The Altar

by James Arthur Anderson

  Vickie nodded. “Erik, you haven’t seen Faith around, have you? Did she follow you in?”

  “Ah…no. I don’t think so. I haven’t seen her since this morning. Why?”

  “Well, I let her out this afternoon right after your show and I haven’t seen her since. It’s been at least an hour.”

  “She usually stays out all afternoon, Vic. I wouldn’t worry. Did you call her?”

  “Yeah. That’s what bothered me. Todd wanted to sleep with her so I went outside and looked around and called her. It’s not like her not to come when she’s called. You always say she’s like a dog that way. You don’t think she’s gotten lost, do you?”

  “I don’t think so. Cats are really good about finding their way home. I read an article once that a cat found its way home all the way across the country.”

  “You don’t think she headed back to the old place, do you?”

  “No. She’s probably out exploring. Probably stalking a blue jay or something. Or maybe she’s sleeping in the SUV. You left the windows open, you know.”

  “Oh, I forgot. Did you close them for me? You never know about those late afternoon showers this time of year.”

  “I did. But I didn’t check to see if the cat was inside.”

  “Then she might be out there. I’ll have to check. If she is, I don’t want her taking a dump in the back seat.”

  “I’ll go check,” he said. “I wouldn’t worry about her. She’ll come in when it’s time to eat. And that should be any minute now.”

  Still, as much as he tried to act nonchalant, he had a bad feeling about this.

  3

  The man known as Seti to his followers stepped out of his trailer and breathed the fragrant air of the forest. Soon the sun would be down, he thought, stubbing his cigarette into the ground with his boot. Then his favorite part of the day would begin-the night. Perhaps this would be the night when he’d locate the voice, the presence that had spoken to him, called him from so far away.

  He scratched the smooth, shaved surface of his skull and smiled as, even now, he sensed the presence once again. Yes, he was close, now. Very close. Probably only a few miles away. Probably in these very woods. For the past week he had felt its power as it grew stronger every night.

  The moon would not be full for another week. By then he would have found the presence and the ritual would be complete. He licked his lips in anticipation of the blood that would be shed.

  But there was so much to be done between now and then. Everything must be carefully prepared. And a child must be found. No, an infant, he realized suddenly. That would be best. Rhonda, the dark-haired one, might have her baby before then, but there was no guarantee. Her baby-it was probably his baby, too. As if he gave a shit.

  But tonight he felt good, felt confident. Tonight he would find the power that had drawn him across an entire continent to this desperate forest that hadn’t changed much since the Pilgrims and the Indians.

  He closed his eyes and breathed deeply, in and out, slowly and evenly. Yes. The power was still there. He reached his mind out to it, probing for direction.

  For over a year now he’d sensed its presence, ever since that first dream in June. He shuddered at the memory. So full of pain. Yet so damned intriguing.

  That dream had initiated a chain of events that had resulted in a path of bloodshed that ran through some 15 states and which had made him the High Priest of his very own church. He laughed out loud at the thought of it. “Church” was probably a misnomer for the ragtag collection of followers he had assembled. But they were his followers. All his, and they would follow him wherever he led, even to the death. Even with his eyes closed he could see the half-dozen trailers surrounding him in the campground, each containing one male and one female.

  Yes, they were his. He had fucked them all, both men and women, singly and in groups. Yet deep down inside, he was incomplete, unfinished, and that was what had brought him here to these woods of ancient evil.

  The power touched him again, stronger this time, and more insistent. He fed it images of tortured, bleeding teenage girls, images taken from his fondest memories, from places with strange names like Paradise Valley, Winnebago, and Zoar. And, of course, a place called Wonderland California, where it had all begun.

  Yet the rituals, while gratifying for the moment, had not satisfied him. During each orgy of blood-and orgy of sex that followed-he had been fulfilled. But it hadn’t lasted. The following morning, the emptiness always returned, stronger than ever, leaving him hollow, as if some vital part of him were missing.

  Now, as he felt the presence deep within the forest of Chepachet, Rhode Island, he knew that he was about to discover his destiny. He sighed deeply and opened his eyes. Then, slowly, he walked out of the campground and into the forest.

  — 4-

  Johnny Dovecrest looked up from the page he was reading and frowned. The gray hairs on his arms tingled as he gently closed the book and walked across the room to stare out the window into the darkness. He could see nothing, of course. Yet he could see everything. And he knew that unless he acted soon-within the next few days, at most-he would be powerless to prevent it from happening all over again.

  It might already be too late, he thought, and chided himself for not acting sooner. He had grown too comfortable in his soft, easy life. He had forgotten the lessons he had been taught.

  Rubbing his forehead, he turned away from the window and wondered what to do next. He could feel the nebulous, indistinct forces of evil coming together. One force was powerful, so very powerful. The other was weak, a slave to be used, consumed, and then thrown away. But Dovecrest remembered and he knew just how much damage that slave could inflict before it was stopped.

