Evil in the Beginning (The God Tools Book 2)

by Gary Williams

  “It’s a big river, Tolen, and at the moment, it seems to be getting bigger. Have you noticed that the tide is continuing to rise? An emergency broadcast has been issued for residents along the shore from Palatka to Orange Park to evacuate, although no one can explain why the river is rising during the outgoing tide.”

  “I’ll have my assistant see if she can locate anything on the water.”

  “Please do. If we don’t get to Scott, these madmen are going to kill him, his family, and Tina.”

  Tolen hung up and immediately called Tiffany Bar, requesting she use realtime satellite heat signature tracking for activity on the river. He explained the situation as he walked back to his car, carrying the satchel of papers. Ahead, a bright ball of fire suddenly erupted, lighting up the woods. Tolen ended the call, and rushed up the dirt road, gun drawn.

  His rental car was consumed in flames.

  Bullets suddenly whizzed by his head, and he dove behind a nearby grouping of trees. More gunfire struck the trees, sinking in with muted thuds. Tolen waited for the shots to subside, turned, and stood beside the tree, firing blindly in the general direction the shots had originated not far from the burning rental car. He emptied nearly the entire clip.

  He knew it was a dangerous tact to present himself in the open, but he needed to locate the shooter. As he hoped, the gunman fired back but, pinned down by Tolen’s shots, had aimed wildly. Tolen located the shooter behind the first tree adjacent to the car. He once again ducked behind the tree and loaded a new clip. The shooter continued to fire, striking the tree repeatedly. Tolen knew from experience the man was not acting efficiently. This was no professional. Tolen spun out to the other side of the tree, caught the thin man in his sights, and fired a single shot, striking the exposed shooter in the chest. He fell to his knees with a grunt. The gun fell from his hands and skipped several feet away from him. The man held his chest, looking down at the wound in disbelief. The light from the car fire revealed a bizarre, twisted expression on the shooter’s face, as if he’d just come to some harsh resolution. As Tolen watched, the thin man unexpectedly pushed to his feet.

  “Don’t move,” Tolen ordered, still tracking the man in his sights, slowly walking toward him.

  With the flames shooting higher from the blazing vehicle, casting wild light over the man’s gaunt features, he smiled as Tolen approached. Holding his chest wound as blood gushed out, the man staggered toward the fire and hurled his body onto the burning car. His screams were horrible. Tolen was stunned and could only watch as the writhing figure moaned and contorted until the body went still, consumed within the flames.

  Rousing himself to action, Tolen found a large stick and used it to pull one of the man’s legs from the fire. Then, using his coat, he wrapped it around his hands and pulled the man’s body off the car. It plopped onto the ground, still burning. He patted the fire out, leaving a grisly, charred corpse before him which reeked of burning hair and flesh.

  Sacrifice was the act of a cult member. If there had been any doubt this was the Cult of the End’s camp, it was now erased.

  He pulled out his phone with the intent of calling Curt but found the device had been damaged, probably when he dove behind the trees.

  He pulled the corpse farther away from the burning car and into the woods, where he covered it up with leaves. He then began to jog back to his house.

  CHAPTER 57

  Sherri Falco closed her computer. She walked over to the window and drew the shades shut. Night had fallen, and after a 12-hour workday, she was finally done with her report. It was such a relief. She thought about Tina. No doubt, she was having a blast playing with Cody, but Sherri missed her little daughter dearly. In many ways, it was Tina who had kept Sherri going between the dissolution of her first marriage, and then her falling out with Curt. Two more days and Sherri would pick her up from the Marks’. She hoped the time passed quickly. In some ways, what lay ahead for Sherri might be her most difficult challenge to date. Knowing Tina would be there to help would ease the stress.

