The Altar. James Arthur Anderson
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 immediately 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.
“So be it,” the presence said in his mind, almost regretfully. “Then we will meet in hell.”
He did not realize how prophetic that statement would be at the time.
Dovecrest couldn’t bring the cat back to life, but he couldn’t leave it on the altar either. He’d best return the body to the owners and fabricate some explanation. He certainly didn’t want them out there searching for their pet, and he knew that was exactly what would happen if the