Evil in the Beginning (The God Tools Book 2)

by Gary Williams

  The helicopter rose into the night. “Where to?” he asked, his tone had turned sterile.

  “Head east. We’re going to a creek off the main channel.”

  “Whatever you say, wife of mine,” he mumbled sarcastically.

  CHAPTER 65

  Tolen crested the Shands Bridge, pushing the Camaro at a high rate of speed. The moonlight revealed a scene below vastly different than any he had ever witnessed. The burgeoning watery landscape consumed virtually everything in sight. It was as if the river had come alive, feasting on the surrounding land with an insatiable appetite.

  At least he had made it onto the bridge. The extreme northern end of the span was slightly higher than the southern end he had already traversed, so getting through the rising water and coming off the Shands shouldn’t be a problem. Still, every second that passed saw the river swelling even more. He was anxious to get across the mile-plus-long structure.

  He came down off the hump and sped up. The flat surface of the bridge stretched out before him. The headlights of the Camaro knifed ahead, splitting the darkness. To the sides, it was an ominous sight to see the river level not far from the deck of the span. The car purred as he accelerated.

  Ahead, a person suddenly came into view, standing directly in the middle of the two-lane span. Tolen braked hard just as he heard a series of violent pops and his windshield fractured in three places. The tires screeched trying to slow the vehicle, which made a sliding, half turn and threatened to roll. Tolen’s head slammed against the side window as the vehicle came to a harsh stop, the car lifting up on its side momentarily, before gravity took over and slammed it back down onto the bridge deck. The inside filled with smoke from the locked tires, and the smell of rubber clogged the air. Tolen felt his forehead and found blood streaming from it. His thoughts jumbled. All he could recall was that the person in the road was a woman, and she had fired at him. He reached for his pistol, but before he could withdraw it, the car door was snatched open. “Don’t move.”

  It was Florida Fish and Wildlife Conservation Commission officer Melanie Canstar in uniform.

  She had a Glock 30 aimed at his head. The light from a flashlight blinded him.

  “You’re still upset about me not taking you out to dinner, aren’t you?” he asked groggily. He felt lightheaded. To the side of the light, Canstar blurred into two people, then came back into focus.

  “Shut the hell up,” she barked. She reached in and removed his pistol. “Get out.”

  Her French accent was more pronounced than he had ever heard it, as if she were no longer trying to Americanize it.

  Tolen staggered to his feet, his world twisting and jumping. Again he felt his head. The blood poured from a large laceration. He most likely had a concussion.

  “Get over against the guard rail,” she motioned with the Glock 30, holding the light in his eyes. The glow caused a searing headache. He raised a hand to shield his eyes and shuffled over to the rail.

  Keeping the gun trained on him, she approached. “Turn around,” she ordered, “and put your hands behind your back.”

  He complied, and, before he could react, she had clamped him in handcuffs. Then she spun him back facing her. He was dizzy and nearly fell.

  “You don’t look so well, Monsieur Tolen,” she said whimsically. “Perhaps zee night air doesn’t agaree with you?”

  “No, it’s your disguise I find repulsive,” Tolen countered, watching her through squinting eyes.

  She directed the gun at his chest and took several steps backward.

  Tolen spoke weakly as he felt his energy evaporate. “We found Dr. Lila Falls’ boat. You didn’t have it towed to be examined. You’re obviously not Melanie Canstar. Who are you?”

  “My name is Josette Laval. We’ve never met, but you knew my sister, Claudia Laval.”

  Tolen searched his memory. He had never heard the name before. “I do?”

  “Je m’excuse. I believe you knew her as Claudia Denoit. Laval was her maiden name.”

  Claudia Denoit. This was a name Tolen knew. Last year, while on a worldwide quest to return the Sudarium of Oviedo, he had apprehended Claudia Denoit when she attempted to steal something from his hotel room on the Greek Isle of Pathmos. Claudia had escaped but later turned up dead, hanging upside down on his hotel room wall, like the Apostle Peter, who had been crucified in an inverted position.

