Nephilim Genesis of Evil

by Renee Pawlish

  “What’s going on?”

  “Sh!” He pulled the Colt from his waistband and held it at his side. Anna took a step around him and saw what made him halt. About twenty feet away, a man she didn’t recognize blocked the path. A hiker was the only thing that entered her mind. He wore shorts and sturdy boots. A fetid odor emanated from him, almost overwhelming her. The hair on her skin rose up at the danger.

  “Are you the one?” the man asked flatly.

  Anna glanced at Rory. He squinted as he studied the man. “What do you want?” Rory said. She wasn’t sure if it was directed at her or the man. She detected a slight tremor in Rory’s voice.

  “Are you him?” The man took a step toward them.

  “Stay where you are,” Rory said. He raised the Colt and pointed it at the man. “Get behind me,” he whispered to Anna.

  She stood in shock for a moment before the words penetrated her fear. Then she sidled up near him.

  The man stared back, unfazed by Rory or the pistol. He tried to make eye contact with Rory. “What do you want?” Rory asked.

  A sharp sound, like wind through a tunnel, emanated from the man, and he took a step forward. He shifted his gaze to Anna. His dark, flat eyes smoldered at her and she seemed to disconnect from her surroundings.

  “Our time is now,” she heard his voice say. She felt her head nodding.

  “No!” Rory jerked her, spinning her around. Her gaze broke from the man’s and she found herself inches from Rory’s intense stare. “Stay with me! Don’t let him take you!”

  She nodded again, her mind suddenly clear, a lingering sluggishness tainting her thoughts. “I’m okay,” she moaned.

  The man kept approaching. “Stop!” Rory swung around and held the Colt up again. The man moved closer. “Stop!” Even more urgent. Anna noticed the pistol shaking in Rory’s hand. She watched in horror as the man still came toward them, his steps plodding but purposeful.

  Shoot him! Anna thought, at the same time knowing Rory was too scared to pull the trigger. Instinctively, she hurled the water bottle at the man.

  The liquid arced through the air, spreading into numerous dense drops, splattering the man’s arms, face and chest. He let out a bloodcurdling cry, his head bent back, muscles in his neck pulsing. But rather than shrinking away, suddenly he lunged at Rory and tackled him. They tumbled to the ground, arms and legs flailing about, and Rory lost a grip on the pistol.

  Anna frantically clawed and kicked at the man, but he lurched up and hurled a fist at her. The blow landed on the side of her head, sending her reeling backwards into the dirt. She sat up dazedly.

  Rory grunted as he fought off the man, pushing at the hands that threatened to close around his throat. He groped around and found the pistol on the ground and tried to bring it to bear on the man but couldn’t. He was losing, weakening as the man overpowered him. In desperation he stopped fighting. The man raised a hand to strike him and Rory lunged up, thrusting the pistol into the man’s chest. He pulled the trigger. A dark spot appeared on the man’s shirt. Blood poured out onto Rory’s hands and down his arms.

  The man opened his mouth, but no sound escaped. His hands grabbed at Rory’s arm. Holding onto the pistol, Rory backed away and crawled to his knees as the man toppled over on his side, black blood gushed through the hole in his shirt. His body began to twitch as the last of his life fled from him. His jaw snapped a couple of times, then his muscles went limp.

  Rory let go of the pistol and scrambled back a few more feet. He stared at his own hands. They were shaking violently, tiny drops of blood splattering the dirt. He took a couple breaths, the sound loud in the eerie silence. He looked over at her. His eyes were wide and his mouth opened but no sound came out. She started toward him.

  Then the man moved. His arms twitched and his body rose up from the ground, arms hanging loosely, mouth twisted in a grimace. Anna covered a scream. Rory stared. The body defied gravity for precious moments, and then a murky essence emerged from its insides, intangible yet somehow still corporeal. It oozed out into the air and the body dropped heavily to the dirt. The presence hovered in the air, seeming to focus on Rory. He sat unmoving.

  “You are called.” It was not a voice, but it spoke just the same, a hissing, malevolent sound. “It is time.” Then the evil disappeared into the stifling air.

  “What – ” Anna could not finish the thought.

  Rory stared up in the sky, his jaw dropped, utter awe on his face.

