The Portent

by Michael S. Heiser

  “Where are you at on Father Benedict’s perspective, Malcolm?” Melissa asked.

  “I’m inclined to trust Andrew’s instincts that the plan is something big, like faking the second coming or something like that. I’m curious, though—why don’t you agree with Andrew’s thinking?”

  “Well, I think all this could have something to do with convincing lots of people that they’re seeing end-times events, and that aliens have something to do with that. But I’m bothered by a few things. For one, I don’t see how Genesis 6 and the Nephilim have anything to do with little gray aliens, real or imagined. I don’t see any congruence between the way they appear—weak and emaciated—and a warrior race. Plus, the Nephilim and other clans are consistently described as being unusually tall. It makes no sense.”

  “But if memory serves,” Malcolm said, “didn’t you say that the Greek word titanos can refer to the Titans of Greek mythology and also mean ‘gray’?”

  “I did,” Brian admitted, “but that word is a homograph.”

  “A what?”

  “Greek is like English in that you can have two words that are spelled exactly the same but are completely unrelated and have entirely different meanings. Take the word ‘change,’ for example. In the verb form it describes becoming different, but as a noun it can refer to loose coins. There’s no relationship in meaning. In the case of titanos, there’s more than one Greek word spelled that way. One means ‘gray,’ and the other means ‘Titan,’ but they’re unrelated.”

  “Got it.”

  “But having said that,” Brian continued, “it’s also true that ancient biblical and non-canonical Jewish literature contains threads about giants, gods, and eschatology that intertwine. But I just don’t see a role for the little gray alien in all that. It seems completely incongruent.”

  “We’ll have to talk more.”

  Kamran, having waited for the exchange to play out, immediately began texting a message as rapidly as his thumbs could move. Malone’s phone went off. He was sitting across from Brian. “Here,” he said without looking at the phone, handing it to Brian. “It’s for you again.”

  Brian looked at the message. “Kamran says his study of astral prophecy has produced some links back to Genesis 6, but he agrees with my take on things.” Brian looked up at Kamran. “You and I really have to spend some time together,” he said, and Kamran nodded enthusiastically.

  “I have a question,” Madison piped up. “I’ve heard the word ‘Watcher’ come up a couple times now. What is that?”

  “It’s a term from Jewish literature dating a few centuries before the New Testament era, books like 1 Enoch. In some retellings of biblical stories—Genesis 6, for example—it replaces the phrase ‘sons of God,’ ” Brian explained. “A Watcher is a divine being like the ones in that story. Some ancient texts suggest their normal physical appearance is serpentine but that they can change their appearance.”

  “No one ever knows who the Watchers are,” a soft voice observed from the periphery of the assembly, “unless God reveals it.”

  Everyone’s attention turned to Sabi.

  “I am sorry to intrude,” he said apologetically. “But this thing you must all know. The entity known to the four of you as Adam may have been a Watcher—disguising himself to be that which he wanted you to see and hold in awe. Or he may have been someone in the room, invading your thoughts to manipulate your belief.” He paused. “Or he may have taken no form at all.”

  “You talk as though you have some familiarity with these … things,” Dee said cautiously, visibly spooked by his words.

  “Yes …”

  “What do you mean, Sabi?” Clarise asked.

  Brian could tell this was something new.

  “When you are as I am, much of life is spent in prayer and meditation, in communion with God. God shows me things when He wishes to—allows me to see things of the unseen world, the spiritual realm. That is how I knew Professor Scott would have our password,” he added, smiling gently at Brian. “God told me of his dreams. I cannot anticipate learning such things, but there is always a purpose when God acts in this way. At times I have been shown … presences … in the unseen world when God beckons my spirit to meet with Him.”

  Brian glanced around the group. There was no sign that anyone took Sabi’s words lightly or considered them in any way misguided. His own experience with the frail man was evidently not unique for those in the room.