  “You murdered her in cold blood,” Laval’s voice was turning more acidic by the second. She gritted her teeth. “You killed my sister like she was some sort of animal that you hung on the wall like a trophy.”

  Tolen found himself fighting to stay conscious as blood dripped into his eyes from the gash. “You’ve got your facts wrong,” he said, struggling to talk. “I didn’t kill her.”

  “Oh, yes Monsieur, you most certainly did.”

  “No,” Tolen said, shaking his head lethargically. His thoughts had become thoroughly scrambled.

  “What you didn’t count on is that her sister was a trained killer in the French army. I’ve been hunting you, stalking you. When I killed Officer Melanie Canstar last Saturday morning on Bayard Point after she discovered Dr. Falls’ boat, I was able to assume her identity and get even closer to you to witness your arrogance firsthand. You are quite disgusting, Monsieur, if I do say.”

  Tolen could barely stand upright. His mind continued to cloud. “I understand your loss,” he began breathlessly, “and I’m obviously not going to convince you of my innocence. Just know that killing me will not bring Claudia back. It will only cause your grieving to start over again.”

  “Oh, but Monsieur, just knowing you are dead is a victory that my sister will applaud in Heaven and I on Earth.” Josette smiled a sinister grin. “And now, Monsieur, au revoir.”

  Tolen felt the double impact to his chest even before he heard the first gunshot. In the next instant, his world spun, and he felt weightless. Only when he struck the water and submerged did he realize the gunshot had knocked him off the bridge and into the river.

  With his hands restrained by the handcuffs, all he could do was sink.

  CHAPTER 66

  Curt and Sherri navigated up Trout Creek. They were just about to pass under the State Road 13 roadway bridge when another boat came screaming out of the creek. It nearly collided with them. Curt swerved at the last moment and avoided the impact. The Bayliner rolled tumultuously in the other boat’s wake.

  Curt got a bad feeling that something had scared the hell out of them.

  He gunned the motor, sending up a trail of spray as they raced upriver, passing under the bridge and by Pacetti’s Fishcamp on the left. In the distance, Curt saw a strange red hue lighting the river.

  “What is that?” Sherri asked.

  “Nothing good,” Curt responded, trying to steel his nerves.

  Ahead, a single boat was spinning in place, as if caught in a swirling drain. Red light rose from the depths, spotlighting the vortex. Curt spotted Scott standing at the helm, trying to maintain his balance. Suddenly the engine sparked to life, and the vessel leapt forward, nearly running headfirst into the treed embankment. At the last second, Scott cut the wheel, and the boat turned away, aiming toward Curt and Sherri. The craft streaked by them. Curt turned hard, bringing the boat about, and gunned the motor, chasing after Scott. It wasn’t until they reached the mouth of the creek that Curt and Sherri caught up with Scott and hand signaled him to slow down. Only then did they see Kay, Cody, and Tina on the floorboard.

  “Thank God,” Sherri said, seeing her daughter with the others.

  “Scott, is everyone okay?” Curt called over.

  “Yeah, just shaken. Did you see that thing back there?”

  Curt turned to look back up the channel. In the distance, he could still see the red hue. It was getting brighter. “Scott, we don’t have much time. It’s coming after you. Get over here.” Curt then tu
rned to Sherri, “I need you to climb in that boat with Kay and the kids. Can you drive it?”

  “I’ve never driven a boat in my life.”

  “But I can,” Kay said, rising up, still panting. Cody and Tina also stood. Kay hugged Scott for a long second.

  “We’ll lead the Serpent away from you,” Curt said.

  Scott reached over and grabbed the vessel long enough for Sherri to cross over. Then he jumped into the Bayliner with Curt.

  Curt spoke, “Get back to the riverhome.”

  “Where are you going?” Sherri and Kay asked nearly in unison.

  “I have a plan,” Curt said.

  CHAPTER 67

  Mike brought the helicopter over the river. “Jesus Christ,” Mike said, “look at the river!”

