by Alton Gansky
“And by co-habit you mean—”
“Careful,” Brenda said. I didn’t think it was possible, but her tone chilled the air. “Young ears over here.”
“You know what I’m talking about,” I said. “The women gave birth to children who grew to be giants called the Nephilim.”
“And,” Andi said, “they were all killed in the flood of Noah. Right?”
“Right,” I said. “There’s lots more to that story, but the part that makes me think Andi’s explanation is partly wrong is this: those sinning angels were condemned for what they did and the evil they pushed on the world.”
I took a second to recall a Bible verse from the little New Testament book of Jude, verse six. “And the angels which kept not their first estate, but left their own habitation, he hath reserved in everlasting chains under darkness unto the judgment of the great day.”
“First estate?” Chad said.
“Many scholars think this refers to the angels of Genesis six. They left their own habitation and because of their actions, God has bound them until the Day of Judgment. There’s another verse, 2 Peter 2:4: “For if God did not spare angels when they sinned, but cast them into hell and committed them to pits of darkness, reserved for judgment . . .”
“The two verses are talking about the same thing, but the Peter verse gives us something strange.” I let that hang in the cold air for a moment. Truth is, I needed a minute to breathe. My ribs were giving me grief.
“Wait a sec,” Brenda said. “There are angels in hell?”
I nodded, but no one saw it, my being at the end of the line and all. “That’s the strange thing. Does everyone know that the New Testament is written in old Greek?”
No answer.
“Well, you do now. The Bible was written by over forty different authors on three continents over fifteen hundred years. The Old Testament was written—”
“In Hebrew and Aramaic,” Andi interjected.
“Exactly. Mostly Hebrew. The New Testament is in Greek. Anyway, the word that is translated as ‘hell’ in the English version is the Greek word for Tartarus. Tartarus is not hell.”
“Now, you’ve really lost me,” Brenda said.
“Remember I said that the Bible doesn’t tell us everything we want to know, but it tells us everything we need to know? This is one of those cases. The Bible would be too big to read if it told us everything. So, there are parts that leave us with more questions than answers.”
“I’ve heard of Tartarus,” Andi said. “The ancient Greeks believed it the worst and darkest place, worse than Sheol—the place of the dead.”
“I’ve sat in on a few Bible studies where the teacher mentioned that,” I said.
“Cut to the chase,” Chad said. “What are you trying to tell us?”
Andi spoke up before I could. “I think I know where you’re going with this. You’re saying that Azazel can’t be a Genesis six angel because he’s not confined to Tartarus. Right?”
“Bingo.”
“But he agreed with me when I accused him of it. Why would he do that?”
“He murdered the professor,” I said. “It’s only a guess, but I’m pretty sure most murders are liars, too. He doesn’t care what we believe.”
“Okay, okay, everybody just stop for a moment.” Chad turned as we grouped together. “If he’s not one of the Genesis six creatures, then what is he?”
“I can’t be sure,” I said, “but I’ll give you my best guess. Either we’re in Tartarus with him, and I’m pretty sure that’s not the case, or he’s an entirely different kinda creature.”
Brenda shook her head. “Ain’t never heard nothin’ like this in Sunday school—when I went.”
“Listen,” I continued, “I don’t have answers, just guesses based on what we’ve seen and what the Bible said. That ancient document makes one thing clear—we are in a very different kind of battle. Paul wrote: ‘For our struggle is not against enemies of flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the cosmic powers of this present darkness, against the evil spiritual forces in the heavenly places.’”
“Hang on, Bible Boy,” Chad said. “We’ve been thinking aliens and multi-dimensional beings, but you’re talking about angels—”
“Not flesh and blood,” I said, “but rulers, authorities, cosmic powers, evil spiritual forces—any of that sound familiar?”
“It all sounds familiar,” Andi said. “Too familiar.”
“Think of all we’ve seen: evil people, monsters, ghost-like creatures, other—what did the professor call them?—other universes in the multiverse. I don’t pretend to understand all that, but it sounds like all the stuff we’ve seen.”
“So,” Brenda said, “Azazel is one of those cosmic power thingies?”
“My best guess is that he’s one of the fallen angels who troubles the nations. That’s the best I can come up with.”
A moment of silence, then Andi lifted her head. “Does this change our mission?”
“No, we need to do what we set out to do: destroy this place and, God willing, set the bad guys back a few decades.”
Zeke, who had remained mum through all of this, finally broke his silence: “Then I say let’s do this while we can.”
Chapter 5
Andi moved to one of the ice corridor’s walls. “Has anyone else noticed the change in the tunnel?”
“You mean the slope?” Chad said.
“Nope. We’ve been headed down hill since we started this little trek.” She touched the wall with her gloved hand.
I joined her. “Yeah, I see it. The walls are smoother. I noticed that earlier.”
“Almost polished.” Andi withdrew her hand. “The first tunnel we were in had scalloped surfaces. This one doesn’t. I should have picked up on that earlier.
The rest of the team followed Andi’s example and examined the walls. All the flashlights were burning, but not for long. After a quick look, the others turned off their lights, leaving only two on so we weren’t in pitch black.
