End in the Beginning (The God Tools Book 3)

by Gary Williams

  “Of course,” Curt said.

  “After Cain murdered his brother, he was forced to walk the Earth, shunned by God. Many years later, Lamech, a blind man who was proficient in throwing knives in order to hunt, heard a noise while foraging in the woods. He threw the dagger, only to find out he had struck a man, Cain, who had been wandering there. Cain was killed. The blade Lamech accidentally killed Cain with was a sacrificial dagger created in Eden, the very dagger Cain had used to murder Abel.”

  “Karma’s a bitch, although I don’t recall the Bible ever specifying that the weapon Cain used to kill Abel was a dagger,” Curt said.

  “Some things are better left untold,” Father N replied. “The irony for Cain is that after he murdered Abel, God made him bear the mark of sevenfold, so that when he was sent away, he would not be murdered in revenge for his crime.”

  “Which never made any sense to me. Why did God protect Cain after he murdered Abel?” Bar asked.

  “The mark of sevenfold has been misinterpreted as meaning anyone who killed Cain would suffer vengeance sevenfold. In truth, this meant the seventh generation of Cain would be responsible for his death, and a seventh-generation relative of Cain, Lamech, did just that. He accidentally killed Cain with the same dagger Cain had used to kill his brother.”

  Curt broke in with a thoughtful glance, “Wait, you said the dagger was created in Eden…just like the other three God Tools. Is it a God Tool? Can it get someone inside?”

  “It is not a true God Tool, but given its link to Eden, it should be able to reopen the portal,” Father N paused, tilting his head. “I thought you said the structure, the Georgia Guidestones, was destroyed?”

  “Yes, but the last portal prior to the Georgia Guidestones was Coral Castle in Homestead, Florida. Will it work there?”

  “Possibly, but there are other caveats you must know before attempting to open the portal at a previous structure—”

  Curt cut him off. “Do you know where the dagger is?”

  “Cain was entombed with the dagger still buried in his chest. God warned that it should be left inside him.”

  “Where is Cain’s tomb?”

  “I can make no absolute claim, but you said that something changed Carr Nash after his exploratory dive of the Civil War shipwreck in the St. Johns River; that he was a different person and now he bears the brand of the Hebrew seven. The location of Cain’s entombed body was kept secret by God because of the danger.”

  Curt understood what Father N was suggesting. “The Maple Leaf is in twenty feet of water just off the point, and Nash mistakenly dove somewhere in the vicinity. You think that Cain’s tomb is here, in the St. Johns River, and Nash found it?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then I’m going down there.”

  “A word of caution: Cain represents the first murderer,” Father N began. “His tomb is on the fringe of an entryway to Hell. Do not venture there with guilt in your mind. There are souls trying to escape, and they can only do so with your help. There, they will be more than mere ghosts or shadows; they’ll have form and can harm you. Also, if you find Cain’s body and the dagger has been removed, we’ll know Cain’s evil has been unleashed.”

  “I don’t think that matters much now. We’re damned if we do, damned if we don’t. All I know is we need that dagger if there’s a chance to reopen the portal at Coral Castle.” Curt started to walk away.

  Father N called to him. “Stop, there’s more that I haven’t told you.”

  “It’ll have to wait. We’re losing time and daylight, and if we don’t find the dagger, it won’t matter,” Curt said without turning.

  “Afterward, meet me at Spring Park in Green Cove Spring at dusk.”

  Curt acknowledged with a wave of his hand as he continued walking.

  Bar followed after throwing an apologetic glance toward Father N.

  CHAPTER 33

  Josette Laval flagged down a young female motorist driving a Chrysler LeBaron several miles from the remnants of the Georgia Guidestones. When the teenager lowered her driver’s side window, Laval reached in, grabbed the girl’s head, and quickly broke her neck. She then dragged the body from the car and left it in the nearby woods. As much pain as Laval was in from the blow to her head, the kill was still gratifying, although it did little to quell her rage.