  “What was that?” she asked softly.

  He stood up, his blood-covered hands hanging at his sides. “A Nephilim.” His voice was husky with fear.

  “What do we do?”

  Rory didn’t have an answer.

  CHAPTER 48

  Nicholas sat in a chair in the general store, watching Myrtle hustle around.

  She was trying to act normal. That’s what Rory had said to do before he and Anna had left, continue as if nothing was wrong until they figured out what was going on. When Nicholas had asked what they meant, Myrtle had smiled at him, and told him not to listen. They had been talking in a cryptic way, like they didn’t want Nicholas to know that they were putting a plan into action. And that they were scared of something. Nicholas almost laughed at that. Like he didn’t know some evil stuff was going down. He knew something was out there. He’d seen it. He’d even started to tell them about what happened in the clearing, but he stopped short. He wasn’t quite sure what they thought was going on, and he was scared they wouldn’t believe him either.

  Nicholas let his eyes drift to the right. Jimmy sat in another chair, his chin resting on his chest. The old man reminded him of his own grandfather right before he’d died. The wrinkled, blotchy skin. The veins criss-crossing his arms like a map. And he wheezed the same way Granddad did. A jolt hit him, part sorrow, part regret. His family life stunk, but wasn’t some family better than none at all?

  Jimmy began to mutter, so quietly he was barely audible. Nicholas strained to hear.

  “Got to get it.” He heaved a breath as if it weighed him down. “It’s there. Answer. Answer.” His muttering slid into gibberish. Nicholas edged away, as if sitting next to Jimmy might give him some kind of elderly disease. The old man was losing it.

  Nicholas picked up a book from a shelf about Taylor Crossing and read until Myrtle came in from the back. “What have you got there?”

  “A book on the town.” Nicholas’ voice sounded like a bomb in the engulfing silence.

  “Oh?”

  “What happened here?”

  Myrtle turned a startled look on him. “I’m sure Rory and Anna will find out.”

  He shook his head. “No, I don’t mean now.” He held up the book on the town’s history. “I mean back then. This was a thriving town at one time. Then it all just died out.”

  “It was a big town in its day,” she agreed. “But sometimes these old places lose their charm once the gold or silver is gone.” Even as she said it, he knew she was holding back.

  “Old Man Brewster knows about it, doesn’t he?”

  “You’re pretty sharp, aren’t you?” Myrtle raised her eyebrows. “Brewster’s granddaddy was around these parts back then, and he told Brewster a lot of stories.”

  “Something chased his granddaddy.” Myrtle and Nicholas both looked at Jimmy in surprise.

  “I thought he was sleeping,” Nicholas murmured.

  “Chased him out of town,” Jimmy said. He concentrated somewhere in the distance, as if he were reliving that part of the past. “Brewster’s granddaddy escaped and never came back.”

  “How did he escape?” Nicholas leaned forward, enthralled.

  Jimmy pursed his lips, still focused elsewhere.

  “He left town, that’s all that matters,” Myrtle said, then Nicholas heard her mutter under her breath, “Wasn’t there some bit about that old miner across the lake? I hate getting old, it just means creaky bones and worse, a creaky memory.”

  “What did you say?”

 
She looked at him. “Oh, I was just wondering where’s Old Man Brewster? He could clear some of this up. After all, the rumors started with his grandfather. Oh no,” she gasped. “Is he one of them now?”

  “Are you all right?” Nicholas asked her.

  She coughed. “Yes, I’m fine, dear.”

  He didn’t believe that she was telling him everything. But he didn’t ask.

  “They chased his granddaddy,” Jimmy interrupted softly. Then he drifted off again.

  Nicholas’ cheeks turned scarlet and his jaw stiffened.

  “I’m sure Brewster embellished that story,” Myrtle said, smiling at Nicholas. “Don’t worry about it. When Rory and Anna come back, they’ll have some answers.”

  “It’s out there now,” Nicholas pierced her with hard eyes. “I know it.”

  Myrtle looked away. He was a smart kid.

  He wondered about Brewster. Had he been taken, too?

  • • •

  The dream was vivid. Jimmy bolted awake to find Nicholas was staring at him.

