End in the Beginning (The God Tools Book 3)

by Gary Williams

  “No, sir.”

  “Good. Please proceed.”

  Footman hung up and returned the phone to his pocket. The sun was obscured behind the tree line to the east, but daylight had arrived. “Start your boats!” he called out to the other three.

  The four boat motors roared to life. Carefully, each man angled his boat so that the four vessels were aimed outward. They idled, moving away like the blast wave of an explosion slowly spreading across the calm terrain. The chain at the stern cleat of each vessel began to tighten and emerge from the water, zipping out toward the underwater cage as they became taut. In no time, the wire cage that held the Sword rose and broke the surface.

  A brilliant white glow emanated from the cage, then morphed into a blaze of blue. A blast shook the morning air. Footman clutched at his ears. The ringing ached deep in his head. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Walt Carter in the boat on his right doing the same.

  What happened next in the middle of the four boats was beyond comprehension. The cage rose into the air as the massive Bird forced its head and wings through the bars. It had a wingspan no less than nine feet and flapped with a long, violent stroke, parting the water below, creating tremendous waves. The feathered creature screeched in a deep, feral cadence unlike anything Footman had ever heard. He watched in horror as the waves pummeled his boat, sending him sprawling. He slammed into the gunwale. The force knocked the air from his chest, and he barely caught himself from plummeting over the side. With aching ribs, he held on as the boat rocked harshly. To the side, he heard Walter Carter in the water screaming for help. Other shouts filled the air as Footman fought valiantly against the continuous wave action. The air was filled with the smell of cinnamon.

  Then, as if things weren’t bad enough, he saw the length of chain on the back cleat lifting out of the water. Centered between the four boats, the Bird, still inside the cage, rose into the air until its shackles went taut, creating a pyramid of the four chains.

  Please let the weight of our four vessels hold it in place!

  To Footman’s horror, the Bird continued to ascend unencumbered. The stern of the four boats rose into the air. Again, he was thrown off balance; this time into the windshield.

  To the side, Carter had disappeared in the waves. In the other two boats, the two men were holding on as best they could. One man, whom Footman only knew as Cole, was bloodied and screaming in anguish. The other man, Pete Seal, was clutching onto the transom.

  Footman’s boat climbed to a forty-five-degree angle. The creature hovered nearly two dozen feet above the surface of the water. There, it remained stationary.

  The river below the Bird suddenly erupted. A massive, black, scaly head shot straight up from the water. It launched itself vigorously into the air, catching the cage and the Bird in its tremendous maw. The beast slammed back down, sending a tremendous surge of water against the vessels once again. Footman’s boat fell flush with the surface and lurched hard to port. He tumbled overboard into the water head first. He surfaced among a tirade of combers with a single thought: I’m in the water with this thing!

  Footman floundered in the waves, barely able to catch his breath. His vision blurred from the onslaught of water, but he was able to make out Cole and Seal still aboard their respective boats.

  The combined creature had disappeared beneath the surface, and the water bubbled then calmed. Gasping for air, Footman swam back to his boat, anxious to be out of the water.

  “Footman, you okay?” Seal called over to him.

  Footman reached the side of his boat. He was gasping for air as he gripped the gunwale above. “I’ll be fine. Anyone see Walt?”

  “No,” both Cole and Seal responded in unison.

  “Oh, hell!” he heard Cole shout.

  Footman didn’t have to ask to know what was happening. Between the four boats, a massive form rose into the air like a bullet. The creature no longer had the Bird in its jaw. Instead, the Bird—wearing the cage like a breastplate and still chained to the four boats—had sunk its talons into the head of the beast, pulling it from the water, screeching as the Bird flapped its long wings. The creature sailed into the air at the mercy of the Bird, and flew directly over Pete Seal’s boat. There it paused, wiggled, and squirmed, as it fought the grip of the Bird. A series of sharp clicks blended with the Bird’s rants. The struggle was monumental. Footman glanced over at Seal. He had never seen such an expression of utter panic as the creatures hovered directly above the man.

