Nephilim Genesis of Evil

by Renee Pawlish

  Ed stepped out of the aspens and approached the back of the building. He heard a voice, a lilting soprano, drifting out of the open window. Had he known on a conscious level, he would’ve enjoyed the carefree English song.

  He went to the rear entrance of the post office and opened the door.

  He stepped inside. The singing stopped and he took Lillian with the ease that he had taken the others. She followed him like a servant out of the post office, and they made their way toward the clearing, where she would assume her role.

  CHAPTER 41

  When Rory, Myrtle, and Boo stepped off the dock and onto Main Street, Mick’s mother Trish Hull was coming out of the general store, her shoulders stooped, a couple of bottles of water in her hands. They crossed the street to her. “How are you all doing?” Myrtle asked.

  Trish smiled wanly at them, her face drawn. Dark half crescents under her eyes testified to her fatigue. “As well as can be expected.” They went with her to her car and Rory opened the passenger door for her. He could see Trish’s husband at the wheel, gripping it tightly, a weary look on his face. Their daughter Ellie sat in the backseat. Her head was tipped back and she stared blankly into space. Trish stopped and turned back to them. “Thanks for asking. I’m sorry if I seemed rude just then. It’s been a trying couple of days.”

  “Of course it has.” Myrtle put a hand on Trish’s shoulder. “You let us know if we can do anything. It may be a small town, but we know how to help those in need.”

  Trish got teary-eyed. “I appreciate that. We’re going to stay in Boulder until…” She choked up.

  “Is there any news?” Rory asked.

  “No.” She sniffled. “I’m sure we’ll have to come back at some point, but right now I want to get Ellie away from here. This place isn’t good for her.”

  Rory and Myrtle exchanged a look. “We’re so sorry about everything,” Myrtle said helplessly.

  Trish nodded. She put a foot in the car, but stopped and looked intently at Rory. “Something’s out there. Something real bad took Mick. Don’t ask me how, I can just sense it.” She leaned toward him and lowered her voice. “Something evil.” Her eyes seemed to flame at him. “You know about these things. You find out what it was, and you take care of it.” Her voice took on a husky intensity. “You find it, and you take care of it. For my boy. For Mick.” Without another word, she got in the car. Kenneth revved the engine and sped off down the dirt road, the tires spitting pebbles and a plume of dust behind it.

  Myrtle coughed and swished away the dust. “See?” she said, turning to Rory. “You know what she’s talking about. I could see it in your face while she was talking to you.”

  He couldn’t deny it. “This is crazy,” he said halfheartedly as he adjusted the water pack that he had filled before leaving the cabin.

  “I know,” Myrtle agreed. She pushed him lightly. “Find where those boys were, and that clearing Clinton talked about. He said it was near the Matchless Mine. I know the area. If you follow the road out west, you’ll come to a path. Take it for a mile or so,” she continued, pointing to give him directions. “It’s got to be somewhere out there.”

  “I’m not going to get out of this, am I?”

  “If you don’t find anything, you can call me an old fool.”

  “You’ll never be that,” he smiled at her as she patted him reassuringly on the arm. “I’ll be back.” He began walking up the road.

  “Good luck.” He looked over his shoulder. She was standing in the middle of the road, her sunhat obscuring her face in shadow. She had one hand on Boo’s head and waved at him with the other, as if she were sending him off on a leisurely hike. He waved back with more reassurance than he felt, and continued on.

  “How did I get myself into this?” he muttered as he rounded the bend in the road and left Taylor Crossing behind. He was sweating profusely and could see heat waves shimmering on the road in front of him. Soon he came to the path that Myrtle had described and he continued on it.

  The air was still, and he stopped for a moment to survey his surroundings. It was eerily quiet. He started walking again, his footfalls grinding on the dirt beneath his hiking boots. As the path grew more arduous, his breathing became more labored and loud. He looked up into the aspens and evergreen, looking for birds, chipmunks, or squirrels, but saw nothing, just an intensely blue, cloudless sky high above the treetops. Wildflowers and sagebrush dotted either side of the path, and at another time, he could’ve found himself caught up in the beauty of his surroundings. But right now his thoughts burdened him, and he couldn’t shake the fear that seeped into him.

