The Colonel turned abruptly and knelt next to Neff’s corpse. With one merciless motion, he slit his throat. Melissa closed her eyes. She heard the Colonel throw the knife aside and looked again, only to see the sickening sight of him plunging his fingers into the open wound.
The Colonel stood up, Neff’s blood dripping from his hand, and moved to Brian, kneeling once more. He turned and looked at Melissa. Without breaking eye contact, he dug his blood-soaked fingers into Brian’s leg wound, raking the staples aside, grinding his hand into the deep gash. Brian started to move, the pain nudging him into consciousness.
“Now,” the Colonel growled and stood up, “to finish this affair.”
The Colonel strode the short distance to where Melissa lay, but his attention focused on Sabi. Without warning, his form began to swell and glow. The earthly façade of a man faded into distorted pixilation, replaced by a towering figure with brazen, shimmering skin, his body at once undefinable yet displaying a coherent form. The entity’s face had an angular shape, with deep, black, unblinking eyes, simultaneously reptilian but still somehow anthropoid. Melissa tried to scream but couldn’t.
The tall figure bent slowly, pressing its face toward Sabi.
“Behold my glory,” it hissed.
“I have seen your kind before,” Sabi said, unmoved. “You will not touch the woman in any form. Now obey the Most High.”
“This is my domain, mortal. I do what I please.”
With an unearthly wail, the creature lunged at Melissa. She closed her eyes, expecting to feel her body torn open, but she felt nothing. In her mind, she saw her frame being broken and shredded. She shook violently, rocking back and forth, trying to deflect the pummeling of repeated, powerful blows that rained down on her … but only in her mind.
“Dr. Kelley … Melissa.” Sabi’s voice penetrated her panicked consciousness.
A contraction jolted her to reality. She arched her back and then was still.
“Melissa!”
She cautiously opened her eyes. Sabi was leaning over the arm of his wheelchair. His kind face gazed down at her. She heard the door burst open … shouting … a woman’s voice … Nili.
“Be brave,” Sabi said softly. “He is gone.”
“Wha—what happened to it?”
“I don’t know, but you need not fear.”
Two weeks later
79
We felt that we had received the sentence of death. But that was to make us rely not on ourselves, but on God, who raises the dead.
—Second Corinthians 1:9
“Did you tell him?” Melissa asked, tying her robe.
“He knows,” Clarise said somberly as she folded some linens.
“Everything?”
“All of it.”
“I’d like to go see him.”
“Sure. He’s up to it today.”
Clarise looked away. Melissa moved to leave, but stopped. She took a step toward Clarise and touched her gently on the arm. Clarise looked into her eyes.
“You’ve been here for us,” Melissa said, trying to find the right words. “And we want to be here for you.”
Clarise started to cry. She offered no resistance. She’d been overwhelmed with grief every day since the events at the shed. Melissa put her arms around her, absorbing her anguish.
Everyone at Miqlat was an emotional wreck, but they had reacted with swift precision. They’d determined almost immediately that they needed to abandon their home base. The evacuation itself was accomplished in less than twenty-four hours, but the logistics of handling the fallout had been a nightmarish challenge.
Clarise and Fern had first attended to Melissa with medication. Her contractions had subsided soon thereafter. Ward had taken Malcolm to a local hospital, claiming he was a victim of a hit and run—a plausible screen for the two broken collar bones and linear skull fracture he’d suffered.
Brian had been much trickier. Internally, Brian’s body would show evidence of a gunshot wound and blood loss, but the external wounds had been closed by the Colonel’s bizarre intervention. There was simply no explaining the contradiction, much less what doctors might find in his blood if they looked closely. Cal had therefore been pressed into duty to keep him sedated until Clarise could perform surgery to remove bone fragments adjacent to his right lung and dress the wound in his leg.
