In the reflected light, Cruz saw al-Aziz nod. “Then that is where we need to go.”
Ten minutes later they had swum out along the edge of the wall, making a slow approach to the hole. Up close, they felt the water being sucked through. The current was not fast, but it would pull them through. Cruz went first, ducking under the water and into the hole. He was pulled through a five-foot passage and spat out the other side.
Upon reaching the surface he gasped, though not for need of air. He was in shock. Al-Aziz rose up behind him and had a similar reaction. Before them was a second underground lake, lit by rows of what looked like massive light bulbs. The other light source was from daylight pouring in through a cavernous opening to the world beyond. But most surprising were the towering docks along one wall, perhaps a half-mile long, each holding a massive ship.
Some looked old, out of service, and out of use for thousands of years, but others appeared to be recently built and incredibly seaworthy. They were constructed using entire tree limbs bent into position. They were like ancient, heavily armored battle cruisers. The gigantic ships could only be crewed by one race on earth—the Nephilim.
Cruz smiled. He knew he’d saved the backpack for a reason.
Al-Aziz noticed his smile. “What are you thinking?”
“I have an idea.”
Chapter 66
Whitney knew that sneaking out of a guarded fortress during the afternoon wasn’t a good idea, but with Enki planning a second interrogation for that evening it was unclear if father and daughter would survive the night. Were it not for Aimee’s intimate knowledge of the citadel’s layout, they would be hopelessly lost.
As Whitney watched Aimee move, blending with shadows and deftly avoiding detection, she wondered how often her mother had to become invisible to survive in such a place. It was a miracle that one of the giants hadn’t simply picked her up at some point and made a snack of her.
Whitney found herself worrying that her mother was somehow in league with the Nephilim, having been corrupted after all her time there. Perhaps even now she led them into a snare. But then she saw the clutch, the desperate squeeze Aimee had on Merrill’s hand, and she saw that their love for each other had not wavered. Whatever favor Aimee had earned while being held prisoner she seemed willing to give up just for the chance of being with Merrill again. Even if the attempt ended in death.
But what about me? Whitney thought. After being separated for so long, why didn’t she cling just as tightly to her daughter? Then again, Whitney wasn’t exactly going out of her way to bond with her mother, either. It seemed they had grown apart. Her father had been with her through college and forged an adult relationship with her over the years. As strained as it had been over the past year, they had the previous nine years upon which to draw. To her mother, Whitney was a different person. Older. Mature. Independent. Whitney realized her mother probably had no idea where to start with her, so she clung to what she knew best: Merrill. Though Whitney understood her reasons, she wished her mom showed greater interest in getting to know her again. Of course, there would only be time for that if they survived.
Whitney pushed the thoughts away and refocused on the task of escaping.
Aimee led them down a long hallway. Rather, long for humans, but perhaps a few steps for the Nephilim . . . or none at all if they decided to fly. At the tunnel’s end, Whitney saw sunlight streaming in and beyond that, a long walkway across an exposed wall. They were close to freedom, but once outside they would be easily detected. There would be no nooks and crannies in which to hide.
Aimee had explained that there wasn’t much in the way of exterior guards. They felt secure here, untouchable. But there were two guards at all the exits, and the only way to kill them was to first remove the gold bands protecting their foreheads. They’d have to do this twice then escape through the gates before more Nephilim arrived. Whitney had her doubts. A lot of them.
They reached the end of the arched hallway and paused at the exit. A long, walled bridge extended for four hundred feet, spanning a courtyard. Beyond that was a gargantuan staircase, after which they would enter a long hallway that exited into a smaller courtyard at the rear of the fortress, where they would make their escape.
Whitney held her XM-29 at the ready and felt the weight of the 9mm on her hip. She was as ready for action as the day she’d set out for Antarktos. Lei was armed with several grenades, two semiautomatic handguns, and his weapon of choice, an AK-47. Whitney’s parents had opted not to carry weapons, citing that they were more likely to shoot each other by accident than do any real good. “Besides,” Aimee had said, “if God can create the cosmos, if God can bring this family back together . . . then he can save us here.”
Whitney hoped her mother was right. Didn’t God sometimes let people die, too? Whitney pushed the thought from her mind and crouched near the hallway’s exit. She quickly scanned the area. She couldn’t see any Nephilim on the levels above, but she became aware of a strange noise, like mumbling or chanting. She stood and poked her head up over the wall. Below were four Nephilim, dressed in robes and wearing masks. They stood around a symbol burnt into the courtyard floor. The symbol was a simple circle with two intersecting Vs. At the center was a dark hole, which was stained dark brown around the edges.
