Seed of Evil by Greig Beck (great reads .txt) 📕

same family’s fears when they were rounded up for detailed medical treatment at a facility in the big city.

Some of the children were in the early stages of the affliction, with just mild skin rashes and fevers. Others were like Billy and had onset deformities with the bony protrusions all over the bodies. But then again, some were barely recognizable as children anymore, and even had branch-like growths from their backs that resembled wings—Eldon Angels, he heard one of the CDC guys mutter. But it was far from angelic, and rather more frightening and revolting—and not just for the parents, Wainright had thought.

If they were angels, they were fallen ones, he muttered.

He’d watched as most went willingly, some fearfully, but all hoping for answers, a cure, or perhaps just an end to the horrifying ailment that was plaguing their children.

Not all the kids were found, as some were assumed to have gone feral and simply melted away into the countryside. Or worse, the rumor was that they disappeared into the depths of the Angel Mine.

Long after the vans had gone, Wainright headed out to the mine and saw that a line of new cyclone fencing and multiple warning signs had been erected. He’d heard that the water hole that the flooded mine had created had drained away again, perhaps back to its subterranean lake where it originally came from.

He stood in the sunshine for some time, feeling the heat of the noonday sun sting his neck. He imagined the whoops of delight from kids leaping into the water—boys and girls, freckle-faced, sunburned cheeks and bronzed shoulders.

They were all gone now, contaminated, and those found were herded away in the night—all on his say-so. He felt sick in the heart as he turned back to the path leading to his car.

“Adotte Sakima.”

The sudden voice nearly made him jump out of his skin. Right there in front of him was the young Native American man he had seen on the road.

Ben Wainright held up his hands. “I don’t want any trouble.”

“Who does?” The youth shrugged, and then faced the impenetrable darkness of the mine mouth. “The curse is not gone, you know?” He turned back to Wainright. “It only waits.”

Wainright backed down the hill. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Good, remember it. Remember everything that happened here.” The Native American picked up his satchel. “Because I can’t hold it forever.”

“Okay. Got it. Thank you.” Wainright turned away and scrambled down the loose rock of the rutted path to his car. He pulled open the door and jumped into its furnace-like interior, slammed the door, and quickly ducked down to look through the windscreen back up the hill.

The young man was gone. “Crazy.” Wainright swallowed hard onto a hammering heart.

He started his car and turned in a tight circle, shooting loose rock out behind him. He’d had enough of curses, people turning to wood, and Adotte Sakima, or whatever the guy had said.

Right now, he was going home to get good and drunk.

CHAPTER 06

Eldon, Missouri – today

Saturday morning and Doctor Mitch Taylor sat at a window seat in the coffee shop and sipped from a mug of coffee the size of a soup bowl. Everything seemed bigger and better out here, and much better value.

He had time on his hands and had decided to wander into town. His first weekend and he was excited, as everything was new and interesting, and he’d loved exploring ever since he was a kid.

He looked up and down the main street, deciding on his exploration plan—first, he’d go up one side of the street and come back down the other, doing a bit of window shopping, and maybe introduce himself to a few of the shopkeepers.

He saw that down opposite the council chambers was the Eldon Museum, and it certainly wouldn’t hurt to bone up a little more on his newly adopted home’s history.

Mitch finished his coffee and then walked up the street to the plain, white-painted building with the glass double doors and cupped hands to each side of his face to peer inside. It had just gone 10 am, and though there was no “Sorry, we’re closed” sign hanging on the Museum door, he didn’t know if they even opened on Saturdays.

There was a flick of movement inside so he dropped his hands, grabbed the large brass doorknob, and turned it. The door opened smoothly, and he pushed into a smell of chalky mustiness and dry air-conditioning.

“Hallo-ooo.” The musical greeting made him smile and a woman bustled toward him with hands clasped in front of her.

She pointed. “It is you.” She beamed. “You’re our new doctor.”

Mitch raised his eyebrows. “My notoriety precedes me.”

She laughed softly. “You had a write-up in the Eldon Gazette just a week back. You look just like your picture.” She held out a hand. “It’s nice to meet you, Doctor Taylor.”

“Nice to meet you too and please call me Mitch, Ms…?” He returned the smile.

“Alston, Samantha Alston, but call me Sam. And thank you. I’ll call you Mitch out here, and Doctor when I’m visiting. Okay?” She raised a pair of tiny eyebrows.

“Works for me.” Mitch grinned back.

She leaned a little closer. “I’m also president of the ladies bridge players club.”

He nodded, knowing he was meant to be impressed. “Nice.”

“So, you’ve come to take in some of our history?” she asked.

“Sure have.”

“Then let me take you on a personal tour.” She rubbed her hands together and turned. “Follow me.”

The museum wasn’t large; maybe in the past it had been a converted, larger type house of one floor that now had been partitioned into open display rooms for each of the period themes.

She pointed at certain relics, pictures, or artifacts, and gave him a brief overview of each. She was pleasant, knowledgeable, and quite entertaining. Mitch was enjoying himself.

She paced as she kept up her stream of information about when Missouri was first settled, the state’s oldest town, founded by French Canadian colonists in 1735.

Then she stopped and gave a tiny