.
Eventually he picked himself up and paged through all the old journals again to find anything to help him end the Sacrifice.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
NOAH STOOD WITH the other candidates. They were brought to a large open field and positioned in the center of a twenty-foot-wide clearing. The three boys stood in a line; himself, Timothy, and Eric. Their families and the Keepers stood around the edges of the clearing. Noah glanced to his left and saw his mom, Chief Wayne, and Eric’s mom. On other side of the circle stood Timothy’s mom and dad, and Al, his grandpa. The light from the half moon was just enough for Noah to make out the shapes of the people, but not their expressions. He shot a glance at the other boys. They were focused straight ahead, just as they were taught. Noah snapped his head forward, realizing his breach of protocol.
From behind the gathered participants, Noah heard footsteps crunching on the grass. Noah couldn’t see who or what approached.
Noah’s grandpa went to a small dark pile at the edge of the circle and ignited it. He did the same four more times around the circle and returned to his original position. Noah heard the footsteps over the crackling fires. He looked at his mom and she smiled through the tears streaming down her face. Eric’s mom also smiled as she quietly sobbed. He needed to be brave during this time. If not for himself, for them. He couldn’t let her cry over this.
The people parted, and a man in a black robe stood on the outer edge of the circular clearing. He walked closer and Noah recognized Benny.
“Oh, Great and Wondrous One,” Benny boomed. For such a frail-looking man, his voice was deep and powerful. “We implore you. Accept these offerings. Look upon us with favor, and let your servants know whom you require. Let your servants know which is acceptable to your mightiness.” He knelt and prostrated himself on the edge of the clearing. It seemed to Noah they were all afraid to step inside the clearing. He looked down, trying to see if he’d missed something. All he saw were shadows of the flames dancing on the dirt. The other people also knelt and bowed toward the boys.
Noah heard a chant rise. First, Benny began with words Noah didn’t understand. He knew they were Latin from the lessons his mom taught him, but he didn’t know what they meant. She told him once, but he forgot exactly what it was, only that it was a plea for mercy and acceptance of their pathetic offering.
Soon, the chanting voices came from all around them as the gathered group joined with Benny’s words.
The scene was strange to Noah. Here he stood with two others in the center of a field in the moonlight, their families chanting strange words and bowing down to them as if they were gods. He didn’t know what to think. He only felt the chill from the early autumn night and sadness that his dad wasn’t there. He loved his dad and he missed him.
The chants intensified and a gust of cold air blew into the circle. It swirled around the boys, making the small flames flicker madly. Just when Noah thought the fierce, cold wind would extinguish the fires, they blazed even higher and brighter than before. The group around them quieted, the chants drifting off in the wind. Benny in his black robe, a strange sight to Noah, stood slowly and raised his hands into the air. He spoke in Latin and then in English.
“Oh, Great and Powerful One, your magnificent presence here inspires fear and awe.” He broke into Latin for several sentences before going back to English. “We cower at your greatness and grovel at your power. We are unworthy of your attention yet are obedient to your call.” He spoke in Latin again before translating. “We await your decision, oh Mighty One. We are prepared for obedience and seek your guidance.” With those last words, he knelt and joined the rest of the group in bowing. They raised their arms high in the air and bent down to the ground several times before holding their positions on the ground. After a few moments of silence, they raised their arms high. Benny chanted briefly in Latin before they went to the ground again. They performed the motion five more times and went still. Then it started again, six more times up and chant and down until they remained on the ground.
The cold gust returned, and this time, it extinguished two of the small fires around the clearing’s edge. Noah heard Timothy whimper. From the corner of his eye, he checked to see if Timothy or Eric moved, which was a huge breach of form. He noticed Timothy trembling, but Eric stood as stiff and straight as he did.
The light of the moon faded to black with the orange and yellow flames around the clearing. A wall of black mist rose along the edge of the circle, obscuring the prostrated participants. It swirled and formed itself into a barrier between the boys and the people. The chants faded away. Noah’s heart threatened to jump from his chest. His mom had taught him about this moment, but she didn’t know exactly what to expect. She taught him to be calm, but he knew something terrible could happen at any moment and he was powerless to stop it. He would be in the presence of the Evil One. That terrified him. Judging by the sounds to his left, he wasn’t the only one.
The mist began to take the shape and formed a man flanked on each side by a large, black dog-like creature with yellow eyes. The wispy tendrils solidified before their eyes, and a dark red glow filled the clearing. Noah thought this man in a black suit was probably a businessman or a lawyer. HIs piercing red eyes and dark black hair set off by greyish skin reminded Noah of a zombie. He had long black fingernails and rings on almost every finger. He stroked the head of one of the beasts and smiled at the boys. There was something about his face that was familiar to Noah. He’d seen the man before. Not in one of his visions in the woods or anything like that, but out and about the town, walking or eating…or something like that. Wherever it was, he had a nagging feeling he knew the man.
He took a step closer to the boys and the beasts sat on the ground, baring their fangs in a quiet snarl. “Be still, my pets,” the man said. His voice was deep and smooth with an undercurrent of authority.
