The Final Sacrifice

By Patrick C. Van Slyke

Nick Davis has been betrayed by God, his friend and now his country. In prison he becomes hard and no longer cares about the fate of mankind. Let them rot. From now on he is in it for himself.

His lover, Jennifer, however has different plans. Along with an unexpected ally they help Nick escape from prison and lead him to the final battle.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Patrick C. Van Slyke
• Release date: Jun 2, 2014
• ISBN: 9781311384539

Patrick C. Van Slyke

Patrick Van Slyke grew up in the shadows of the Big Horn Mountains in the small town of Sheridan Wyoming. An avid reader, as a child he was drawn to fantasy and science fiction. He attended the University of Wyoming and it was here that his love of Horror began. Patrick now lives in sunny southern California with his daughter and fiancé. His day job is owner of Assisted Living Placements, helping seniors find assisted living. He hopes to one day support his family solely as an author. To that end, Patrick has published numerous short stories and has finished the Forsaken Trilogy. This 300,000 word work is set in Patrick’s home town and tells the tale of a teenager on the brink of manhood who learns that the barrier between the living and the dead has begun to collapse, forcing him into a conflict that could lead to insanity, death, or the betrayal of everything he holds dear. Recently Patrick is working a new science fiction horror novel, The Quantum Gate.

Book preview

THE FINAL SACRIFICE

by Patrick Van Slyke

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2013 Patrick Van Slyke

Copyright 2013 Coat of Arms Publishing

First Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return it to smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

www.pcvanslyke.com

For my creator and for my mom, the sweetest person I ever met.

CHAPTER 1

Everything was stark, harsh and bright with sharp edges. That was unexpected. He had always figured that prisons were, wet, cold, rat filled hell holes. It was no comfort to find that they were clean, cold, sterile hell holes. That didn’t help. It also didn’t help that, as far as he knew, he was the youngest prisoner here. That made him a mark, a big mark and they hadn’t sugar coated it one bit at his intake. The only thing he had going for him was reputation. He had a hell of a reputation. That should count for something.

In 1980 the new Wyoming State Penitentiary was opened with the first inmates placed in C Block. The original housing capacity was 550 inmates. In 1983 the West Tower was constructed and put into operation. In 1984 the East Tower was added to the perimeter security of the facility. Now, after years in operation, the place still looked new. The prison was over capacity, he had been told, but no one cared.

The hardest part to get used to was people treating you like a pariah. Oh sure, his parents and friends, those left anyway, still cared about him, but they were three hundred miles away, in Sheridan.

In prison, the inmates were number, no better than animals. Nick got the distinct feeling that all the staff felt it would be just fine if he would hurry up and die. He hated to disappoint but he had a feeling that wasn’t going to happen, not to him, not yet. And the fact that nobody cared about him didn’t bother him much. So what? So what if he got beaten and raped? The prison and its occupants did not scare him at all. He had seen hell first hand. This was going to be a walk in the park.

Nick Davis, barked one of the grey uniformed guards. He was standing on a red strip of tape that had been stuck to the cement floor, along with ten or twelve other men. They all wore prison orange pants and scrub, numbers on front and back. Nick wondered how long it had been since they had worn the black and white strips, like in the old movies. Probably a long time he thought, not really caring.

They were all new residents of the Wyoming State Penitentiary in Rawlins, in the County of Carbon. They were finishing up intake and about to join the population. Nick had lived in Wyoming all his life, and yet this was his first time to Rawlins, not that he would be seeing much of the town. They had all been convicted of crimes, and they all wore orange. But that was where the similarities ended. The others, to a man, were career criminals. In their thirties and forties, cover with tattoos, their faces scared by years of hard living. Nick did not look like he belonged. He looked young and innocent compared to the other. Except for the eyes. His eyes were hard like flint. His eyes looked like he was right where he belonged. They were the eyes of a criminal.

Pick up your shit. Follow me, barked the guard who had called him. After more than a year in the system, the routine had become automatic to Nick. Do what your told and don’t ask questions. Didn’t matter where you were locked up, they were all the same.

