The Genesis Chamber Read online

  The Genesis Chamber

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or any other information storage and retrieval system, without the written permission of Simon Beighton and Paul Devlin

  © Text Copyright Simon Beighton and Paul Devlin

  All characters and other entities appearing in this work are fictitious.

  Any resemblance to real persons, dead or alive, or other real-life entities, past or present, is purely coincidental.

  The Authors

  Simon Beighton & Paul Devlin

  Would jointly like to thank Lt. William ‘Bill’ Gordon for always being available for guidance and advice. Our respect and thanks goes to the Law Enforcements Officers of the Orlando Police Department who daily lay their lives on the line to protect and serve.

  “Courage – Pride - Commitment.”

  Also, thanks to Ken ‘The Ghost’ Scott who mentored us through the process of writing our first book. An accomplished author in his own right, Kens works can be found on his website:

  www.kentheghost.com

  Simon Beighton

  To Chunkz, we did it pal, “just sayin!”

  Paul Devlin

  To my loving wife, Charlene, for your endless patience and encouragement.

  My boys, Kyle and George

  And finally, “Kev,” your mind fascinates me.

  You can contact the authors on Facebook – Beighton Devlin

  Or by email - [email protected]

  Dedicated:

  To all the families and friends of missing persons who day by day wait in hope.

  Cover design by Simon Beighton & Paul Devlin

  The Genesis Chamber

  Chapter 1

  The darkness gradually enveloped the isolated cabin until the host was satisfied it had seemingly disappeared into the dense surroundings. He had chosen the location knowing that it had not been used by its owner for many years. In fact, the only people to have set eyes on his “special place” were his guests, and they weren’t going to tell anybody where it was located, or what happened there.

  He took the wolf mask from the box and studied it intently, taking a comb from his pocket to restyle a little of the facial hair so that everything was just perfect. It had to be that way.

  He grinned as he pulled it on to cover the top half of his face, and got more than a little aroused as the soft latex brushed his skin. He reached for more candles, aware that he would need just a little more light to illuminate the sparsely furnished interior. The candles were ready; everything was coming together nicely. It was now time for music. He walked over to the vinyl record selection and stood for a moment, considering his choice. He leaned forward and eased out a sleeve, taking care to read the words on the back cover. He nodded to himself subconsciously as he delicately removed it from the sleeve and placed it on the player. With one click the record began to spin and the needle automatically lowered onto the vinyl. The haunting sound of Etta James filled the cabin and blocked out the natural night sounds of the forest and the swampland beyond.

  He lingered for a moment as he gazed hypnotically towards the ceiling and then closed his eyes, as if in a trance. As the unforgettable lyrics of “At Last” filled his head, he let his mind wander.

  The boy was running as fast as he could, trying his best to follow the trail in the dense forest. He’d stop every now and again to check that the trail was still there and to make sure he wasn’t still being chased. He leaned back against a tree, breathing hard. His whole soul cried out ‘no more!’ but he knew he had to carry on. And after just a few seconds he took off again, running blindly through the undergrowth.

  Stray branches and thorns cut into his bare chest, drawing blood, which blended with the droplets of sweat and of course the salty tears that flowed freely. He sensed he was being followed, and couldn’t help stopping far too often to listen for sounds that would indicate that. But all he could hear was his own exhausted breathing and his heart pounding so loudly he thought it was going to break out of his chest.

  He wiped a bloody hand across his face. He tried his best to clean it on his dirty jeans, and after convincing himself it was hygienic enough, began to try and wipe the tears and the blood and the grime from his eyes. He could see a little better now and his heart skipped a beat as he realized he could see car lights in the distance. Had he made it out of the woods? He was so exhausted, but found a little more strength as a surge of adrenalin kicked in. He would keep going, make it to the main road, and try to flag down a passing car. The police would help; they always did. After all, that was their job, and he would tell them everything.

  He ran again, so close, so close to the main highway he could almost touch it; he could smell it. Car exhaust fumes, carbon emissions, diesel oil; pollution had never smelled so good. So good he broke out into a smile as he slowed down and jogged towards the hard shoulder. A shape loomed up ahead, the form of something… an animal…a man? He didn’t want to run now; he slowed down to a walk…a hesitant walk. And then he stopped. Something was preventing him from going any further. His legs turned to jelly and he froze to the spot. And yet something strange was happening. The shape, the form was getting bigger. He was aware of an inner tremble—panic setting in. The shape was coming towards him, ever nearer. He wanted to turn and run back into the forest but his body wouldn’t obey the instructions from his brain. It was too late—the man was on top of him now, within touching distance. A bolt of fear shot through the boy when he recognized the face.

  He whimpered, “No, please no,”

  The man roughly grabbed the boy by the arm and dragged him away.

  The sound of the needle repeatedly scratching at the end of the record brought the wolf out of his trance. He cleared his throat, pressed repeat on the player, and slowly drifted towards the kitchen to put the finishing touches to the meal.

