Progeny

by Shawn Hopkins

  John took one last look at the cave before wading out into the water and swimming after his fellow intruders. As he swam, one stroke after the next, the glowing pinnacle that was reaching up above the tree line and into the early morning sky grew closer and closer. In light of the sheer terror it seemed to induce within him, John began wondering if he’d ever see his wife again.

  ****

  They travelled up a high hill and found concealment within its thick tropical plant life. Though Jackson said there were very few plants and animals that were native to Bermuda, it was clear, especially here, that whatever life forms made it to the graveyard had found a way to survive in their new environment. All kinds of trees were spread out around them, huge flowers the size of a man’s head wrapping around their trunks.

  As they quietly followed their guides through the wide assortment of colorful plants, Chris spotted an animal in the thicket some twenty yards away. “Look,” he whispered, pointing.

  “A horse,” Jackson replied.

  “Yeah, but what’s it eating?”

  Hunter, Paul, and John moved closer to Chris, peering through the early light to see what was so fascinating Chris.

  “What the—”

  It was an apple tree. Only the apples were as big as bowling balls.

  The horse turned away from them, waving two shaggy tails as it trotted away.

  Before anyone could comment on the sight, one of their guides snapped his fingers at them. “Come on.”

  They hurried to catch up.

  A few moments later, the “natives” — as Paul was calling them — were on their stomachs and crawling through the underbrush, approaching the edge of the hill. John was the last to reach them, and by the time he came up beside the retired soldiers, the fascination of the sight below had already immobilized their reason.

  The hill they were on proved to be a lot larger than they originally figured, and the harbor could be seen down off to their right. But it was what lay at the base of the hill that had everyone staring in bewilderment.

  A huge clearing spanned the ground below, a vast temple complex standing within it. A seemingly random pattern of ziggurats that all led to courtyards housing strangely arranged monoliths stared up at them. Surrounding the site were more stone faces like the ones they’d seen before. But it was the enormous pyramid they saw from the rowboats the night before that really stood taunting their feeble minds. It overshadowed the entire complex, reaching up and poking through the low cloud coverage. Its smooth surface held a reflection of the rising sun that illuminated the surreal structure like a colossal pillar of fire, its capstone shining light like a brilliant diamond, sparkling and refracting rainbows of color in every direction.

  Finally able to avert his eyes, John saw that directly below them was a courtyard, a tall obelisk piercing its center. Connected to the courtyard by stone steps was a temple serving as the center of the overall ground scheme, linking the whole complex together in a design that would be noticeable only from space. Or by the gods.

  “What are we doing here?” Chris mumbled in sheer awe.

  “We’re waiting for them to come out into the courtyard,” the man beside him responded coolly. But there was something in his voice that suggested a concealed apprehension.

  “Who?”

  But he didn’t respond. Instead, he clenched his jaw and poked the barrel of his rifle through the row of large ferns fanning out in front of them. All five of his comrades did the same, aiming down at the empty courtyard below.

  John was on the ground next to Hunter. When he turned to whisper something in his ear, he noticed, over his shoulder, Jackson standing fifteen yards away, his back turned toward the temple complex. “What’s Jackson doing?”

  Hunter turned away from what should have been either ancient ruins or the city of Hamilton and noticed what had spawned John’s query. Jackson seemed to be conversing with someone. He strained to see who, but a large tree was blocking the other half of the conversation.

  “Who’s he talking to?” John whispered, looking around. Everyone in their party was accounted for.

  “I don’t know.” And Hunter began crawling on his stomach, moving toward Jackson.

  Hunter caught Paul’s attention as he crossed behind him, causing him to look up and notice Jackson for himself. Because he was the closest to him, Paul whispered, “Pssst! Get down.” But Jackson didn’t respond.

  Army crawling past Paul and reaching Jackson, Hunter grabbed his ankle.

  Jackson’s eyes shifted down to what had grabbed him.

  “Get down,” Hunter ordered, tugging on Jackson’s pant leg.

  Jackson shrunk to his knees and looked around, a befuddled expression contorting his face.

  “Who were you talking to?” Hunter looked through the trees around them, but there was no sign of anyone else.

  “No one,” he answered, his voice strangely detached.

  But there was no time to pursue it now. “Just stay down.” And he crawled back to John. “He says he wasn’t talking to anyone,” he reported once beside him.

  Taking another peek at Jackson over Hunter’s shoulder, John recalled Henry’s warning.

  Hunter shook his head. “What’re we doing here, man?”

  John wiped sweat out of his eyes. “I have no idea.”

  And then four women suddenly appeared, emerging from one of the ziggurats.

  “What the—”

  At the sight of the women, the six “natives” immediately became alert, raising their weapons and moving their fingers over the triggers.

  Even from fifty yards away, it was obvious just how attractive the women were. They were adorned in sheer white dresses that hung loosely to the ground, their left shoulders exposed as if on display. The jewelry they wore sparkled remarkably, catching the early sunlight in diamond-studded bracelets, gold necklaces, earrings, and peculiar arm bands. Their faces, though too distant to appreciate any exquisite detail, were painted with makeup. Walking gingerly down the steps and following the path into the courtyard, their bare feet gracefully tiptoed forward. Ten men carrying spears prodded them on.