“Does that strike anyone as strange?” Andi asked.
Zeke was the only one to answer. “It’s the same ice. I would expect some variation, but this seems a bit much. Any ideas?”
More silence, then Chad’s voice: “The first part of the tunnel wasn’t used much. The builders may have dug it out, but never made use of it. They must have had plans for this area.”
“Or,” Zeke said, “we might be nearing something important.”
Andi agreed.
I didn’t offer an opinion. I didn’t have a clue why there would be a change.
“It’s warmer,” Brenda said. “I can feel my nose now.”
She was right. Our arctic gear not only kept the cold out, it kept us from noticing temperature changes. I suppose if we walked into a nice warm room, we’d notice that, but not a change of just a few degrees. As little as that might be, it could have had an impact on the ice. I said as much.
Zeke agreed with me, then refocused on the mission. “Let’s keep at it. We need to know where this tunnel leads.”
“It leads to nuthin’ but trouble,” Brenda said.
I couldn’t argue with that. Apparently, no one else could either.
We continued on in the same order we had been.
We walked another half-mile or so when Chad’s voice rolled back to the end of the line. It was one word, a word spoken in a whisper: “Light.”
I pushed forward to see. The others must have like the idea because they followed my example. We stood close to each other and gazed down the tunnel. A short distance away was a bluish light, like the light we had seen before reaching the storage area we found when we first entered this underground fortress.
“Ideas?” Chad asked.
Andi huffed. “Like what? We have three choices. One, we go back; two, we sit here until we die of cold or starvation; or three, we keep going.”
“I vote we find an escalator we can ride to the surface,” Brenda
said. “I’ve had all of this place I want and more.”
“Tallyho,” Zeke said, and started forward.
The light grew brighter as we approached. I have no idea how there could be light a thousand or so feet below the surface of the ice, but there it was, just like before.
All conversation ceased. We crept forward like an army moving through a field of landmines. The more steps we took, the brighter the light became. Soon we were able to turn off our flashlights.
The tunnel widened and leveled. We were no longer walking downhill. I strained my ears for voices, machine noises, the sound of a demonic Ping Pong game, anything to give me a hint about what we were walking into.
I heard nuthin’ but my own ragged breathing.
I inhaled slowly but deeply, then worked my way forward. I needed to be at the front. That’s where I could be useful. I was no good at the back of the line.
I wasn’t the brains of the operation. I never had been. I’ve never been the planner or the observant one. For the most part, I’ve been the muscle. I’ve managed to use my gift of healing a few times, but most of the time I’m the big guy whose job it is to protect the team. I intend on doing that if I can.
The tunnel emptied into a cave—I mean a cavern. It reminded me of Carlsbad Caverns, a place I had seen as a kid, but this one was made of ice instead of stone. The huge place was too big to take in with one glance.
I raised a hand to stop those behind me.
I blinked. Several times. The bright light burned my eyes. I had been in near darkness for a long time and my eyeballs had trouble adjusting. Fortunately, they came around quick enough.
My muscles tightened. My hands curled into fists. My gaze flew around the room looking for what Daniel calls duch—the bad guys, more like the bad things. We had seen a variety of them during our missions and they all seemed a little different.
I heard a metallic click and glanced to my right. Zeke had stepped to my side; he held a 9mm pistol and he had just racked a round into the chamber. He had removed the glove from his right hand so his finger would fit over the trigger.
“See anything, Big Guy?”
“Not yet. Nuthin’ specific.”
I struggled to believe what my eyes were showing me. The ceiling rose at least four stories over my head. I felt like a bug under an overturned cereal bowl.
“This place is unbelievable,” Andi said.
A quick look told me that everyone had followed me in. So much for hanging back until I checked things out.
The floor was just an open expanse of ice. No furniture anywhere. Although I couldn’t tell you why, I had a feeling the space was old—really old.
“This must be part of the complex the Nazis built,” Andi said.
“Maybe,” I replied. “Or maybe someone else built it and the Nazis just moved in.”
“Maybe,” Andi agreed.
I stepped toward the center of the room, still straining my ears for any sound that might indicate we weren’t alone. Nothing.
Around the edge of the dome I saw other openings. Some large enough to drive a tank through; others that could only accommodate one or two people at a time. All the openings were higher than door height. Well, the usual human door height.
I walked toward a side access with the largest opening. There were two such passages. The others followed me. The tall opening gave way to another inverted bowl chamber almost as large as the first one.
I made it three feet inside when something stopped me in my tracks. I stopped so quickly Chad bumped into my back.
“Come on, Tank. Give a guy a little notice. It’s not like you’re wearing stop lights on your—”
He must have lifted his head. “You gotta be kidding me,” he said. “That’s… that’s…”
Chad doesn’t usually lack for words but I couldn’t blame him. I looked. I stared. I may have even gawked. I don’t stun easily, especially not after what I’ve seen recently. The weird and the impossible have become almost commonplace. This view, however, took the cake.
Andi stepped to my left. “Would it be rude of me to say I told you so?”
“Very rude,” I said. “But you’d still be right.” I leaned forward and placed my hands on my knees. I needed a few extra breaths and a few seconds to pray that I was dreaming. When I straightened, it was still there. I say it, but I mean they.
