“The Padre is gone,” Julio said, as they reached the stairs. “He left yesterday. Said he could never return.”
“Julio, when you called, the nurse said he probably wouldn’t survive the attack.”
“Si, Señor. He had bad bruises from those men, but he healed. He thought you might come back, and he wants me to say he is sorry to you for not being here.”
“He knew we were coming back?” Scott asked.
“Si, Señor.” Julio paused. “Please come inside.”
Curt introduced Sherri and Lila as Julio led them up the steps and into the front room. Inside, it was as Curt remembered it: the rectangular wooden table in the center of the room with bench seats and candles at either end, although they were not burning today. The rocking chairs were still in each corner as before, with one exception: the chair in the corner to Curt’s right was gone. The fireplace was dormant, with only a pile of dark ashes in the grate.
Once the door was closed behind them to shield the chilly wind, Julio turned to Curt. “Señor Lohan, he wants you to have this.” Julio lifted a wrapped object from the table and opened the cloth to reveal an aged, bound book. There was foreign writing on the cover. Julio spoke as he stared at the cover. “It is titled in French. It says, ‘My Journeys with Jean Ribault to the New World.’”
Curt looked at him in bewilderment. “This is Guillaume LeFlore’s journal?”
“Si.” The boy smiled.
“I thought it was lost in a fire?” Curt said.
“I know nothing about a fire, Señor,” Julio responded.
Sherri spoke slowly. “Julio, do you know how long Father En lived here?”
“Long, long, long before I was born. My grandfather claims the man was alive before his father was alive, but Grandfather is old now and does not make sense a lot these days. People pay little attention to what he says.”
The room was quiet.
“Julio,” Scott began, “do you have a picture of Father En?”
“Um…no, Señor.”
There was something telling in Julio’s response. Curt looked to Scott. His friend had heard it, too.
“Julio, we won’t take it from you. We only want to see it,” Scott said.
Julio looked down reluctantly. “You see, the only picture I have of the Padre was when he was sleeping one day. I got a new camera for Christmas, and he did not want me to take his picture. I came when he napped on the couch one day, and he never knew I took it. He will be very mad if he finds out.”
“He never will,” Sherri assured the boy.
Julio pulled out a small wallet. He flipped it open and tugged out a folded picture, which he handed to Scott.
Curt looked over Scott’s shoulder. Sherri and Lila crowded in to see.
In the picture, Father En was stretched out on the couch, eyes closed. He was wearing his dark-brown cassock secured at the waist by a drawstring. He was without the white material that covered his arms, hands, and feet to protect his skin rash on the day Curt and Scott met him. One hand was tucked under a pillow, the other lay at rest by his side.
“Look! He’s missing the middle finger on that hand,” Lila exclaimed.
Julio explained, “Grandfather said the Padre always was missing the finger.”
Julio screwed his face. “Oh, the Padre asks me to give this to you. It makes no sense to me, but he said you know what it means.”
The boy fished a folded piece of paper from his pocket. Curt read it aloud:
Dear Mr. Lohan and Mr. Marks,
I see you were successful. Granted, your task took a mere 7 days while mine took over five and a half weeks. Nevertheless, you have done well. Go, be in peace for now.
Sincerely,
Father N
Curt eyed the paper curiously. “Father N?” He turned to the boy. “Julio, he told me his last name was spelled E-n.”
“Oh no, Señor. His first name starts with ‘N.’ He never told me what it means. That is why I called him Father N.”
“Go, be in peace…for now? What does that mean?” Scott asked.
“And what task took him five-and-a-half weeks?” Sherri asked.
Curt looked around in thought at the austere structure without windows, the isolated setting, the barn and yard full of animals. The realization struck him like lightning. “A solid structure that could withstand virtually any bad weather with an assortment of animals in the middle of nowhere. Sound familiar?”
“Five and a half weeks…equals about 40 days…” Scott said in awe.
“…and nights,” Sherri said in a whisper.
The Fish had life-giving powers far greater than they ever imagined. Curt could barely digest what he was about to say. “His life was extended, all right. Can it possibly be that the old man we know as Father N… is Noah?!”
****
As the sun set on the horizon at St. Augustine, Florida, the waves broke in small, harmless combers along the empty beach. Puffy white clouds drifted overhead. The sea birds made their way to their nighttime hideouts and left the shore in solitude. Small crustaceans burrowed in the wet sand.
In the murky waters of the Atlantic Ocean, a small docile creature swam toward the mouth of the St. Johns River, where miles inland the tributary was sourced by freshwater springs.
“EVIL IN THE BEGINNING”
COMING EARLY 2014
In the riverside town of Green Cove Springs, Florida, the freshwater spring at the city park briefly turns blood-red, startling onlookers. Moments later, the last of the discolored water flows into the stream and empties into the river.
Only one man knows this event is a prelude to evil.
Dr. Curt Lohan and Scott Marks return in the sequel to “Death in the Beginning” when they discover a hidden cave near the St. Johns River. The cave contains remnants of an ancient cross-oceanic expedition by one of the most enigmatic civilizations that ever inhabited the Earth. As sinister characters emerge in the small town and people begin to disappear, the terrifying truth becomes evident: the magnificent archaeological site holds a dark secret that has been unleashed on the world.
ABOUT THE AUTHORS
Gary Williams lives in St. Augustine, Florida, with his wife. Williams has a bachelor’s degree in Business Marketing and writes full time. His hobbies include historical research, fishing, and watching football.
Vicky Knerly is a native of Syracuse, New York, and resides on St. Simons Island, Georgia. Knerly has a bachelor’s degree in English and two masters’ degrees. She has won awards for her research-based writing, and works for a private university based in Melbourne, Florida, where she also teaches as an adjunct professor.
In 2009, Williams and Knerly formally partnered as co-authors.
Death in the Beginning (The God Tools Book 1) Page 32