Seed of Evil by Greig Beck (smart books to read TXT) 📗

let it fall with a clatter. He started to pull off his shirt. “I’m in there.”

“Wait, what?” Isabella pointed to the rusting sign with barely legible writing. “You saw that contamination sign, right?”

“No, yeah, whatever. That was 100 years ago or sumthin’.” He pointed. “Besides, look at the birds.”

Benji and Isabella turned. There were several birds perched on the edge of the pond dipping their beaks into the greenish water and then tipping their heads back.

“If it’s okay for them, then it’s okay for us. Nature knows best, right?” James’ narrow chest was now bared to the sunshine and he began to undo his jeans. “C’mon everyone… c’mon.”

James, Kenny, Gemma, and Alf walked carefully across the scrabble until they made it to a grass verge. Benji shook his head as he saw Big Alf’s jelly belly bounce as he walked to the water’s edge. The only things he wore were his tighty-whities, and around his neck a bottle cap-sized silver Saint Christopher medal his dad gave him when he was about five.

Kenny was already in and surfaced spitting a stream of water from his mouth. He spat again. “Tastes weird.” He grinned. “But feels great. Come on!”

James turned back to where Isabella and Benji still sat astride their bikes.

“Chickens.” He tucked his fists under his arms and flapped stunted wings for a second or two before turning back to the magnificent water, finding a deeper spot, and leaping in.

CHAPTER 12

Harry Reith was down in the Eldon Spring Water testing facilities and didn’t like that his scientists looked concerned. And if they looked concerned, then he was concerned.

“Looks a little…green.” He held Pompom under one arm and in the other hand he held the glass of water up to eyeball it for a moment before sniffing the top. “And there’s an odor. What is it?” He looked to Pete Coughlin, his lead production manager, from under lowered brows.

Coughlin took the glass from him. “Zero bacterial count, normal mineral count, and been run through various filters leaving nothing toxic behind.” He sniffed the glass as well. “It just seems to be some sort of plant residue. Might be organic and might not be, but probably safe though.”

Reith exhaled through his nose and raised an eyebrow at his technician. “Let me be frank; it stinks like shit. I wouldn’t drink it.” He looked up. “And this is from the new well, site 30, right?”

“Yep. I’m thinking the tremor stirred it up a little.” Coughlin shrugged.

“A little? It’s fucking soup,” Reith scoffed. “Doesn’t look like mountain spring water to me and more like something you’d get from draining a fish farm.”

“We could put it through micron filters or use evaporation methodology to take out any of the residual microscopics, but that’s time-consuming and expensive. It’ll cost you more than what you can sell the water for. From a commercial perspective, for now, I’m pretty sure that’s as good as it gets.” Coughlin stuck both hands in his coat pockets.

“Shee-it.” Reith exhaled through clenched teeth. Looks like he had three choices: overpriced clean water, dirty water, or no water. He sighed. “We’ll need to find another goddamn well. We’ll miss our delivery dates.”

Coughlin began to grin.

Reith scowled. “Okay, smartass, what?”

“Well, I was just thinking that seeing as we’re pretty sure it’s safe to drink, so for all we know the unknown residue might be good for you.” He shrugged. “It’s just a little stain and a little smell. So what? We can mask the odor with a few drops of lemon flavoring. Then we sell it as a mineral health drink.”

Reith’s brows unknitted and slowly began to rise. “But no artificial stuff, right? Pure health tonic.”

Coughlin nodded. “Of course. We use citral—comes straight from lemon oil extracted from the peel. Natural as your granny used to make.”

Reith rubbed his chin for several seconds and let his vision turn inward for a moment. “And you’re sure it’s safe?”

“I’m betting as safe as any of our products. And as safe as our testing can assure us.” Coughlin lifted his chin, looking confident.

Reith thought about the implications, and then the opportunities. He spun back. “Brilliant. Make it happen.” He headed for the door. “I’ll be up in marketing getting the guys to knock up some labeling.” He turned as he got to the exit. “If this sells, I’ll give you a bonus that’ll put a smile on your face bigger than Texas.”

“Thank you, sir.” Coughlin gave a small bow and then turned to clap his hands. “All right, people, we’ve got some work to do.”

PART 2 – THE ANGELS RETURN

CHAPTER 13

Eldon, the Adams’ residence

“I’ve got a headache…and a sore throat.” 10-year-old Kenny Hatfield grimaced as he demonstrated swallowing for his mom.

Andrea lifted the small flashlight again. “Say ahh.” He did so and she peered in. “It’s very red in there.” She gently laid a hand on his forehead.

He winced. “Ow.”

She pulled her hand away. “That hurts?”

He nodded and swallowed again. This time, she actually heard it make a dry clicking sound in his throat.

Her brows knitted together. “Does your head hurt on the inside or outside?”

“Both.”

She shone the light in his eyes, and he screwed them shut. His forehead hadn’t felt hot to the touch, but she did see some odd bumps and marks appearing like the beginning of a pebbly rash. “Okay, no school tomorrow.”

“Yes.” He settled back into his soft pillow.

Andrea paused at the door. “But that doesn’t mean a day playing computer games. You’ll do extra homework, okay?”

“Aww.” Kenny rolled away. “Might as well go to school.” He briefly rolled back. “Only kidding, I’m sick.”

Andrea’s lips curled into a smile. A day off school cures everything, she thought.

*****

Hours later and Kenny Hatfield still couldn’t sleep. His head throbbed like there was a big ole hammer beating in it; plus, he had the worst taste in his mouth. He reached up to trail his fingers over the top of his sore head.

“Lumpy,” he said softly as he felt the knobby