The Forsaken

by Patrick Best

  “By all means,” Margot said. She poured him another glass of wine. “Forgive me for asking,” she said, “but you must be close to retirement now.”

  Jacob nodded and chewed his food.

  “It does seem quite late to be starting again at a new parish,” Henry said, wiping sauce from Stephen’s chin with a napkin.”

  “There were, uh, problems,” Jacob said, “with Father Russell. They thought it best he try somewhere new.”

  “Problems?” Henry said.

  “I don’t know the details,” Jacob said. “Did you know him?”

  “Quite well,” Margot said, “for a time. He grew a little distant for a while, before he left town.”

  Stephen pushed his chair out and walked away.

  “Stephen?” Margot said. “We’re not finished.”

  “It’s OK,” he said, cheerily, and ran up the stairs almost as fast as he came down them.

  Henry shrugged. “We bought him a new video game a few days ago,” he said. “We’re lucky he came down for this long.”

  “Ah, I see,” Jacob said. “Well, computers are the future, I suppose.”

  The faint rumble of machine gun fire began upstairs.

  Margot smiled at Jacob, nervous: “How about another drink, Father?”

  *

  “Are you sure we can’t offer you a ride home?” Henry said. “I’ve only had a couple of beers, so you’re in safe hands.”

  Jacob raised a hand after he pulled on his coat: “That’s very kind of you, but I’d quite enjoy the walk tonight. If it’s not too much trouble, may I use your bathroom before I get going?”

  Walking up the stairs, enjoying the quiet buzz from a few glasses of wine, Jacob took his time and looked at the framed photos decorating the walls. In a dozen or so steps he could see Stephen grow from an infant in his mother’s arms to a young boy, a soccer player holding a plastic trophy above his head and grinning.

  Maybe I’m wrong, Jacob thought. The lack of sleep is driving me crazy. And who remembers their dreams properly anyway? I saw a boy in my dream, but I can’t be sure it was Stephen the whole time.

  He reached the top of the stairs and walked down the hall.

  The human mind is an amazing machine, Jacob thought, but sometimes it does the strangest, stupidest things.

  A light fluttering sound from one of the rooms grabbed his attention. He stopped and put his ear to the door lightly. He jumped back when the fluttering started again louder.

  A bird must’ve got in through an open window, he thought.

  Jacob placed his hand on the door knob and turned. Pushing quietly, the light from the hallway followed his gaze into the room and landed in the corner on a small kneeling figure.

  Stephen looked up, blank-faced. In his hand was a wire coat-hanger bent out of shape.

  “Are you OK in here, Stephen?” Jacob said.

  Stephen’s hands were splattered with blood. On the floor he had laid a block of wood. To the wood was nailed a crow. Its wings were pinned outwards with two bent nails hammered into each. Around the crow’s mouth duct tape had been crudely wrapped. The wire of the coat hanger was buried the crow’s lifeless torso. The hammer lay on the floor between Jacob and Stephen.

  “What- What-“ Jacob stuttered, stepping backwards into the hall. “What are you doing in here?”

  The light from the hallway fell across those blue and green eyes. The eyes were wide, almost confused. Stephen looked down at what he had done, as if waking from a nightmare. He sprung to his feet and tossed the block of wood, crow and all, out of the window. Stephen looked back to Jacob, trembling all over with pure horror in his eyes.

  “I’ll get your mom,” Jacob said.

  “N-n-no,” Stephen said. “Please.”

  They stood in silence, Stephen shaking, Jacob stunned into stupidity.

  *

  Three fitful nights of being tortured and tormented followed. The boy in his dreams was relentless. Jacob was convinced now: it was Stephen. Jacob spent the two days locked in his office, consulting his Bible, offering unanswered prayers, making unanswered calls. The office of the bishop and the archdiocese turned him away. The very mention of Ventura, New Mexico, had them hanging up the phone. It was a troubled parish. When one of the administrators finally spoke to him, only to refuse his visit, they spoke of Father Russell. They had narrowly avoided scandal by banishing Ventura’s former priest and offering a substantial payout to the family of one of the children in town.

