Evil in the Beginning (The God Tools Book 2)

by Gary Williams

  Curt sighed audibly, “We were searching Bayard Point yesterday as well looking for Dr. Falls. We must have almost run into you there.”

  “Why were you searching Bayard Point? Officer Canstar found Dr. Falls’ boat on Pacetti Point.”

  “Remember when we told you about Lila’s frantic call to us just before she went missing?” Scott explained. “She said, ‘I’m at hey…. south….....springs!’ Her words were intermittent. We interpreted that she may have been saying, ‘I’m at Bayard Point south of Green Cove Springs.’ ”

  “Pacetti Point is just across the channel from Bayard Point. It’s possible her boat had drifted over there,” Curt added.

  “Continue,” Tolen intoned.

  Curt went on, “Anyway, we found a tunnel—a shaft—on the side of the plateau, which led down at least 60 feet. It led to a cave, a manmade grotto that connected to a second, natural cave. Inside we found a UNF baseball cap.”

  Tolen recognized the significance. “Kira Compton.”

  “We found no other evidence of Dr. Falls or Kira Compton being in the caves,” Scott said.

  Tolen rose at this new information. He turned toward Scott. “Mr. Marks, you’re going to have to break your promise to your wife. I’ll pick you both up in my boat tomorrow morning at 7 a.m. from your dock. I want to investigate those caves.”

  Scott looked at Curt. It appeared Curt was going to object. Instead, he silently acquiesced.

  CHAPTER 32

  At the camp in the woods north of Green Cove Springs, Carr Nash looked over the papers yet again, aided by the halogen light hanging in his tent.

  He and Jed Rassle had given up the bed & breakfast in town. After obtaining information from Lawton Sawyer that a federal agent, Samuel Tolen, lived in town and had been at Spring Park when the water turned red, Nash had ordered two of his men, Lang and Bostic, to follow Tolen to ensure he wasn’t sticking his nose where he shouldn’t. Unfortunately, his men had vanished, and Nash could only speculate that Tolen had something to do with their disappearance. This was very disconcerting given the information Lang had on him. Add in the bizarre deaths and disappearances of people in town that had the police scrambling for answers, and it seemed best to rejoin the men at the riverside camp. The last thing Nash wanted was police interference.

  Nash’s frustration grew as he scanned the aquifer data. While the stone tablet from that Nebraska farmer had corroborated with the scroll, and had led them in this general vicinity, there were dozens of wells and natural water sources in the area; far too many to pinpoint the source from where the remains had originated.

  This was not going as he had planned.

  He laid the information on the aquifer aside and picked up the severe weather report for July 7th of last year. The storm that had passed through the area that day had been huge, extending from Orangedale to Palaka. Again, the possibility appeared nearly endless. It would take weeks, if not months, to check all the locations.

  “Godammit,” Nash shouted in frustration, tossing the papers aside.

  Nash grabbed his flashlight and left his tent to take a leak. The rest of the camp had settled down for the night. His brethren were asleep, with the exception of the three who were out still keeping surveillance on the target house. The campfire was still burning to keep wild animals away. Nash noticed Jed Rassle’s light was still on. The man was probably sharpening his hunting knife. To Rassle, the blade was like his pet. Nash had never met a man so enamored with a weapon, nor so anxious to use it.

  Nash threaded his way a short distance through the trees, keeping the flashlight beam to the ground. Settling up to an oak tree, he pulled his zipper down. A force suddenly flung him against the tree. Caught off balance, Nash landed hard against it, knocking the air from his lungs and causing him to drop his flashlight. Pinned against the tree, he recognized the cold steel from the blade of a knife at his throat. It was hard to breathe. “Who are you, and what do you want?” he managed to grunt.

  “Don’t move,” a voice responded in a whisper. “You say another word, and I’ll slit your throat.”

  To Nash’s surprise, the voice was decidedly feminine, with a touch of an accent. There was a cold calmness in her breathy words that told Nash not to challenge her.