Nick stepped up to the metal table, grabbed the pile of bedding and incidentals and then fell in behind him. Another guard brought up the rear. A steel grey door brought them out of the administration building into a yard of concrete and snow. Now the cold could really be felt and Nick shivered in spite of himself. He was led quickly through the yard to another steel grey door, opening into a long sterile hallway where every corner shown in harsh detail by florescent lights. The hall went on for quite a way. They walked in silence, only the sound of the guards’ boots echoing up and down the hall.

After a lifetime, they came to a circular multipurpose room where convicts sat around and guards watched them. Eyes followed them without a break in the conversations as Nick was lead to corridor on the right side of the room. Just new meat.

This is your block, North Block C, you are in cell 220. That is second level, at the end, right by the observation center. There are exits and stairs but it doesn’t matter if you know them or not. You will not be moving around anywhere on your own, the front guard spouted without looking.

They started up some metal stairs that rang as they mounted, and then began down a long grate catwalk toward the end cells. You could see through the grate to the ground floor. Tattooed arms rested on cell door bars, and convicts watched Nick walk by.

At the end they came to his cell. It looked like he expected. One steel bed, mounted to the wall, thin mattress rolled up, revealing stains, a sink, a toilet, half hidden behind the bunk, and a shelf. That was it.

Open 222, the guard barked into his radio. There was a loud buzz and the metal door slid open with a crash.

In ya go, barked the guard. As Nick passed into the cell, the guard gave him a powerful shove. Nick was caught off guard and flew into the cell, just catching himself on the metal shelf before he hit the floor.

Watch yerself, asshole. The guard chuckled. Close 222, he barked again and the door slid shut. Nick looked back and began to pick up his bedding.

You see that? The guard asked, pointing to the name tag sewn on uniform. It said HIGGINS. Not waiting for a response Higgins continued. Memorize that name, asshole. That’s the name of God now. This is my ward. You do what I say and your stay will be okay. Fuck around, and you will wish you were dead.

Nick looked into the officer’s eyes and could see that he was telling the truth. He had lifeless grey eyes, stubble that looked tougher than sand paper and fists like hams. He made a great guard, big and mean. He smiled coldly at Nick and stomped off. The guard that had been behind Nick now approached the bars. He had the same uniform and crew cut, even the same build, but his face was different.

You see that? he mimicked, pointing at his name tag. It read BAILY. He continued with a slight smile on his face. Look, keep your nose clean, it is as simple as that. Find yourself some friends, fast. Otherwise you will be picked off. I’m serious. Strength in numbers. Be cool, don’t talk shit, and don’t make enemies, right? Do as your told, don’t waste time with questions. Get yourself a job, quick, to make the time go faster.

He looked at Nick almost with concern. Look, I know a guy. He owes me. I’ll ask him to keep an eye on you. He goes by ‘Turkey’. He can help you get settled. I’m not going to lie to you. You are what they call fresh meat, and you are the freshest I have ever seen around here, so you are going to have to be careful. You’re a mark, see? If you get in trouble, get a guard if you can. Most of us are okay, it’s just a job. We don’t want anyone to get hurt.

What about Higgins? Nick asked in a hoarse voice. Nick had not been doing a lot of speaking, lately.

You see what he is, and he has a gang of guards and convicts that work for him, you know? They are the same. They don’t care about nothing but power. Just try to stay out of their way. You learn to recognize them pretty quick.

Nick knew enough to know that Bailey was giving him some valuable advice. Thank you. He said, looking the guard in the eyes.

De nada. Listen, everyone knows about you, so that will help in ways and might hurt in others. The point is, I know they are pushing an appeal for you, and from what I hear, chances are good, course what the hell do I know? The point is, stay out of trouble until they spring you. It can be done.

I will. I’ll try. Thanks again, said Nick, almost with feeling.

Look, Davis. Everybody knows you were railroaded. Just stay cool and you will be okay. With a last grin, Officer Bailey was gone.

Slowly, Nick began to make is bunk. When he finished, he looked out the tiny window into desolation. The Wyoming pen was is the middle of nowhere. Rollins was in the middle of nowhere. In fact, Rollins was dead center in middle of a prairie basin, pretty much dead center middle of Wyoming, the least occupied state in the union. Nick’s window looked out into serious remoteness. Nobody was going to walk away from this prison. It was cold out there, barren. It reminded Nick of how he felt.