  Seal grabbed the wheel and was about to gun the idling motor when the creature contorted and twisted, finally freeing itself.

  In the downward fall, the beast not only managed to free itself from the Bird’s talons, but reclaimed the upper hand, clamping one of the Bird’s wings in its jaw. The impact with the boat and Seal happened so fast, the man never had a chance to scream. The sharp crash split the early morning air. The combination of the two beasts had taken Pete and his boat down in a single shot. Again, the creatures disappeared below the water’s surface as sheets of water were thrown in every direction.

  The splash swamped Footman. He treaded water beside his boat, his mind locked in complete and utter terror. He wiped the water from his eyes in time to see the chain attached at the transom cleat jerk once, then again, angling severely downward into the water.

  “Get out of the boat!” Footman yelled to Cole, as he pushed away from his own vessel.

  Cole was leaning over the gunwale of his boat, eyes darting over the water.

  “Get out of the boat!” Footman screamed again, gulping a mouthful of water.

  Cole glanced at Footman, then at the chain attached to his cleat. The chain suddenly shot straight down. His indecisiveness proved to be his demise. The vessel stood up at a sharp angle and plummeted backward, disappearing under water. Footman barely saw the man’s pleading eyes as he submerged. In an instant, no trace of the boat, or the man, remained.

  Footman’s boat stood up on end and also vanished, leaving the surface riddled with small eddies. Carter’s vessel was the last to go. It plunged below the surface with a morbid sucking sound.

  All four boats were gone.

  Footman swam in the open water of the creek with nowhere to go. Somewhere below the surface, the creatures lurked. His thoughts blasted through his mind far too quickly to be rational, and he was vaguely aware of the flotsam in the water around him.

  The tremendous form of the creature breached the surface of the creek some forty feet away. This time, it did so with far less speed and aggression. The beast raised its scaly head and stretched its neck from the water. Footman was too terrified to react. Instinctively, he swam in place, knowing his life was over. Yet the creature seemed preoccupied, unaware of Footman’s presence, extending its neck even farther out of the water.

  That’s when Footman saw the beast had sprouted wings on the sides of its scaly body. They had done it. The three creatures had merged into one. The ancient prophecy had been fulfilled.

  Something jogged his mind to action. Footman spun in place, examining the flotsam nearby. Although Nash had been truthful about the location of the portal, extra insurance wouldn’t hurt. He spotted the bow and attached sheaf of arrows. He swam to it, removed an arrow, which activated the tracking sensor, and nocked it on the bowstring. It was nearly impossible to swim in place with both hands occupied, but he knew if he could just get one shot, he could get the tracking device in place. The arrowhead was made to break off, so even if the beastly triad removed it, the sensor would remain embedded. The creature was cooperating, hovering complacently, as if drawing energy after expending all its resources to merge.

  Footman kicked with his legs, focusing his hands on the bow and arrow. He was an expert bow hunter. All he needed was one quick shot.

  He aimed, drawing back the arrow. The creature rotated its mighty head, spinning its entire body in place. It started slowly, but soon spun so quickly its entire form was a blur. A whirring noise, not unlike the howl of a tornad
o, filled the air.

  What in the hell?

  A vortex of water formed around the creature, and Footman found himself slowly being pulled toward it. He was no longer able to stay afloat using only his legs. He tried to re-nock the arrow under water. In a last-ditch effort, he decided to take the shot, even if he was forced to submerge. He pulled back on the string, raised the bow, and let loose, slipping under the water as he did so, but not before he saw his arrow pass directly through the spinning beast, which faded in color.

  The vortex pulled Footman down farther than he had feared. He let go of the bow and arrows and clawed his way back to the surface.

  The creature was gone. The swirling water was slowing, losing its pull.

  His aim had been perfect. Even with the merged triad of creatures spinning, there was no way he had missed. Yet the arrow had failed to strike.

  Now, with no way to track the creature, he hoped more than ever that Nash could be trusted.