  That explains why young people are staying away, Jacob thought.

  The higher-ups wanted no further part of the parish of St. Mary’s, emergency or no.

  On the third day, Jacob left the church. He left his collar behind and pulled on a baseball cap and headed for the school. The boy was wrong, all wrong, and Jacob was beginning to understand how wrong. When he arrived, he bought the local newspaper and sat on a bench opposite the school’s playground. He pretended to read articles about winter fairs and Christmas wonderlands as he waited for recess.

  Stephen looked like anyone else from afar. He played and smiled and ran around excitedly. Jacob watched him closely and tried to force himself to see the evil inside him, but it wouldn’t happen. As hard as Jacob looked, he only ever saw the boy. He never saw what he suspected was inside the boy. Whatever had driven Stephen to violence earlier, it wasn’t showing itself now.

  Stephen was possessed, though. Of that, Jacob was convinced.

  Jacob had no experience of possession or exorcism, but he had found the relevant manuals in the basement of the church. One of them was covered in underlinings and circlings. Someone, maybe Russell, Jacob thought, had been in these books.

  The ritual seemed straightforward, relying only on prayer and repetition. The power came from the Lord, the manual said, not the priest. All the priest need do is ask for help and help would be given. It would be easy.

  Convincing anyone to let him perform the ritual, on the other hand, would be anything but.

  The school bell rang and the children started to file back into the building, abandoning their games for another day. Jacob stood to leave. He glanced back at the playground and spotted a lone figure standing apart from the other children as they rushed back inside.

  Stephen.

  He stood with his face pressed against the wire fence.

  He was staring directly at Jacob.

  Neither Jacob nor Stephen waved.

  Stephen’s mouth moved as if he were speaking, but Jacob couldn’t make out what he was saying. It was a single phrase, repeated over and over. Jacob tried to read what it was.

  A moment later, he got it.

  “Stay. Away. Stay. Away. Stay. Away.”

  At three o’ clock, school let out. Jacob stood in the convenience store opposite and watched through the window. It felt wrong watching the boy, but Jacob trusted his instincts. When Stephen emerged, he was walking side by side with another boy. Jacob walked slowly outside and kept a block behind them. He felt as if he was hunting, like he was back in Vietnam. It made him uneasy.

  The boys talked enthusiastically as they walked towards Main Street.

  Stephen’s friend glanced back and Jacob pretended to check his watch to hide his face while walking casually. He felt like a criminal, but he knew in his heart he was doing the Lord’s work.

  The rail crossing started flashing, its siren sounding. Jacob slowed his pace so as to not catch up with the boys. He thought about what he would say to Stephen’s parents when he followed him all the way back to his home. He needed to speak to them and he wanted him to be there for it. Following him seemed the logical option. He would have the length of the walk to talk himself out of it, to decide if it was worth risking looking like a crazy old man.

  And to look for clues.

  How do you ask for an exorcism without looking crazy? Jacob thought.

  It was a thought that played on a loop in his mind as he hung back and waited for the train to pass, silently willing it to hurry up.


  The boys stood at the side of the rail tracks and chatted.

  How can he look so normal now? Jacob thought. I saw what he was when he killed that bird. I see what he is every night. He’s attacking me while I sleep.

  Jacob heard the train approaching. The increasing noise brought an increase in the intensity of his thoughts.

  How can he look so goddamn normal? he thought. How can nobody else see it?

  Exorcism was the answer, he was convinced. Whatever had manifested in Stephen was powerful and of course wanted to destroy the church. Maybe it was new. Maybe it had been there for years. Maybe there was more to Father Russell’s story. He always maintained his innocence. Even after the church gave him a pass and transferred him away, he still never admitted to anything.

  Jacob slowed right down as the train neared. He was getting too close.

  Stephen looked back over his shoulder and Jacob froze.

  The train got closer.

  Stephen looked right at Jacob. He gave him a friendly smile and a nod.

