Читать книгу The Altar - James Arthur Anderson - Страница 12

CHAPTER SIX

-1-

Todd lay in his bed, staring absently at the life-sized poster of his wrestling hero, The Rock, which hung on the wall beside his bed. The poster had always given him strength in the past. But now, looking at The Rock made him feel small and weak. He didn’t think that his fear would go away even if his hero suddenly appeared before him in person.

He had tried to understand what had happened to him. He had rolled it all around in his head, every way that he could, but it still didn’t make any sense. He had tried to believe his Mom and Dad, had tried so very hard to accept the horror as a dream, a product of his imagination, the darkness, and the moonlight.

But in his heart, he couldn’t believe. He knew it had all been real. Hauntingly, terribly real. He hadn’t imagined the polished stone. And he hadn’t imagined the blood.

He could still see the terrible place whenever he closed his eyes. The sight of the awful black stone was permanently engraved into his mind. His fingers still tingled with the remembered cold, then heat of its touch. He shivered involuntarily at the thought and pulled the blankets up around his neck. Yet they did nothing to stop the cold, which chilled him to the very marrow of his bones.

He looked into the Rock’s eyes, seeking an answer. But the poster stared past him as if he were not even there. It would offer no help.

No, he was alone on this one. And Mom and Dad would be no help. They still thought his imagination was running wild. He remembered how his Mom had taken his temperature and started feeding him pills, as if that would do any good.

It had been real. The blood had been real. And his geologist’s hammer was broken—that was real. His Uncle Mike had taught him a lot about rocks and had told him that hammer wouldn’t break. He’d been able to chip quartz with that hammer. And quartz was harder than almost anything, except diamond, he remembered. The hammer hadn’t broken by itself.

Then he thought about the Indian, Dovecrest. Maybe he would understand.

Todd couldn’t remember the Indian actually finding him in the woods, but he sensed that somehow, Dovecrest knew. Yet despite being rescued by the strange man, the thought of speaking to him was almost as frightening as the black rock itself.

Loneliness suddenly consumed him and he shivered harder. He wished Faith were here to console him. Scratching her ears and listening to her purr always made him feel better.

“Mom!” he shouted. “Mom!”

Having a fever definitely had its advantages. His mother immediately hurried up the stairs to tend to him. She entered his room and he noticed that she walked funny now. It was because of the baby growing inside of her, and he suddenly felt bad about making her hurry.

“What is it, Todd?”

“I’m cold. And I need Faith.”

“Oh, I put Faith out about an hour ago. She was scratching at the door. She should be back soon, though.

“Oh,” he said, disappointed. Then a sudden chill ran up his spine as he thought of what might be lurking outside.

“Can I bring you some chocolate milk?” his mother asked.

“I guess so. But I really wanted Faith to sleep with me.”

“I’ll bring her up as soon as she comes in.”

“Thanks, Mom.”

His mother leaned over and hugged him, and it was good. Even though he was a big boy now, too big for such things, he hugged her back as tightly as he could.

-2-

“Well, Erik said, placing the bag of groceries on the table. “How did I do on my world-wide radio debut?”

“Just great,” she said, hugging him. “You did fine. I even missed my favorite soap opera for you,” she teased.

“That was very nice of you. But, really? Did I sound ok?”

“You sure did. I taped the show so you can listen to it for yourself.”

“Great. Than I can hear me embarrass myself on the radio. Now that everyone else has heard.”

Vickie laughed. “But seriously. Even I didn’t realize you know so much about old movies.”

“Just bad ones,” he replied. “I had a warped childhood.”

“That explains a lot of things.”

They both laughed.

“How is Todd? Is he any better?”

“He’ll be all right. It’s just a cold. And he had a scare. He’ll be fine.”

“What’s he doing now?”

“He fell asleep.”

“Not from listening to me on the radio, I hope.”

“No. He listened to a little. I don’t know how much he understood, because we don’t let him watch horror movies,” she teased.

He laughed. “The kid must have a bad cold. It’s not like him to sleep during the day. We’ve got enough trouble getting him to sleep at night.”

“He hasn’t slept much since we moved in. But I’ve been giving him cold medicine. That makes you sleepy.”

“I know. Let him sleep.”

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.