Nephilim Genesis of Evil

by Renee Pawlish

  Fear immobilized Nicholas. He waited behind the Jeep, terrified that his father would see him.

  Gino walked back up the dock, trudging between the café and the art gallery. Mary followed, her walk as listless as his. They soon vanished behind the buildings.

  Nicholas finally ran over to the dock, suppressing a shriek as he went. Jimmy floated facedown near a canoe, arms bobbing at his sides, the right one crooked at an odd angle. Nicholas didn’t have to see Jimmy’s face to know he was dead.

  CHAPTER 49

  “Where’s that kid?” Myrtle asked Boo as she came out of the back room of the store. She came around the shelves and noticed that Jimmy was gone, too. “Oh no,” she gasped. The store was small enough that she knew they weren’t hiding somewhere. Dread gripped her as she ran out the front door.

  She spied Nicholas and Jimmy on the dock. She knew instantly that something was wrong. The boy’s hair and clothes were dripping wet, and he was staring down at Jimmy’s prone body.

  “Oh no!” she screamed as she flew off the porch. She bolted down the dock, where Nicholas was on his knees near Jimmy. The old man’s waterlogged clothes stuck to him like tack paper, his face pale blue to match his wet jeans.

  “What happened?” she asked Nicholas.

  “I pulled him out.” He nodded, his expression dazed. She felt for a pulse on Jimmy’s scrawny wrist. Nothing. She checked the carotid artery. Still nothing. She started CPR, but gave up after a few moments.

  “It’s no use. He’s gone.” She reached up and closed Jimmy’s eyelids. “Oh dear Lord.”

  “I followed him out,” Nicholas mumbled.

  “It can’t be,” Myrtle said, straining for composure. “I went to the back of the store for a few minutes. I didn’t think Jimmy would go anywhere.”

  Nicholas remained mute.

  “Come on, let’s go over here.” Myrtle led Nicholas away, off the dock and focused away from the body. “What happened?”

  “He fell in the lake.”

  Myrtle grabbed him by the shoulders. “What happened before that? Did someone come for him?”

  Nicholas nodded. “My father.”

  “What did your father say?”

  Before he could answer, she heard a shout.

  “What’s going on?” They whirled around at the question and saw Anna and Rory running down the road. “What’re you doing out here?” Anna stopped by them, out of breath. Her eyes strayed to the dock and the body of her father. “Is that – ” Her voice trailed off. Rory came up beside her, his hands stuffed in his pockets. Myrtle immediately noticed dark stains on his shirt, like oil mixed with dirt. “Dad?” Anna stammered.

  “Anna, I’m sorry – ” Myrtle didn’t get to finish. Anna screamed and ran down the dock before anyone could stop her. Myrtle ran after her, with Rory following. She was on her knees, bent over Jimmy’s body. She touched his forehead, brushing strands of his hair out of his face. A single teardrop rolled down her cheek, but Myrtle was surprised at how calm she appeared.

  “What happened?” Anna asked.

  “He fell in,” Myrtle said. “He was trying to escape from Nicholas’ father – ”

  “He’s one of them now,” Nicholas said, his voice flat.

  “Go get a blanket. There’s one in the storeroom in back of the store,” Myrtle whispered to Nicholas. He stared at Anna for a second, then darted away.

  Anna let out a sob while the others remained silent.

  “Everything’s okay now, Dad,” she finally said, so softly Myrtle barely heard her. “You’re home now.” She looked up. “He’s where he wants to be, in heaven.” Her voice warbled, and now more tears came.

  Myrtle stifled a sniffle and nodded. There was nothing to say. She stepped away and let Anna have a moment with her father. Nicholas returned with a worn blanket and handed it to Myrtle. She bent down and helped Anna cover Jimmy’s body. Then Anna stood up, and Myrtle guided her back off the dock, where the others huddled like mourners at a funeral. Rory put his arm around Anna’s shoulder and she finally broke down, tenderly and quietly.

  “Should we call an ambulance?” Myrtle asked, trying to be matter-of-fact. It was then she noticed brown streaks on Rory’s arm, as if he’d tried to wash something off with dirt, unsuccessfully.

