Colony- Olympian

by Gene Stiles

  The golden apparition hovering in the sky was bathed in the silver-blue fire of pure, primal rage.

  It was the wrathful arm of the Creator sent to collect their souls and he would have his justice.

  Zeus was unaware of his own hellish howls or of how his spine arched impossibly backward as he rose from the ground on a crackling spire of sparks. The indescribable pain seared through every fiber of his being and blinded his bulging, blurry eyes. In that moment, he only wished to die.

  The pillar of power lifted Zeus heavenward, the tip of the sword piercing the azure sky and cocooning him in a sphere of glowing sapphire. Two golden orbs blazed beneath his furrowed brow and his electrified, wavy mane of fire-red hair swirled around his sculpted face like the corona of a troubled sun. Yet, the anger was not his. It was that of the Creator speaking through the shimmering silver blade in his upraised hand. A terrible payment was due for the horrendous, vile actions of Atlantis and the majestic, unearthly sword was His debt collector.

  Zeus lifted his holy silver scepter upward and let loose His fury upon the sky. The gray and black clouds rolled in response as a blanket of eye-searing lightning swept across their bellies. Ear-splitting thunder blasted the heavens and shook the ground for miles around. Jagged bolts of white-hot light returned to the earth, splitting trees and blazing the high-reaching towers of Atlantis.

  “Cronus!” Zeus roared. “Your son is home!”

  About The Author

  International author, Gene Stiles, a Michigan native, moved to Simi Valley, CA in 1963. His first publication was at age eleven when the Los Angeles Daily News (then the Valley News and Green Sheet) and the L.A. Times both wrote articles on a young poet selling his work to buy a Mother’s Day present.

  His interests include mythology, world religions, archaeology, geology, paleontology, lost civilizations, science fiction and the 2012 phenomenon which are the basis for his Colony Series of novels, Colony - Atlantean, Colony – Neander, Colony – Bloodkin, Colony – Seeds of War and ‘Colony - Nephilim.

  Growing up an outcast in his family, he lived much of the story in his first novel To Walk the Winding Road – A Story Of Abuse And Survival.

  At age seventeen, he started a three-state wide non-profit organization called Teens, Inc. in the hopes of helping other troubled teens like himself. As an adult, he continued his devotion to kids by opening teen-oriented businesses including two arcades and three teen nightclubs - which are the sources for his book Phenomenon - The Xenon West Story.

  He is also a martial artist and major karaoke junkie.

  He lives in Missouri on the land he and his late wife, Dianne, cleared together and in the house the two built alone and with their own two hands. She promoted him, believed in him and without whose inspiration none of his books would ever have been printed.

  Colony

  Olympian

  Written By

  Gene Stiles

  Other Books By Gene Stiles

  The Colony Series

  Colony – Atlantean

  Colony – Neander

  Colony – Blood Kin

  Colony – Seeds of War

  Colony - Nephilim

  Biographical Fiction

  To Walk The Winding Road – A Story of Abuse and Survival

  Phenomenon – The Xenon West Story

  Brotherhood Of The Bike

  Dedicated to my lovely wife, Dianne, who gave me so much support, who brought me pots and pots of coffee while my head was buried in the computer. For believing in me and my goals and who made all my dreams a reality. I miss you, my love.

  A special dedication to my nephew, David, and my niece, Burgendee, for giving me ideas, being my sounding board, helping me with artwork and for being my editor.

  I love you both.

  Thank you.

  Copyright © 2019 By Gene Stiles

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form without the written permission of the author except where permitted by law.

  ISBN Number 978-0-359-67111-3

  Cover Art By BoBooks. Gene Stiles, Copyright © 2019

  Author’s Forward

  What If It’s True?

  If you heard the same story from ten different people who did not know each other, would you believe it? How about fifty different people–with no Internet access–from different locations around the world? How about hundreds?

  There is a theory that we as the human race or not native to this earth but, rather, are a colony planted here long ago from another world. Not a new concept and scoffed at by most rational adults. But what if there is recorded documentation around the world that proves that such a possibility exists?

  There is. Thousands of documents.

  As I stated in the previous Colony forwards, there are literally millions of links between ALL religious and mythological writings from ALL around the world. Many events and even specific names mentioned in the Bible, for example, can be found in ancient mythology. Did you know that there are over Five Hundred stories around the world of survivors of a Great Flood? Hell, the underworld in Christian religions is also Hel, the underworld ruled by the goddess Hela, in Norse mythology. The Tree, so predominant in the Bible, is also referred to in Norse mythology as Yggdrasil and is found in many other writings as well and in Great Flood stories as the receptacle of survivors instead of the Ark (also made of wood).

  As I continued my researches into the unexplained, lost civilizations, UFOs, archaeology, geology paleontology and history more and more links became obvious, tying these areas of study with religion and myth.

  Many others have written extensively on these subjects. Some of the best researchers are Erich Von Daniken in his book and movie, Chariots of the Gods, which chronicles possible visits by extraterrestrials to the earth in ancient times; Joseph Campbell in his studies of mythologies; Graham Hancock’s studies in lost civilizations and the origins of humanity such as ‘Fingerprints of the Gods’, ‘Keeper Of Genesis’ and many more; Michael Cremo, author of ‘Forbidden Archaeology, the Hidden History of Mankind’ and many more writers too numerous to mention.