Nick figured it was about eleven or maybe noon. He had been bussed in from the district court earlier that day. His sentence had been read that very morning, in Cheyenne. His mother had cried. A lot of people had cried. Life in prison for two murders, he had been lucky to avoid the death penalty. That is what he was told anyway, but Nick knew that was bull. He was not lucky. Luck had nothing to do with it.

Nick lay down on the hard cot. How long had it been since he was a normal kid? What month was it again, December, January? He had been a junior in High School when he realized that hell and demons were not just made up to scare kids into being good. That crap was all too real. That was the start of a downhill slide that lasted for about six months. Then nothing, seemed like it was all over. The following October the shit had hit the fan again, and this time it had been fast and violent. But unlike the first time, things did not go back to the way they had been. It looked like they were going to, but they didn’t. That had been a little over a year ago.

No, it must be December, he figured. He guessed he should probably know. But after over a year in county jail, waiting for trial, he had given up caring what day it was. Their lawyer had told him that the state needed a scapegoat, and he was elected. Wrong place at the wrong time. Boy, they didn’t know how right they were. Wrong place, wrong time, over and over again.

Yeah, it was December. He remembered now, convicted on a Friday, sentence on Monday and here he was. That meant he was still eighteen years old. He would be nineteen in about thirty days, he figured. Sixteen seemed like a lifetime ago. He had been so naïve, but it wasn’t just him, everyone was naïve, everyone. And most of them still were. But Nick knew, yes, he knew for sure.

He knew that God was no longer on his side, or mankind’s for that matter. God was gone, he had left the building. And in that void, all kind of hellish fiends had started fighting over the world, and Nick was stuck right in the middle of it. Oh sure, at first he didn’t believe it, for a while he thought he was going crazy, then maybe it was drugs, then maybe it was just some ghosts. But it wasn’t and he didn’t try to fool himself anymore. God was gone, hell was real, and mankind was going to be enslaved, it was only a matter of time. So then the question had been where Nick’s allegiance laid. Due to some crap about how slowly the protective barrier between life and death was falling, Nick could be used to help bring demons over before the others could arrive. Apparently that meant a lot to these assholes because they had fought over him for over a year. They told him that in return they would spare Nick and his family and they would even make him a Lord over men.

And so now he was back to allegiance. If God was gone, where did Nick’s allegiance lay? If it was with mankind, was he just supposed to sit back and take it with everyone else? If his only allegiance was to himself, well, then no question either. And so Nick had been ready to make that decision. He thought he had made up his mind in October. God was a coward and most people were self-centered creeps. Save himself, friends (what little were left) and his family, and say sayonara to the rest. They were going to get what they had coming as far as he was concerned.

But in the eleventh hour he had vacillated. Jennifer told him that she wouldn’t be a part of deal with the demons. She had been very compelling. And so, Nick had followed his conscience and fought, and, for the most part, won. Right. Well he thought he had won.

Things started to get back to normal, and Nick’s relationship with Jennifer quickly began to heat up. They had begun talking about college plans together, when Nick was betrayed on the final front. He had been betrayed by God, by his friends and now he was betrayed my mankind as a whole. A scapegoat? People should have been showering him with riches and praise. Well, at least some thank you’s, but that was not what happened. Instead investigators came to his home, cuffed him in front of Jennifer and his mom and drug him away. And now here he was, locked in his six foot by eight foot world.

Well, Nick blamed it all on God, with mankind coming in a close second. Allegiance? Only to himself from now on, the way it should have been from the beginning. They thought he was going to stay in here for life? Or until his appeal? They were mistaken. The end was still coming, nothing had changed, and it was coming soon. He was going to cut a deal, do what he was told, and save his family, Jennifer, and maybe a few more people, if they were lucky. Everybody else, including God, could, well…they could all go to hell. If he still felt the way he did now, maybe he might even dance on some graves. Probably not, that was going a bit too far, and Jennifer wouldn’t like it.

An ear-wrenching buzz brought Nick to his feet. He heard commotion from all around. Walking up to the bars Nick could see the convicts on the other side of the ward, standing up and waiting by their doors.