  You smiled, you smiled

  Oh and then the spell was cast

  And here we are in heaven

  For you are mine…

  The petrified child was dressed in a red cape, naked from the waist up and fidgeting with fear as the plate was placed in front of him by the man in a menacing wolf mask.

  His food would remain untouched.

  He looked across the table at the other man, who had just started to eat. His mouth was visible, but from the tip of his nose up it was covered by a grotesque pig mask topped by a red baseball cap. He ate greedily and far too quickly; the noises emanating from his mouth were not unlike swine at the trough. He switched his attention from his plate for a second, waving a fork in the air.

  “C’mon, boy,” he said. “Eat up. You’ve got a long night ahead of you; you need some energy.”

  The man didn’t bother to empty his mouth when he spoke, and bits of half-chewed food flew from his mouth as grease ran down his chin and congealed into the folds of his second chin. Even the wolf man looked on in disgust, and the boy couldn’t help thinking the inside of his mouth resembled his mother’s washing machine on wash day.

  “Why are you k-k-keeping me here?” he stuttered, then broke down and sobbed like the child that he was.

  The wolf waited until the boy had composed himself, and spoke in a soft voice. “You’ve heard of Jesus, boy?” His Southern drawl was thick.

  “Yes, sir.” The boy sniffed.

  “And you’ve heard about the story of the Last Supper?”

  The boy hesitated. “I, I think so. Is Jesus going to come and help me?”

  The wolf raised his voice a decibel or two, clearly a little angry. He looked at the pig, who continued to shovel more food into his mouth, and let out a de
ep sigh.

  “I wouldn’t quite say he was going to help you, boy. But can you remember a man called Judas in the story of the Last Supper?”

  “Yes, sir.” the boy said. “He betrayed Jesus.”

  “Good, that’s right,” said the wolf. “And Pontius Pilate, can you remember him?”

  “Yes, mister.” He took a sharp intake of breath. “He was the Roman who killed Jesus.”

  For a moment the child wondered if giving the correct answers in this bizarre form of quiz would be the key to his escape.

  The man in the wolf mask nodded as he forked a morsel of meat into his mouth. The boy looked on as he chewed, glancing at the pig occasionally. The pig man had now cleared his plate and looked on eagerly in the direction of the wolf, as if waiting for an instruction.

  But he waited. He waited patiently until the wolf finished his meal, arranged his knife and fork neatly in the middle of the plate, and removed his paper napkin from his collar, using it to dab at the corners of his mouth.

  “The Last Supper,” he said, as he looked at the pig and pointed to him. “That’s Judas over there, the betrayer.” He poked himself in the chest. “And me?” He laughed out loud. “I’m Pontius Pilate, the executioner, if you like.”

  A broad grin spread across his face below the mask. The boy was confused.

  “And me?” the boy said. “What about me?”

  “You,” said the wolf. “You are the chosen one.”

  “Jesus?” the boy questioned.

  “That’s right, boy… you can play the part of Jesus.”

  Wolf turned to the pig. “It’s time.”

  “Yeah, boy, it’s time.” Pig got excited and burst into a serious of grunts and squeals.

  The wolf glared at the pig in disgust. “Stop!”

  Pig instantly fell silent. The wolf slowly looked between them.

  “I’ve had enough of this fucking charade.” The obvious Southern drawl had gone.

  A few hours later, the wolf man pulled his white van over on the remote road and got out. It was his practice to drive at least forty-five minutes to and from his lair. This was not only to make sure he was not being followed by anyone, but also to make his guests believe they were farther away from the designated pick up and drop off points, in case they tried to find their way back and turn up uninvited. He opened the rear doors and stared silently at his blindfolded passenger, who sat on an upturned crate in the corner, twitching nervously. His travelling companion was his guest from earlier, the one who had been wearing the pig mask.

  “Get out,” the wolf ordered.

  Pig man stood up cautiously until his head made contact with the roof of the vehicle, then stooped a little, and edged his way to the back of the van. When he reached the open doors he sat down and cautiously dangled his legs out of the van. As soon as his feet made contact with the road surface he pushed himself up, swaying slightly as he regained his balance. “Can I take this blindfold off now?” He pointed to the material covering his eyes.

  “No.” The wolf smacked his hand down, causing him to stumble backwards into the seated position in the back of the vehicle.

  “W-w-w-what happens now?” he asked, as the wolf pulled him back to his feet. The nervousness in his voice made him sound quite pathetic.

  Wolf leaned in as close as possible to whisper in his ear. “We never see each other again. That’s how this works.” He quickly moved around the trembling man to close the door.

  “Oh. Okay.” Pig nodded, beads of sweat on his forehead staining the material of the blindfold as he nervously moved his head around, as if trying to track the mysterious figure. The double clunk sound of the van doors closing behind him made him jump; he had obviously misjudged his attempt at following the wolf using only his hearing.

