Oblation: A Spine-Tingling Crime Thriller set in Small-Town California, page 26
And just as I had hoped, Chip started the fire, and it was hot and ready for the sacrifice. Getting him away from the house and the shop had proved to be so easy. Just paid a street bum in town to make the phone call on a burner phone. Ditched the phone that day, and a couple of days later, the bum. No one ever noticed that either was missing.
Getting the kids off the bus was easier than I thought as well. The driver recognized my truck, and Ms. Nancy stepped right off the bus to greet me. I swear she could have walked right into the bullet; she made it so easy. Then an easy chest shot and the removal of the children from the bus. Too easy. Everything worked exactly as I had planned it. As I picked each child up, I injected them with a sedative to make them more compliant. I did not want them sleeping like the children during the first sacrifice. I wanted them to know the honor they were receiving. I wanted them to see the God whom they were honoring. After getting them into the cab of my pickup, I drove back to my house and hid them in the basement. Then I sat patiently on my front porch, rocking in an old chair, waiting for the sound of the sirens. After what I considered a suitable amount of time, I followed the sounds and drove back down the road to the “scene of the crime.” Just the curious neighbor wondering what all the hubbub was about. I played the role of the comforting younger brother trying to make sense of such a violent scene and my missing niece. When I offered to stay at the house and monitor the phone, everyone thought I was just being helpful. I took the truck back to my house, loaded the kids into the bed, and covered them with a tarp out of sight. I headed back to Chip and Meredith’s place. Even met a sheriff’s vehicle as I was coming back up the road and exchanged a friendly wave.
I drove directly to the workshop, taking the kids one by one out of the back of the pickup and carrying them into the shop. My niece, Michelle, was first. I knew she would be the most difficult to sacrifice. But I also knew Moloch would approve of me doing my most precious first. She cried and screamed. I cried too, but I did it. She slid effortlessly down the metal doorway and into the coals. She screamed when I laid her against the hot metal door. Bits of burnt skin clung to the hot door like chicken stuck to a grill, but her suffering was short. I watched her. I didn’t want her to feel alone. She needed to know that I approved of what was happening and that it was for the greater good.
After her, the rest were easier. I didn’t watch them. I did remember to say a short prayer of offering before placing each of them on the open door. I had forgotten the prayer with Michelle. I prayed that Moloch would intervene. Bring our world back to where it needed to be. I prayed with each child. And with each sacrifice, I felt the power of Moloch grow stronger in me and around me.
After an hour, my shirt was wet with sweat from the heat that filled the shop. The air smelt of burning flesh. There was no escaping it. It was a smell I knew I would grow to love because it smelled of life and death at the same time. Life, death, and power.
During the first sacrifice, I was not able to enjoy this smell. I did not realize how powerful the fire would be inside the house. We had to get out or face death. Another mistake is not being fully present to the experience of the sacrifice. Moloch wants his followers to be devoured by his desires as well. Our full will has to be present and open to Moloch. We need to watch that which is precious to us being consumed by our God.
Also, during the first sacrifice, Chip showed up completely out of the blue. He wanted to surprise me, but it limited any possibility that I might fully enjoy the fire and the sacrifice. Chip required my attention, so Josh, Chip, and I spent the next few hours drinking with the fire as a backdrop. What I initially thought was interference, I now realize was all part of Moloch’s greater plan. Moloch was in charge. I, and everybody else, were just willing and unwilling participants.
For example, the unfortunate deaths of Chip and Meredith. I did not plan it, and I did not want it. But it ended up for the best, and I believe Moloch desired it. Their deaths removed any suspicion from me. I was free to continue with my offerings. Moloch continues to be fed. Chip and Meredith were simply collateral damage in the war between a God who desired to be brought back into the world and the passive Jehovah. But Chip and Meredith would not have had to die had that sheriff from Alturas stayed away from Sophia.
A few days after the sacrifices, I drove into Sophia looking for Max Dillon. I wanted to pick his brain about the ongoing search and investigation just to make sure I hadn’t made any mistakes that might turn the investigation in my direction. I saw Sheriff Tarpley walking toward Uma’s with two other people. She is taller than most and walks with a confidence that draws the eye to her, making her a hard woman to miss. Though I had never met her, I had seen her in Modoc County, so I did not need to ask anyone why a sheriff from California was in West Virginia. I knew I was the reason she had come.
Tarpley deserves credit for making the connection between the two sacrifices so quickly. That was something I never expected. One more person I underestimated. I realized then that I needed to be more careful. Whatever my future plans, I needed to execute them with the knowledge that people were going to try to stop me. That people may start making connections. Of course, I knew this before, and I felt like I was being careful, but the presence of Tarpley so quickly after the second sacrifice was a warning from Moloch: “Take care. Do not risk what we have begun.”
Chip told me what Meredith was saying in the hospital about how she knew that something like this would happen. It would only be a matter of time before her connection to Alturas would come out, especially with Tarpley snooping around. Then they would talk with her, which would lead directly to me. I knew what had to be done. She would have to die along with my brother. But how?