A crack just above his hands resting on the door bars made him jump in spite of himself. A guard had approached him from the station next to his cell and smacked the bars with his club. Stand back. The doors are automatic. Get your hands chopped of that way. He was an older guard, must have been around fifty or so. He didn’t look mad or sympathetic. He looked tired. A bit overweight, short, thinning hair (what could be seen under his cap) and watery eyes. Nick saw his name was Campus. Weird name.

Thanks, Nick muttered as he stepped back.

Campus gave him a second look, his eyes a bit more lively. Welcome.

The doors slammed open with a deafening crash and Nick saw all the convicts come out and stand in front of their doors. Nick did the same. He looked at Campus.

Lunch time. He said, pointing down to Nicks right with his club. Everyone had turned to the right. Nick followed suit. The convict ahead of him was small, his head is shaved and he very tan or maybe Mexican or Native American. He turned to take a quick look at Nick. Yeah, he was Native American. He had some really thick glasses on.

After a few moments the line began to move, Nick along with it. The noise was intense. Hundreds of shoes stomping on the steel grates and walkways. Prison was a loud place, Nick was beginning to find. He found, to his surprise, that Higgins had been right. He didn’t pay attention at all to the where they were going, he just follows the Indians back. He heard something odd and realized that the Indian was talking to him, very quietly, without turning his head.

Pssst, Davis, he hissed. Did everyone know his name? You in big trouble, boy. I heard some bad talk. Some of the boys saying you killed a kid. That aint no good.

Shut up, Two Feathers. The guard behind him said without any real interest.

It only shut Two Feathers up for a bit. Listen, I know you. I knew you was coming here. You got to be careful. Some round here like to pay games with child killers. Nick just kept walking.

He knew what the Indian was talking about. It was beginning to look like most everyone knew what had happened. Aaron Hamilton was an eight year old kid from Sheridan. The DA had proven beyond a shadow of a doubt that Nick had kidnapped Aaron and beaten him to death. Poor little kid.

Nick had known him, not as a child, but after his body had been taken. His name had been Aaron Hamilton but that was not the name that Nick knew him by. The spirit that had inhabited the dead child’s body called itself Pestal. It said that stood opposed to the others, and in the end, it had lived up to those words. It probably had saved Nick’s life. His companion, a creature called the Tar Fel, had told Nick that his job was not finished. Nick felt uneasy when he thought of Pestal and the Tar Fel. They had been so terrified of their path, and yet had walked it with dignity. They could have stayed with the demons, but they chose to do what they felt was right, regardless of the consequences. Nick thought that Father Marco would probably have called them noble.

Maybe so. Nick thought it more likely that they were deluded. He had felt like them once, but no longer. He would not fight for others when they would not fight for him.

They came to the mess hall and again, Nick was, again, struck by the noise, harsh, ringing noise. Metal trays, tables, chairs, everything metal, except for the utensils, of course. One by one the convicts picked up trays and slowly walked down the serving line. The food looked like shit and smelled worse. Cons in hair nets slopped the crap on the three chamber trays with inaccurate distain. Nick was jostled from behind and periodically heard dangerous remarks targeted his way. He kept his head down and did not say anything. He was somewhere else.

Nick was thinking about his friend, Bruce. Bruce was another of his friends that had died. He had been killed in an explosion that had kept the last demons from entering this world, an explosion that Nick was sure he had caused. He had sacrificed himself to protect his friends and family, maybe everyone.

The Indian was gone. It was a sea of orange, silver and white. Nick headed directly to the closest empty spot he could find, keeping his eyes down. Putting his tray down, he slipped into the seat. No need to waste time saying a prayer. There wasn’t anyone listening. The food tasted like it looked, like shit, but it was sustenance and he needed his strength.

You in my seat. An angry, deep voice spoke behind him. The clang of trays and rowdy conversation continued but attention turned toward Nick. Without looking up he grabbed his tray and began to stand. A calloused hand pushed him back down, hard. I didn’t tell you to get up.

Nick turned his head and found a very wide man standing right up on Nick, blocking any escape. His head was shaved to show a large swastika tattoo above his right ear. Both arms were sleeved in ink. The con was probably about forty but he looked younger because of his pale skin and freckles. His eyes were beady, too close together.

So you tell me, Nick said quietly, is there anything I can do that’s not going to end up pissing you off more? Now the noise in the cafeteria decreased as more attention turned their way.