  Sabi continued. “Scholars call such experiences … what is the phrase? ‘Altered states of consciousness.’ I do not know about such things. I only know that I have visited the divine realm, though never at my own bidding. Our sister Melissa knows about this. She left her body and was instructed by a guide—a presence. This is what I speak of. It is hard to explain to others, is it not?” he asked, looking at Melissa.

  She nodded.

  “I know such beings are part of the unseen world. They are very powerful, even if they are disloyal to God. Professor Scott knows what the Apostle Peter said about this.”

  Brian thought for a moment. “The ‘glorious ones,’ ” he replied. “Second Peter 2 tells us that wicked people are foolish enough to blaspheme the glorious ones—something even angels won’t do. The name comes from proximity to God’s glory—His throne room.”

  “And so we must be like Michael, the archangel, when dealing with such beings, as Jude, the Lord’s brother, told us.”

  “We let God rebuke such powers,” Malcolm finished Sabi’s thought.

  “Yes, there is no other choice. They do not answer to us. God will deal with such powers in His own time. We must prepare our hearts and minds to see what is there when God exposes the darkness by His light.”

  “Now do you see why I’m hoping aliens are real?” Dee asked, scowling and peering over her glasses at Madison. “If it weren’t for Brian’s nanobots, we’d all be on that page.”

  “Speaking of that,” said Clarise, “let’s have a look at your finger.”

  Everyone moved closer to where Brian was sitting as he unwrapped the gauze. Where there should have been a fresh wound, there was only a faint, whitish line.

  “Man, that is mind-blowing,” Ward gasped.

  “It’s like magic,” Madison said, shaking her head.

  “No magic, just technology,” Malcolm corrected her, grinning with satisfaction. “Another five minutes, and you’d never know he’d been cut.”

  “I want you in the lab right after breakfast tomorrow,” Clarise effused. “I want to scope some blood, if that’s all right.”

  “Sure.”

  “Have you two ever wondered if your children might have these nanobots?” Fern asked. “Some blood-borne infections can get passed on. There have been cases where HIV was passed to the child, but not the mother, when the women were unknowingly artificially inseminated from an HIV-positive donor. Those nanobots are smaller than the HIV virus.”

  “There’s really no chance of that,” Brian answered.

  “How do you know?”

  Brian looked at Melissa. She nodded. He took a deep breath. “It’s time you all know that we’re not actually married. In fact, Melissa doesn’t know how she’s pregnant. The babies aren’t mine.”

  “You mean Melissa’s pregnancy is just like Dee’s?” Clarise gasped, shocked.

  “Right,” Brian replied. “We pretended to be married for the sake of our situation at the college. Even Father Fitzgerald doesn’t know we aren’t really married.”

  “We planned to give the babies up for adoption,” Melissa explained. “Every test I’ve had says the twins are normal. I wouldn’t abort them unless there was some sign they aren’t normal.”

  “You mean if they aren’t human,” Dee jumped in. “Now you all know why I want mine terminated—you know where we’ve been and what we’ve seen. And for the record, I haven’t changed my mind.”

  “Abortion isn’t something I want to go through,” Melissa added. “I’ve had one before, after I was raped in co
llege.”

  “I’m stunned—again,” Neff said, shaking his head. “We never suspected you two weren’t a real couple.”

  “We are a real couple,” Melissa corrected him. “We’re just not married—yet.”

  “Sounds like you two had a bit of a breakthrough,” Dee said, her expression softening.

  “We did,” Melissa replied. “And you were right. What you said was spot on.”

  Dee smiled and nodded appreciatively.

  “We want to get married for real,” Brian explained, “but we think it best to wait until after Melissa has the babies. Think of us as engaged. Malcolm—”

  “Absolutely,” Malcolm answered, flashing a wide grin, anticipating the question. “It would be a thrill.”

  “Why not keep the babies?” Fern asked. “Even though you were impregnated without your knowledge, you could still give them a good home.”

  “They’re not mine, or ours.”

  “Neither are adopted babies.”

  “This isn’t the same.”