The two of them were happy in their marriage, and I did not begrudge my brother for stealing Meredith from me. Her scruples wore on my nerves. Even after we moved from California, she would sit in her chair across the living room, crying about the children. I wanted to shout at her that it was for the greater good, but I couldn’t figure out how to tell her without revealing what I had done.
I couldn’t comfort her the way she needed to be comforted, so she turned to the next closest person, Chip. At the time, we were living with Chip in our parents’ old house because I hadn’t found a place of my own. Meredith and Chip started spending more and more time together. Chip had always been the caregiver, so it was as natural for him as it was for her. They would go for long walks, and I could tell she was turning a corner. I appreciated it because it gave me some relief from her sobbing and whining. Eventually, we both realized that we were finished. She moved into one of the spare bedrooms, and I started planning what to do next.
One day Chip asked if it was okay for him to ask Meredith out on a date. I didn’t care; we were done. She had served Moloch’s purpose, and both of us had moved on. Little did I realize that while I may have been finished with her, Moloch was not. She still had a role to play in his greater plan. After dating for a year, they got married. By that time, I had moved out of the house and rented a place down the road. It was the perfect location. Its property abutted the side of my parents’, and I carved a small path between my house, their house, and the shop.
Chip had an idea about starting a blacksmith shop where he could use his metalworking skills. Typical for him, he spent months reading, researching, and visiting other blacksmiths. I saw an opportunity and decided to join him in the venture. A good strong fire is part of blacksmithing, and I knew Moloch had put the idea into Chip’s head. I simply needed to wait until it became clear to me what Moloch’s plan was.
It came to me when we visited a blacksmith close to Gettysburg whose specialty was recreating vintage hardware for wagons, guns, and joiners for old timbers. He talked about using indirect heat from a fire built below the actual firebox to heat the coals inside the box where the iron was placed. He showed us his setup with a hot coal fire below and above this, the actual firebox where other coals were placed for more direct heat. He explained that the heat was more evenly distributed, and he could control the softening of the metal better. It did cost a little more because he had two fires going, but by making a better product, he could charge more and make up the difference. I recognized Moloch’s hand in this idea immediately. I knew what I needed to do. It was easy to convince Chip that this would be a better setup for the shop than the usual direct-fire method.
I drew up the design for the shop with the fire pit below the firebox fed by a door that acted as a metal chute. It was to be built completely out of brick, and I designed the top to look like Moloch’s open mouth facing skyward. I convinced Chip about the placement of the baghouse, which allowed me to create a type of head at the top of the chimney. I even suggested to Chip the idea for the decorative beams, which formed the arms of Moloch that stretched up and out toward the sky. A subtle suggestion here and another there, and pretty soon Chip believed the shop needed two beams. I carved images of ancient gods into the beams. Not to honor them but to show that they were all part of, and subservient to, Moloch. I even represented the god of the Christians and the Jews in the form of the Ark of the Covenant—the box in which they hid their god. Moloch could not be contained in a box. Moloch was found in fire and consumed all and everyone he came in contact with. Even the temple to their impotent god was consumed by fire.
The shop and the sacrifice worked perfectly until the group from California showed up. After seeing them in Sophia, I returned home before making my way through the woods to Chip’s. I hunkered down and watched them drive to the site where the bus had been stopped at the Pritchetts’ driveway. I watched as they came to Chip’s house and then to the shop. I stealthily made my way to the side of the shop and listened to their conversation. As they talked to Chip, I could tell he was starting to make connections. He essentially figured it out before they did. His anger revealed more to me than to them. He could not conceive that I could possibly have offered the children up in his blacksmith shop. He believed the children were alive. After they left, he called and left me a message saying he was going to get Meredith and wanted to meet with me when they returned to the house later that night. I was not sure how to deal with the situation, but I believed Moloch would provide a plan in his own time. I called Chip back and told him I could meet him in the shop later because I had some of the wooden handles he needed for his knives. I simply needed to wait and trust in Moloch.
Later that afternoon, Moloch graced me with an idea. Chip had given Meredith a pistol the year before as a present. But she never used it, and it was stored in the hall closet just inside the front door. I had even used the pistol to kill the bus driver and Ms. Nancy to keep suspicion from coming my way. I saw no reason why I couldn’t use it again. A murder-suicide would be the perfect cover. The distraught couple who couldn’t live with what they had done. All I had to do was make it look good, and every domino would fall into place. While Chip was in town picking up Meredith, I walked to their house through the woods, retrieved the pistol from the front closet, and walked down to the shop to wait.
I waited in the shop next to a table with my knife handles displayed across the top of it on an off-white, dirty canvas. Everything looked just like it always did. If my plan was going to work, I needed there to be no suspicion on Chip’s part that I knew something was wrong.
I hid the pistol under the canvas within easy reach. I knew what I wanted to do, but I needed their cooperation, or nothing would work out. If either Chip or Meredith had a gun, my plan could fail. If they did not come down together, the plan could fail. I had to have faith in Moloch.