He considered each boy, marveling at their features. He walked around them with his hands clasped behind his back, inspecting them like a farmer with his livestock. Stroking his hairless chin, he stood before them. Noah fought to keep a strong presence, but the power he felt from the man threatened to destroy it. Courage was his only anchor. He wanted to scream, to run and hide, but he knew there was no place safe from this man. The best and only way to attain the greater paradise was to be still, be strong, and fulfill his duties if called. Still, knowing what glories lay ahead didn’t make it any easier. No one told him about the piercing gaze that searched his soul. He felt as though the man knew every thought and feeling he ever had. It chilled him. He knew the other boys felt the same discomfort.
“Such wonderful candidates,” the man said. He nodded slowly. “Yes, very fine indeed. The rotten offspring of Browne and his people did well with you three. I could take any or all of you, but my master does not allow such strength for me. Lucky for you.” He walked around them again and circled back to the front. One of his beasts growled. “Yes, I know,” he said to the beast.
The man extended a long, bony ring-clad finger toward Timothy. The boy shuddered, and the man lowered his finger. He moved to stand in front of Eric. The boy stood as still as a statue, adhering to his teachings like a good candidate. The man bent down and peered into his eyes. Eric didn’t flinch, but Noah heard his breathing grow rapid. The man held Eric’s chin in his grey bony hand, inspecting him. He let his hand drop and Eric released a deep breath. The man then stood in front of Noah.
“You, boy,” he said. “You are Noah. You are the son of Meah. You were not raised here.” Noah stood still, not wanting to break form. He didn’t know how to respond, so he remained silent. “You were not. Regardless, you are mine.” Noah wanted to scream, but he was taught to be strong. He stood tall and s
traight.
“You have been told all along. Have you not listened? You are the one. You carry the blood we desire. You are the Chosen. You will have the great glory and pleasure of reviving us. You will bring a great peace upon your people for your deed. It is you, Noah. You are the one.”
Noah’s eyes went huge as the man spoke. His worst nightmare had come true. He tried to quell the surging tide of fear that grew with thoughts of a greater paradise that waited, but at that moment, it seemed so far away and so unreal. A warm sensation radiated from his groin. He looked down and wanted to cry.
“You two,” the man said to Eric and Timothy, his voice all strength and power. “You will go now.” He pointed to the black misty edge. They hesitated. “I said go,” he growled. They walked to the edge and stopped, unsure. The man pushed his hand at them and with a thud, they crashed through the mist to the other side.
The man turned to Noah and smiled. “My name is Nathaniel. You are going to be a very precious gift. I trust you are aware of your destiny, young one. Soon, you will find your glory and gain your paradise, and so on and so forth. Are you prepared?” Noah’s head bobbed up and down quickly. He didn’t want to appear to be any more afraid than he was. He was willing and ready for the next step.
“Good. The time comes for you, young one.”
Without warning, Nathaniel vanished. The beasts and the mist and the dark red glow disappeared into nothing. Noah heard the gasps from those around the clearing. He saw his mother’s face lit by the soft glow of the fire. Tears ran down her cheek, but she carried a sense of pride beneath them.
“Mom,” Noah said. “I’m the one.”
She ran to him and held him close. “I know, son, I know. Be brave, son. Be courageous. You will be rewarded.” She hugged him and cried. The others gathered around him and exhorted him to be strong in the face of his deed.
Noah was confused by the wailing and claps on the back. He was taught from the beginning that the sacrifice was to keep the Evil One at bay; to keep his touch off the people and the land. But the man said his name was Nathaniel. How could that be? Noah didn’t think he had a name, because they only ever called him the Evil One. Then it hit him. He did know where he’d seen that face before. It was the face all over town. The face of Brownsville.
It was Nathaniel Browne.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
PATRICK NEEDED TO BE with his family, to hold Noah and Meagan in his arms with the reassurance they were safe. Whatever the townsfolk thought they needed from his son wasn’t going to happen with him around. Leaving Virgil and the library behind, he jumped in his car and sped toward home. He called Megan’s cell, but she didn’t answer. She would often not answer if she was in the tub or otherwise occupied. Still, he called several more times before he pulled into the driveway. He cut the ignition and ran from the car, leaving the headlights on.
He burst through the front door and found himself in an empty house. “What the hell?” he said out loud. “Meagan! Meagan, where are you?” He ran through the living room and toward the kitchen. Empty. He ran to their bedroom and to Noah’s bedroom. He checked every room of the house and found nothing but silence and darkness. “Where could they be?” he said. Panic crept in. It tugged at him to warn him, to scare him. He imagined all those innocent boys killed, and his panic turned to anger. “Damn it, Virgil, where the hell is my family? I swear, if any of you creepy bastards hurt my child, you will pay. All of you!” He stood in the dark living room, the only light coming from a kitchen counter nightlight.
Patrick balled his hands into fists and closed his eyes, trying to think where his family might be. It was late for them to be gone. A rational explanation, like a trip to the grocery store crossed his mind. At least he hoped that’s all it was. He called Meagan again, and still no answer.