  “What happened to you?” she asked him.

  Rory drew his hand away from Anna and put it behind his back. “We ran into some trouble.” He briefly told her what happened.

  Myrtle’s hand shook as she covered her mouth. “So it’s true?”

  He bent his head down. “It looks like it.”

  “What do we do? Call the sheriff?”

  “And tell him what?” Rory asked. “That some spook killed Jimmy? And what do we tell him about the deputy?”

  Myrtle shrugged. “That Jimmy’s death was an accident. And you didn’t kill the deputy, so we’ll explain that to him.”

  Anna took a deep breath and stood up straight. “We’ll report Dad’s death,” her voice faltered, but then she controlled herself. “Once he’s up here, we’ll tell him exactly what happened. And we tell him what we know.”

  “He’ll never believe it,” Myrtle gasped.

  “We’ll make him believe.” With that, Anna marched with determination off toward the store. Rory went after her, and Myrtle noticed his arms again. They were covered in blood.

  What happened out there, she thought. And was it coming for them?

  CHAPTER 50

  The squad car radio squawked in the background. The mountains reflected off of the lake at Barker Dam, postcard perfect, but Clinton Truitt didn’t notice either thing. He drove up Highway 119, his hands clenched tightly to the wheel, his mind focused elsewhere. Anna Holmes had reported an accident in Taylor Crossing. Apparently, her father had fallen in the lake and drowned.

  Clinton drove through the roundabout at the main intersection in Nederland and headed up Highway 72. Cars ahead slowed down, wary of a law enforcement vehicle driving behind them. No one wanted a ticket for speeding. He thumped impatiently on the wheel, resisting the urge to turn on his emergency lights and force the cars to the side of the road so he could pass.

  Anxiety made his stomach wrench. Something awful was happening in Taylor Crossing. First the two boys going missing, then Nicholas shows up terrorized. Plus all the other missing people: Ed Miller, Samuel Friedman, and the two hikers. And just before he’d left the office, there’d been another call about two more hikers missing since yesterday.

  He ran a hand over his crew cut. He had a deputy go to Boulder to talk with the families of the missing persons. But he knew what would happen. They would organize another volunteer posse. They’d deal with frantic relatives. It was necessary, but draining. And he’d already been through this with the boys. Looks like they’d be searching for a couple more.

  The muscles in his jaw tensed into a hard knot as he continued to mull. One or two people missing over the course of the summer, that was normal. Sad, but not unexpected. Some greenhorn always seemed to defy mountain logic and go off into the woods unprepared, only to find out the hard way how easy it was to get lost.

  One or two a summer. Not several in a less than a week. That hardly happened ever.

  Beads of sweat speckled his forehead as he turned off onto the dirt road that led to the Crossing. One drop streaked down his cheek. He reached to turn the air conditioner higher. The knob was all the way up, cool air blasting the front seat. He shrugged and wiped his brow, squinting into the late afternoon sun.

  Who was lurking in the mountains around the Crossing? How many more lives would be taken before he was caught? Clinton didn’t have an answer. As he drove over the old bridge into town, he couldn’t shake a lightheaded sensation, as if he had just passed through an invisible barrier. One that took him into another world, another time.

  He parked in front of the general store, got out, and was immediately met by the sweltering heat. He wished for a cool rain shower to clear his fuddled brain. He stood for a
minute surveying the empty road. He couldn’t shake an eerie feeling.

  The Crossing had the smell of death. But something much more sinister, too.

  Rory came out of the store. “He’s over here,” he said quietly. He led Clinton onto the dock where Jimmy’s body lay.

  “What happened?”

  Rory hesitated. “I can explain later…” his voiced trailed off.

  “What do you mean? Did he fall in?”

  “Yes, but…”

  “But what?” Clinton stared hard at Rory.

  Rory shrugged.

  “I’ve called a unit up here to remove the body,” Clinton said, trying to be matter-of-fact. “But I want some answers.” It was then he noticed how disheveled Rory looked. He was covered in dirt and had dark spots on his shirt.

  “What happened to you?” he asked.

