End in the Beginning (The God Tools Book 3)

by Gary Williams

  Curt was speechless.

  “Stonehenge, Easter Island, Oak Island, the pyramids of Egypt? Oh my God,” Fawn exclaimed, “those are some of the world’s greatest historical enigmas.”

  Curt finally found his voice, “Jesus Christ, that’s what Ed meant when he said, ‘I have discovered the secrets of the pyramids.’ He wasn’t referring to how they were built, but why—to act as the gateway into Eden for an interval of time. This also explains why these structures withstand nature: they serve a higher purpose.” He shook his head, as if to clear his curiosity and academic intrigue. It suddenly occurred to him exactly where the current portal was located. He started to blurt it out but restrained himself.

  “Talk about a major discovery,” Bar said.

  “Yet, we’re no closer to the location of the current portal. It’s still too vague,” Curt feigned disappointment.

  “At least we now know it’s to the north of Coral Castle; north of Homestead, Florida,” Fawn said.

  “Yeah, but north could be anywhere north: northeast, northwest. Heck, England is north of Homestead, Florida. For that matter, over half the land mass of the world is north of Homestead. Was there anything else to the message?”

  Bar shook her head. “No, but I’m not done. It’s possible he encoded more than one message. I’ll keep searching.”

  Curt and Fawn left the waiting room, allowing Bar to resume her work.

  “To the elevator,” he whispered to Fawn.

  Her eyebrows lifted, she cocked her head, and she gave Curt a puzzled stare.

  “I’ll explain.”

  They loaded onto the empty elevator and the door snapped closed.

  “Now?” Fawn asked.

  “No, not yet.”

  Upon reaching the first floor, Curt led Fawn down the hallway and outside the main entrance.

  “Where are we going?” Fawn asked.

  “To my car.”

  Once inside the dark car, Curt started the engine and blasted the air conditioning. He spoke, “The Scroll of Edict text said:

  “A structure of granite slabs

  Inscribed in tongues

  Holds the new opening

  It will seal once the second seed passes through

  “This didn’t tell us much. There are many granite slabs inscribed in various languages around the world, remember? Yet when you take into account the last line of what Bar translated in Ed’s coded message—After that, it will be reopened to the north in the middle of another manmade structure—it gives us the exact location.”

  Fawn’s face screwed up. “But in the hospital you said the message was too vague.”

  “I didn’t want Bar to know I knew.” Curt threw the Mustang into drive and guided the vehicle out of the parking lot.

  “What? Why?”

  “Because I don’t want the Feds storming in and getting Tina killed. I could never forgive myself.”

  “So you’d prefer those lunatics take her into Eden where she’ll never be able to return?”

  “Of course not. We’ve got time to get there and stop them.”

  “Get where? Have you forgotten the head start they have on us?”

  “It doesn’t matter. They have to merge the new creature with the Fish and Serpent. Plus, they can’t change the Sword of Michael into its creature form until daylight. Remember, Nash told us that was the trigger. That’s about six hours from now. We can reach upper Georgia by car before then.”

  “Upper Georgia?” Fawn tilted her head. “What manmade granite structure in north Georgia is inscribed in tongues?”

  “The Georgia Guidestones. That’s where the current portal is located.”

  “Never heard of it,” Fawn said.

  “The Georgia Guidestones is a structure northeast of Atlanta which contains ten statements; guidelines inscribed in eight current-day languages, and another message written in four ancient languages. It was constructed in 1980 and is often referred to as the ‘American Stonehenge.’

  “The structure is comprised of six granite slabs. If viewed from overhead, four of the upright slabs form a plus sign, separated in the middle by a fifth slab. A sixth slab, a capstone, lays horizontally across the other five stones. The entire structure is nearly twenty feet tall. To this day, no one knows who is responsible for its creation.”

  “How can it be built in the current day and no one knows who did it?” Fawn asked.