Thankfully, only one rib had sustained serious damage. They hoped that his unique bloodstream would again work its wonders. After a week, that appeared to be the case. Despite his having lost a lot of blood, Brian’s wounds were healing more quickly than expected. Clarise had theorized that the nanobots were self-replicating and had been triggered to reproduce by the trauma.
In the urgency to abandon Miqlat, Brian was moved less than ten hours after surgery to the safe house they were temporarily calling home. Malcolm had arrived yesterday, following his release from the hospital. Ward was working with police on what he’d make sure was an unsolved hit and run.
The contingency plans for Miqlat’s evacuation meant that the topside house would be burned nearly in its entirety. They’d deliberately deferred having insurance, a planned safeguard against layers of investigation. The calculated burn would leave the pantry area with the freight elevator intact, and everything underground would be left untouched. The entire compound had been built with the plan in mind. The house would be rebuilt and perhaps someday reoccupied, but no one was considering that a serious option at the present. Everyone would migrate to Miqlat II in Belize. Neff, whose body was being temporarily stored by a mortician in the network, would be buried there after the move was completed.
They dissolved the thumb that had led the Colonel to their location in acid, then dumped the residue into a stream at the edge of the property. But that was only one effort to assuage their fear that someone would follow the Colonel to Miqlat. Madison managed to convince everyone that the only explanation for the Colonel’s mysterious appearance was UFO transport. At first everyone had doubted the idea, but it seemed the only reasonable conclusion, since they hadn’t found a vehicle or tire tracks, and the gate was intact.
In a stroke of genius, Madison had pulled audio of the Colonel’s voice from the recording at the restaurant and then made contact with whomever had brought the Colonel, using the radio they’d found in his jacket. Someone had picked up, only to hear the Colonel’s voice tell them to leave the area and await future contact. It had been extraordinarily risky but had apparently worked, since no one came looking for him.
Clarise released Melissa and wiped her eyes. “It’s going to take a while for all of us—a long while. I just can’t believe Neff’s gone.”
“I know,” Melissa replied.
“You know everything there is to know now. But the Graham you knew—he was real,” her voice trembled. “He was the most changed man I’ve ever known. We loved him, and he loved us. There’s no pretending here. We all know what it’s like to be truly forgiven and made new.”
“Me, too.”
“I’m here when the two of you want to talk.”
“Thanks—I’m sure we’ll need that.”
Melissa waddled slowly down the hallway toward Brian’s room. Reaching it, she gently knocked on the door and pushed it open. Brian was seated in a wheelchair, staring out the window.
“How did you get in that chair?” Melissa asked, trying to make the question sound like the rebuke it was. She walked over to the bed and sat down on the end.
“I managed,” he said without turning. “I wanted to watch the snow.” He sat quietly for a moment, then said, “Clarise was here about an hour ago. I presume you know what she had to say.”
“We need to talk,” Melissa said. “You know I love you.”
He turned toward her, his face betraying a deep insecurity. “Melissa, you know this changes everything.”
“It changes nothing,” she said, her eyes flaring.
“You’re not thinking clearly.”
“You’re the one not th
inking clearly. In fact, you’re thinking selfishly.”
“I’m thinking of you,” he shot back angrily, then caught himself. “I—I don’t know what to say.” A tear started its path down his unshaved cheek. He turned back to the window.
“Brian, having HIV isn’t the end of the world.… It’s not the end for us, either.”
He shook his head and awkwardly turned the chair toward her. “All it would take is one mistake, and you’d be like me. I couldn’t live knowing I’d given you a death sentence.”
“You’re overreacting. Neff lived with AIDS for years. He was in terrific shape; he took good care of himself. That’s what you’ll do.”
“He wasn’t having sex with anyone,” he retorted. “It’s how he got AIDS in the first place!” Brian raised his voice in exasperation.
“Brian, he was a pornographer. He was careless. Weren’t you listening to Clarise? Didn’t you hear about his lifestyle?”
“Her sister died from AIDS—were you listening?”