  Destroying the weaker one would be easy. But it would solve nothing. Now that the evil had been disturbed it wouldn’t rest until it was destroyed again-and destroyed wasn’t even the correct word. Imprisoned, sent back to hell, was probably more accurate, since the thing couldn’t be destroyed. No, destroying the slave would only delay the inevitable. It would just find a replacement. And in the modern world, such hosts were more plentiful than ever.

  It had been much easier in the olden times. He’d had the support and understanding of others, of the tribe and even of the white man. They had worked together. This time he was on his own. Even his own tribesmen no longer believed. It was entirely up to him. Unless he could get help from the new people, the ones whose boy had nearly fallen victim.

  The boy would understand. But what help was a ten-year-old boy? And the parents? He didn’t think so. They’d think he was crazy. Maybe he was after all these years. The boy would be the only one. And Dovecrest didn’t expect him to be much help at all. Better to just leave it alone and do it himself.

  Dovecrest sat back down and looked toward the window, trying to imagine what was happening out there. He knew better than to interfere. It would do no good. And, besides, he couldn’t kill the weaker one, even if it would help. He’d just be arrested and thrown in jail, and that would be that. He would really be useless trying to work from a prison cell. The law was the law, and he’d be the one punished under this warped system of justice.

  No. Better to let tonight happen. Then later, when the time was right, he would strike. He’d need a plan and a time of his own choosing. He was not ready to fight just yet.

  Still, he knew he would get no sleep that night.

  5

  Erik searched the entire yard, the house, the SUV and the car, and even the basement, but Faith was nowhere to be found. He stood at the edge of the woods and looked into the pitch darkness towards the narrow trail that had lured Todd in. He called for the cat, but with no luck. Not even the smell of a freshly baked chicken could tempt her back.

  He could almost hear a voice calling him, beckoning him into the darkness.

  “Erik,” Vickie called from the patio. “You’re not going into the woods to look for that cat are you?”

  “I guess not….
I just can’t imagine where she might be.”

  “Well, you might as well come back inside. There isn’t much we can do tonight. And I wouldn’t even go into those woods alone in the daylight.”

  “Maybe I can get Johnny Dovecrest to help me look for her tomorrow,” he said, turning back toward the house. “I sure hope she’s all right.”

  “So do I,” Vickie said.

  6

  Seti stood beside the huge stone altar and marveled that he could see, even in the dark. He didn’t know how-and he didn’t care-but he did know that this presence, perhaps it was even Satan himself, inhabited this ancient place of blood and sacrifice.

  He had seen this place before in his dreams. And in his nightmares. It was a place of power. A place where miracles could happen.

  Tentatively, he reached his hand out and touched the highly-polished stone. Its surface was ice-cold to the touch and he wondered how many souls had perished on its smooth surface. Then, with a smile, he thought of how he would be adding to its history.

  “Master, I have come,” he whispered. “I have answered your call and have traveled many miles to be with you.”

  And the presence, which had shared his mind all along, seemed to come awake and find him, as if opening its eyes for the first time.

  “Yes, you have,” it said in words that were not sounds, but patterns in his own mind. For a brief instant he wondered if he were going mad and carrying on an internal dialogue in his own brain. The outside world already considered him crazy. That idiot talk show host had actually called him a nut case on the air.

  Then the presence began to show him things, things he could not possibly know, but which were true. He watched and he believed.

  The mental slide show may have lasted for hours, or it may have flashed past in a matter of seconds. He had no way of knowing for sure.

  But now he understood. For the first time in his miserable, tormented life, he truly understood. He accepted this presence as his god. If it were not Satan, it was the closest thing to him. And this master promised him rewards beyond his wildest dreams.

  He dropped to his knees beside the magic stone altar and knew that this was real, that this was a god of power, a god that would take the world for its own, destroying the weak as if stepping on a worm. This god would give pleasure, not deny it. This god would take what it wanted, when it wanted, and he, Seti, would reap the rewards.

  “I will serve you,” he said, still touching the stone. “Show me how.”

  And, as the presence responded with unspoken instructions, Seti realized that his purpose in life was now fulfilled. He had found his home at last, had found meaning in his life. He would feed his next victim to his new god, to bring it strength, to help it resume its place in the world.

  Now that he had met his god, the world would learn to fear his name.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  1

  The next morning, Faith had still not returned, though they had left the patio door open all night, which had let in a swarm of mosquitoes. The bowl of chicken they’d left outside had attracted a horde of ants, but the cat had completely disappeared.

  Erik and Vickie stood on the patio looking into the woods.

  “You remember what Dovecrest said,” she reminded him. “Those woods go on forever.”

  Yeah, he thought. And for some reason he thought there were stranger things going on than either of them could imagine.

  “What do you think happened?” she asked.

  “I don’t know,” he replied. But deep down inside, he had a very bad feeling that the cat would never come back. He was probably jumping to conclusions, but he couldn’t help thinking that Faith was dead.

  “She’s never stayed out all night before,” Vickie said. “Not in all the years we’ve had her.”

  Erik nodded. “How’s Todd taking it?”

  “Not too well. He keeps saying that the stone got her.”

  “I guess I’ll have to have a talk with him,” Erik said, hoping he could finally get to the bottom of this whole thing, once and for all.