  John exchanged a quick glance with the retired SEALs, satisfied that they were as perplexed as he was, and remembered what the older man back in the cave had said about the women here.

  A giant emerged from the shadows of the temple’s entranceway. It looked as tall as the giant they’d seen wearing Nick’s head, but this goliath wasn’t naked. Instead, it was clothed in ceremonial garb, a feathered head garment and a shining robe marrying it to some twisted priesthood.

  The women were led toward it.

  “Who are they?” Chris asked, taken by their beauty.

  Even as the first woman approached the giant, slipping her dress off her shoulders and letting it sink to her ankles, the man with the Australian accent whispered, “Family.”

  Because his head spun toward the Australian, Chris missed the giant’s nodded approval and the woman’s subsequent ascent up the temple stairs, her blonde hair braided down her bare back sweeping side to side with each step. What he did see, however, was a tear slide down the Australian’s face as he pulled the trigger.

  The blast rocketed through the early morning stillness and replaced the woman’s head with a cloud of blood, bone, and tissue, her lifeless body sent flopping awkwardly down the steps.

  Two more shots rang out.

  John stared in horror as three of the four beautiful women were gunned down by the men around him — the one who had removed her clothes lying crumpled at the bottom of the temple steps, the two others suffering from mortal wounds and crying out in agony before the giant. Just one girl remained unscathed. And, as she turned her young face up into the woods, as if able to see the pureblooded assassins, tears rolled over her trembling lips.

  John looked to the man beside him and saw that he was shaking uncontrollably, his swollen eyes trying to aim the rifle at the young girl. But with the way he was convulsing, he was more likely to
shoot the crystal capstone atop the pyramid than his helpless target.

  One of the two men who hadn’t yet fired a shot said to him, “Come on, Stephen.”

  He started sobbing, dropped the rifle. “No…” he cried, reaching his hands out toward the girl.

  With a professional coldness that startled even Paul, the man who had tried to urge “Stephen” to fire, suddenly stood to his feet, raised the rifle to his shoulder, and squeezed off a single shot. The young girl’s head whipped back, and she fell flat onto her back, arms outstretched, blood staining her white dress and covering the grass around her.

  By now, the ten soldiers carrying spears were almost out of the courtyard and ascending up the hills. The giant also started signaling an alarm, blowing into a horn that had been hanging from its golden belt.

  “Come on!” the Australian hollered through his tears. He got to his feet and fired three shots at the men coming after them. Two of them fell backward.

  Then they all started shooting — Chris, Jackson, Paul, and Hunter joining in with their submachine guns — and the remaining eight attackers were quickly eliminated. They moved their aim to the giant, riddling it with bullets that punctured its body but seemed to do little in the way of actually stopping it. A bullet, however, did pierce its throat, putting an end to the sounding trumpet.

  “Move! Move! Move!” They were sprinting through the woods as fast as they could, branches and huge clusters of fruit smacking them in the face. Behind them, the temple complex began filling with men and giants desperate to seek out and kill the assassins.

  A few minutes later, they could hear something following them from above the forest’s canopy. Apparently, the six natives had a pretty good idea of what it was, because they kept turning and firing blindly up through the trees.

  And then, accompanied by a horrible screaming sound blasting through the air, the Australian was ripped off his feet, plucked from the planet and flying up through the cedar trees. A few screams later, pieces of him were falling back to the ground around them.

  Paul cursed when a length of slimy Australian struck him on the back of the neck and stayed there. As he struggled to remove it, another of their island hosts was plucked off his feet and thrown forward with such incredible force that he splattered against a palmetto like rotten fruit.

  And then three giants, with long swords held firmly in their six-fingered grasps, stepped out in front of them and cut the lead runner in half, his body spinning off in two separate directions.

  Paul screamed and held the trigger down, removing most of the massive head charging toward him. The giant fell heavily to the ground and slid beneath Paul’s feet as he jumped over it and kept running.

  Chris was running alongside John when something struck him in the back and lifted him off his feet. Whatever it was, it threw him face-forward into a tree. He screamed out in agony as an enormous amount of pain burst like a blossoming flower in his back and chest. He couldn’t move. And then, with terror, he realized that both his feet were dangling freely in the air.

  Both John and Hunter witnessed what happened. One of the giants had thrown its sword underhanded, its blade swinging upward, end-over-end. It caught Chris in the back, lifted him up into the air, and pinned him to a tree. Running to his aid, they tried desperately to reach up and pull the sword from his body. But it was buried deep into the tree, and they didn’t have the leverage needed to budge it. Hunter fired his weapon, trying to keep the two remaining monsters at bay while John tried coming up with another way to free the screaming SEAL.

  Looking back over his shoulder to see just how much time he had before the creatures were upon them, or something else swooped down to grab him, John saw that there simply wasn’t any time to take Chris’ comfort level into consideration. If he had any chance at all of freeing him, he was going to have to shimmy the sword loose. It would cause greater injury to Chris, possibly irrevocably, but there was no other choice.