  “Dear,” Fern said gently, “I know the decision is a very personal one, but I’m pressing you a bit for a reason. I want to see if you are completely convinced the babies are normal. I can see that you’re not—and that’s quite understandable.”

  Melissa sighed and glanced at Brian. “I guess I’m not,” she admitted. “I just don’t know how I could be.”

  43

  Great perils have this beauty, that they bring to light the fraternity of strangers.

  —Victor Hugo

  “Good morning,” Fern said cheerfully as Brian and Melissa sat down at the table in the Pit. “Most everyone has already had breakfast. What can I make for you?”

  “Thank you, but just show us where everything is. You don’t have to wait on us,” Brian said.

  “That’s no problem,” she replied. “My age makes me everyone’s mom or grandma, and I like it that way.” Fern filled a cup of coffee at an adjacent setting. “This is for Graham. Doug was just here but went to get Graham,” she added, her mood shifting.

  “Is something wrong?” Melissa asked, picking up on the change.

  “I don’t know for sure. Doug was looking at his phone and said he had something Graham needed to see right away. To be honest, that’s usually not good news.”

  “I guess we’ll find out shortly.”

  “That we will,” Fern replied. “Now, what can I get you?”

  Brian and Melissa obliged Fern’s hospitality and were joined moments later by Ward, who did the same.

  “Clarise has been up for a couple hours already,” Ward said, taking a sip of his coffee. “Not to sound too ghoulish,” he said, looking in Brian’s direction, “but she’s prepping the lab for your visit.”

  “ ‘Prepping’?”

  Ward laughed. “Oh yeah. When Clarise gets fixated on a problem or something she’s discovered, she gets a little obsessive.”

  “Reminds me of somebody,” Melissa said, grinning.

  “I don’t obsess,” Brian objected with a chuckle. “I just like to see things through when I’m on to something.”

  “Right.”

  “Clarise is also wrapped up in that old printout you gave her with all the letters. She’ll be useless the rest of today, for sure,” Ward added. “That means we’ll have to adapt our normal routine.”

  “For Christmas Eve?” Melissa asked, taking a plate from Fern, who had returned to the table with some toasted bagels.

  “Yeah. We usually drive into civilization to go out for dinner and see Christmas lights. Clarise already told me she doesn’t want the interruption. But she had a suggestion for the two of you. I tried to talk her out of it. I’m hoping you’ll hate it.”

  “What’s that?” Melissa asked, her curiosity roused.

  “Shopping. She wants me to take the four of you into the city and buy you anything you need.”

  “That sounds wonderful,” Melissa agreed quickly. “What’s the problem with that? Your gender?”

  “She’s good.” Ward smiled and looked at Brian.

  “What time do we leave? There’s no turning back now. Trust me,” Brian said.

  Melissa sighed, feigning irritation. “We can do it some other time if you two don’t have the stamina.”

  “Told you,” Brian said, stirring his tea. “Game over. This battle of wits just ended.”

  “Actually, it makes good sense to go now,” Ward said. “Lots of sales. Both of you should take inventory after breakfast and make a list of what you need—and not just clothing. Anything. I’ll make sure Malcolm and Deidre do the same.”

  “Thank you.” Melissa beamed.

  “If we have time, we can still drive around and see Christmas lights.”

  “Are we going to see the rest of Miqlat first?” Brian asked.

  “We’ll make an effort,” Ward answered. “It’s a few hours into town, so we’ll plan to leave right after lunch. That gives us an hour to tour this morning, plus time for you all to check on what you need. We’ll start as soon as Malcolm and Deidre have had breakfast. The first stop will be the lab, or I’ll be sleeping upstairs for a while. There’s a lot—” He suddenly stopped, his attention caught by something in the background.

  Brian and Melissa turned to see Neff and Malone approaching.

  “What’s up?” Ward asked as the two men sat down at the table. Their expression told everyone that it was serious, whatever it was.