  Rory stuffed his hands in his pockets. “It’s nothing.”

  “Did you get hurt?” Clinton wasn’t stupid; it was dried blood on Rory’s shirt.

  “No. I’m fine, really.”

  Clinton studied him. Rory tried to appear casual, but the hard line of his jaw and his furtive eyes betrayed him. Clinton had seen the look before, from people whose lives had suddenly changed in a dark and unalterable way. He’s just been through something awful, Clinton thought, knowing instantly that it would connect to the other things that were happening in the Crossing.

  “Then why are you covered in blood?”

  Rory clamped his jaw shut and remained quiet. Clinton squinted hard at him, then shifted his gaze back to Jimmy’s covered body. He bent down and lifted the blanket. There didn’t appear to be any sign of violent injury. He stood up and let his gaze rest again on Rory. “What’s going on?”

  Rory looked up at him. Clinton watched him struggle for words.

  “What?”

  Rory still hesitated. “There’s more, but…it’s complicated.”

  Clinton was a patient man, but the walls that kept him calm were crumbling fast. He pointed at Rory. “Look, I’ve got who knows how many missing people, you’ve got blood on your clothes, now this with Jimmy, and you want to tell me you just can’t explain it?” He seethed. “I want to know what the hell is going on around here.” He stopped when a county car appeared down the road.

  Rory grabbed Clinton’s shoulder. “We’ve got to talk. I’ll tell you what’s going, or at least try to.”

  Clinton stared him down. “You will tell me what’s going on, understand? You go to the store and wait for me,” he ordered. “I’ll take care of this and then I’m coming over there.” He watched Rory silently walk away.

  “What the hell?” he muttered to himself as he followed Rory off the dock. He looked out at the mountains, the ominous shadows that fell over Taylor Crossing. There was a dark presence in the town. He could almost see it, a shadowy haze hovering over the buildings.

  “What’s going on around here?” he asked no one. He couldn’t shake the feeling that a presence hovered over the Crossing, a phoenix that held the town in its talons, watching and waiting for more victims.

  He looked around. The sun warmed his face, but it didn’t comfort him. He rubbed his chin and grimaced. All his years on the Sheriff’s Department hadn’t prepared him for this. Funny, he’d kept watch over the town all this time, and nothing had ever happened. He’d heard the rumors of the town’s demise, but there’d never been any real crimes committed here. Now he was in the midst of all this.

  The smell of dry earth hit him. The odor was slightly metallic, as if the ores hidden inside the earth begged for release. Without thinking, he reached down and scooped up some of the dirt and let it sift through his fingers. He sighed. He loved this little town, even though its peaceful charm was gone. He’d always felt a part of it, just like he lived here.

  Is that why he felt like he’d been through all this before?

  CHAPTER 51

  They watched in surprise when Clinton came into the store. Anna and Myrtle had known him for years, and he was always calm, and kind, but right now his body was stiff and his eyes squinted angrily.

  “Now,” Clinton said, banging the door behind him. He crossed his arms and stood before them, using every bit of his bulk to appear threatening. His gaze took them all in: Rory, Anna, Myrtle, Nicholas, and even Boo, who cowered at Myrtle’s feet. “My apologies, Anna, I know this is hard on you.” He spent a moment telling her where they had taken her father, and what she should do in the morning. She took down the information, wondering if by tomorrow it would be useless.

  “Now,” he said when he finished. “I want some answers.” He put his steely eyes on Rory. “I’m not stupid. That’s blood on your clothes. It’s not yours, I can tell that, so where did it come from?”

  Rory held up a hand, trying to calm him down. “I don’t know how to explain – ”

  “You better start trying,” Clinton exploded.

  “Tell him,” Anna said.

  Rory contemplated her.

  “Okay.” He turned to Clinton. “To start with, we found one of your deputies near Ed Miller’s cabin. He’s dead.”

  “What?” Clinton shouted. “Why didn’t you report this earlier?”

  “It’s not that simple – ” Rory started to explain. The angry look on Clinton’s face made him stop.