  Sherri still couldn’t put her finger on what had gone wrong with Curt. They had met and fallen in love under extraordinary circumstances, but it had not sustained them. Still, she loved the man, and she was pretty sure he loved her. So what was driving them apart? The short answer was Curt’s deteriorated self-worth. When he lost his job, his attitude soured about having Sherri support him. The proud male ego strikes again. Yet she had not seen it as a problem. He would find work eventually. It made no sense that it should interfere with their relationship, but that seemed to be exactly what happened. She had no idea why they couldn’t just make it work.

  She would talk to Curt. She had to. She would call him in the morning and suggest they have lunch. She half smiled. The notion of putting everything out in the open had a cathartic effect on her. One way or another, they would move on, either alone or together.

  Sherri walked over to the television controls and hit the power button. She had not had the TV or radio on since Saturday morning, having cast herself into a bubble of concentration to focus all her energies on finalizing the report. Now that it was done, she would find a movie, microwave some popcorn, and relax for the rest of the evening. God knows, she needed it.

  As soon as the screen came to life, Sherri saw the banner running across the bottom of the screen. It was a local news flash.

  “Emergency: Residents bordering the St. Johns River from Palatka to Orange Park are asked to evacuate. The St. Johns River is cresting its banks and may continue to rise.”

  The St. Johns doesn’t flood…and there haven’t been any heavy rains, Sherri thought. She couldn’t imagine what could possibly cause the river to rise to an extent that it would threaten homes. She grabbed her phone and immediately dialed Kay. It went unanswered. She called Scott. The phone rolled to voicemail. It was either turned off or he was in a dead zone.

  She again looked at the message scrolling by on the screen. May continue to rise?

  Sherri jumped up, grabbed her keys, and was out the door. From her house in Ponte Vedra Beach, it would take at least 45 minutes to reach the riverhome. She had to make sure the Marks had evacuated and that Tina was okay.

  CHAPTER 58

  Curt was pacing back and forth in Tolen’s living room. Fawn sat on the loveseat.

  “This is killing me,” Curt said. “I’ve got to do something.”

  A hard knock at the door startled them both. Fawn looked at Curt with concern. “It could be the Cult of the End.”

  “I don’t think they’re nice enough to knock,” Curt said moving to the front door. Truthfully, he was also worried about who was on the other side. He looked out through the keyhole. An elderly African American man stood on the porch. Curt swallowed hard and cracked the door open, barely peeking around it. “Yes, can I help you?”

  The man seemed surprised. “Is…Sam here?”

  Curt opened the door wider. The man didn’t appear to be a threat. “He’s out. Should be back soon. I’m a friend.”

  The man seemed suspicious of Curt. “Well…tell him Ralph Waller stopped by. I was a friend of Jaspar’s. With the evacuation, traffic will be heavy soon. If Sam needs somewhere to stay inland, my place is in Penney Farms, well off the river.”

  “Evacuation? I wasn’t aware, but I will tell him. Thanks.”

  Mr. Waller pointed to the side of the house. “I wouldn’t wait too long.” He turned and walked to his car parked at the road.

  Confused by what Waller had pointed to, Curt stepped outside. Water was lapping at the grass on the side of the house.

  The river had already flooded the backyard.

  Curt immediately called Tolen. There was no answer. He turned to Fawn. “There’s an evacuation under way along the river.”

  “I heard,” Fawn said as she stood. “I have an idea.” She went to her purse, grabbed her cell phone and dialed. “Our best c
hance of finding your friend is from the air, right? Well, I know someone who can help.”

  ****

  Mike Roberson was in the breakroom at Jacksonville International Airport where he worked as a helicopter mechanic when his cell phone rang.

  “Hey Fawn, I was wondering when I was going to hear from you again.” He immediately regretted his sarcastic tone. His words turned apologetic. “Are you still in Green Cove Springs? I just heard the river’s rising. You need to get to safety.”

  “Mike, I need you to fly down here. Can you get access to a helicopter?”

  “Of course, Ryan just brought one in. Are you okay?” his concern escalated for his wife.

  “I’m fine at the moment, but I need to get airborne. We have a…situation here. A little boy has gone missing along the shore.”