  “You okay?” Nicholas asked. “You were mumbling again.”

  Jimmy took a moment to get his bearings. He was in the store with Myrtle and Nicholas, waiting for Rory and Anna to come back. “I’m fine, son.” But he wasn’t. His spirit was intensely troubled, just as it had been last night. He hadn’t told anyone then, and he wasn’t going to now.

  “How about I pay you to do some cleaning up around here?” he said.

  “Why?” Nicholas asked, surprised. He was stretched out in a chair, holding a book, but he wasn’t reading it. “There’s no one around.”

  Jimmy nodded. “But there will be when this is all over. Besides, it’ll give you something to do.” The boy looked downright bored, but that wasn’t the real reason why Jimmy had asked it.

  “What do you want done?”

  “Clean up the refrigerated section at the back. Wipe down the shelves and clean the glass. The doors always have fingerprints on them. Makes it look messy.”

  Nicholas contemplated Jimmy for a minute, then got up. “You don’t have to pay me. I’ll do it.”

  “Cleaning supplies are in the closet in the back room, by the bathroom.”

  Nicholas put the book back on a shelf and went to the back of the store.

  Good, Jimmy thought. Now that just left Myrtle.

  She was behind the counter, staring out the window. How would he distract her? He had to because he needed to get across the lake. It was just as it was all those years ago. Something told him then, and it told him now. The chronicle. That was the key. If he’d gotten across then, he might’ve been able to stop this. The cabin across the lake was like a Pandora’s box; once he found its hidden secret, the chronicle, he would have the answers, the key to this evil that had infiltrated the town. He’d awoken with that knowledge, and the understanding that he had to act now.

  “You need anything Jimmy?” Myrtle asked, her gaze still out the window.

  He looked at her. The gray bun in her hair was coming loose. Her eyes sparkled, even though dark bags under them screamed of her exhaustion. She was his friend, all these years. Through the good and the bad. “You’re a good woman, Myrtle.”

  She was taken aback. “Why, thank you, Jimmy. You’re not so bad yourself.”

  He nodded pensively.

  “Are you all right?” She scrutinized him.

  “I’m good, just tired.” She looked at him sympathetically. If she only knew how good he really felt.

  “Where’s Nicholas?”

  “He’s in back cleaning up. Gives him something to do.”

  She came around the counter. “I guess so.” Boo padded along at her heels, staying close, as if his canine senses told him of impending danger.

  “Maybe you should help him.” Jimmy smiled at her. “It would take your mind off things, too.”

  “Will you be all right?”

  “I’m old, but not helpless. If I need anything, I’ll ask.”

  She shushed him, saying, “You’re incorrigible,” and went bustling to the back of the store, Boo right with her. Jimmy heard her start up a lively conversation with Nicholas, her voice muffled as she went into the supply room.

  Good. Now he could take care of things. For Myrtle. For Rory, and the boy. And mostly, for Anna. His mind flashed her image. All the old tension between them, the harbored guilt and anger had been erased. She’d forgiven him and that freed him to do what he needed to now.

  He sat for a moment, listening to the sounds of Myrtle and Nicholas working. They were comforting sounds. Peaceful. It gave him strength that he would need for what lay ahead. He knew he faced difficult odds. That was okay. He was old. Better him than the others. But he had to succeed, or die trying.

  He heaved himself out of the chair. It was time to get the chronicle and end this.

  • • •

  Nicholas was bent down, wiping one of the shelves in the refrigerated section, relishing the cold air that wafted over him, when he saw the top of the front door open. He stood straight up and peered down the aisle, fully prepared to see a silent-movie vampire approaching him. But instead of a man in a black hooded cape coming in, he saw Jimmy stepping outside.

  Rory’s words rang in his ears: don’t leave the store. But did that mean don’t go on the porch? Nicholas turned to tell Myrtle, but she had disappeared into the back room. He could hear her in there, banging a bucket in the sink, filling it with water, talking to Boo as she worked. She sure is enjoying this darn cleaning, he thought. Or doing a darn good job of pretending to.