  The path meandered up the mountainside until it forked in two directions. Myrtle had directed him to take the path to the left. He stopped at one point to catch his breath, took a long swig from the water pack, then started on again.

  He scanned the forest, trying to find the place where the boys had hung out. He spotted the hulk of an abandoned mine through the trees, gray weathered boards sagging with the call of time. Golden red dirt dotted the hillside around him. He hiked around some dense foliage and up the hillside. As he neared the mine, he noticed the trees thinning. He’d found the clearing.

  Then he heard voices sifting through the trees. He stopped and listened, wondering if it was Sheriff Truitt and the searchers out looking for Mick. He didn’t want to get caught if it was them. Not that he was doing anything wrong, but he’d rather not have to try and explain why he had come here. He was already under a cloud of suspicion because he was the stranger in town, and he didn’t think Clinton would buy that he was just hiking in the forest and happened to stumble upon the clearing. Some things weren’t coincidence.

  The voices continued, a low undistinguishable murmur. Rory huffed as quietly as he could up the hill, staying in the shadows of the trees. He came upon an outcropping of boulders and he paused, bent over, and breathed heavily through his mouth. He peeked around the rocks, where he had a good view of the clearing. All his travels and investigations on the paranormal hadn’t prepared him for what he saw next.

  Ed Miller stood in the middle of the clearing, his hands raised skyward, his gaze focused in front of him. Next to him, Samuel and Joan Friedman stood like stone sentries, their heads turned up toward the sun. On the other side of Ed stood Douggie and Pamela. And there was a tall, lanky teenager. Mick! Behind them was another group, Rory couldn’t tell how many. Kneeling in front of the little assembly were a man and two women. He didn’t recognize any of them. Maybe if he was closer. He started forward, placing his foot carefully. A sudden keening howl stopped him cold.

  He sank to his haunches, speechless. His mind scrambled to process the bizarre scene. He knew instantly he was watching some kind of ceremony. But of what?

  He continued to observe as Ed’s disembodied voice carried over the still air, guttural sounds like a rabid wolf. He listened intently, not recognizing the sounds.

  Then Ed touched one of the women with his mangled hand. The woman rose up. Something about her flickered in Rory’s memory. The spiky gray hair. Then he knew. It was Lillian Chadwick. As he watched, her back arched and she screamed.

  Ed finally backed away, raising his hands again. He howled, the sound gaining strength and volume, until it took on a frenzied tone. The others joined him, their cries low and methodical, but instilled with a menacing quality. Then darkness descended over the clearing and a tornado-like wind, embodied with a tangible horror, swirled overhead. It swooped down on the three in the inner circle, an ethereal sword piercing their fragile flesh. And out of the gloom he heard a sound, a voice speaking, calling to the clan in the woods and naming Lillian in particular. He felt the hair on his neck go stiff.

  He blinked hard, as if that could make what he saw disappear. But the images stayed there, the very essence of hell swirling around the group in the clearing. Then the vortex retreated into the black sky and a hush fell over the woods.

  Rory took a step back, then another. Tree branches clutched at his shir
t and poked his head. He continued to move cautiously, fear clutching at his chest. Then his foot connected with a branch and in the next instant a cracking sound split the air. He froze, staring into the clearing.

  Ed spun around, looking in his direction. Rory stayed right where he was, his muscles rigid, his gaze locked with Ed’s. He didn’t breathe as Ed continued to stare. In a moment’s time, but what seemed infinite, Rory puzzled over why Ed didn’t come after him. Then Rory gradually lowered his gaze and noticed his shadow stretching out before him.

  The sun’s in his eyes! Rory thought. He took a cautious step backward, still focused on Ed. The others in the clearing had turned around, all of them now peering in his direction.

  He moved his other foot, backing away slowly. He had taken a few steps when Ed shifted position and suddenly pointed right at him. The others stood at attention. But Rory’s gaze was riveted on Ed.

  Ed ran toward him. A horrendous scream echoed across the mountains. Rory turned to run, took a couple of steps, and tumbled into empty space.