Whitney watched with morbid fascination as all four Nephilim held out their left wrists and slit them deeply with daggers. After the blades were sheathed, the giants held their injured wrists and pulled back on their hands, opening the wounds and allowing gouts of blood to flow into the hole below.
Whitney stepped away from the wall and looked at her mother. “What are they doing?”
“Fertilizer . . . for the continent,” Aimee replied. “The land is drenched in their blood. Antarctica heals like they do. It’s the source of the continent’s rapid growth and the survival of its ancient creatures.”
As ridiculous as it sounded, Whitney believed her mother. Merrill’s anhydrobiosis theory might be at the root of Antarctica’s fertile comeback, but the explosive growth and reemergence of ancient species seemed more . . . supernatural. “And the chanting?”
“Talking to their fathers.” Aimee said, a wash of fear spreading over her face. “The demons that frequent this place are more evil a force than the worst of the Nephilim.”
“And they’re out there now?” Whitney couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “I don’t see anything.”
“You can’t see them unless they want to be seen,” Aimee said.
“Can they see us?” Whitney asked.
Aimee thought for a moment. “I don’t think so. The communication seems intense. If we stay low and quiet, we should be fine.”
Merrill squinted at Whitney. “Why are you worried at all? I thought you didn’t believe demons existed!” he said.
“I’ve seen enough to know that there are things beyond my understanding. So the Bible is accurate in places. That doesn’t make it infallible from cover to cover.” Whitney shook her head. “Let’s just go.”
Crouching low, Whitney started out across the bridge, staying close to the wall, deep in shadow. The others followed closely. They reached the opposite side quickly and without incident. Whitney paused at the wall’s end.
A slight vibration in the floor made her glance around the corner. Coming up the staircase was a behemoth wielding an axe that could slice a man in two with its weight alone. She fell back against the wall and her facial expression told the group everything they needed to know: their position was about to be exposed and they would all soon die.
Before Whitney could understand what was happening, Aimee was on her feet and walking toward the staircase. Whitney opened her mouth but Merrill’s hand quickly covered it. After all these years, he apparently still believed her mother knew what she was doing.
Even if it was insane.
Chapter 67
Ferrell sensed Wright’s pain as they moved down the mountain. The pace they had set was grueling and would remain
so until they were clear of the Nephilim fortress. But with the exertion came rapid breathing, which for Wright meant the rapid flexing of his cracked ribs. The pain he endured in silence was intense.
She leaned by a tree, feigning exhaustion. “We should rest,” she said.
Wright stopped and caught his breath. His face was beaded with sweat and his eyes were weary. Still he smiled. “Nice try.”
“At least let me carry your weapon,” she said. His XM-29 had been slung over his shoulder. The weapon weighed a good fourteen pounds, and his backpack added another thirty. The least she could do was lighten his load.
He nodded without argument and handed her the weapon. She slung her own over her shoulder and held his at the ready.
“At the first sign of trouble . . .” he said.
She smiled. “Of course.” She looked around. “Where’s Vesuvius?”
They searched the area quickly. The dog was nowhere to be seen. Wright bent down and found a paw print. “Here.”
They followed the prints’ direction and found more. Soon they were following the tracks at near full speed. Without discussion they were chasing after the dog like he was a full-fledged teammate.
They found him ten minutes later, standing atop a crest that overlooked the Nephilim fortress. He was lying low and whining. Wright and Ferrell lay down to either side of him. He noted their arrival with quick glances then returned to his vigil.
“What do you see?” Ferrell felt a rising embarrassment, like she had entered a lost, very twisted episode of Lassie, but Vesuvius did not seem to act without just cause. Something had drawn him there.
He whined and stared intently at the fortress. Ferrell cursed herself for losing her sniper rifle. The scope would have been useful at a time like this. Still, she had her mini-binoculars. She opened the tiny lenses and put them to her eyes. She aimed in the direction upon which Vesuvius was so intent and quickly found what held his interest.
On a bridge crossing an open court she saw Whitney and Merrill, along with two others she did not recognize, crouching low to avoid detection. Beneath them in a courtyard were four Nephilim, performing some kind of ritual, tracing lines in the air. The four moved as one. She focused on their faces and could see their eyes were closed. They appeared to be in a trance-like state. She lowered the binoculars and handed them to Wright. “On the bridge. Merrill and Whitney.”