“Way cool,” Daniel said. He started forward, but a hand grabbed the back of his parka.
“Where do ya think you’re going?” There was more statement than question in Brenda’s words. “You’re staying right here with me and the other sane people.”
“But, Mom! It’s a flying saucer, just like Andi talked about before we left. A real flying saucer like in the old movies.”
Brenda kept hold of Daniel. “I knew I shoulda never let you watch those old sci-fi flicks.”
“Okay, then,” Chad said, his voice low. “So everyone sees those things, right? It’s not just me? I’m not crazy, right?”
“We see them,” Andi said, “but you’re still probably crazy.”
Daniel was getting more amped by the second. “We’re gonna go in, right? I mean, they have ramps and everything, so we can just walk in. We gotta go. We gotta. There could be aliens inside.”
“They could be cannibals, son.”
“Cannibals? Alien cannibals? Aliens can’t be cannibals.” Daniel was pushing his luck.
“And just how many creatures from outer space have you met, boy?”
“But, Mom—”
“Let it go, little buddy,” I said. “Your mom is right. You gotta keep your emotions in check. Move slowly when you can.”
“You’re not scared are you, Tank? Are you? Huh?”
“Yep.”
I started forward.
“Where are you going?” Zeke asked.
I didn’t bother to face him. No telling what he’d read in my eyes. “I’m gonna see what the cannibals from outer space are plannin’ for supper.”
I didn’t have to go alone. Andi was by my side a minute later and she was followed by Chad and Zeke. Zeke still held his weapon.
If you don’t repeat this I won’t have to deny it, but I love those old sci-fi movies, so a part of me was giddy. Another part of me was about to puke.
A simple ramp ran from the ice floor to the underside of the first craft. No stairway, just a ramp with nonskid material on it. The material looked worn and parts of it were peeling. My guess was that it had not been made for storage in a gigantic ice cavern. But then again, what was?
“Let me go first,” I said. “This time, I mean it. Let me go alone. If something bites me, shoots me, hits me with a ray gun or an ice water balloon, I’ll let you know.”
“What do we do if you come running out screaming?” Chad asked.
“I suggest you move.”
After taking a deep breath, I lugged myself up the ramp and into a decent size opening. I fit easily, so I guessed little gray aliens would have no problem.
The saucer or whatever was dark as a tomb inside, so I used my flashlight. The air was stale, but breathable. It smelled like roasted almonds; I have no idea why.
After a quick look-see, I returned to the ramp, descended halfway, then looked for Brenda. I gave her a thumbs up.
She let go of Daniel and he sprinted my way, brushing past the others and running up the ramp. I snagged him with one arm and lifted him. “Okay, dude, here’s the deal. I’m gonna let you go in with us, but—”
“Cool!”
I raised a finger on my free hand. “But you gotta make me a promise. You ain’t gonna touch nuthin’. Got it? I mean nuthin’ but nuthin’. I don’t want you accidentally launching us into outer space. Clear?”
“I couldn’t do that, Tank. We’d never make it through all the ice. Duh.”
“Duh? Really? Duh? You wanna go in, or not?”
“I won’t touch anything.”
“That’s what I wanna hear.” I set him on the ramp. “Does your p
arka still have pockets?”
He gave me a that’s-a-stupid-question look. “Of course it does.”
“Good. Put your hands in the pockets and don’t take them out.”
The little runt gave me a salute, then buried his gloved hands in his coat. That kid has some kinda sense of humor.
The others stood at the foot of the ramp pretending to be patient. “Let’s go. You’re gonna need your lights.”
Beams from flashlights danced around the space, and the bouncing beams reminded me of the X-Files. They always had a flashlight scene, and since we were standing inside a flying saucer, the X-Files seemed to fit.
I stood by the door—maybe a door is called a hatch on a flying saucer. What do I know about such things? I watched the others. I had given my flashlight to Daniel who, for the moment, was the happiest kid on the planet. For a moment, I felt good about it all, but that feeling didn’t last long. We were still a thousand or more feet under ice, in danger from a supernatural enemy, and . . . well, I couldn’t scrub the image of a crucified professor from my mind. I doubted anyone could. We were doing our best to carry out our mission and trying to distract ourselves from what we had seen, and experienced.
And then there was Brenda’s drawing—the drawing that showed all of us but Daniel deader than dead. Something else I wished I could scrub from my brain.
The others looked around in silence for a few minutes, then Chad said what I expected him to say: “Wait a sec. This isn’t right.”
Andi agreed. “It’s not right by a long shot.”
“There are three seats near the control panel,” Chad continued. “Okay, that makes sense.” He turned toward a row of ten seats near the back of the craft. I say back because the curved wall was opposite the control panel. “But they’re full—”
“Full-sized.” Andi finished the sentence for Chad. “Those can hold a full-sized human. So much for little green men . . . or little gray aliens.”
“That’s because this didn’t come off a used spacecraft lot,” Zeke said. “Look at the gauges.”
“Yeah, I noticed that, too,” Chad said. “The gauges are analog. Old technology.”