Gods Of Evil

Excerpt from the Novelette, Kindle Format, Gods Of Evil,
By Mary L Marion and Richard E Marion.

Erich and Pamela Morrison.
Michael Callaghan. Craig Terence Sterling. Christine, Electro-Bio-Synthetic Consciousness.
Jimmy James, Labrador Sentry Puppy.

Chapter 7

They approached The Diamond.

“There’s a significant absence of vandalism, considering it was shut down in 1985.” Erich noted.

“As if they were afraid to approach it,” Pamela thought aloud.

“Like a diamond, it dazzles. It’s not because of the rising heat; it’s just barely sixty Fahrenheit.”

Jimmy whined his vote of no confidence.


The red brick of the main administrative building had segued into a pale salmon hue by virtue of weather, time, and ultraviolet exposure.

One of the painting vandals had come with a basic assortment of colors: school bus yellow, international orange, and safety green, plus flat black. Pamela could see his little test swatches. The outcome confirmed that plain old black provided the best contrast against the sun bleached walls.

“Kid’s father must have worked for a construction firm; I don’t see any pastel pink, electric blue, or shocking violet.” Pamela frowned at the poverty of vision on display.

“Obviously not an inner city semi-pro attending commercial art and marketing classes on the side…”

Erich eyed the pathetic minimalism. A hackneyed six-point star, the mandatory ‘666’ alongside. What was that, a cartoon mouse, with breasts? Below all of it, in a cryptic scrawling cursive, ‘Abbrad Ph…’ was that a magick spell, or the proud signature of a bogus Van Gogh?

“That electrical wiring isn’t thirty years old, guys,” Callaghan announced. “This building is LIVE! Very much connected.

“Those burly cables, junctions, transformers and capacitors, are entirely twenty first century. High amperage, commercial wiring. Megawatts. There’s lights, heating, cooling, and widescreen TV with surround-sound inside, I guarantee.

“The original septic setup is either repaired or refitted, I can smell the Arielle back there, blue, green, fresh and ready for fishing. There… are those satellite dishes? Like on the RV?”

Michael was edging up the hardwood double doors with the plaque bearing a tarnished state seal and motto. He halted abruptly. “Who cooked the food we had for breakfast? It was fresh?” Callaghan was sweating and pale as chalk, despite the cool morning breeze. He fluttered his eyelids and swayed.

Michael backed away. “THIS may be frequency dependent…” Blank looks from the rest of them.

“The dog picked up on it, too! Magnetic acoustic devices. Non-lethal by default, but it CAN be boosted. It induces dizziness, distortion of one’s visual field. It even makes you see ghosts, visions, stuff that is not really there!

“Erich, I know you’ve suffered minor hearing damage, mainly the higher frequencies? That 357 MAG with no earplugs, the Harley with the straight pipes, those Rock Concerts on Berkeley Street? Well, buddy, of all of us, you’re the deafest! Step up, boy!

“C’mere,” Michael commanded. Erich looked at the ground, then obeyed. He neared the thick entry door of hardwood and forged steel hardware. He poked his head like a turtle. Pamela watched him trying to wiggle his ears, and she laughed.

Erich leaned forward and strained. Would that door swing open and suck him in? Like a vacuum cleaner? “Maybe… could it be my imagination, you know… Pamela?”

“I feel it, like little itchy mosquitoes; can we block our ears, or does it seep inside you anyways?”


“No need.” A soft, calm, resonant voice answered her question. The heavy wooden entry doors swung open.

“I am Craig Sterling, and you are correct. It’s known as sonic weaponry, or infrasound. Nothing as obviously destructive as firing a 357 Magnum pistol without muffs, but certain OTHER sound frequencies can be debilitating for days.

“Sea whales, for example, use it underwater against their prey. Look it up. It’s called the stun effect. The Christian Bible, Joshua Chapter 6, describes the fall of Jericho. Joshua’s Israelite Troops were ordered to march around the Canaanite city perimeter, blowing their trumpets made of ram’s horns.

“The troops marched for seven days, blowing the horns. Then, the place came down. Sonic destruction. There are ruined remains of those collapsed walls dated about 1400 BC.

“Sonic weaponry has not generally been a weapon of choice; it’s pretty impractical by virtue of lacking portability, plus, it doesn’t drastically explode people into little bleeding chunks. It just isn’t cool enough.

“That hack devil-worshipper with the black paint: not only was he a crappy artist, he must have been deaf as a bloody rock!

“Did you know that in Britain, in the merchant shops, high-pitched harmonics are employed to repel loiterers, shoplifters, and delinquents? Teens primarily, because they are young and can hear too well!” Craig Sterling paused for a second.

“There. It’s off now. Jimmy particularly will be grateful, he’s young, and he’s a dog.”

Pamela gazed at the Blue Labrador, who had resumed smiling and tail wagging.

“Craig, Mister Sterling, how did you know the dog was called James?”

About Richard E & Mary L Marion

Independent Writers
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