He thought for a moment and wondered if he could find her by way of the gps-tracking app they both had on their phones. He opened the app and watched as the little circle went round and round as it looked for her. It didn’t find her. She must have turned it off. He came close to throwing his phone across the room. “Damn!” he said. After talking with Virgil, all he could think about was the cruel thing these people did to their boys. That they believed they’d escaped an evil curse through a sacrifice because of what some crazy man had done a couple hundred years ago was insane. He needed to stop it, even if it didn’t involve his son. What sane person did something like that? The sheer wrongness made him boil with anger. He didn’t know what he’d do when he saw Benny or Meagan’s dad. He didn’t think he’d be able to control himself.
He needed to find his family quickly, if only to assure himself they were fine. He called Benny but the old man didn’t answer. He called Meagan’s parents, and still nothing. He tried the Chief, and like the others, no answer. The voicemail message started, and he gripped his phone tight. Frustration settled in. He had nothing; no idea where his family could be.
The only lead he had was Virgil. There was no other option.
When he reached the front door, he hesitated. He went back and grabbed his pistol out of the gun safe in their bedroom and stuffed it in the back of his pants.
He didn’t remember leaving his headlights on. A figure walked out of the shadows and into the beams. Patrick instinctively drew his gun.
“Who are you? What are you doing here?” he shouted at the shadow-cloaked figure. The person walked slowly toward Patrick with arms up, indicating they were unarmed and wanted no trouble.
“Talk! I asked you a—” Patrick stopped as he recognized him.
It was Virgil.
“What the hell are you doing here, old man? Come for my boy? Well, he’s gone. You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you?” Patrick walked closer to Virgil, stopping only a few feet from him. He noticed the trail of dried blood down Virgil’s chin and the bruise on the old man’s face.
“I’m not here for your boy. I’m here to help.” As he spoke, his words came out as little white puffs of air in the cool night.
“What do you mean, help? Are you trying to fool me, old man?”
“No Patrick, I’m not. I’m done. I can’t be part of this anymore. How can I be so selfish? How can I justify taking an innocent life to save an old soul like mine? It’s not right. It never was. Patrick, I don’t know the answer, but I know the good Lord doesn’t want us to suffer. He’s never actually wanted them to do this.”
“What are you blabbering about? All I care about is my son. Do you know where he is?”
“Abraham,” Virgil said quietly.
“What?” Patrick asked, frustration lacing his words.
“I said Abraham. Do you know the story?” Virgil asked.
“I don’t have time for this. I need to find my son and Meagan.”
“Abraham was asked by God to sacrifice his son. He went through all the motions, and at the last moment, God told him to stop, that he had proved his obedience and to take his son and live. Do you remember that?”
Patrick shook his head, “Yeah, maybe. But who cares? That has nothing to do with my boy!” His arms waved as he spoke, as though he fought with the air around him.
“That has everything to do with him, Patrick. The story goes that Nathaniel Browne was ordered to perform the first sacrifice to appease the curse of the Lord on him, his people, and this land. God never asks us to actually do something like this. Like Abraham, he asks for our obedience. He’s not a God that requires innocent lives. He offered his Son, but he doesn’t require the same of us.”
“Virg, I don’t need an evangelistic sermon right now. Go try that shit on someone else! Or better yet, why not on your own crazy people! I need my son, not this.” He paced back and forth, unsure where to go or how to find Noah and Meagan. “I thought you said the natives had something to do with it?” Patrick asked.
“Well, in a way, yes. Nathaniel recognized they were unbelievers who worshipped the devil. But they didn’t call it that, no sir. They worshipped their ances
tral gods, their ancient deities,” Virgil replied. Patrick turned the gun to the side and Virgil hung his head low.
“So, are you gonna shoot me or something? I probably deserve it, after all I’ve done. But you know it won’t bring back any of those boys and it won’t make it better. You do know that, don’t you?”
Patrick stopped pacing and held a finger to Virgil’s face.
“No, it won’t bring them back, but it will stop you from harming another innocent child!”
Virgil blinked and looked down. “I’m sorry, Patrick. I know this has to be difficult. I deserve nothing less. Let me help you. Let me do what I can to atone.”
“You can start by telling me about my son! Where is he?” His nostrils flared and spittle flew.
“I have a good idea. Tonight was the night of the Decision. That’s why I asked you to the library. I needed to stall you so they could get away.” Patrick raised his fist to strike Virgil. The old man didn’t move. “I’m sorry, Patrick, but I can take you to where they should be. We can try. It’s the best thing we can do at this moment.”
“I swear to God, if this is another stalling tactic so they can hide my son and Meagan, I will gut you. Do you understand me?”
Virgil nodded.
“Patrick,” he said quietly, “this is not a trick. Ever since our last sacrifice, I’ve battled within myself. I’ve been tormented night and day with visions of boys going to their doom. I’ve been reading my Bible and going through all the notes and text about this, and something doesn’t add up.”