  “In 1979, someone using the pseudonym R. C. Christian, hired Elberton Granite Finishing Company to build the structure on Elbert County land purchased in October. I’m paraphrasing, but the ten guidelines contain instructions like, ‘Maintain the Earth’s population under 500,000,000 and in balance with nature;’ ‘Unite humanity with a living new language;’ and ‘Seek harmony with the infinite.’ The entire structure is astrologically aligned. Each side of the granite tablet is perpendicular to one of the four cardinal directions. Also, a few feet away, a granite ledger flush with the ground documents the languages used, the dimensions and weight, astronomical features, date erected, the author of the text—the aforementioned R. C. Christian—and sponsors, who are listed as ‘A small group of Americans who seek the Age of Reason.’ Equally interesting is the ledger alludes to a time capsule buried under the tablet, yet neither the dates for burial nor opening have been inscribed. No one knows if a time capsule is actually buried there.”

  “Wow,” was all Fawn could manage.

  CHAPTER 25

  Driving farther into Georgia, Nash followed Tina’s directions. The little girl pointed when it was time to make a turn but said nothing more, as if she were some foreign guide who didn’t understand the language. At 5:15 in the morning, driving north on Highway 77, Tina directed Nash east onto Guidestones Road Northwest. Only then did Nash realize their destination.

  Tina signaled Nash to turn right into a dirt parking lot. On the rise before them, spotlighted by floodlights secured to the ground, stood the bizarre structure.

  “The portal is here,” Tina said in a disconnected, icy voice.

  Nash, Laval, Rassle, and Tina exited the vehicle. They opened the tailgate, and the three adults removed their respective duffle bags filled with clothes and other personal belongings. Rassle also grabbed an oversized backpack along with an oblong case containing the explosive charges. Nash kept a firm grip on Tina’s hand. The little girl remained in her trancelike state, offering no resistance as Nash pulled her along.

  “Unusual,” Laval said, staring at the granite formation rising into the night sky, the inner column set in deep shadows where light failed to reach. “What is this place?”

  “Quite unusual, indeed,” Nash remarked. “This is known as the Georgia Guidestones.”

  The megalithic stones sat on a rectangular plot of land bordered on the sides and rear by nondescript hedges. Nash had seen pictures of this place but had never been here. The enigmatic structure seemed even more bizarre in person.

  “What’s the story of this place?” Rassle asked as they walked toward the edifice.

  Nash was somewhat surprised by the question. Rassle was not one to do much talking, never mind his usual lack of historical curiosity. Even he must have found the structure intriguing.

  “We’re on the highest point of Elbert County, about ninety miles east-northeast of Atlanta. Unveiled to the public in 1980, the complex contains a number of interesting declarations, inscribed in numerous languages. The writing seems to present the views of an individual or individuals lobbying for some New World Order, or some such nonsense.”

  At the base, they stopped.

  “Only in America,” Laval scoffed.

  “Rassle, you and Laval set the charges. One per column.”

  Rassle nodded silently and glared at Laval. “You know what you’re doing with this stuff?” he questioned her harshly.

  “I’m an expert in explosives, monsieur moron. Let’s just get this done.”

  Nash restrained an inward laugh. It was a good thing he wasn’t bringing them b
oth into Eden. They would kill each other before they reached the Tree of Life.

  Forty-five minutes later, the charges had all been set. Although Nash remained on the lookout holding Tina’s hand, not a single vehicle had passed by on the rural road at this early hour.

  “You’re sure the other cult members don’t know that once this little girl passes through the portal, it will be sealed?” Laval asked.

  Nash nodded with a smile. “They have no idea. They think they’ll be able to follow us hours after we’ve entered Eden. Of course, if there’s no portal to pass through, none of that matters anyway.”

  Nash pulled out his cell phone to call John Footman.

  It was time.

  ****

  Curt was ahead of schedule. They were within forty minutes of reaching the Georgia Guidestones. They would easily make it before daylight.

  He rounded a bend. Ahead, stationary red lights filled the road where a long line of cars had come to a dead stop. Farther away, a series of flares lit the two-lane roadway. Curt came to an abrupt halt.