  When Chris roared out in pain as John began to work the blade up and down in his back, his distress finally drew Jackson and Paul’s attention. They both turned, realized what had happened, and came running back with guns blazing, managing to send another giant toppling to the ground in the process.

  The sole remaining giant, perhaps less confident now that it was alone, slipped into the density of the forest and disappeared.

  “Get me out of here,” Chris yelled, praying for unconsciousness.

  They all pulled on the sword, and it finally came free. But just as Chris fell to the ground, something from above came diving through the air and grabbed him. Chris shouted out in hideous anguish as the strange creature stung him repeatedly with its tail and ripped his left arm off with its bare hands. Its wings beat the air, elevating it up through the forest’s canopy where it disappeared from sight. Then it released Chris from its grasp, leaving him to scream all the way back down.

  They had seen Chris vanish through the tree tops and watched as fluttering leaves and falling branches floated down on them in his wake. And then he reappeared, suddenly plummeting back through the canopy and flailing awkwardly against every gravitational force in the universe. He landed on his head, his vertebrae crunching loudly upon impact right in front of them.

  With uncontrolled fury, they let loose a volley of deadly fire that filled the air around them with more falling debris. Leaves, branches, and small trees were turned into mere clouds whirling through the air. And then their weapons clicked empty.

  And they ran.

  ****

  Paul was screaming obscenities at the three “natives” who had survived the attack, threatening to kill them himself. Hunter and John had to hold him back and subdue him. John could feel the rage coursing through Paul’s body and wondered if anyone would be able to stop him from ripping these people apart if it was what he really wanted to do.

  “One of them was my daughter,” the man named Stephen whispered. His eyes were captured by a tractor beam pulling him into nothingness. He was the one who couldn’t take that last shot at the young girl.

  “Your daughter?” Hunter repeated with shocked disgust.

  The man crumpled to his knees, convulsing.

  Paul was screaming into the empty cave that they had stumbled across during their escape, the fury in his voice echoing back and forth. All he could think about were his two friends, now dead.

  One of the others said to Jackson, “We thought God sent you to save us. We thought we had His protection.”

  But Jackson didn’t respond, just kept staring blankly at the wall.

  Because they needed the cover of night to conceal their swim back to the cave Chadwick was still waiting for them in, they had plenty of time to face their unbridled grief.

  In addition to grief, however, Stephen and the other two surviving islanders sobbed with the added guilt and despair of having killed their own wives and daughters.

  John closed his eyes, asked God once more to wake him from this nightmare.

  S A L V A T I O N

  You have seen what Azazyel has done, how he has taught every species of iniquity upon earth, and has disclosed to the world all the secret things which are done in the heavens. Samyaza also has taught sorcery, to whom you have given authority over those who are associated with him. They have gone together to the daughters of men; have lain with them; have become polluted; And have discovered crimes to them. The women likewise have brought forth giants. Thus has the whole earth been filled with blood and with iniquity. And now behold the souls of those who are dead, cry out. And complain even to the gate of heaven.

  —Book of Enoch 9:6-10

  …By which also he went and preached unto the spirits in prison; Which sometime were disobedient, when once the longsuffering of God waited in the days of Noah, while the ark was a preparing, wherein few, that is, eight souls were saved by water…

  —1 Peter 3:19-20 (KJV)

  Here the angels, who cohabited with women, appointed their leaders; And being numerous i
n appearance, made men profane, and caused them to err; so that they sacrificed to devils as to gods. For in the great day there shall be a judgment, with which they shall be judged, until they are consumed; and their wives also shall be judged, who led astray the angels of heaven that they might salute them.

  —Book of Enoch 19:1,2

  A commandment has gone forth from the Lord against those who dwell on the earth, that they may be destroyed; for they know every secret of the angels, every oppressive and secret power of the devils, and every power of those who commit sorcery, as well as of those who make molten images in the whole earth.

  —Book of Enoch 64:6

  SEVENTEEN

  12:18 PM. 28th day of May. Wilkinsburg, Pennsylvania

  It had been five days now since the airport… since John hadn’t come home. And getting out of bed was growing harder with every new morning. Positive that something had happened to him, she was simply helpless to do anything about it. Discovering her husband’s whereabouts belonged to the ability of others. There was nothing for her to do but to stare endlessly at the wall and wait for a miracle.

  The will it took to function in any normal capacity had waned rather quickly. At first, there was misery and shock. But when the tears ran dry, the emotion metamorphosed into a sort of bland and hopeless coma. She saw things without seeing them, her eyes bloodshot and constantly staring off, wondering how her life could have become so disoriented so quickly and with no explanation as to how or why. It was the desire to know what happened in Bermuda that kept her waiting for an official report, and the life growing inside of her that kept her holding on to life itself. She knew she should be clinging to God, but her objectiveness had been hijacked by pain and immersed in clouds of disorientation and confusion. She hoped God would forgive her for it, but even more so, she hoped that He would still grant a miracle in the face of her waning faith.