Johnson, C. W. Read online

  The Son of Man two, Elders of Zion

  By

  CW Johnson

  Copyright © 2008 by Charles W Johnson

  The Son of Man website

  These stories are works of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this publication can be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, without permission in writing from CW Johnson.

  Editing by Kerry Allemann

  Acknowledgments:

  A heartfelt thanks to Kerry Allemann for her much appreciated line-editing services.

  *This book was re-edited by Kerry on 05/20/2012*

  Contact Kerry

  Thanks to my mentor, Fran Porretto.

  Other Books By This Author

  US

  The Son of Man

  The Son of Man two, Elders of Zion

  The Son of Man three, The Heylik

  Create your own Audiobook A Step by Step Guide

  UK

  The Son of Man

  The Son of Man two, Elders of Zion

  The Son of Man three, The Heylik

  Create your own Audiobook A Step by Step Guide

  Watch for: The Son of Man Four, The Golden Calf

  Coming Soon!

  Amazon.com’s Rat says:

  “Great Book!!!!!!,

  This book is as good as the first book. What I really like is that the author does not try to push his own religious beliefs down your throat. After all this is a work of fiction. The story is well thought out and is a great read. I would highly recommend reading it.”

  Amazon.co.UK’s 1Madcow says:

  “So worth it!

  Just loved book one and I'm still enjoying it with book 2. Pretty new to using a Kindle and as a traditionalist I love the feel, the smell and the anticipation of a "real book" and have fought tooth and nail not to read books on silly little screens, boy was I wrong, this Kindle is so impressing me, wish I had brought one at the beginning. I would not have had this story to love if not for kindle, so thanks also to Amazon.

  Anyway— back to the book. Really great story, I've read all 3 in less than 3 days and they are the only books I have taken the time to write a review for, so give it a go!”

  Barns & Nobel’s AVID-JT says:

  “FANTASTIC BOOK!

  Son of Man II is even better than the first book. This saga is one of the most exciting I've ever read. I'm halfway through book III and it's fantastic too. I'm so glad I decided to download Son of Man when it was free then purchased the next two books. Awesome story!”

  Goodread’s John says:

  “Part two of this series was just as good as part one, for some of the same reasons. Inventive and well-paced, the book picks up the story thread, introduces a new one or two, and dips it's toe into other genres as well (a bit of romance, even). Johnson writing style is "easy to read" but not adolescent, and his characters become people you care about.

  Sony’s Reader Store Tina says:

  “Great read!!!!

  C.W Johnson did it again!! I couldn't put the book down. I was hanging on every word written. This is definitely one of the best series of books that I have read. I love the drama, suspense, and especially the way the books end. Great Job!”

  Podiobooks.com’s silvirtree says:

  “One of my top 4 picks in over a year. I listen to anywhere from 1 – 3 audio-books per week. This book shows some of the best writing I’ve come across all year. The author does a captivating job of making you feel like you are in the presence of the characters. This goes beyond just good development, interesting plot, characters that you love and hate… the writing is genius. Things get pulled together that you thought insignificant in book one, or chapter 3.. and you find yourself in awe that it fits so perfectly. This book should be winning awards and I anxiously await book 3 and more writing from this author.

  Smashwords.com’s Brian Smith says:

  “Like others, I got the first book for free. Once I read that one I was instantly hooked and craved more. I purchased this one immediately and could not stop reading! This author has done a great job of taking a few different peoples' stories and bringing them all together in the end.

  All I have to say is WOW, definitely awesome!”

  iTunes Sweet28 says:

  “Fantastic!

  Love it! Cant stop listening.”

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter_One

  Utah’s Rocky Mountains were uncharacteristically warm for early December and it was obvious the photographer had overdressed. He had chosen to follow the high snow covered rim of an ever crumbling crag, a remnant of a primeval mountain range rising and falling from within a vast forest of spruce, pinion, and towering lodgepole pine.

  The photographer was delighted to be there. He loved the mountains. He loved the smell of pine, the noonday sky, the communion, the stillness. He strolled over the crusty frosted soil, around patches of wiry yellow grass pushing its way through a thick coating of aging snow.

  Eventually he passed into an inviting looking clearing, slowed to a stop, and began turning in a tight circle, taking in the astounding scenery. Spotting a fallen lodgepole wedged waist high within the arms of a squat juniper tree, he wandered off towards it, pushed the crusty snow off the log, and sat down.

  British wildlife, his employer, had sent him to America… what was left of it, anyway. He had been sent to photograph the Rickies, remnants of a vast American society who were unable to flee the mainland, or had simply been left behind.

  The photographer sat on the log for a time, listening to the birds singing amidst the hush of a distant, fast moving mountain stream. He pulled his cap off, looked up into the blue sky, and basked in the frigid breeze gently blowing over his slightly sweating hair.

  The Rickies were not a particularly friendly lot. This land was now officially under control of the European Union, but the Rickies hadn’t signed on. In fact, the Rickies had all but thumbed their noses at the notion of European domination.