  He went to the door and peered through the window. Jimmy had ignored his rocker and was tottering down the porch steps, holding to the rail to keep his balance. Nicholas hesitated, torn between telling Myrtle that Jimmy was wandering around outside, and just following the old man himself. Curiosity won out, and he tossed his cleaning rag down the aisle and tiptoed out the door. He wasn’t worried about Myrtle hearing him go because he’d had a lot of practice at not being noticed. It served him well when his father was on one of his frequent rampages.

  Jimmy was already across the road, near the dock. His wispy white hair danced in the hint of a breeze, and his steps were surprisingly firm.

  Nicholas drew in a breath. He’s heading for the lake. He scooted after the Jimmy, awed that such a frail being could move so quickly. As he neared the old man, he heard Jimmy’s voice carried through the air.

  “Need to get the chronicle. By God, I will. The miner…” the words faded, then he heard, “the chronicle.”

  What did that mean?

  Nicholas ran toward the car shelter, stopping behind a Jeep. By now Jimmy was on the dock. He stopped at a pylon where a metal canoe was tied up.

  He can’t go by himself!

  Nicholas stepped around the front of the Jeep and was about to call out when he saw something that froze him in his tracks.

  His father was coming across the road, his big frame looming in the heat waves. Behind his father, his mother plodded, her face a dull canvas. Nicholas shrunk back, terror shooting through his veins like acid. What’re they doing here? He clamped his mouth shut. What’s he going to say when he sees me? He watched as his father plodded onto the dock, walking as if his legs were sticks. His mother stood at the edge of the dock, watching. Nicholas scowled. Something was wrong. They were his parents, but at the same time, not. His father walked like a zombie, focused straight ahead, unaware of his surroundings. His mother was the same way.

  Nicholas crouched down and watched, still too scared to call out to his father. Gino approached Jimmy. He spoke and Nicholas heard it, each word a stab of fear in his chest.

  “Are you the one who preaches?” Gino intoned dully.

  Jimmy took a step back, nearly tripping on the uneven boarding. “You leave me be.” His voice quivered.

  “Preacher,” Gino said, raising a hand. “It is time.”

  “Preacher?” Jimmy asked, studying Gino. “Why do you need a preacher?”

&nbs
p; Gino cocked his head to the side, as if he was receiving an ethereal message. “You have the words.”

  “What? The Scriptures?”

  “For the release.”

  “No!” Jimmy said, thrusting a fist at Gino. “I know about the chronicle. I’ll get it this time.” He took a couple of shaky steps toward Gino, as if his weak frame could pose a threat to the much bigger man.

  “It is time,” Gino repeated. Nicholas watched his father’s eyes thin with dreadful menace. He’d seen it a thousand times, the danger as real now as ever. He trembled violently as Gino went for the old man.

  “You won’t get me,” Jimmy said hoarsely. The two wrestled. Nicholas was amazed at the old man’s strength. Then he heard a snap, like a tree branch breaking. Jimmy cried out. He broke loose from Gino, clutching at his right arm, where a white bone stuck out from his torn shirtsleeve. Gino grabbed at him, but Jimmy stepped out of reach.

  “Come,” Gino said, unfazed by the battle.

  Jimmy’s mouth twisted in a grimace of pain. “No! Oh Lord, I can’t get to the chronicle.”

  Gino focused his gaze on Jimmy. He’s going to hypnotize him! Nicholas thought. He wanted to yell, to stop his father from hurting Jimmy, but he was terrified.

  Jimmy put a hand up to Gino. “You won’t get me! Not now, not ever! I’ll never become one of you.”

  Gino approached Jimmy again. The old man tottered toward the edge of the dock. Nicholas stared in horror as Jimmy stepped right off and into the lake.

  Gino’s body went rigid. He went to the edge of the dock and watched, but did nothing. Nicholas couldn’t hear anything, no splashing, no cry for help.

  He silently screamed, then bent down and searched the ground. His hands closed on a small rock. He stood and hurled it across the road. The rock thudded on the porch of the café.

  Gino turned at the sound. Nicholas ducked behind the Jeep and peered around. He saw his father’s eyes. Even at the distance, the hollow holes blazed with hatred. Nicholas shook with realization. That was his father’s body. But whatever it was that had taken over Ed Miller, Samuel Friedman, and Mick, that force that he’d seen out in the woods, had taken his parents as well.