  Jacob tried to smile and waved pathetically.

  And then Stephen turned back, and pushed his friend into the path of the speeding train.

  Even over the roar of the train, from fifty-some yards away, Jacob heard the crunch of bones as the young boy evaporated into a red cloud under the wheels.

  *

  Jacob didn’t want to sleep.

  If he did, he knew he would see it all over again. And once was too much.

  He drifted in and out as he tried to stay awake, hunched over a Bible with a tumbler of whiskey beside him. He had spent the day at the police station. He told them what he saw, but nobody believed him. Stephen cried and cried. Jacob could hear him wailing as he was being interrogated. He responded to nothing until eventually his parents took him home.

  They couldn’t lock him up.

  There were no other witnesses and Jacob, he told them everything.

  Perhaps I shouldn’t have said anything, Jacob thought. They all think I’m crazy now.

  He gave them everything. The possession theory, the bird, even the nightmares.

  The nightmares…

  Jacob awoke with a scream. He couldn’t remember falling asleep. It was three in the morning and he had drooled on his desk. He rubbed his eyes and thought about going home. He drank what remained in his glass and thought about going to Stephen’s house.

  “You need to go home right now.” That’s what Henry had said when Jacob told him about the demon when he cornered him in the police station.

  “Kids don’t do things like this,” Jacob said. “They don’t tear apart birds and push their friends under trains. Something is wrong with him on a deep, spiritual level. I’m telling you, the boy is possessed.”

  “Listen to yourself!” Henry shouted.

  Jacob walked out of his office. The church was silent but for the echoes of his footsteps. He stopped in front of the altar and looked up at the porcelain Jesus suffering up there on the cross. Jacob reached out and touched Jesus’ feet.

  “What do I do?” he muttered to himself, closing his eyes.

  “Kill him,” came the calm response.

  Jacob opened his eyes and looked up at the Savior.

  Jesus turned his head down and looked at Jacob. “Kill him,” Jesus said again.

  Jacob fell to his knees.

  “The boy is not possessed,” Our Lord said. “He is the Anti-Christ.”

  “I cannot kill a child,” Jacob said.

  “You have done it before,” Jesus said, “as a young man. Can you still smell their burning bodies?”

  Jacob’s eyes filled with tears. Jesus’ face became a snarl.

  “You killed for your government,” he said. “Now, I ask you to kill for your God.”

  *

  The Staigers, like everyone else in Ventura, had no cause to lock their doors. This was a safe town, a good town.

  Maybe that’s why Satan chose to have his child delivered into such a place, Jacob thought.

  He opened the screen door and stopped.

  “Kill for your God.”

  The words echoed in his head.

  Jacob went inside.

  The keys to Henry’s Toyota were hanging on a small hook in the hallway. Jacob took them and put them in his pocket, next to the hunting knife which he removed and took out from its leather sheath.

  Now, Jacob thought, I am hunting.

  A faint blue light shifted in the lounge. The television was on. Moonlight illuminated what he could glimpse of the kitchen as Jacob headed up the stairs, stepping gently, listening closely.

  It was three in the morning, but after today’s events no-one would be sleeping soundly. Jacob took the dirty rag out of his back pocket. He would have to get the boy out quietly. His Lord needed to see the deed done.

  Jacob turned the door knob and with a click it pushed inwards. The light from the hallway stretched across a floor littered with toys. When Jacob saw that Stephen was asleep, his head resting on his arm, he sheathed his knife and tucked it into his belt. Sliding his hand under him, Jacob lifted Stephen easily, still wrapped in his blanket. He was a little too big to carry and Jacob’s arms burned, but he carried him carefully.

  Jacob looked at his sleeping face and had another moment of doubt, but those words bounced back around in his mind: “Kill for your God.”

  Jacob knew what the boy was and he would not be steered from this course of action.

  The stairs creaked more on the way down from the extra weight. Stephen stirred, but did not wake.