I waited for what seemed like an hour for them to come down to the shop after hearing the truck arrive back at the house. Every few minutes, I would glance around the corner of the shop, hoping to see the headlights of the Gator coming down the path. Finally, I heard them approaching. They came walking down the path together. I could hear their conversation as they strolled down the path to the shop. They were not even trying to surprise me like I thought they might. It all seemed so normal. The normality took me aback and made me uncomfortable. Were they trying to trick me somehow by making it seem ordinary, or were they really clueless as to what was happening?
I stood behind the table with the knife handles and the gun and just waited. In my hand, I held a small whittling knife along with an unfinished handle with the intricate design of an angel rising to heaven. I realized how ironic that was as I remembered my sweet niece now resting in the bosom of Moloch. As they came around the corner of the shop, I looked up as if caught off guard. “Oh, hi. I didn’t hear you guys.” I put the knife and the handle down and walked over to Meredith, and kissed her on the cheek. “How are you feeling? I wish there was something I could do to help find Michelle. I’m heartbroken and have just buried myself in my work, trying to cope.” I tried to sound sincere, but the words rang hollow in my head.
“Thanks,” she said, giving me a look that I couldn’t read. “I still have hope.”
She walked over to the table with the handles and picked up the one I was just working on. Could she see the outline of the gun under the tarp? I saw it clearly, and I hoped it was only my paranoia making it appear so obvious. Examining the unfinished carving, she continued, “Very nice. An angel. Just like our little Michelle.” Tears started to fall down her cheeks.
I stepped forward to comfort her, but Chip quickly bypassed me and enfolded Meredith protectively in his large arms. Seeing his muscular biceps wrapped around Meredith’s small body reminded me of how dangerous this game was. Chip was quick as well as strong. Any hesitation on my part could result in my own failure. I needed to act quickly and decisively. But I still didn’t have a solid plan. I had the gun, and I knew what I wanted the endgame to be, but how to get from where I was to where I wanted to be?
As if the situation was being manipulated by another force, Chip walked Meredith away from the table and over to the front of the firebox. They held each other there and stared into the fire. I filled the vacant spot left by them, sliding my hand under the tarp and pulling the gun out but keeping it out of sight behind my back.
“It’s amazing,” Chip said, not turning around to look at me, “how the same thing that happened in California happened here.”
And so the game begins. I decided to play stupid. “What thing?”
“I think you know,” he responded flatly. “The abduction of the children in Alturas, California. The taking of the children here. Both times five children. Both times off school buses.” He sounded so calm that I began wondering if I missed anything. Does he have a gun? What is his endgame? He finally turned toward me. His face wet with tears, yet his tone prayerful. “We just want our little angel back. Just give us Michelle. You can leave then. We won’t tell anyone. Just give us Michelle.”
If I could have given her back, I might have done it. His plea was so heartfelt and direct that I don’t think anyone, or any deity, could have refused this father’s petition. I had two choices: continue to play stupid or come clean.
“I can’t do that, Chip.”
“What do you mean, you can’t?”
“I mean, I can’t.” I felt one lone tear make its way across my cheek and settle at the corner of my mouth. I pulled the gun out from behind my back and pointed it at the two of them. Meredith must have felt Chip stiffen because she turned from the fire and saw the gun.
She was surprisingly calm. “So, she’s already dead.” Not a question but a statement of resignation.
“Yes,” I said, looking down slightly but not taking my eyes off them. The tear that had been hanging at the corner of my mouth fell to the concrete floor.
“Why?” was her only response.
“I can’t tell you, but it is for the greater good.”
“The greater good,” she shouted, suddenly angry and taking a step toward me. “What greater good can be served by the death of our two-year-old little girl and four other children?”
I raised the gun slightly, and she stopped her advance. Chip was taken aback by the gun pointing at Meredith and leaned back against the table next to him. His hand coming to rest on a long metal spike that we used to move the coals around inside the firebox, and his fingers curled around it. He picked up the heavy spike easily and looked like he was about to impale me with it. I knew he was quicker than me. I didn’t want to give him the chance. “Drop it. I don’t want to shoot you, but I will.”
Rather than dropping it, he tossed the pole slightly into the air, flipped his hand over, and caught it in a perfect throwing motion. He wanted to release it in my direction, but something stopped him, and I got an idea. “I can tell you why and what happened, but I need you to put down the shaft.”
He hesitated, then Meredith gave him a soft plea and touched his arm. “Chip, I need to know. Please put it down.”
Looking over at Meredith, he knelt down and placed the long pole on the floor. I motioned for him to stand up. He straightened and took a step back, away from the metal rod.
“Okay,” I said, now that I had a plan. “Turn around and face the fire pit.”
They hesitated but eventually turned. I walked over and motioned for Meredith to get down on her knees. Then I told Chip to kneel down directly behind her. I was surprised by how easily they both complied. With both kneeling one behind the other, I took a seat on a small workbench about six feet away and to their right. I promised them an explanation, and they deserved one.