  Inside the car, she found an indelible black marker. Perfect. She modified the license plate lettering, changing a “C” to an “O” and the letter “P” to “B” in case police were alerted to the theft of the automobile. Then she checked the trunk where she found a baseball cap which she took in the car with her.

  Laval had had her doubts about what Nash told her, that there was a portal to access Eden. Now that she’d witnessed it firsthand—watched them disappear into the capstone—she no longer questioned the Scroll of Edict. Yet even knowing that the portal was sealed, she refused to give up the notion that she would find those two bastards. If it took the rest of her life, she vowed to kill Nash and Rassle, but first on the list was Samuel Tolen.

  Laval stopped at a rest area off the Interstate and made her way into the bathroom. She settled into the middle stall and latched the door. Her clothes were tattered and dirty. This would not work. Once she got back to Florida, there was no way she could get into Orange Park Hospital without raising attention.

  Laval stood on the toilet seat, barely peering over the top of the stall and kept watch on the door-less bathroom entrance. She needed conditions to be just right.

  Several women came and went. None were her size.

  Overweight Americans, she grumbled under her breath.

  One woman entered who was approximately Laval’s size, but she deemed the woman’s Capri pants and hideous flowered blouse a fashion disgrace and opted to keep waiting.

  Her patience paid off. An attractive, fit, thirtyish woman walked in holding the hand of a three- or four-year-old blonde girl. The mother gently guided the little girl toward the stall next to Laval.

  Laval felt her adrenaline surge. It wouldn’t be quite as clean a kill with the young girl, but that was not about to deter her. She would have to take care of them both quickly and efficiently.

  She climbed down off the toilet seat with cat-like dexterity and slowly, silently unlatched her door. She waited to hear the woman open the stall door next to her. Once she did, Laval would wait half a beat, then rush out and corner them in the stall before they had a chance to lock the door behind them. She might actually be forced to kill the little girl first to abate any shrill screams, then take the mother out. A critical aspect was dispatching them both without damaging the woman’s clothes or staining the material with blood.

  Laval held the latch and waited, ready to rush out. She was ready to move forward at the swish of the stall door opening, but the echo of chatter suddenly filled the room, followed by a group of laughing women.

  Dammit.

  Laval relaxed. She quietly stepped back on the toilet seat lid, waiting for the bathroom to clear out again. The mother and little girl left about the same time as the boisterous women.

  Laval had now grown impatient. The next woman, another traveler probably in her late sixties, entered the quiet bathroom and occupied the stall beside Laval. She was Laval’s size and, surprisingly, had good taste in clothes.

  The woman’s fashion sense would ultimately mean her death.

  Ten minutes later, donning new clothes, Laval waited for the bathroom to empty. After propping the woman’s partially naked corpse on the toilet seat, Laval pulled herself up and over the locked door, landing on the ground. With care, she straightened out her clothes, checked herself in the mirror, and then calmly left the bathroom.

  Hours later, she reached Orange Park Hospital without incident. She was tired, hungry, and her head ached. None of that would stop her now. She would kill Tolen, then figure out a way to get to Nash and Rassle. Perhaps the rest of the cult would have an idea, although she doubted it. The remaining members were imbeciles Nash h
ad easily kept in the dark.

  How Tolen had survived underwater for so long she couldn’t imagine. Nevertheless, his luck was about to run out. If Tolen was coherent when he was admitted, his room would be guarded. This meant the front-desk personnel would deny he was a patient. Laval would have to find a creative way to locate him.

  She stayed in the car, and pulled her long hair up underneath the baseball cap. With the makeup from the woman she had killed at the rest stop, she applied powder and blush to the bruises on her face to cover them. The bruise where Nash had struck her with the gun near her temple was particularly painful, and she realized she may have sustained a slight concussion.

  That bastard.

  When she finished, she remained in the car. An opportunity arrived in the form of a florist truck which whipped in and parked at the main entrance. Laval exited the car and walked directly toward the van. The driver climbed from the driver’s seat, moving quickly to the rear doors. He swung them opened, removed an arrangement of flowers, and strolled quickly toward the entrance.