“Her immune system was already compromised from drugs and other illnesses. It’s not the same! And Clarise was careful.”
“Clarise only worked for Neff a month and got out because of her sister. She was lucky.” He turned back to the window.
“Since when do you use the word ‘luck’?” Melissa asked him piercingly.
A sarcastic reply flickered in his mind, but the sound of soft sniffle stopped him cold. He turned back to her. She was crying. He’d seen the image before, back in his room at Area 51, the night she’d tried to ruin him. He remembered grabbing her by the arm and shouting at her … then he’d seen her eyes, filled with tears. The scene was seared into his brain.
“I’m sorry.” His own eyes welled with tears as he got up, awkwardly, and joined her on the bed. They held each other tightly. He rocked her gently and stroked her hair. Time seemed suspended. “Just don’t leave me,” his voice cracked, “please.”
“I’m not going to leave you,” she whispered in a trembling voice, her head resting on his chest. “I’m yours.” She sniffed. “We’ll figure things out. We’ll talk to Clarise.”
Brian didn’t reply. He held her close, listening to her breathe.
“Brian,” Melissa said, breaking the silence. Brian heard fear in her voice.
“What is it?”
“The Colonel—he had no idea I was pregnant. He was absolutely shocked. How could that be?”
Brian stroked her back. “I don’t know.”
Six weeks later
80
הרנינו שמים עמו והשתהוו לו כל אלהים
כי דם בניו יקום ונקם ישיב לצריו
ולמשנאיו ישלם ויכפר אדמת עמו
—Deuteronomy 32:43 in the Dead Sea Scrolls (4QDeutq)
“They’re beautiful,” Fern whispered, lowering the second of Melissa’s twin girls into the newborn bassinet. “Just perfect.”
“Thanks, Fern,” Clarise said with a smile. “I can handle the PKU. Why don’t you go check on Melissa.”
“Of course,” she said enthusiastically, “but I’ll be back. It’s so exciting to have little ones around.”
Clarise watched Fern disappear through the door and then stood over the tiny newborn girls, each of them wrapped snugly, their eyes closed in peaceful slumber.
Clarise looked at the sterile needle kits and the bandages on the tray next to the twins. She put on her surgical gloves, picked up one of the needles, then paused to take a breath. She knew now how Melissa’s pregnancy had happened. The process that had produced her twin girls had a name: parthenogenesis. Virgin birth.
Melissa would have to know, too, as scary as it sounded. But the name offered no clarity. The situation defied explanation. Parthenogenesis could not biologically occur naturally. There were no known instances in any mammal. The only explanation was implanted cloning. That wouldn’t have been a shock, since it confirmed their suspicions. But the Colonel had not known. They knew the how, but not the who. No one had expected that state of affairs.
Clarise drew one of the newborn girls out of her bliss. She carefully unwrapped the tiny bundle and then placed her back in the bassinet. She couldn’t help smiling as she watched the little legs kick the air awkwardly. She removed the needle from its sterile sheath and set it on the table, along with the blotting paper needed for the blood drops.
Bending over, she lifted one leg, took the needle, and pricked the tiny heel. She turned to retrieve the blotter, feeling the baby squirm ever so slightly with her other hand. She quickly brought the paper to the heel and then froze. She reached for the needle again, inspecting its tip. Her heart began to race. She lowered the needle and pricked the heel again, this time more slowly, with pressure. She watched the tip disappear into the soft, pristine flesh and then removed it.
Nothing.
Postscript
A handbook to The Portent is available at ReadThePortent.com. The handbook contains links to research used for the book, as well as expanded discussion of important concepts and points of dialogue.
The passage used for the final chapter’s quotation, presented in Hebrew, offers a clue about the meaning of the circumstances of Melissa’s pregnancy and the birth of her twin daughters. The handbook contains a second clue, another passage also in Hebrew. Both passages are essential to unraveling this puzzle. The first, found here at Chapter 80, is accessible to English readers only in the English Standard Version (ESV) and the New Revised Standard Version (NRSV). The second, which you’ll find in the handbook, is found in any English translation.