  “Crap,” he spat. A tractor-trailer truck lay on its side blocking most of the road ahead. Vehicles were passing the accident, but at a snail’s pace.

  Fawn, who had nodded off, woke abruptly. “What’s the matter? What’s going on?”

  “Accident ahead has traffic moving at a crawl. As long as we get past this accident in the next few minutes, we should be fine.”

  “Curt,” Fawn said as she sat up straight and rubbed her eyes, “when we were underground at Fort Clinch, did you notice the mark on Nash’s left forearm?”

  “Yes, it resembled an imperfect ‘T.’ The cap line was short, the longer vertical line was slightly bowed,” Curt paused. “Last July, I was part of the group to open the gunpowder magazine at the Castillo, and a man emerged. He turned out to be a four-hundred-year-old French Huguenot soldier. He had a unique trident-shaped birthmark.”

  “Do you think what Nash had on his arm is a birthmark?”

  “No, I believe it’s a scar; maybe a burn mark. I noticed it was raised on his skin.”

  “I think I know what it is,” Fawn began. “As part of a news story I once did, I had to learn to count to ten in Hebrew. The mark on Nash’s arm appeared to be the Hebrew number for seven.”

  “Seven. Each of the God Tools was released on July 7th. 7/7.”

  “Coincidence?”

  Curt chuckled, not out of humor, but fatigue. “Never is.”

  Fawn massaged her eyes, still trying to wake up. “What’s your plan to stop Nash and the others when we get there?”

  “Plan?”

  “How did I know that was going to be your response?” she said.

  Curt drummed on the steering wheel. Fawn was right. He had better come up with something. More importantly, this line of cars needed to get moving.

  Still at a dead stop, for the first time, he worried that they might not reach the Georgia Guidestones in time.

  CHAPTER 26

  On the north end of Green Cove Springs, a man wearing a United States Postal Service uniform walked up to the Tolen residence carrying a satchel. The street was quiet, and he checked to see if anyone was watching. The streetlamp cast a modest glow on the front of the house. It was still dark, and the humidity lingered. The man, who had parked a half block away, was already beading sweat on his forehead. The long-sleeve shirt was uncomfortable, yet necessary to cover up his tattoos in case anyone saw him.

  Detritus from the flooding river two days ago coated the front yard. He carefully stepped through and over clumps of rotting eel grass and pencil weeds. The stench was strong. The man surveyed his surroundings to ensure no one saw him as he approached the front door to the dark house. The mailman disguise had been the best option, but now seemed ridiculous given the early morning hour. No mailman ever delivered before sunrise. Nevertheless, with any luck, he would get in and out of the house unseen.

  The front door was locked. The man walked around the side of the house, careful of his footing, since the debris from the river was even thicker here. He stopped before a window and pulled a small hammer and rag from the satchel, then laid the bag on the ground. He pressed the rag to the window and struck the glass with the hammer; the rag helped mute the noise. After several whacks, the glass gave and shards spilled inward. He glanced around once more before reaching in and unlocking the window.

  Once inside the living room, the man pulled a flashlight from his pocket and switched it on. He didn’t chance turning on the lights and wasn’t even sure they would work. The carpet was wet in spots, but for the most part appeared undamaged from the flooding.

  He found the hallway and proceeded to the master bedroom. The curtains were drawn, but with the help of the flashlight, he found his way to the bathroom counter. He searched the surface and the medicine cabinet hoping to find a comb or brush.

  Nothing.

  He backed out and searched the bedroom. Again, he came up empty.

  He was getting frustrated.

  The man proceeded into another bedroom. This one was much smaller and sparsely furnished with only one dresser and a bed. He went to the dresser and began searching through the top drawer. It was deep and packed with pictures colored by a child, report cards, tickets to baseball games, a signed football, and other forms of memorabilia a parent would hold onto. This was where Jaspar Tolen had saved his son’s memories, yet they were no help.