  What I have done in the Colony series is not an attempt to duplicate the work of so many great writers. It is instead a fictionalized story from the perspective of the people who may have lived it. It is an attempt to put into words the hows and whys of what happened long ago. In each novel, I attempt to explain reasons for many of the events and symbols in myth and religion as well as scientifically factual occurrences. In the forward of each book, I lay out what the story will include so you, the reader, can understand how these events tie together. I ask for your patience and indulgence in getting the full story as the information I’ve gathered over fifty years of research is monumental. For more specific detail, I suggest you read the works of the previously mentioned authors with an open mind.

  Colony – Olympian

  Questions:

  How long was the Second War the Gods?

  Were nuclear weapons used?

  What kind of weapons did Zeus and Poseidon have?

  Who created the Olympian weapons?

  How was Atlantis lost and where did it go?

  Why are there massive underground complexes around the

  world and what were they for?

  Is there geological or hard scientific proof?

  You’ll also find a few other little ‘inferences’ tossed into the mix for good measure, some fact and some whimsical.

  The truly scary part is that things are happening today, right now, that shows the events of the past are repeating themselves. From global warming and worldwide changes in weather and tectonic activity to political unrest and even war and terrorism. Will there be another ‘War of The Gods’? The Mayans predi
cted the next great change and possible destruction of civilization as occurring in 2012. Could they have just been a few years off? Are the events of today leading to this very conclusion?

  Read on and decide for yourself. And be prepared.

  Prologue

  From The Diary of Cronus

  Oh, Father! What have I done? I have brought this world to the edge of annihilation. Am I cursed as were you, Uranus? Will I also destroy all that I have built? Have I brought the People to a new and pristine planet only to watch our civilization wiped from existence as we almost did to ourselves on Atlan? Is there something within our bloodline that is foul and rotten, reeking of demonic possession? Are we fated to obliterate all that we love no matter how lofty our intentions? Is it the Creator’s will that we be world killers?

  What I have started cannot be undone. It must be taken to its inevitable conclusion. I still believe I can change my fate and create something lasting and good. I must.

  Zeus. This is his fault. He must pay as no man has ever paid. If my son had only stood at my side, together we could have ruled in peace and expanded the Atlantean empire to all lands of the globe. We would have built a paradise for the People. A place of harmony and beauty under our protection.

  Instead, that despicable creature decided to depose me so he could rule in my place. I will destroy him and all those who stand against me.

  Even if it means wiping out humanity in the process. For I have become Death, the Destroyer, the Shatterer of Worlds. I have become you, Father.

  Chapter I

  “If we do not get out of here soon we will all die in this tomb,” Haleah said bitterly as she brushed the dirt from her hands. Her braided, honey-blond hair was matted against her smudged, sweaty forehead as she stepped back from the pile of rubble. “Even with rationing, we are running low on food and the air is getting foul. People are getting scared.”

  “Fights are breaking out all over the bunker,” Lelantos added, picking up a large chunk of rock and tossing it onto the sled. “Emotions are frayed and tensions are high. This place was only intended to be a temporary refuge. Not home to a couple of hundred people for months on end.”

  “I hear you,” Zeus snapped back a little sharper than necessary. His golden eyes were narrowed and dark. His tan lips were tight beneath his curly, red beard as he spoke. “I have been hearing you for weeks.”

  They had been digging into the caved-in section of the escape tunnel for over eight straight hours today and it looked as if they had accomplished nothing. Each boulder had to be carefully removed, chiseled and stacked to one side to shore up the crumbling walls and ceiling. The left-over dirt and crushed stone were carried away by sled and they were running out of places to put it.

  The survivors of the Atlantean attack on Olympia concentrated on only one of the two tunnels and this one looked to be damaged the least. The other one was a solid wall of stone. Even after these long months of work, the crews only managed to clear about a mile of corridor. The worst part is that no one knew how much more of the passage had been destroyed.

  Zeus hammered at the rocks as if they were the face of Cronus. He tried his best over the years not to allow his anger at his father to turn into hatred, but with each day in this crypt that was getting harder to do.

  Hundreds of lives were lost in the unprovoked attack on his city and Zeus felt responsible for every one of them. In his nightmare-filled slumber, he could see the faces of friends and neighbors burned and bleeding. He saw the walls of homes and businesses melting into molten puddles of red-hot slag. In his dreams, Zeus heard the wails and whimpers of the dying and it was tormenting his soul. So he did the only thing he could do to relieve the guilt and the pain. He just quit sleeping.

  First Home and now Olympia. This was the second time the Lord Father of Atlantis wiped out an entire city for the sole purpose of killing his own sons and daughters. Truthfully speaking, that made each life lost, every home leveled and every field turned to ash the fault of Zeus. He knew this to the core of his soul. As he silently ripped into the wall of ruin before him, he promised himself Cronus would see his own city crumble, his own people killed and his mighty empire turned to dust.