  “When you can’t hear the engine,” Wolf whispered only millimeters away from the pig’s face, “take the blindfold off. Not a moment before. Do you understand?”

  “Y-y-yes,” he stuttered.

  The aggressor nodded to himself. Satisfied his instructions had been absorbed, he got in the van and pulled away without turning the lights on. This was another one of his rituals; he couldn’t afford to have one of his guests removing their blindfolds and seeing the number plate as he drove away. His tracks had to be covered, and nothing left to chance. That was what made his operation so appealing to the people he dealt with. The security of complete anonymity was the nature of his business.

  He watched the pitiful figure get smaller and smaller in the rearview mirror as he drove into the darkness until he could no longer see him. Then, and only then, could he turn the lights on and go and complete his part of the covenant.

  ***

  The isolated cabin was illuminated by the returning van. The headlights briefly reflected in the windows, sending a beam of white light sweeping across the surrounding swamp. The wolf exited the vehicle and stopped outside the front door. He stood motionless, looking around, listening to the natural, eerie sounds of the swamp. A few minutes passed before he was content there could be no one around in such an isolated place at that hour of the morning. He entered quickly, locking the door behind him.

  Inside, he cleared the dining table of the dishes that had been left earlier that night, and removed the record from the player and delicately put it back in the cover before returning it to its rightful place on the shelf. Pleased that the place had been restored to the way it was before his guests had arrived, he turned the lights off in each room as he walked through the building until he reached the solid metal door. He paused and put his ear on the door, listened for a few seconds, then opened it.

  Wolf stood in the doorway, his figure casting an elongated shadow deep into the room, and stared at the naked, lifeless body of the boy lying face down on the table. The only visible signs of the hellish ordeal the youngster had been through were the hand-shaped bruises on his neck where the wolf’s grip had been so tight, five vertebrae had been crushed.

  The menacing figure stepped through the doorway, allowing the light from the outside room to completely fill the inner chamber. He circled the table a few times before removing the restraints from the victim’s hands and feet.

  The wolf was tired. It had been a long night, and there wasn’t much time left before the sun would rise, shedding new light on the outside world. He gently wrapped a white sheet around the body, lifted the boy in his arms, and carried him through the darkness of the building to the front door, where he stopped and lowered the body enough so he could unlock and open it.

  The sounds of the swamp’s creatures immediately filled the cabin. Again the wolf stood in the doorway, listening. After a few moments he stepped outside and walked towards the jetty.

  Stepping into the old wooden rowboat that was moored at the end of the pier while carrying a body had become second nature to him; he had done it many times before. He placed the body at the bow, then sat on the wooden seat and calmly rowed towards the middle of the swamp until he was happy he was at the point where the dark, murky water was at its deepest.

  He sat looking at the body, making sure there were no signs of life. He didn’t want that, at all. He had to be one hundred percent certain, so he uncovered the boy’s face. For a brief moment he thought he saw a tear running down the left cheek. He was mistaken; a trick of the light. Not wanting to prolong the moment any longer, he lifted the boy into his arms and gently lowered the body into the cold, black, inky water.

  “Didn’t your parents ever tell you not to go with strangers?” He spoke in a calming but slightly patronizing voice.

  He stared at the body as it was slowly submerged into the darkness of the water below, never to be seen again.

  The Genesis Chamber

  Chapter 2

  Andy Cooper rolled over to look at the clock on the nightstand. Through squinted eyes he focused on the time: 6:56 a.m. He rolled back over and placed his arm around Kim, his loving wife.

  “Four minutes before it goes off,” he informed
her.

  “Mmmm.” She smiled and snuggled into his chest.

  This was a routine he’d gotten into. He liked to just lie there, feeling the warmth of her pressed against him, knowing the alarm was about to go off but not wanting to wake up completely. Sometimes he tried to count the seconds in his head to see if he could predict the exact moment when the peace would be shattered. But not that morning; that morning he lay there, enjoying the serenity of being semi-consciousness. He knew the next four minutes would be over too quickly, so he pushed his head harder into the pillow.

  Was it really Monday morning already? His weekend had been an enjoyable few days. On Saturday the couple had taken Jen, their teenage daughter, to Universal Studio’s theme park. Despite his complaining, he actually loved the place. If truth be told, he loved all theme parks. He wouldn’t let anyone know that he was really a child at heart, although he suspected his wife might already know. Then, on Sunday the small family unit had hung out at the house. He had done a few chores around the place before an impromptu afternoon BBQ. That evening he had run a couple of errands before returning home with pizza. All in all, it had been a pretty good weekend. He was starting to wonder how many more weekends he would be able to have like that before his daughter would deem it “too geeky” to spend time with her parents on the weekend.

  Beep, beep, beep, beep.

  There it was. That annoying sound that he hated so much. He reached out and hit the snooze button without opening his eyes.

  “I’ll start the coffee.” She yawned as she got out of bed and put her robe on.

  “Thanks, babe,” he said, and continued to lie there, enjoying a moment’s silence.