While readers will find English translations for these passages, there is something resident in the Hebrew text of both that I’ll draw on as part of the story in the next novel. You must consider the passages in tandem or you will be misled in that regard. The solution to the puzzle is no surface reading or familiar popular interpretation of any of the passages. I don’t care about popular thinking. I care about the text.
The first reader who solves the riddle accurately (i.e., in satisfactory detail) will have a character bearing their name in the next installment of Brian and Melissa’s journey. Readers may email their guesses to me via the address on my homepage. Multiple attempts are permitted.
Acknowledgements
The Portent, volume two in the The Façade saga, has been a long time coming. I’m thankful to the many fans of the The Façade and their persistent encouragement (sometimes demands) to continue the story. Some names deserve special mention, not only because of the way they have faithfully promoted The Façade on websites, in podcasts, at conferences, and in other outlets, but because they’ve become friends in the wake of the response to The Façade. Readers will take note that some of the names that follow are the source for the names of characters in The Portent. Other character names are explained in the companion handbook described in the Postscript.
Guy Malone, Joe (“Free”) Ward, and his wife Amy (middle name, Clarise) are dear friends. Their work in Roswell, New Mexico, to inject a Christian presence (not to mention creating worthwhile events) into the annual UFO festival has produced fruit in many lives. I enjoyed participating at the Ancient of Days conferences each time my schedule permitted me to be there. Guy read an early draft of The Portent, and his suggestions were helpful.
Doug Vardell has been a steadfast friend and supporter since my college days. (How many times did you read The Façade to your kids?) It was Doug who played publicist for The Façade and got me on Coast to Coast AM with Art Bell for the first time. Doug also read a draft of The Portent and provided some important insights for the final product.
Sometime after my first Roswell trip, I met Mike Bennett (“Dr. Future”). Mike is a constant encouragement, one of those people who manage to be a blessing with every conversation. He didn’t realize it, but certain things he said directed my thinking for some of the sub-plots in The Portent. Other readers of the initial draft, Brian Godawa and Sharon Shipwash, also contributed
to its improvement in specific ways.
The late Fern Hieser also deserves recognition. Fern and I became friends through The Façade. Fern’s last name is pronounced the same as mine, though the spelling is different. She heard me on Coast to Coast AM shortly after her husband—Mike—passed away. The startling providence prompted her to contact me. We were able to meet once while I was traveling through Indianapolis with my family. I told her I would name a character after her in the next volume. Although she didn’t get to see that, members of her family will.
I’ve also enjoyed the friendship of Derrel Sims (a.k.a., “Alien Hunter”). If there’s a real Fox Mulder, it’s Derrel, for lots of reasons. He’s always interesting and fun. There’s a little bit of Derrel sprinkled here and there, and one of the characters shares his last name.
Special mention is due to Becky Woithon. I met Becky via Facebook after discovering she’d read The Façade six times. That sort of dedication deserved a character namesake, and so she has one in The Portent.
Speaking of dedication, I’m blessed to have Elizabeth Vince as copy editor. Sorry for creeping you out (again). Dan Pritchett of Acid Test Press also deserves thanks, as well as the folks associated with Kirkdale Press—Kyle Fuller, Ryan Rotz, Jack Chambers—for producing the special edition of The Façade and provoking the writing of The Portent when they did. I needed the shove. Lastly, Brannon Ellis was a key force behind the most recent edition of The Façade and The Portent.
Publisher’s Note
We hope you enjoyed The Portent. If this book left you on the edge of your seat, challenged you in what you believe, or impacted you in any way, we’d love to hear your feedback. Visit Kirkdale Press on Facebook, leave a review on Amazon or Goodreads, and stop by Michael S. Heiser’s homepage, DrMSH.com.
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