  As the deliverer tripped the pneumatic doors and entered the hospital, Laval reached the van. Just as she had hoped, the deliverer failed to lock the doors. Laval opened the rear doors and found six more arrangements. She grabbed the most elaborate one, closed the doors and stepped away from the van calmly. As she rounded the corner of the hospital building and ducked into an alley, she saw the deliverer return to his van and drive off.

  Laval removed the card on the flowers addressed to Kathleen Kirkland and casually walked back to the main entrance carrying the arrangement. She passed through the main doors and arrived at the front desk. The hallway intersection was busy with people, and she had to wait to be helped.

  “May I help you?” A lady with a nametag that read Janet asked.

  “Yes, please,” Laval said in desperation and without any accent. “I was supposed to deliver these earlier. They’re for Samuel Tolen. They’re from some governmental official. My boss just got his butt chewed by the customer and is going to fire me if I don’t get this up to his room in the next five minutes.”

  Janet typed on her keyboard.

  Laval used the opportunity to locate the nearest elevator.

  “I’m sorry, there’s no one admitted here by that name,” Janet said.

  Laval grabbed her head, feigning distress. “That can’t be right. The directions from the customer said he’s here. Please check again.”

  Janet regarded the screen as if deciding what to do next. “I’m sorry, he’s not here. Maybe you should recheck the name on the card.”

  Laval could tell the woman was lying. “For some reason, there is no card. Weird, I know, but I have to get these delivered. I’m going to leave these here on the desk. You do what you have to do with them, but at least I can tell my boss that they’re at the hospital.” She wheeled and walked away.

  Janet called for her, “Ma’am, I can’t do anything with these flowers.”

  “Then they’re yours. I delivered them as I was supposed to,” Laval said without turning. She left the hospital, stopping outside the main doors where she knew she was out of sight. She ripped off her cap and fluffed out her hair. A couple passed by, and Laval followed them closely back through the entrance, using them to shield her from Janet’s view.

  The flowers were already gone from the desk.

  Fortunately, the couple walked in the direction of the elevator, and Laval followed them closely. Ahead, she saw a younger woman holding the arrangement waiting by the elevator doors. As Laval had hoped, Janet was having one of the volunteers deliver it to Tolen’s room.

  Laval boarded the elevator with the younger woman. She waited for the woman to press the fourth floor button. As the doors were closing, Laval thrust her hand out and stopped them. “Oops, I forgot something in my car,” she declared to the volunteer and exited the elevator.

  She now knew the floor where Tolen was a patient. From here, Laval had to proceed with caution. When the arrangement arrived at Tolen’s room, especially without a card, it might put the guard at the door on alert. Hopefully, the young volunteer would repeat what Laval had told Janet: that the floral arrangement was from some government official. It would seem plausible that, in order to protect Tolen, there would be no card displaying the official’s name.

  Laval took the stairs up to the fourth-floor landing. She opened the door and nonchalantly slipped down a hallway, passing nurses and visitors. As the hallway turned right, she caught sight of a man in a suit in front of a room—no doubt a federal agent on guard. He was in the process of thoroughly examining the arrangement as the young woman stood by. The agent seemed to consider the flowers, then handed them back to the volunteer, who carried them back to the elevator and left the floor.

  Given that she was unarmed, to reach Tolen, she would have to kill the agent in hand-to-hand combat, which was not an option in a crowded hospital. Besides, there might be other agents nearby. Instead, Laval walked away in the opposite direction as if looking for a patient’s room. She made her way down the hallway to the end and went left. A short distance later, she turned left again. As was the case with most hospitals, the hallways ran in a rectangle. Laval would eventually approach Tolen’s room from the other direction. As she reached the final left before the hallway, there was a small waiting room. The only person in the room was a thirty-something woman with brown hair streaked with blonde highlights talking on the hospital phone. She seemed tired; her hair was mussed as if she had just awoken.