  “Turn around slowly,” she said, pulling the blade away.

  Nash obeyed. He saw a woman in uniform holding his flashlight in one hand and the knife in the other. For a moment, Nash thought she was a police officer, then he saw the Florida Fish and Wildlife Conservation Commission insignia. She was a state wildlife officer. Something wasn’t right. Why would she pull a knife on him?

  “Officer, I’m not sure what you want with me, but I was only out for a walk.”

  “Shut the fuck up.”

  Nash reached down to pull his zipper up.

  “You move another muscle, and I’ll gut you,” she said sternly.

  He complied. Nash saw in the dim light that her long, dark hair accentuated an alluring face.

  She inserted the knife in a sheath on her belt. Her words turned less aggressive and more diplomatic. “You don’t know me, Mr. Nash, but I believe we can help each other.”

  Nash smiled. “Oh really? You know my name, yet we’ve never met. What should I call you?”

  She pointed the flashlight to her nametag.

  “Melanie Canstar,” Nash read aloud. He smiled again. “Somehow, I doubt it.”

  “You can call me Candy the Pole Dancer if it makes you happy. I don’t give a shit. But I believe we have information that can mutually assist each other.”

  The accent was definitely European, Nash thought. “Officer Canstar, Candy, I don’t know who you really are, and I don’t care, but you’ve sorely underestimated me. I’ve got a camp full of men 20 paces away. If you think you can do damage with that small knife, there’s a man over there who will filet you like a fish. One shout, and you’ll die a nightmarish death, more painfully than anything you can imagine.”

  “You’re right. This is a waste of time.”

  She grabbed Nash by his right arm, spun, and flipped him over the side of her extended hip. He landed sprawled out on the ground. Before he could recover, she was sitting on his pelvic area, her hands pressed forward on his chest, her legs pinning his arms down at his side. “It’s you who have severely underestimated me, Mr. Nash. It’s probably easier just to kill you with my bare hands and be done with it.” She reared back preparing to strike a blow.

  “Okay, okay. You’ve proved your point,” he grimaced, breathing heavily.

  She proffered a small smile and lowered her hand, placing it back on his chest, which rose and fell with each breath. The touch of her hands upon him was gratifying. It was also the first time he had an opportunity to admire her strong, yet decidedly feminine form. He felt the first twinge of his body responding.

  In the moonlight, Nash could see that her hair was now disheveled. She moved her hips slightly, and he felt himself getting sexually excited, a combination of her aggression and the contact.

  For a moment, they were quiet. She moved her hips again, this time in a small gyration. His erection grew by the second, and he knew she could feel it.

  She exhaled, “Mr. Nash, there is a time to talk and a time to enjoy. Since a man turned me down for sex earlier this evening, you are going to reap the rewards of what that bastard missed.”

  “Why, Candy,” Nash flirted playfully, “we’ve only just met.”

  She leaned forward and whispered in his ear, “Which makes it that much better. Satisfaction now, discussion later.” She sat up, slid down his body until she was sitting on his thighs, releasing his hands. She removed her belt that held the knife and service pistol and tossed it aside. Then she reached down, inside his open zipper. “I promise you, if you try anything stupid, I’ll still kill you.”

  As she grabbed him firmly, he ran his hands
up her stomach to her chest.

  At this point, Nash doubted he gave a damn about whatever information this bitch had, but he was sure as hell going to enjoy the preamble to their conversation.

  CHAPTER 33

  Kay, Cody, and Tina arrived back in south Jacksonville just after 9:30 p.m. She was exhausted, and the kids had fallen asleep in the back seat. Before going inside the Marks’ house located in the quiet cul-de-sac, Kay led the weary threesome across the street to a neighbor who had been picking up their mail.

  Kay had considered calling Sherri but decided against it. Whatever they had experienced on the dock, whatever animal had attacked them, was far away by now. Given the pressure Sherri was under, there was no reason to worry her tonight. She would call in the morning, explain what happened, and let her know Tina was safe. On the walk back to the house, she made a quick call to Scott to let him know they had arrived safely.