  Mike’s mind began to churn. “There’s no airport out your way.” He walked to the Northeast Florida map posted on the nearby wall and traced his finger over the Green Cove Springs area. “Fawn, there’s a golf course at what used to be the eastern end of Lee Field on State Road 16. Do you know where it is?”

  “I’ll find it.”

  “I’ll be there in 20 minutes.”

  ****

  On the way to the golf course in Curt’s Mustang, they passed the Military Museum of Northeast Florida where two police cars were parked, lights flashing in the night, obviously inspecting the damage to the structure and in search of Barton Rifold. Curt cringed at the flashback of the creature swallowing the poor man whole.

  A minute later, Curt and Fawn parked at the entrance to the golf course on a section of what used to be Lee Field. The seven-foot chainlink gate before them was secured by a padlock and chain. With police presence less than a mile away at the military museum, Curt risked using a bolt cutter from his trunk to remove the chain. He returned to the car, where the two now waited for Mike Roberson to land on the golf course.

  Curt called Tolen again. This time, he left a voicemail telling Tolen what was going on and that he and Fawn were taking to the air to attempt to locate Scott and the Cult of the End on the water.

  “Does your husband fly helicopters for a living?” Curt asked Fawn.

  “He used to. Now he’s a mechanic, but he still flies for fun. He has ready access to them at work.”

  “Why did you lie to him and tell him a little boy was missing?”

  Fawn gave a small laugh. “Do you really think he would have believed the truth?”

  “I guess not. I’m still having trouble digesting it.”

  “Dr. Lohan,” Fawn said, turning to Curt, “can we make a pact never to use the word digest again?”

  “Agreed.”

  CHAPTER 59

  In the darkness, two boats sat anchored on the side of the channel several hundred yards up Trout Creek from Pacetti’s Fishcamp.

  Kay was cuddling Cody on one side and Tina on the other as mosquitoes harangued them mercilessly. They were under the guard of two men. In the other boat, the bald man and the huge man also waited. The bald man had told Kay that her husband would be there soon to turn over something that would ensure their release, but Kay was terrified. She and the kids had seen the faces of these men, who had never tried to hide their identity. Her instincts told her there was no way that these men were going to allow any of them, including Scott, to leave here alive. The bald man had already cut a long gash in Cody’s arm, and it had taken Kay hours to stop the bleeding. He needed stitches. As it was, it was a raw, gaping wound that ripped at her heart every time she looked at the exposed flesh. Surprisingly, after the initial scream of pain and tears, Cody had quieted as Kay compressed the wound with material from the bottom part of his shirt. In fact, he had almost gone into a trance-like state, which made Kay think he had slipped into shock. Instead, he remained calm, talking as if nothing much had happened, even encouraging his mom when she had to fight back her own tears.

  God, how she loved her little boy.

  Tina’s resolve had also appeared unusually strong. Even after the violent cut to Cody’s arm by that bald bastard, Tina had remained in control. In fact, she had not cried at all, and, instead, lent words of comfort to both Kay and Cody.

  They obviously understood the danger, yet both these two young kids were holding it together better than she was.

  The glow of the moon disappeared as it settled behind a cloud, darkening the landscape.

  “Mom, I’m taking this off,” Cody said.

  Kay looked down in the dark to see Cody pulling the blood-soaked piece of cloth from his long cut.

  One of the two men in the boat struck a match to light a cigarette.

  “Put that damn thing out,” the bald man yelled over from the second boat.

  The man quickly lit the cigarette, and waved the match out.

  In the scant seconds of light provided by the match, Kay had seen it. Cody’s arm was, inexplicably, healed. The delicate skin was intact. With the light now gone, she reached down and felt the skin, moving her hand the length of Cody’s arm.

  There was no cut and no evidence that there ever had been a wound!

  A flashlight beam suddenly appeared on Cody’s arm. It came from the second boat.

  “Hold his arm up for me to see. The one that was cut,” the bald man called over to Kay.