  Clinton gritted his teeth, then narrowed his gaze at Rory. “What happened to him?” He looked at Rory’s hands. “Did you kill him?”

  “No, I don’t know what happened to him. It looks like his neck was broken.”

  “If his neck was broken, how do you explain the blood on your hands?”

  “I didn’t kill him,” Rory repeated. “But I killed another man, out on the trail.”

  Clinton seemed taken aback by Rory’s bluntness. He shifted back on his feet. “Who was it?”

  “I don’t know. But it was self-defense. He came at me, and I had to do it.”

  Clinton stared at Rory with his mouth half-open. “There’s more to your story, right?” he finally said.

  Rory stuffed his hands in his pockets. “You won’t believe it.”

  “I don’t believe what you’ve told me so far. Anna? Myrtle?” Clinton searched their faces. “You want to tell me what this is all about?”

  They stared at the floor.

  “What is going on?” He fumed as he thrust a finger at Rory. “Someone killed one of my men, but you tell me it wasn’t you. Then you tell me you murdered someone else! I want some answers! Now!”

  Rory pulled him aside. “Let’s go up there, and I’ll show you the bodies. We’ll talk after that.”

  “I may arrest you after that,” Clinton said harshly.

  Rory didn’t even react.

  “Lead the way,” Clinton’s expression was grim.

  Rory held the door open for Clinton, and followed him out. Behind him, he heard Anna say, “I hope he doesn’t return with Rory in handcuffs.”

  What’ll they do if I get arrested for murder, Rory thought.

  • • •

  They hurried out of town, Rory walking quickly. The sun was low, and they wouldn’t have light for very long.

  “I can’t believe I let you talk me into this.” Clinton huffed along the trail behind Rory, out of breath. “Man, I can pass the department physical, but you’re walking like you want to win a marathon.”

  They hiked up behind Ed Miller’s cabin. Clinton followed Rory through the trees to the body of his deputy.

  “Did you touch him?” Clinton asked.

  “I checked for a pulse, that’s it.”

  Clinton crouched down, looked at the body and examined the surrounding ground. Then he stood up and surveyed the surrounding terrain. “Hard to tell what evidence we’ll find. Or what’s been tampered with,” he said, eyeing Rory. “He was leading the volunteer posse.” Clinton gnawed at his lower lip. “What happened to them?”

  “I don’t know.” Rory gestured at the body. “Who was he?”

  “Zachary Pendleton. He was a ni
ce kid, new on the force. He was single, no family to speak of.” Clinton hung his head for a second, then moved away from the body. “I need to call this in.”

  Rory held up a hand. “I know I’m asking a lot, but wait. Let me show you the other man. Then we’ll try and explain what happened. After that, you can make your decision.”

  Clinton took his hat off and fiddled with the brim. “How do I know you’re not lying to me?”

  Rory shrugged. “You don’t. Please,” he implored, “let me show you the other body, and let the others tell you what they know. Then you can do whatever you feel is best.”

  Seconds passed while Clinton weighed his options. Then he waved at Rory. “Let’s go,” he said gruffly, donning his hat. His face was dark in the early evening shadows.

  Rory headed for the trail he and Anna had taken earlier.

  “This doesn’t make any sense,” Clinton growled as he followed Rory.

  “One way or the other, you’ll have to see the other body,” Rory said over his shoulder. “And if you arrest me for killing the man I shot, so be it.”

  “But you told me he attacked you.”

  “He did.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Tell me about it,” Rory said. He kept a fast pace, and Clinton hurried behind him.

  “What smells?” Clinton asked, throwing a hand over his nose. “Is there an animal carcass around here?”

  “We’re almost there.” They soon came up over the rise in the trail and Rory stopped. “There.”

  Clinton stepped past Rory and gazed at a prone form on the ground. The man lay on his stomach, arms flailed out at his sides, his legs bent. A dark pool of blood had oozed into the dirt around the body where flies buzzed around. A half-empty water bottle lay near him. Rory covered his nose to ward off a sickly sweet stench that filled the air.

  Clinton bent down, sitting on his haunches. “What happened?”

  Rory started to explain when Clinton stopped him. “Look at his face.”