  CHAPTER 42

  Anna was pleasantly surprised when the door opened and Myrtle poked her head into the store.

  “Where’s Jimmy?” Myrtle asked.

  “He’s napping in the back room,” Anna said.

  “Do you mind if I bring Boo in?”

  “No, that’s fine. It’s been pretty quiet today, so he won’t be a bother,” Anna answered the odd request. Myrtle always left Boo outside.

  Myrtle came over to a plastic chair by the counter and sat down. Boo curled up at her feet, panting loudly. “I’d feel better with him by me right now,” she said in explanation.

  “Why?” Anna put down the magazine she’d been reading and focused on Myrtle. She suddenly looked older than her years. Her gray hair flew in runaway strands, and her face had taken on more wrinkles in the last day or two. Anna had to remind herself that Myrtle was only in her late sixties.

  “I don’t think I could explain it right now,” Myrtle said, fidgeting. “I hope I’m wrong about things, though.”

  “What things?”

  Myrtle shrugged. “All that’s been happening. It doesn’t make sense. But we’ll know something soon.”

  “What’ll we know?” Impatience crept into Anna’s tone. It wasn’t like Myrtle to talk cryptically. That was her father, she thought ironically.

  Myrtle turned and gazed out the window. “Soon.” She swiveled the other way as the front door opened.

  Anna waved at a heavyset couple. “How are you, Virgil?” Virgil Evans and his wife Gretchen were renting one of the larger cabins outside of town.

  “Okay,” Virgil answered. He went to the refrigerated section and came up to the counter with a handful of sodas. “Need some rations for the road.” His smile held little warmth.

  “Going for a long drive?” She rang up his items, plus bags of potato chips and peanuts that Gretchen brought up.

  “We’re leaving,” Gretchen said. “Going back to Ohio.”

  “I thought you had the cabin until after Labor Day,” Myrtle piped up.

  Virgil stole an uneasy glance at Gretchen. “That’s true, but you know how things come up.”

  “We really like it here,” Gretchen interrupted. “It’s just that since those kids disappeared, it’s been,” she paused, “creepy around here. I keep thinking I’m hearing things out in the woods. I don’t even want to let my own kids outside to play. And when the Robinsons left…” Her voice trailed off.

  “They’re gone?” Anna especially liked them, a blended family, two boys from the wife’s first marriage, three girls from the husband’s.

  Virgil nodded. “They took off last night.” He scooped up his purchases. He exuded tension. “Thanks. You take care.”

  “You too.” Anna watched them leave. “That’s odd. You wouldn’t think everyone would just up and leave like that.”

  She looked over at Myrtle whose face was as gray as her hair. “What’s the matter?”

  Myrtle opened her mouth to answer, but turned at the sound of the storeroom door. Jimmy came shuffling in. He seemed so frail, his jeans and shirt hanging on scrawny bones. And his walk seemed slower today, his breathing more labored. But he looked at them deliberately.

  “Everything okay, Dad?” Anna asked him.

  He waved at them and made his way over. Myrtle grabbed another chair for him. He lowered himself slowly into it. “Don’t move as well as I used to,” he said to her with an ornery grin.

  “I hear that.” Myrtle had been on the edge of her seat, so she settled back into the chair. Anna thought she still looked like she’d seen a ghost.

  “Let me get you some water, Dad.” Anna came around the counter. “It’s so hot out there, you’ll likely get heat stroke.” She went to the back of the store and returned shortly with a cold bottle from the refrigerated section. She handed bottles to both Jimmy and Myrtle.

  “Can’t remember when we’ve had so many scorching days in a row like this,” Jimmy said, taking the bottle she’d opened and handed to him. “Seems like stuff happens when it’s either cold as the South Pole or hot as Hades.”

  “Mmm.” Anna returned to her customary spot behind the counter. Her father seemed like he had something to say, and she didn’t like the ominous tone in his introduction.

  “What’s on your mind?” Myrtle asked him. That’s more like her, Anna thought. She’s always been a direct lady.

  Jimmy gnawed at his lip and stared into the shelves of food. Then he turned and directed his gaze at Anna. “I’ve got something to say, and this time I want you to hear me out.”