  He stuck the heavy, flat-tipped rod behind a large boulder and pulled back with all of his frustrated strength. A tumble of rock and earth spilled out into the wide passage, a large stone smashing down on Zeus' foot. He cussed and cursed, dancing around on one leg, holding his bruised toes. The sight was so comical the rest of the work party bellowed out in laughter.

  “Oh, so you all think this is really funny,” Zeus grumbled, leaning against the wall and sliding down to the floor. His gold eyes looked as hard as nuggets as he looked around. He crossed his leg over his thigh, pulled off his black boot and rubbed his sore foot.

  “Well, yes,” Lelantos grinned, his yellow-flecked hazel eyes sparkling. “You dance like a red-headed bird during mating season.”

  Zeus sent daggers with his eyes, but could not hide the small smile that grew at the corners of his mouth. Suddenly realizing his people needed a little lightness to relieve the seriousness of their current situation, Zeus let his irritation fade away. He glanced at the other men and women around him and shook his head with a sigh. “I am so glad my terrible pain amuses you all so,” he muttered, sounding so dejected that they laughed once again.

  “Well, if I am to suffer such abuse,” Zeus said, pulling his boot back on, “I might as well head back to the cavern and dull my agony with a little ale. You uncaring animals need to join me so you can watch me in case I hurt myself again for your amusement. Take a break and let some decent people work here for a while.”

  The tunnels leading over a hundred miles away from the burnt out, shattered remains of Olympia should have taken Zeus and his people far from the city shortly after the battle with Atlantis. The plan was to stay in the underground compound for a couple of weeks until he was sure the forces of Cronus had returned home. However, a few of the missiles from the Atlantean warships unintentionally struck above the two tunnels leading out of the warren, collapsing the ceilings for unknown miles.

  The interior of the bunker complex was raw, the limestone walls carved out hurriedly in the months leading up to the attack. The ceilings rose in rough, but graceful arches twenty feet high. The floors were relatively smooth and the passages wide enough to accommodate the giant Nephilim. Several large caverns were cut for community rooms, stock rooms, armories, kitchens, bathing areas and four wells had been dug to supply fresh water. Scrubbers and vents kept the air breathable and a small Proto-Sun generator provided ample lighting. A little over a hundred side caves were cut to provide sleeping quarters, but with almost three hundred people now trapped within, the bedrooms were cramped and overcrowded.

  “I believe several of our air vents have been compromised,” Lelantos said as he took a sip his green tea to wash the dust from his lungs. He took a few bites of the thick venison stew steaming in the large bowl before him before continuing. “Note the metallic tang to the air,” he said, sniffing to punctuate his words. “It tells me the scrubbers are being overworked.”

  “It does not help that there are far more people here than this place was designed to hold,” Hestia said, sitting next to her brother at a long table in the immense dining hall. Her auburn hair was tied at the nape of her neck and fell down the back of her plain, brown linen dress, having lost none of its natural luster even though baths were limited. She pushed a few errant strands from her tired-looking face and looked around the room.

  “It is a good thing that most of the people only passed through here after we evacuated Olympia,” Hera said, leaning away from the table, fully sated from her meal. Her green eyes looked worn but stilled burned with fury at the senselessness of the attack by Cronus. “They were well away from the tunnels before they collapsed. Otherwise, we would be packed like rats.”

  Anak cut a strip of meat from his steak, taking time to savor the taste before entering the conversation.
Such food was running low and he did not know when he would have another. The gigantic Nephilim took a deep swallow of red wine and wiped away the few droplets that landed on his chin.

  “We need to get out of here soon,” he said, his amber eyes somber and half-slitted. “My brethren and I are having trouble breathing. The air is getting thin and slightly toxic. If we are to keep working, we need to open those vents or create new ones.”

  “We are a hundred feet below ground,” Lelantos said, understanding his friend’s concerns. “It is unlikely we can cut new shafts through the rock above. We only have small arms and they are not strong enough to melt that much stone. I know. We have tried.”

  Zeus listened intently to every comment. He sat at the head of the table, his square jaw resting on his fisted hands. His golden eyes surveyed the men and women in the hall and he could feel the tension in their muted conversations. Nothing was held back from them so they were all aware of how dire things were becoming. Zeus knew they had to get out. But no one had any idea how far the tunnel collapse extended. They could break through tomorrow or not for weeks. Grimly, he doubted they could last another month.

  Of one thing, Zeus was incredibly grateful. Before Olympia fell, Eriktis, Anak and their Nephilim brothers managed to reach the Main House after their herculean accomplishments with the Ripper. Even though the Atlanteans still managed to destroy the city, they paid a monstrous price thanks to these men. Now the behemoths used their prodigious strength to clear the rubble that would have been impossible for even the powerfully built People. The trade-off, of course, was that their sheer size required more food to maintain and more air to breathe, further straining the limited resources of the bunker.

  “All we can do is keep working,” Zeus said, finally. He ran a hand through his wavy red hair, looking haggard and glum. “There is no need for me to give specific orders. You are all cognizant of the problems we face and I know you are doing everything you can. I thank you for that.”