  CHAPTER 28

  Nash stood next to Tina, who sat quietly on the ground. Not far away, Rassle also sat on the ground, while Laval strolled back and forth nearby.

  The waiting game continued for the foursome.

  One thing was certain: Nash had thoroughly fooled Footman and the other cult members. He had suspected some of the members, including Footman, had become leery of his intentions to include the rest of the following in the plans to migrate into Eden. His intuition had been confirmed when Nash had stopped at a rest area once they crossed the Georgia line. There, he had discovered the tracking device one of the members had planted on the vehicle. This meant he had to be honest about the location of the portal when he called Footman to ensure the others would follow through on the plan to transform the Sword of Michael into the Bird and allow it to merge with the Fish and Serpent. Nash could sense Footman’s relief when they had spoken on the phone. Of course, this did Footman and the others little good to know the location. Nash had purposely mistranslated the line of text referring to the combined creature; specifically, that it would make an underground journey to reach the portal, when in fact, once the three creatures combined, it would instantly arrive here. The closure of the portal when the second seed passed through was another translated part of the text Nash had purposely withheld. By the time the cult realized what had happened and reached the Georgia Guidestones, Nash and the others would already be through, and the portal would be locked down for a thousand years.

  The day was growing brighter by the minute. Sufficient time had passed for the creatures to be merged. Nash’s apprehension grew regarding Footman’s ability to carry out his directive.

  Rassle sat on the ground nearby watching the road. Beside him was the quad-folded metal ladder. Nash had realized that, given the structure’s height and without knowing exactly where the portal would be opened, they might need it to get at or near the top. The ladder would ensure they could quickly reach the portal anywhere it appeared on the edifice.

  Laval was pacing behind Nash and Tina like a caged cat. Nash sensed her disbelief in what they were undertaking, but she would soon know the truth.

  The early morning was filled with the sounds of animals and insects. Nash had already sustained a dozen mosquito bites. The horizon was splotched in purple and pink to the east. The smell of pine and grass rose from the earth. He stood and walked over to the structure. The columns on the left and right splayed like a massive open book waiting to be read. Between the two columns, in the center, was another column. Behind, two more columns were splayed apart, facing in the opposite direction. Neither the four directional columns nor the center column touched each other. Instead, they were all linked by the flat, square capstone twenty feet above. Nash reached out and touched the column on his left. Like the other three outer columns, the facing reached over six-and-a-half feet across by approximately one-and-a-half feet thick. Although he couldn’t read the text, he knew it was Chinese. He turned and examined the column on the right. The text there was obviously Arabic. He stepped back and appraised the capstone. Along the edge facing him, he saw Egyptian hieroglyphics. He then drifted inward to study the center column. At three and a half feet wide, it measured half the width of the four outer columns. Not far up the base was a three-foot-long, horizontal slot. Nash remembered reading that it indicated the annual travel of the sun.

  Indeed, this was a curious structure. Nash only shrugged as he looked down to the explosive charges secured to the base of each column. Soon he would leave this Earth, and the Georgia Guidestones would fall. A similar fate awaited the rest of humanity.

  Nash returned to the others. Tina sat cross-legged, her elbows resting on her knees, her chin nestled in her cupped hands, her eyes closed. Her breathing had slowed, and Nash wondered if she had fallen asleep. How she had remained calm through everything was beyond his comprehension.

  God and his back-up plan. A ridiculous strategy to send children to do a man’s job.

  A noisy truck passed by on the street but didn’t stop. The sound of the vehicle quickly faded. Nash was sure they had not been seen.

  Then he heard another rumbling as another vehicle approached.

  Or was it?

  The rumbling grew louder and more intense and seemed to come from everywhere.

  Rassle stood quickly.

  “What the hell is that?” Laval said, spinning in a circle, looking in every direction.

  Before Nash could respond, Tina calmly said, “It has arrived.”