  “Of course.” Anna was taken aback. A flash of guilt went through her, for all the times she’d dismissed him without much thought. He’d obviously taken note of that.

  “Promise?” He raised his eyebrows at her.

  She nodded. “Promise.”

  “There’s been funny things going on around here. Doesn’t make much sense, I know. But there’s something strange in the air, and I’m not just talking about this unbearable heat.”

  Anna nodded, and noted that Myrtle was paying particular attention to him.

  “I’ve had this feeling before, ten years ago.”

  Not this again, Anna thought. She opened her mouth but remembered her promise. Just as Jimmy’s fiery eyes locked with hers, she clamped her jaw shut. She would give him his say.

  “I know you think I was just an old fool when I went across the lake that winter. That I was talking nonsense, losing my mind.” He took in a few deep breaths, as if he were gathering more strength. “Lord, if I could change all that, I would. I never meant for anything to happen to Paul. But I had to get across the lake.”

  “Why?” Anna asked. It came out in a whisper that barely carried through the still air.

  “I was told to.”

  “We’ve been over this,” she muttered to herself, feeling her anger rise. Jimmy glared at her. To her surprise, he’d heard her. She avoided his stern gaze.

  “Let’s hear him out,” Myrtle interjected calmly.

  Anna threw up her hands. She looked back at Jimmy. He suddenly seemed so old, so frail. Yet his need to speak to her was clear. She exhaled slowly, put her palms on the counter, and tried to look interested. She owed him that.

  Jimmy sensed the resolution of her inner struggle and he tipped his head at her. “For a number of weeks before that day, I’d been hearing voices. The longest time, I thought it was just my prayers taking on more life than usual. Like the Lord was focusing especially on me. The voice kept saying ‘Come to me, come, I have a message.’” He beamed at the recollection. “I kept wondering what kind of a message the Good Lord would have for an old man like me. The voice got stronger. It talked about water; ‘Water was the answer.’ I prayed about that, what did that mean, other than baptism, which I’d already had. And the voice spoke again. ‘The answer was in the chronicle.’ That puzzled me for days. What did Chronicles have to tell me? I read those books in the Bible over and
over, but I didn’t get any discernment. And I kept getting a strange feeling, like bad tidings were going to come to the Crossing. Something that had to be stopped. Then the voice said the answer was at the cabin across the lake. I knew this wasn’t God talking anymore. But I also knew just as clear as I’m sitting here that the voice was real, that there was something at the old Barton place that I was supposed to find. I knew it that cold day. That awful day.” He shook his head sadly.

  Anna’s stomach tightened and the room spun for a second. She felt the iciness of that day right now in the midst of the hundred-degree heat. It was all so close, right there in her mind.

  “Barton had the chronicle. I needed to get to it, bring it out into the open. Then I could stop what was going to happen in town.” Jimmy smacked one hand into the palm of the other, startling both women. “I had to go. Do you understand? I had to go. It wasn’t just me losing my mind. What I heard was real, and I had to do something about it. Do you understand?” he repeated.

  “Yes,” Myrtle said.

  Anna turned, surprised that Myrtle had spoken up. But she could tell that Myrtle believed every word Jimmy said. “What do you know?” she asked Myrtle.

  Myrtle’s face took on color. “You’re not crazy, Jimmy. And you aren’t either, Anna, to be skeptical. But I think we’ll have some answers soon.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Anna felt left out of some cosmic loop. An old folks’ senility loop.

  “Wait. We’ll know something soon,” Myrtle said. “And we’ll have to decide what to do.”

  “This had better make more sense, or I’ll commit you both,” Anna said jokingly. It didn’t lighten the mood in the room. And the skin on her arms crawled. She didn’t like not knowing. Not at all.

  CHAPTER 43

  After seeming to fall forever, Rory finally hit cold, damp earth with a sickening thud, his breath ripped from his body. He lay gasping, disoriented and frightened. His mind raced, asking where he was, and then just as quickly, he realized he must have fallen into a mineshaft on the side of the hill he’d climbed. And the people from the clearing were coming for him.