  The man was about to close the drawer and search the next one when something caught his eye: a worn Ziploc bag, which contained small off-white objects. He lifted the plastic bag, holding the flashlight close. He read the aged label on the outside.

  Paydirt. These were the baby teeth of Samuel Tolen.

  CHAPTER 27

  John Footman and three other cult members were adrift in four separate boats at the mouth of Six Mile Creek on the St. Johns River as daybreak neared. The boats formed four corners of a square. In the center of the square, out of sight, a large wire cage lay on the creek bottom. The four bottom corners of the cage were tethered to the stern cleat of each boat by long chains. The wire cage held the Sword of Michael. The four attached chains were purposely slack so that the cage and Sword remained in deep water out of direct sunlight.

  To Footman, this plan had too many flaws that worked against the cult followers, and he was antsy. He had become suspicious of Nash, even before that dark-haired woman had shown up. There was something about the man that just didn’t sit well with him lately. First, not long after some of the men had tattooed their heads with the ancient script, two of the men had mysteriously vanished. After that, Nash did not allow the original script to be seen by the others. He would only show them the translated stanzas.

  Then, a short while ago, when Nash had told Footman and the other Cult of the End members that he, Rassle, and Laval, would follow the seed’s direction to the portal entrance, Footman’s suspicions had grown two-fold. If Nash entered Eden, never telling him or the others where the entrance was, they were all screwed.

  Therefore, Footman had taken matters into his own hands. Without anyone else’s knowledge, he had attached a tracking device in the wheel well of Nash’s vehicle. Using his smartphone, he had been closely monitoring their journey to the north. The vehicle had been motionless northeast of Atlanta, Georgia for the last hour.

  For Footman and the other three men on the river, Nash’s instructions were simple enough. Submerge the cage with the Sword and keep the Tool shielded from the early-morning daylight. Then, once Nash called to give the order, the boats would spread farther apart and lift the cage with the Sword to the surface of the water. Catching the daylight, the Tool would transform into its Bird form. The only unknown in the process was how long it would take the combined Fish-and-Serpent creature, last seen in Six Mile Creek, to arrive and merge with the Bird. According to Nash, the two would quickly find each other.

  Once the creatures combined into one, it would seek the portal. Given Footman’s concern about Na
sh’s honesty, he had adopted one more safeguard to ensure Nash didn’t double-cross the rest of the cult members. Footman had equipped himself with a bow and several tracking arrows. Once the Sword morphed into the Bird and merged with the others, Footman would shoot the beast with an arrow. A tiny transmitter in the arrowhead would send a signal to his handheld GPS device. This would allow them to track the newly formed creature to the portal.

  Footman’s phone rang. “I’m here,” he answered.

  Nash spoke, “Mr. Footman, we were led by the seed northeast of Atlanta where we have arrived at the Georgia Guidestones. Are you familiar with them? If not, know this. They match the description in the ancient text perfectly. I have no doubt we will all soon be in Eden claiming our immortality.”

  Footman felt a tremendous sense of relief. His suspicions regarding Nash appear to have been unfounded. Nash was being forthright and honest about their location. He couldn’t deny the feeling of triumph that washed over him. The immortality they had all been promised would soon be realized. Footman pulled the cell phone briefly away and called to the other men. “They’ve arrived. The portal is outside Atlanta.”

  A cheer went up. Footman returned to the phone. “We will all know Eden soon.”

  “Yes,” Nash continued, “but we are not there yet. The most important part of the process is about to begin. The creatures must merge into one so that the doorway can be opened to take us beyond this world and into Eden. It’s now time to expose the Sword of Michael to daylight.”

  “Understood,” Footman responded.

  “When they have merged, the single creature will certainly plunge back into the water and burrow through the Earth to reach this place. We will proceed through the portal once the trail has been created. You are to gather the others and drive north. The portal will remain open for you to pass through. So that no one else will be able to follow in our footsteps, remember the plan. The portal must be destroyed after the last member has passed through. Set the charges as we discussed. We want no one to infringe upon our destiny. Do you have any questions, Footman?”