  This wouldn’t have been that much of a bother for the European Union except that the Rickies, particularly those known as the Mums, had been able to requisition a staggering amount of the fire-power left behind, including an undisclosed number of nukes. Since an impressive contingent of military personnel had been abandoned to the mainland, they had also retained the know-how and equipment necessary to remain a legitimate threat, even to the European Union.

  The photographer opened his eyes and sat looking out into the east. Earlier, he had spotted a promising break in the skyline, possibly even a small Ricky settlement. He had spent the last half hour wondering if it had been worth the leisure climb. Now he was sure it was.

  He pulled his parka off and tossed it over his shoulder, studied the sky once more, and spotted a newly formed wisp of cloud leisurely floating away into the south. He pulled his camera off his chest and snapped a picture, and another as the tiny cloud disappeared behind a mountain peak. Finally, he returned his hat to his head, reluctantly rose to his feet, and meandered on his way.

  He had traveled no further than a quarter mile when he saw it: a silent shadow flashing in and out of the thick flora ahead. He pulled to a stop and backed up, fear welling in his chest. "What the hell was that?" he said a
loud. The sudden sound of his own voice reminded him of how alone he was. As far as he knew, the Rickies hadn’t taken to ambushing mountain travelers, but it had been a while since he had been anywhere near real civilization. Anything could have happened between now and then… after all, he was deep in Mums territory, only miles from Salt Lake City itself.

  "Hello!" he called out charily. "Anyone there?" He listened for an answer, but none came. Probably a deer, he thought… or a bear. He reached into his parka, now folded through his arm in front of him, and felt for the 9mm Glock buried in the pocket. Satisfied it was still there, he found a rock and tossed it into the trees in front of him.

  Nothing.

  Whatever it was, he told himself, is gone now. He had to smile. He had never been afraid before. Probably just took him by surprise.

  Slowly, at first, he made his way forward. After a time his confidence returned, and he boldly moved through the brush until he was stopped by a sudden drop, a chasm of tangled undergrowth partially covering a thirty foot deep hollow. Beyond the hollow, he could see a snow-covered clearing in the center of a grove of quaking aspen.

  His eyes were immediately drawn to a path of old footsteps appearing from the aspen grove at the high-side of the meadow. Someone, obviously a woman heavily dressed for winter, was moving across the well traveled path a good three quarters of the way through the meadow. She was pulling what looked like a child’s sled behind her, heading north towards the valley below. The photographer instinctively pulled the camera to his face. He quickly adjusted the telephoto lens, closing in on the solitary figure below.

  Suddenly, in the lens's periphery, he saw them: two of them this time, a pair of shadows flashing through the underbrush and into the clearing, directly in the woman’s path. They were large, as big as bears or wolves or…God knew what.

  "Hey!" he yelled. His intrusive voice echoed down the canyon. Through the lens he saw her whirl in his direction. "Hey!" he shouted again. "There is something in the aspen!" The woman turned away and began moving even faster across the meadow towards the tree-line.

  "Miss… oh miss!" he yelled again. He dropped his camera to his chest and began waving his arms over his head. "Lady!" he hollered louder. "Stay clear of the trees!"

  She ignored him, still moving away. He jerked the camera to his face, focusing on her one more time. She turned in his direction. Her face filled the telephoto viewfinder. She looked up at him, fearful and intense. He stopped mid-step.

  He found himself looking at the face of a goddess, resplendent beyond belief. The long ebony hair that tumbled out of the thick fur-lined hood partially obscured the right side of her face. Black eyebrows, flawless and full, were pulled together in alarm. Her emerald green eyes flashed at him. The photographer hesitated before snapping a picture. To his horror the woman disappeared into the aspen.

  "Oh my God," he breathed. He whirled and began crashing through the flora, desperately trying to skirt the hollow and find a way to reach her, or at least warn her. He bounded over a broken branch and pushed his way forward, running as fast as he could. Something snagged his right foot and sent him tumbling down a shallow rock-filled gulch. He rolled forward, inadvertently tossing the parka ten feet away into the foliage, and ended up sprawled between a lodgepole stump and a juniper tree.

  "Bloody hell," he said, pulling himself into a sitting position. He looked in the direction of the meadow where the woman had disappeared moments before. A twist of undergrowth was blocking his view.

  The smell of putrefying meat filled his nostrils.

  "Whew," he said aloud, "something nearby is extremely dead." He looked around him holding his nose, searching for a clear path. He still had to find a way to warn the woman.

  His eyes returned to the dark underbrush. Something was there. A cold shadow crossed over him from above. He whirled, looking up into the bright noon-day sky, but saw nothing overhead. A sound like a buzzing insect pulled his eyes back to the underbrush. Something was definitely there. He could feel it. He squinted, trying to focus, raising his hand over his eyes. There in the twisted foliage, something—shaped like a face, but—strange.