  They stood silent, looking off into the woods.

  “Faith will be all right, won’t she? I mean, after all, she’s a cat and cats can pretty much take care of themselves.”

  “From most things.”

  But the nervous edge to his voice betrayed his concern.

  “What do you mean by that?”

  He shrugged and debated about telling her about the devil worshiper that Steve Harvey had told him about. He was jumping to conclusions, though. What would devil worshippers be doing in Chepachet, anyway? It didn’t make any sense.

  “I mean, she can’t protect herself from everything. She’s a house cat, not a tiger. I just hope she hasn’t been hit by a car. But, knowing Faith, she probably stopped at a neighbor’s house for a hand out and decided to stick around.”

  Erik looked back towards the house to where Todd was watching from his bedroom window. The boy waved, almost sadly, and both Erik and his wife waved back.

  “Poor kid,” Vickie said. “He loves that cat. Do you really think someone might have found her and taken her in?”

  “It’s possible,” Erik said, trying to remain positive, despite his bad feeling.

  “Maybe we could make a ‘lost cat’ sign,” she suggested. “We can hang it up in the neighborhood, and I can knock on a few doors with it. Todd’s heartbroken about this. We’ve got to do something.”

  “Yeah, that’s an idea,” he said. “We can try the sign. I can scan a picture of Faith into the computer. And I can hang copies at the plaza down the road, too.”

  Vickie nodded.

  “I really should search the woods,” he said gravely.

  “Maybe you could go see Dovecrest and he’ll go with you. I really don’t want you out there alone. You might get lost. I’m sure he’d go with you if you explained the situation.”

  Erik still wasn’t sure how he felt about involving the Indian, but he nodded anyway.

  “I suppose,” he said. “But let me make one of those posters, first. Then we can copy it.”

  “Why don’t you ask Todd to help you,” his wife suggested. “I think his cold is better and it would do him good to feel useful.”

  “Sure.”

  Then he took one last look into the woods before returning to the house.

  2

  Just as Erik went inside, Johnny Dovecrest was going out. He’d been plagued by bad dreams all night, and even after waking up this morning he couldn’t rid his mind of the terrible feeling of dread that permeated his very soul.

  It was definitely beginning all over again. As if there had ever been a doubt. Only this time, he didn’t know if he had the strength to win.

  He stepped carefully into the woods, expertly making his own trail through the dense undergrowth. The woods hadn’t changed much over the centuries, he thought, as a squirrel scurried up a huge oak tree and peered down at him. The birds chattered to themselves as the early morning sun filtered through the canopy of leaves. It was a peaceful scene of quiet beauty that might have graced a National Geographic cover. But he knew that this forest also held evil and death within its depths.

  The woods grew thicker and darker as he picked his way forward, and before long he felt the unseen presence enter his mind and tentatively look around, like a child exploring an unfamiliar attic. Dovecrest felt the ominous, chill touch of the thing tickling his brain. Then he felt its sudden silent laughter reverberating through his mind, echoing throughout his skull like an ancient bell. It was not sound he experienced, but pure thought.

  “Ah, my old friend,” it said, its caustic thoughts eating into his mind like a powerful acid. “So, you, too have survived. We are two of a kind, you and I. Not really so much different at all.”

  The laughter echoed again.

  “Only this time, you will not survive. You grow weaker, even as I grow stronger.”

  Dovecrest grimaced as he continued to walk forward, and the presence imme
diately sensed his thoughts and knew that the Indian was aware of his own weakness. It seized upon his fear and gripped him tightly until his breath came in spastic gasps. Then, just as suddenly, it let go again, and laughed.

  “Come,” the presence commanded, softly, but with much power. “I have something quite interesting to show you.”

  Dovecrest cleared his mind, breathed deeply and followed the silent command as it took him further into the woods. He tried not to think as he pressed forward, mechanically placing one foot after the other.

  The open field appeared suddenly, virtually out of nowhere and Dovecrest blinked rapidly as he stepped into the brilliant morning sunshine. He stopped and saw the black stone altar waiting for him in the center of the open circle. It was just as he remembered it, formidable and indestructible.

  “Come,” the presence taunted. “See what I have for you.”

  Dovecrest sighed and walked towards the ominous black stone. Yes, something was splattered on the slab, a small figure that had once been alive. He silently prayed that it wasn’t human.

  With relief mixed with revulsion, he realized that the mutilated body belonged to an animal. The black fur was peeled back to expose the organs, which had been strewn out like spaghetti on the altar in a dried pool of blood. Dovecrest studied the body closely and saw that the animal’s heart was missing entirely.

  The Indian swallowed hard as he noticed a flea collar around the animal’s neck. It was a cat. Somebody’s pet. But now all that remained was a pile of moldering meat.

  “A small token of things to come,” the presence said. “You could join with me and save yourself. You would be richly rewarded. You would receive everything, to your heart’s content.”

  Dovecrest refused to answer or show any emotion as he picked up the remains of the animal and cradled them in his arms. He suspected the cat had belonged to the new people, the ones whose boy had also wandered into the woods. He shuddered to think of the fate that had almost met the little boy.