  The landscape appeared like an ocean that had bled heavily into the trees and swamps on either side. It was impossible to tell in the darkness, but homes at the river’s edge were surely being swamped.

  “Incredible,” was all Fawn could say. In the back of her mind, she couldn’t discount the possible connection that it had something to do with the Cult of the End, as crazy as that sounded.

  Below, Fawn saw the Shands Bridge stretching across their path. A flash of white, then a second flash, caught her eye. “Mike, go down,” she pointed. “Something’s happening on the bridge.”

  Mike guided the chopper near the surface of the water and approached the span. As they neared, Fawn saw a person standing on the flat part of the bridge in front of an angled, parked car. She saw the distinct outline of a woman, who held both hands together, extend something outward in their direction.

  “Oh, shit,” Mike said, suddenly banking the helicopter upward in a hard climb.

  A loud tink emanated from the underside of the cockpit, then another and another.

  “What’s going on?” Fawn shouted as Mike angled the helicopter higher and turned hard to the right. Suddenly, the craft lurched and bucked.

  “That person fired on us! I’m losing control!”

  The helicopter dipped and staggered, the rotors whining in protest.

  Fawn felt her stomach flip.

  The craft began a downward descent. Mike fought it valiantly and managed to fly them back over shore, but then the helicopter spun wildly out of control. Smoke poured into the cockpit. The smell of gas was everywhere. Raw terror gripped Fawn. As if things weren’t bad enough, the rotors suddenly went still. The wind whistled by as the vessel plummeted toward the ground.

  “Hold on!” was the last thing she heard her husband shout.

  CHAPTER 68

  With Sherri aboard hugging Tina, and Cody seated beside her, Kay steered over the moonlit surface. The children seemed remarkably calm after everything they had gone through. Kay was elated they were free of captivity but worried the bald man and larger man were somewhere in a boat on the water. She kept a nervous watch into the darkness as she eased the boat out of the mouth of Trout Creek and to the west toward Taylor Barton’s riverhome. She glanced to the south where the boat carrying Scott and Curt skirted across the water, nearly out of sight now.

  “Sherri,” Kay spoke loudly over the sound of the motor, “what was that…that…thing?”

  Sherri explained the best she could. Kay was somewhat befuddled with all the information, but nevertheless accepted it without question after what she had just witnessed.

  Minutes later they pulled up to the area where Taylor Barton’s dock should have been. Kay dropped into idle.

  The dock was gone, submerged underneath the tremendous swell of the river. They could barely make out the dark house on shore as a light veil of fog drifted against the treeline. The river had covered all but the roof of the structure and devoured the property, laying claim to practically everything in their visual periphery.

  “It’s gone,” Kay said in shock. “What’s going on with the river?”

  “We don’t know. Let’s just run the boat up on shore as far as we can go. The current seems to be picking up. It’s safer up there than out here.”

  Kay nodded in agreement. She dropped the gear lever forward, and the boat rumbled ahead. They were ambling toward shore, angling in, when the boat abruptly stopped with a jerk. The prop made a distressed sound, went still, and the motor choked out.

  “Uh oh,” Kay said. She turned the key of the ignition, but the engine wouldn’t catch. Then she found the switch for the electronic motor lift and depressed it. With a hum, the motor slowly raised from the water, exposing the prop. Of the two prop blades, one had been sheared off.

  “I think we found the dock,” Sherri said.

  Kay started the boat, but it ran ragged, and she opted to turn it off. Sherri had been right about the current. It was running strong. They had already begun to drift. Thinking quickly, Kay went to the front of the boat and found a compartment that held an anchor. With some difficulty, she lifted the 20-pound anchor and tossed it into the water, tying the rope off at the cleat. The water was far deeper than she expected.

  “At least we’ll hold our position,” Kay said nervously, knowing that both the kidnappers and that creature were lurking somewhere in the river. She turned to Sherri. “So how are Scott and Curt going to lead that beast away from us?”