  Thankfully, they had left the front porchlight on. Kay unlocked the door and directed the children inside, struggling to hold onto the mail and return the keys to her purse. A light from the back of the house helped them see their way through the foyer. As Kay led them into the kitchen, she was instantly aware of another presence. Movement to the side confirmed it. She spun around, frantically pushing the children back toward the foyer. Suddenly, a man barred the front door. Kay gasped as she felt a hand grab her hair and jerk her head back. She struck the floor hard.

  The last thing she remembered was hearing Cody and Tina scream before she blacked out.

  CHAPTER 34

  The Fish was almost back to full strength. Still, as it traveled, pockets of high salinity in the river impeded it. Soon, the salt in the water would fade completely as it moved upriver, and the creature would once again be elevated to the top of the food chain, threatened by nothing on this Earth.

  The calling it had felt earlier was growing stronger, urging the Fish to swim faster. There was something ahead, something massive, that he could feed upon; something it was destined to eat since the beginning of time. It would be the feast of all feasts, and somehow, the Fish knew it, craved it. It might be the one thing that satisfied its appetite once and for all.

  Until then it would eat anything it happened upon. The latest victim had been a long scaly beast, the likes of which the Fish had never seen before. It moved on four legs, swimming with the swish of its tail. While equipped with long jaws and sharp teeth, the creature had been no match for the Fish, which ravaged the animal’s bony body, dismembering the beast in a matter of seconds and feeding on the entire kill. The blood had saturated the water, and the Fish had relished the taste.

  Still, the tug to the south was constant, and the Fish would not be deterred.

  Overhead, the moon cast a muted glow on the surface of the water. On and on it swam, moving relentlessly through the dark water. It wouldn’t be long now.

  CHAPTER 35

  At five minutes before seven o’clock, Scott and Curt made their way onto the dock carrying waders and two 2 x 6 boards they found in the shed. They placed the long boards side by side and used them to bridge the gap in the dock. The damage was even more staggering in the light of day. Now that it was low tide, Curt could see the piles were still in the riverbed just below the surface of the water. Incredibly, they had been sheared away cleanly, as if cut with an electric saw. The burn stains to the wood planks on either side of the chasm were equally disturbing.

  As promised, Tolen arrived promptly at 7 a.m. and picked Scott and Curt up from the end of Taylor Barton’s dock. Curt still had mixed feelings about sharing the discovery with this CIA guy, but the man seemed sincere in his efforts. The important thing was to find Lila, and if it took this government guy to do so, so be it.

  Fifteen minutes later, Tolen anchored just off Bayard Point. With the tide out, the Bayliner couldn’t reach the thin strip of beach. Tolen had gathered up a heavy rope, but Curt stopped him. “That’s not necessary.”

  Tolen gave him a curious look, but left the rope on the boat seat. Donning waders, the three men hopped into the shallow water and trudged inland.

  Curt and Scott had had a lengthy discussion that morning. Scott convinced Curt they needed to come clean with Tolen and tell him about the journal containing Ed Leedskalnin’s story given to Scott by Lawton Sawyer. He had reluctantly agreed.

  “Tolen,” Curt said as they moved over the soggy ground, “there’s something we didn’t tell you last night. We didn’t just happen to find the tunnel on this point.”

  Tolen looked to Curt as if he knew they had withheld information. “If you don’t trust me by now, you never will, and I’m your best chance to find your ex-wife.”

  Scott picked up the conversation, “That’s exactly why we’re coming clean. On Saturday, I received a call from Lawton Sawyer, a long-time resident of Green Cove Springs. Sawyer had once been business partners with my grandfather before they had a falling out.”

  “I believe my father knew him,” Tolen remarked.