  As he reached the front door, Jacob leaned over to push the door outwards. The screen door bounced off it with a slight rattle.

  “Margot?” Henry’s voice came from the lounge. “You awake, honey?”

  Jacob froze. His heart was in his throat. Stephen was getting heavy.

  “Is that you?” Henry called again.

  Jacob heard the creak of the sofa as Henry stood up in the next room. Thinking fast, Jacob grabbed the car keys from his pocket, propping Stephen up with his knee. He clicked the key and the Toyota opened with a clunk and a flash of the hazard lights.

  Jacob walked quickly out of the house.

  “Hey!” came the shout behind him.

  Jacob ignored it and bundled Stephen on the back seat. He woke just as Jacob sat him up. “What’s going on?” he said.

  Jacob shushed him and shut the door. He jumped behind the driver’s seat.

  “Jacob?!” Henry shouted. “Is that you?! What the fuck are you doing?!”

  Jacob locked the doors and started the engine. Henry slammed into the driver’s side door and pulled on the handle and hammered the window. Jacob stared straight ahead.

  “What the fuck is going on?! Jacob!” Henry was frantic. He punched the window and it cracked, leaving a spot of his blood in the fractured glass.

  Jacob hit the accelerator.

  “Daddy!” Stephen called.

  Jacob didn’t look back, not at Stephen nor his father.

  His mind was on the mission.

  This is war, he thought.

  *

  The car stopped outside the church and Stephen was screaming for help.

  Jacob waved the knife at him. “Stop that, devil!” he said, and got out. He came around the side and pulled cable ties from his pocket. “Give me your hands!” he said.

  Jacob bound Stephen’s hands and feet together with the ties and put the boy over his shoulder. He tossed the car keys to the ground and kicked the church doors inwards. Inside, he lay Stephen on the floor.

  “Why are you doing this?” Stephen said, his blue eye and his green eye glazed in tears.

  Jacob barricaded the door with the crossbeam and put his back to it to look around the church. Moonlight shone through the Virgin Mary and the infant Christ onto the floor where Stephen was tried to crawl away with bound hands and feet. He crawled towards Jesus on the cross.

  “You stay!” Jacob shouted, pointing the knife in Steph
en’s direction. “Christ compels you! In the name of our Lord, you will do as you are told!”

  The door suddenly thundered with a loud crash against the other side.

  “Jacob!” Henry shouted. “I know you’re in there!” Henry slammed again into the other side of the door, and shouted, “Give me back my son!”

  Jacob ran after Stephen and picked him up. The floor was heating up beneath their feet. Steam rose from between the cracks. The stench of sulfur crept down into Jacob’s lungs where it burnt him from the inside out.

  “I know what you are!” Jacob said as he lifted Stephen onto the altar. “I know what you are!”

  Stephen was wide-eyed and white with terror.

  “Lie down!” Jacob commanded.

  Tears rolled down Stephen’s face. “What are you doing?!” he screamed.

  “You can’t fool me!” Jacob said. “I’ve seen you. I’ve had to look at your face every night for three months!”

  There was another loud crash against the doors, but they did not move.

  Jacob moved in close to Stephen’s face and looked into his eyes. “One green, one blue,” he said, scowling. “I know you, Satan. The Lord has shown me the way.”

  “What?!” Stephen cried in disbelief.

  Jacob screamed long and loud in the boy’s face: “Satan!”

  Flames began to slip up through the cracks in the floor and as the cracks widened, the walls shook, the windows shattered, and the flames grew tall.

  Jacob looked up and Mary’s eyes met his own. He was taken aback. The window pulsed and then shattered, the fractures radiating outwards from Mary’s eyes. The window imploded and a wave of tiny shards of glass washed over Stephen and Jacob. They screamed at the agony of a thousand razor cuts shredding their skin and the heat of the inferno on the other side of the window. The fires of Hell itself roared outside. The smell of burning flesh was everywhere. Stephen brought his bound hands up to his bleeding eyes and started convulsing on his back on top of the altar. He screamed and screamed.