  “Curt, are you sure?” The woman’s voice dropped as Laval passed. Laval stopped on the other side of the doorway out of sight. Even in a whisper, Laval could still hear her talking. “And he told you we can access Eden through Coral Castle?”

  Access Eden?

  As soon as she hung up, Laval stepped into the waiting room and approached the woman.

  Ten minutes later, Laval escorted the woman out of the hospital under the threat of an imaginary gun in her pocket. They climbed in the stolen vehicle.

  CHAPTER 34

  Curt called Fawn to tell her what they had learned from Father N. Meanwhile, Bar made several phone calls of her own. To Curt’s surprise, a short time later a fourteen-foot Carolina skiff with a sixty horsepower motor and two full sets of scuba gear were delivered to Mandarin Dock by a guy who introduced himself to Curt only as Alfred. The boat was launched and tied to the floating dock.

  “When will they send the GPS coordinates to my phone?” she asked Alfred.

  “You’ll have them promptly,” he responded.

  On cue, her smartphone chirped. She checked her email. “Got it.”

  Curt was amazed at the ease and speed by which she had acquired the resources they needed. After he drove away, Curt spoke, “Alfred, huh? You’re not related to Bruce Wayne, are you?”

  “Only if you’re related to—”

  “Let’s get going,” Curt cut her off. “We don’t know how much time we have left.”

  They quickly changed into the wetsuits at the public restrooms in the adjacent park and returned to the cement dock. The suits were sweltering, but Curt was focused on the task at hand and ignored the heat. They climbed into the boat. Curt took the helm and started the motor with the first turn of the ignition. Bar untied the bow rope from the floating dock, and they angled away to the west.

  Curt watched as Bar sat on the bow and consulted her smartphone screen for the coordinates, shielding the sun with one hand. “More to port,” she said over the rumble of the motor, and motioned left.

  Curt did as instructed, cut slightly to the left and increased speed over the flat, windless surface of the water. Cypress and oak trees darkened the shoreline, but opulent houses with manicured backyards were still visible along the point. There were no other boats in sight.

  “How far off from the coordinates of the Maple Leaf were they?” Curt asked.

  “About four hundred feet to the north.”

  They reached the outer edge of Mandarin
Point. Bar continued to adjust Curt’s aim, guiding the vessel to the exact coordinates. As they drew closer, she searched the holds underneath the cushions, found the anchor, and pulled it out along with the anchor rope.

  “Slow down,” she advised.

  Curt complied, dropping the speed. Wakes rolled by on either side as the boat settled down.

  “Another ten yards or so that way.” She pointed.

  Curt reduced the engine to idle.

  “Here. Right here.”

  Curt cut the motor. He stood and walked to the bow. Bar stepped aside, allowing Curt to hoist the twenty-pound anchor and toss it overboard. When the rope went slack, he drew in the excess and tied it off on the front cleat. Bar threw the dive buoy out to signal their activity under water.

  They each strapped on their tanks. Curt was about to put on his dive mask when he noticed Bar hesitate. “What is it?”

  “This is crazy. Insane, really.”

  “Welcome to my world.”

  “It’s ludicrous enough to think we’ll find Cain’s corpse. The weird thing is, that’s not even what I’m concerned about. It’s what Father N said about Cain’s corpse being on the precipice of Hell. Do you believe him?”

  “He’s been dead-on with everything else he’s told me, but I hear you. This all continues to be one never-ending divergence from reality. Then again, it’s nothing compared to what Scott and Cody must be going through.” If they’re still alive, he thought to himself.

  Curt placed the dive mask on and slipped into the water at the stern near the motor, careful to clear the prop. Bar dropped down in the water beside him.

  Curt submerged. The water was relatively clear. He angled downward only to be reminded by his aching muscles how tired he was. It was a grueling effort just to swim. Bar followed closely behind.

  In no time, they reached the riverbed. Curt settled on the muddy bottom and slowly spun in a circle so as not to roil the mud around them. Bar stood nearby.