  She wanted to resist, but fear and confusion rattled her. She raised Cody’s arm to show him as requested.

  “Sonofabitch, that’s what I thought,” the bald man said.

  CHAPTER 60

  Curt drummed on the steering wheel. His patience had all but evaporated with each passing second as he feared for Scott, Kay, Cody, and Tina. Again he wrestled with the notion of calling Sherri, but he had no idea what he would say.

  He also wondered why Tolen hadn’t returned his call. The thought crossed his mind that the Cult of the End members had gotten to him.

  He could stand it no more. “I can’t sit here, Fawn.”

  “Mike should be here soon.”

  “I know, but I’ve got to do something. You wait here for him. Get in the air and look for any signs of boat traffic on the river that could be Scott or the cult members. Keep in touch.”

  She nodded reluctantly and stepped from the vehicle. “Where are you going?”

  “Back to the riverhome where Scott and his family were staying. Maybe he went back there and left some clue as to where the ransom exchange will take place.”

  “Wait, before you go, Tolen said something to me that’s been weighing on my mind. He went to Nebraska four months ago to examine an Egyptian stone tablet from a farmer and his wife.”

  “I know, he told us about it.”

  “Did he tell you what Mrs. Jackson said to him before she died?”

  “No,” Curt said, “all he mentioned was that the couple was brutally murdered.”

  Fawn exhaled. “I hope I’m not violating Tolen’s trust by telling you this.”

  “Go on,” Curt urged.

  “Tolen said that Mrs. Jackson spoke in his deceased father’s voice and said, ‘Don’t let them meet.’ ”

  “Wow, that’s creepy.”

  “Yeah, creepy. Tolen has 100% auditory recall. It’s impossible for him to mishear something.”

  “What did it mean? Don’t let who meet?”

  “He doesn’t know.”

  “I don’t know what to say, Fawn,” Curt shrugged, “but I’ve got to get going.”

  “Good luck,” she said, closing the door.

  Curt waved, started the Mustang, and tore out of the dark parking lot.

  Headlights forging into the black night, Curt approached the Shands Bridge, flabbergasted by the scene before him. The water was lapping far up on the bank, crossing the road ahead. He slowed, passed through it, and continued, reaching the foot of the bridge, where the slightly higher elevation of the ro
ad kept it out of the rising river, at least for the moment.

  Curt crossed the 1.3-mile-long bridge and saw that the river had swelled on the far side as well. Again, he had to slow to get through the water as he came off the bridge before continuing. The cresting St. Johns River was like nothing he had ever seen before.

  Something was very wrong.

  Minutes later, Curt turned down Jack Wright Island Road. Even in the dark, he could see the river was encroaching upon the land on his right, threatening to reach the road. He gunned the motor and reached Taylor Barton’s house at the end.

  He turned in to the long drive. Ahead sat Scott’s SUV. Curt grabbed a flashlight from his glove compartment, climbed from the Mustang, and tried the front door of the house. It was locked. He rang the doorbell, but there was no response. All lights appeared to be turned off inside. Guided by the flashlight, he circled the house and tried the backdoor. It was also locked.

  Curt could hear water gently lapping up the backyard. He turned and saw it had risen two-thirds of the way into the yard. Farther out, the dark surface of the water was nearly over the dock. The very end of the dock was shrouded in black, the covered boat lift obscured.

  Curt walked into the backyard and into the rising water. The water started at his ankles, but soon he was wading through shin-deep water. For an instant, a chill crossed over his body, and memories of the Fish returned. He tried his best to ignore it and push on. He soon reached the foot of the door and ascended the two steps onto the main structure. The water would overtake it within minutes. He shined his flashlight ahead but still couldn’t make out the end of the dock.

  Carefully, Curt moved outward.

  It was just as he thought. As he approached the gap where Cody had been attacked and the dock damaged, he could now see to the end. The boat lift had been lowered. Taylor Barton’s vessel was gone.