  “He told me he had information about what happened at the spring on Friday, so I met Sawyer at his house. Sawyer was at the park Friday when the water turned red and Clarence Little’s organs spewed from it. Sawyer had also been to the park as a child and had seen the spring water turn red. He told me then that Ed Leedskalnin had been a boarder with Lawton and his mother in 1925 when Sawyer was six years old, and had told Lawton’s mother, Cora, a story of how he found the tunnel and went down it and discovered the two caves, among other things. Sawyer gave me his mother’s handwritten journal that documented Ed’s account.”

  “Ed Leedskalnin? The man who built Coral Castle in Homestead?” Tolen’s surprise was evident.

  “The one and only,” Curt acknowledged as they made their way toward the rise.

  Scott went on, “In his story, Ed said he found the outer cave and then a brief declining tunnel leading to a second cave. We found a stream, a stack of rocks, and a lantern in the inner cave just as Ed described,” Scott said, “but numerous things were missing from Ed’s account, notably, some sort of picture on the wall, some human bones, including, and I quote, ‘a woman’s drawn up face’ near the pile of stones, and a long stick with red and green stones at one end that glowed in the dark.”

  “Ed mentioned picking up that long stick,” Curt added, “and that it warmed in his hand. He was scared, so he placed it in the stream to cool it off. Then the stick leaked some sort of fluid. He must have thought there was value in the stones and took a moment to pry the green one off the stick before leaving the cave and taking it with him.”

  “He didn’t take the red stone?” Tolen asked.

  “Not according to his account,” Scott responded.

  “Interesting,” Tolen said.

  Scott stopped in his muddy tracks. The other two men turned and looked at him. “Geez, it just hit me. Cody said the wave that attacked him on the dock had a red eye. You don’t think it’s somehow connected to the glowing red stone that Ed mentioned, do you?”

  Curt shrugged.

  “It’s something to consider,” Tolen said, as if he’d already pondered the possibility.

  The three men began walking again.

  “Why did he share the journal with you, Scott?” Tolen asked.

  “You know,” Scott began, “that part I’m still a little fuzzy about. He said it was because Ed had warned him that if the springs ever turned red again, to get away from here, and he took Ed’s warning to heart. I guess it was his way of warning me after he saw me at the springs. I got the sense he was trying to reconcile his past and his atrocious business relationship with my grandfather, through me. I’m still perplexed that he gave me his mother’s journal. It’s almost as if he wanted me to find the caves.”

  Twenty minutes later, after slogging through the marsh and climbing partially up the rise, Curt pointed down to a heap of branches and palm fronds. “This is the place.�
� He knelt down and cleared away the opening.

  Tolen stood over the tunnel, peering down its opening. He lifted his arm and started punching his wristwatch.

  “Are you calling out the special forces with your Ovaltine decoder?” Curt asked.

  “Marking the GPS coordinates,” Tolen responded casually.

  Scott went over toward the brush and came back holding the coil of rope with one end still attached to the tree. “We found this piled up in the bushes. It’s what we used to go down the tunnel.”

  Tolen examined the rope in Scott’s hands. “There are faint burn marks on it.”

  Curt hadn’t noticed them until now.

  Tolen looked from the rope to the tunnel. “The tunnel is symmetrical, its width almost a perfect circle.”

  “We noticed the same thing,” Scott said.

  Tolen scanned the ground around the opening, stepping from one side to the other. “Were these small rock fragments here before?”

  “Yes, Ed mentioned that, when he left the tunnel, he covered the entrance with a boulder. All we found were these fragments.”

  Tolen looked to the ground once again. “Let’s go down.”

  Scott tossed the coil of rope down the tunnel. Without hesitation, Tolen climbed in, grabbed the rope, and descended. They waited for him to signal he had reached the bottom. Scott, then Curt, descended the tunnel.

  The three men stood at the bottom.

  “This is fresh dirt,” Tolen said, pointing to the bottom of the shaft.

  “It was here the first time we arrived,” Curt said.

  “Any chance you caused it coming down the tunnel?”

  “Nope, if you noticed, the dirt walls are packed solid,” Scott said.

  Tolen shined his flashlight ahead.

  “We believe this cave was manmade,” Curt said.