  “Kay, remember I said the creature sees and targets whoever is caught in the emerald’s reflection? Lawton Sawyer mailed the stone to your house. Scott opened it yesterday and was struck by sunlight reflecting off of it.”

  “Oh my God, Sherri. He’ll be killed.”

  “We’ve gotta have faith, Kay. Curt has a plan.”

  “And his plan is?”

  Sherri smiled, “He never tells me, but it usually has a strange way of working out.”

  CHAPTER 69

  The Bayliner raced across the water with Curt at the helm. A patchy, low fog now covered the river as they ran in and out of the hovering mist.

  “Crap, at least with the Fish, we were safe on land. This thing not only burrows through earth but it’s just as adept in water. So what’s your plan?” Scott asked, checking behind. He knew the Serpent was in pursuit. He couldn’t see it, but he could feel it.

  “Check and see if there’s another flashlight in the seat compartment,” Curt said, standing so Scott could check.

  “Better than a flashlight,” Scott said, “I’ve got an electric lantern. Hey, isn’t this Tolen’s boat? What happened to him?”

  Curt shook his head. “He went to check on a possible camp site of the Cult of the End. I haven’t heard from him since. I spoke with his assistant. That’s how I knew you were up at Trout Creek.”

  “And your plan is?” Scott asked, turning on the lantern.

  “The caves, Scott; this whole ordeal originated at those caves. That’s where Lila disappeared, and where the Staff was left 3500 years ago before the relic turned into a Serpent a few days ago. I think we’ll discover an answer there as to how to defeat this thing.”

  “We searched both caves. What more are you hoping to find?”

  “There’s one place we didn’t look.”

  “Where?”

  “Let’s get there first and see if my hunch is correct.”

  “I hope you’re right, but what about these psycho cult members?”

  “One thing at a time,” Curt urged. “Besides, as long as the Serpent is coming after us, I doubt we’ll see those guys.”

  CHAPTER 70

  Josette Laval felt a rush of adrenaline as she sent two bullets into Tolen’s chest and watched his tattered body flip over the guardrail into the river below. Immediately afterward, she was surprised by a helicopter swooping in low. She effectively neutralized it with several well placed shots. All in all, it had been a satisfying few minutes.

  Laval pulled a small hand-held unit from her pocket. The handcuffs she had fitted on Samuel Tolen had a tracking beacon, compliments of
French military technology. She studied the small screen and saw that the handcuffs, along with Tolen, had sunk to the riverbed. The depth was 45 feet. She studied it as the blip moved horizontally 55 feet near the river bottom before it stopped. The current had dragged his body until it had gotten hung up on something.

  Josette Laval watched the stationary blip for nearly 15 minutes, then, with a lecherous smile said, “This one was for you, my dear sister.”

  She climbed in Tolen’s 1969 Camaro SS and drove off the bridge and down the road.

  CHAPTER 71

  Bayard Point was virtually under water, with only the dark rise reaching above the river surface. Curt gingerly ran the boat into the flooded swamp, navigating his way carefully, avoiding the trees that topped the surface of the water. If it had not been for the generous moonlight and lantern they placed on the bow of the boat, they would never have had a chance of finding the caves.

  “What if the tunnel opening has been breached by water?” Scott asked nervously looking about.

  “That won’t be good.”

  A splash erupted on the left. Both men jumped and shined their flashlights in the direction of the sound. A set of surface-level, red eyes glared back at them, then turned and was gone. Scott’s heart almost stopped.

  “Just an alligator,” Curt said.

  “Yeah…just,” Scott added, grabbing his chest. “I’d appreciate it though if he doesn’t do that again.”

  When the prop began to sputter, clogged with detritus, Curt cut the motor. “We’ll have to use the oars,” he said, handing one to Scott. Each man took a side of the boat and began pushing slowly toward the rise.

  Soon, they saw the water give way to a slope of land rising from the swamp. Scott’s best guess was that the river had reached halfway up the plateau. The tunnel entrance, still covered with branches from their visit with Tolen, was only a few feet above the waterline. They used the oars to push the boat toward it, and onto solid ground.