  The ground beneath his feet began to swell. Nash reached down, scooped Tina up, and barely cleared the area. Rassle and Laval retreated to the side. Nash was in awe as a circular depression developed in the ground, then caved inward. At first, Nash thought it was a sinkhole as a large gaping cavity formed in the earth. Then, a blue transparent glow rose from the opening like a massive spotlight shooting into the early morning sky. The thick beam appeared to solidify and became opaque. Within, a swirl developed, a mini-tornado of churning chunks of rock creating a whirling, which rapidly grew in intensity. In the center, a shape rose, spinning counter-clockwise to the dirt and rocks. The form was unrecognizable, but as it rose, became more visible.

  The air from the anomaly created a stiff breeze. Nash struggled to remain in place as he watched, holding tightly to Tina’s hand. Oddly, he felt no threat.

  The entire disturbance began to slow. Only then did the tremendous form gain definition: a large creature, complete with scales, dorsal fin, and now wings. As the revolving beast slowed to a stop, the rocks and debris caught in the vortex fell harmlessly to the ground. The combined beast snorted and clicked. It eyeballed Nash then focused on Tina. The scent of cinnamon permeated the air. How it remained standing upright on its tail, Nash couldn’t fathom. The height of the creature rivaled the height of the Georgia Guidestones behind him.

  “Holy shit,” Laval whispered, now standing beside Nash.

  Rassle stood across the way, wide-eyed.

  The creature seemed to regard Tina with infinite sadness, as if showing compassion toward the little girl. The monster wheeled, refocusing on Nash with a certain sense of frustrated resignation.

  Nash felt his blood chill. Had he underestimated the creature’s role in all this?

  The beast shot into the air and arced high over Nash, Tina, and Laval. Nash cringed as it landed on the capstone and sprawled out across the top of the five columns. Instead of smashing the large block to pieces and falling through to the center of the structure, the creature simply vanished, as if absorbed into the horizontal stone.

  “The portal. It’s on top. Quick, grab the ladder!” Nash directed.

  Rassle quickly unfolded the ladder to its entire length. In what must have been an uncomfortable alliance, Laval helped him lift it high into the air and brace the ladder against the edge of the capstone.

  “We’ve got to get inside before the portal closes!” Nash yelled.

  ****

  This was the moment Laval had been waiting for. The thought of final
ly killing Jed Rassle had her tingling. Plus, the bizarre creature’s appearance and subsequent disappearance into solid rock had her now believing everything Nash had told her about Eden. She felt a tremendous surge of adrenaline at the thought of living forever.

  Rassle abandoned any male chivalry and dashed up the ladder first toting his large backpack and duffle bag.

  That was fine with Laval. It was much easier to shoot a man when he wasn’t looking.

  Laval nodded to Nash. He gave her a sly grin and returned the nod.

  Laval pulled the pistol from her waistband at her back, aimed at Rassle’s head, and pulled the trigger.

  Click.

  She pulled the trigger a second, then a third time. The weapon never fired.

  Someone emptied the goddamn clip!

  Rassle stopped near the top, turned, and smiled down lecherously.

  “What the fuck?” Laval turned to Nash.

  Nash had a gun leveled on her.

  “You bastard,” Laval growled. “What the hell is going on?”

  “Let’s just say I need Mr. Rassle’s talents…more than yours.”

  “You’d prefer to spend eternity with that oaf?”

  “Oh, this little one will mature into a fine woman in due time.” Nash grinned. “I’ve seen the mother. It’s worth a few years of waiting, especially when you have all eternity before you.”

  “I’ll kill you, Nash,” Laval gritted her teeth.

  “Sure you will,” he scoffed. “You couldn’t even kill that CIA agent, and you had him alone on a bridge.”

  “What are you talking about? Tolen is dead.”

  “That’s not what one of my men told me. He’s recovering at Orange Park Hospital. You’re a screw-up, Laval; a good lay, but a screw-up nonetheless.”

  Laval was boiling. Nash had to be lying. Surely Tolen was dead. She considered rushing Nash. He was eight or nine feet away. She hesitated.