  “I think we can safely conclude that this Colonel Ferguson has discovered your former whereabouts,” Neff explained, sighing as he looked at Brian and Melissa.

  “How in the world could he know that already?” Brian asked, startled. “It’s barely been a couple days!”

  “Like I said when we left Fargo,” Malone answered, “things just turn up.” He slid his phone toward Melissa. “This came up in my newsreader this morning. I added the RSS feeds to the major North Dakota papers before we even left.”

  Melissa picked up the phone, its screen open to a news story about the suicide at the coffee shop.

  “It’s down the page a bit.”

  Melissa continued reading and scrolled down to reveal a grainy photo. Despite the poor quality, she could make out Becky’s face, gun pointed at her head—and her own face in the lower corner of the image. “I can’t believe it,” she said in exasperation.

  “Believe it,” Malone said. “Somebody must have turned in the photo to police shortly after it happened. The article doesn’t mention you—your North Dakota persona, of course—but if your Colonel was behind the girl’s death, it’s a good bet he’s seen this photo. And I bet he would do something to get access to the investigation.”

  “Is there any indication the police have matched the face to a name?” Brian asked.

  “Not from that article,” Neff replied. “We’ve done some searching for other stories, and so far no hint of that has surfaced.”

  “Without that, the Colonel might not be able to locate Melissa even if he did recognize her,” Brian reasoned.

  “That’s true,” Neff admitted, “but just because there’s no report that the police have been unable to locate the woman in the picture doesn’t mean they don’t have a name and an identity.”

  “Someone from the college would surely see the picture and say something,” Malone added. “I suspect the police have a name and aren’t saying anything to reporters yet.”

  “Well,” Brian said, trying to make the best of the news, “we’re here, so all this means is that we’ll never be able to go back. That’s no surprise.”

  “You’re safe,” Neff said, “but someone we all know isn’t.”

  “Who is it?” Ward prodded anxiously.

  “I got an email this morning from the college,” he said grimly. “Father Fitzgerald is missing.”

  “Missing?” Melissa asked, panic in her voice.

  “The official email went out to all board members. It says only that Father Fitzgerald had been taken from his home, and his where
abouts are unknown. The police have been contacted. We are to wait for further information.”

  “Are they sure he was taken? How do they know?”

  “You got some ‘unofficial’ news as well, I take it,” Brian guessed.

  “I did.… Gloria emailed me. She said she came in early this morning to pick up some Christmas presents she’d stashed at her office. Aloysius had told her he’d be in, and she planned to give him his present when he arrived. He never made it. She was concerned since he’s the extremely punctual type, and he always tells her if there’s a change of plans. She called the house and got no answer, so she called police and asked them to drive out and check if he was home. I’m not sure what they found, but they called her back and asked a bunch of questions—including whether she knew anyone who would ever harm him.”

  “Oh, God,” Melissa gasped, closing her eyes. “It has to be Ferguson.”

  “We don’t know anything for sure now, of course,” Neff said, “but we will. Ward, I hate to say it …”

  “No problem. Should I leave now?”

  “No, we’ll give the police time to learn what they can. It’ll take a couple days, especially with Christmas. Malone and I will go back to North Dakota with you, but you’ll have to be the one who deals with the police.”

  “How are you going to get the police to tell you anything?” Brian asked.

  “I’m licensed as a private investigator,” Ward answered. “So are Neff and Malone, but we can’t take the chance that someone will ID them from the scene.”

  “Malone might get away with that role, but I wouldn’t,” Neff added. “Aside from being on site in Fargo, enough people on campus know me as a board member. I can’t get caught prying into police business.”

  “For sure,” Ward continued. “I’ll learn what I can.”

  “We need to pray that Father Fitzgerald doesn’t end up like Father Benedict,” Brian said somberly. “The Colonel is ruthless. If only Andrew hadn’t gone back to Area 51 after we got off the base.”

  “He did what he thought was best,” Neff said. “And trust me, I’m scared for Aloysius, especially after reading the autopsy report on Father Benedict.”