  His breath imploded in his lungs. He screamed and kicked against the rocky soil, scrambling backwards against the base of the juniper tree. He sat staring wide eyed into what appeared to be the face of a demented child, but gray and shrunken like a mummified corpse. Its lips were knotted in a cruel snarl. Its eyes, monstrous and black, glared back at him from beneath twisted brows. Its wild tar-black hair extended from its ghastly head, blending… becoming one with the shadowy mottled underbrush.

  "Remove thy shoes, Adam, lest ye desecrate this holy ground."

  The photographer was aware that the sound had come from the aberration, but the mummy face had remained still, morphing in and out of focus like a coin submerged in a rippling stream. The photographer tried to roll away and run, but he seemed to be held—tangled within the branches of the juniper tree.

  "Remove thy shoes, Adam, for thou hast entered into the dwelling of the most high."

  The sound was much louder this time, lower in pitch and urgent. The photographer struggled to pull his arms away from the juniper tree and was released. He hurriedly untied his boot laces, kicked the boots off, and looked up at the terrible face still glowering at him from within the dim underbrush.

  "My name is not Adam," the photographer stammered. "I’m—"

  "Thou art Adam-kind. Thou art seed. Be ye silent, oh tiny insignificant wisp of root."

  The photographer blinked, trying to control his terror.

  "Thou, Adam, hast found what it is ye seeketh, but thou shalt not reveal it until the fullness of time."

  There was silence for a moment before the voice returned, lower in pitch, even more urgent.

  "Now, oh Adam — wisp of root— thou shalt leave this place forever, lest ye die."

  The aberration slowly faded away into the tangled underbrush, along with the echo of its voice, leaving the photographer wide eyed and gasping. The stench quickly dissipated, replaced by the fresh smell of the mountain forest. After a time, he pulled himself to his naked feet and stood staring into the brush where the ghastly face had disappeared.

  ~~~

  Todd Riley woke to the sounds of birds chattering just outside his bedroom window. He looked up to see his wife’s stunning emerald green eyes looking back at him. She had quietly taken up the old lounge chair someone had abandoned next to the bed. They had abandoned it, along with the cabin and property, in a desperate attempt to flee the mainland before the day.

  The curtains fluttered and danced in the soft breeze gently pushing Maria’s ebony hair around her ambrosial face. He glanced at the flickering bedroom fireplace not far from the foot of his bed. She had built a thriving fire while he slept and, as was her habit, had opened the window just so, admitting only enough cool mountain air to maintain a state of coziness.

  "I’ve been watching you sleep, lazy Joe," she said, pulling her hair away from her eyes. She had recently bathed, and the room was filled with the sweet smell of lilac, her favorite. She had replaced her heavy winter clothing with a favorite oversized shirt. It was a habit of Maria's Todd found particularly difficult to endure;

  while wearing it, she rarely wore anything else.

  He grinned at her. She smiled a tiny wistful smile. Her eyes sparkled in the golden light of the afternoon sun.

  It wouldn’t have mattered to Todd what she looked like because he loved her completely, but she had recently given birth to a son. She had breastfed him from the beginning, yet she showed no ill effects: not a stretch mark, nor a sag, nor a flaw. Her body had remained perfect. It was positively uncanny.

  He watched her for a time, blinking the sleep from his eyes. "The baby OK?" he said finally, his baritone voice resonating off the log walls of the cabin.

  "The baby’s fine. Tina said he was an angel all morning until around noon, then fussed a little. He’s sleeping like a rock now. Tina left about a half hour
ago."

  "Hmm," Todd said. "How’s Hanna doing?"

  "Better… I think she’ll be fine. She’s just a little freaked out living alone up there."

  "Why don’t they all live here with the rest of us? Lord knows there are still plenty of open cabins in Parktown."

  "Who knows? Anyway, I think she’s fine as long as Nigel and I visit a couple times a week. Speaking of that, Nigel had to leave early this morning. I guess he wasn’t feeling well. I had to walk down the mountain by myself."

  "I don’t like that," Todd said. "You should make sure Nigel shows before you go up."

  "You’re right… I will from here on."

  Todd sat up in bed and ran his fingers through his long unkempt hair.

  "Don’t get up," Maria said softly. She rose from the chair, moved to the bed, and stood over him, stroking the blankets with the back of her hand.

  Todd caught a glimpse of her breast under the loose fitting shirt. His breath caught in his throat. The arousal was instant. He blew the breath out and closed his eyes, trying to think of something else, anything else.

  "Where were you last night?" she said, pouting. "I waited up for you as long as I could, but I fell asleep."

  Todd yawned animatedly, stretched his long, muscular arms over his head and settled back in the bed. "I was with Louis and Gladys all night. We were at Bob Tanner’s house. Something’s wrong with Bob’s wife Vicki. You know her?"

  Maria tilted her head and shrugged in that way Todd found so endearing. "No, not really. I’ve seen her a couple of times. They came later didn’t they?"