That’s a good question, and I appreciate you asking so nicely. You know who I am? Nick shook his head. I’m Bull. I’m kinda in charge around here. Not a lot goes on around here without my okay. So if you want your time here to be easy, you’re gonna need to figure out how to make me happy.

Make you happy?

Sure, you know, make me happy and you can join up. Skinheads stick together. We take care of our own. In return, you do what I say, and you, well, you give me what I want.

Yeah, you know what? Thanks the offer? I will give it some thought, but I do have to tell you, I’m kinda a loner.

Yeah, you kinda a kid killer too, aintya. The con shot back, angry. Kid killers don’t do so well around here. In fact, aint nuthin’ worse than a kid killer.

Nick tightened. He remembered how he felt when he had been told that he was charged with the murder of a child. Everything had changed at that point. The jailers, who before had been fairly decent, instantly turned on him. It didn’t matter that it hadn’t been proven, it didn’t matter that he didn’t do it. As soon as the DA made the charge, he was guilty. Even his defense team seemed to look at him differently.

I didn’t kill anybody. Nick muttered.

What the fuck that got to do with anything? Bull asked, genuinely pissed now. His large face was turning red. Are you fucking stupid. You’re here now, aren’t you? He leaned close to Nick. He could smell his rancid breath. Now are you gonna play ball, or are you gonna make this hard.

You think you know something about me?

So what? Bull said dangerously, quietly. I know a lot about everyone. It’s my business to know.

You don’t know as much as you think you know, Nick said equally dangerous. The fuckers that put me here make you look like a big pussy. The room was silent now. Bull’s eyes widened in disbelief. You don’t even exist to me. Now, you mind if I get back to this wonderful lunch? The room erupted in malicious laughter.

You son of a bitch… Bull breathed in awe. Slowly, almost with reverence, he cocked a muscular arm back.

No, Bull. Stand down. A voice cut through the laugher and Nick turned to find a tall, skinny black man, with short, greying hair walking toward them.

Bull looked over, his hand still cocked. Fuck off, nigger, this aint about you.

No, Bull, this one is mine. I gonna take care of this, savvy?

Bull looked from that older man to Nick and back, his fist slowly dropping. Yeah, he said to himself, Okay, now’s not the time. He looked back at Nick, a cold rage on his face. I aint done with you yet, mother fucker. No one talks that way to me, you hear? You think you’re smart? I’m gonna fuck the sass right out of your mouth. Better watch your back. He turned and left.

The tall man sat quietly on the bench next to Nick, as the activity in the room slowly returned to normal. Look here, best way to stay out of trouble around here is to just keep quiet, savvy? He said, smiling at Nick. He must have been pretty old, judging by his hair and the roadmap of lines and wrinkles on his face. But his posture, he sat up strait as a board, and his energy level were that of a younger man.

Yeah, well sometimes it is pretty hard to keep quiet. I think that guy would have been more pissed if I had just ignored him.

The black guy laughed. Yeah, well there’s that, too. Well, welcome to the real world, son. Some situations are no-win situations, savvy?

A smile touched Nick’s face. Right. Man, I sure have learned that.

Just about everybody in here has. So, your name is Davis right? I’m Turkey. He put out a large, calloused hand and, after a short hesitation, Nick took it. I’ve been in here for about seven years now. A friend told me about you. He said you probably need a little help adjusting and so on. I guess my friend figure I know a bit about how things work around here, so he asked me to lend you a hand. Well, I guess I just about owe my friend a big favor, so maybe I can help you out a bit, savvy? Look here, just stay as close to me as you can, alright?

Thanks. Really, thanks, man. What about that guy? Nick asked, nodding back the way the skinhead had gone.

Well, he’s bad news. Course there lots of guy like that here. I mean, you know where you are right? Lots of guys in here for killin’. Life don’t mean much here, not like out there, savvy? If he, or any number of guys catch you, well, no-win situation, right? He leaned closer to Nick. His teeth were stained, his eyes shocking green. Look here, if you get caught, you fight. Fight hard, but not too hard, savvy? Now listen, son, fight, but then quit fighting and just survive. Okay, you understand me. Dead is dead and live is live. Nothing is worth dead.

Nick’s face was hard. I get what you’re saying. Hard decisions, right?

A great grin burst across Turkey’s face.