Speaking the names affected the dog profoundly. His tail thumped and he whined loudly. Ferrell shushed the dog and said, “Quiet.”
Vesuvius stopped whining, though his tail wagged ever faster. Wright scanned to the left. “I think I see where they’re heading,” he said, “but they’re going to need some help.”
Wright handed the binoculars back to Ferrell. She found the spot at which Wright had been looking. A large gate not far from the group’s position was guarded by two Nephilim. They’d never make it. She looked at Wright. “We better hurry.”
They leaped to their feet and pushed toward a fight neither believed they could win. Vesuvius ran ahead, leading the charge.
Chapter 68
Merrill kept his hand firmly planted over Whitney’s mouth until he felt she had also understood her mother’s plot. They and Lei leaned against the wall as tightly as possible and hid in the shadows.
Merrill heard what was being said, though he did not see it.
“Teacher,” the towering image of a man said in greeting.
“Azag,” Aimee said.
Merrill fought the urge to look up and see the man. Azag was a minor god, a savage brute who was often depicted carrying a double-edged axe.
“Early for your walk, isn’t it, teacher?”
“Enki has called me for council this evening,” Aimee said. “I was restless and needed the fresh air.”
“Very well,” Azag said. “Peace be with our fathers.”
“Peace be with them.”
A moment later, Aimee’s gentle hand was on Merrill’s shoulder. He opened his eyes to find her crouched beside him. “I’ve always hated saying that,” she said.
“Does Azag carry an axe?” Merrill asked, unable to contain his interest.
Whitney nodded. Merrill had forgotten she was the first to see him coming. “A big one. But how did he not see us?” Whitney asked.
“I stayed on the opposite side of him,” Aimee replied. “When they speak to me, they rarely take their eyes off of me. Though I can do nothing to them, they inherently do not trust me.”
Merrill knew that was because it was on behalf of the human race that the globe was nearly wiped clean of Nephilim. They have every reason not to trust us, Merrill thought, especially those who believe in the very God who had drowned so many of the ancient Nephilim. It was only the lucky ones who, like Noah, had survived on a ship, perhaps on a vessel even larger than the biblical ark. A thought struck Merrill. The Nephilim could drown! They were becoming less and less immortal and impervious in Merrill’s mind. They could be killed; it was just difficult to accomplish.
Before Merrill could share his discovery, Lei leaned forward. “Do you mind if we keep moving?” he said nervously.
Aimee led them down the staircase, which was like climbing down a mountain, but they quickly reached the bottom. There was a ten-foot expanse from the base of the stairs to the darkened tunnel that led to the fortress exit. Crossing it would mean being exposed to the four Nephilim chanting in the courtyard.
But Aimee did not slow. She walked out into the open and into the darkness beyond. “What are you doing?” Merrill whispered.
Aimee’s voice shot back from the darkness. “They do not perceive our reality. When speaking to their fathers, they see only the spirit world. They will not see you.”
Merrill found the explanation nearly impossible to believe, but the impossible was becoming reality on a daily basis now, and his wife had an intimate knowledge of their abilities. It seemed she had been busy learning all she could while she was teaching them. And she hadn’t been wrong yet.
Merrill stepped out first and crossed the courtyard, ducking into the shadowy tunnel. Whitney and Lei were close behind. Concealed in darkness, they broke into a run, moving toward the exit at the far end. From their distance, the tunnel’s exit into the rear courtyard looked tiny, but Merrill could still see the four trunk-size legs that belonged to the two Nephilim guards. The fight would soon begin.
Chapter 69
Whitney found herself breathing more heavily than usual. She’d been a runner for a long time and had completed the marathon trek inland through Antarktos. But the strain she felt as they ran through the gloomy tunnel was almost more than she could bear. Her legs felt unnaturally weak. Her arms were like wiry tubes that strained to hold onto the XM-29, which felt like a hundred pounds of dead weight in her hands. But it wasn’t from physical exhaustion.
It was fear.
As they slowed near the tunnel’s exit and stayed out of the guard’s line of sight, Whitney found her chest pounding, her throat constricting. She was terrified. Knowing that her parents and the timid Lei would look to her for leadership in a fight, Whitney tried to pull herself together. A game plan had to be formulated.
She was delighted when Lei spoke first. “Whitney and I will face the guards,” he said. He didn’t sound exactly confident, but his father was a general and he was well-trained. Lei’s plan would be their best option. He pointed to Merrill and Aimee. “You two, unarmed, will stay in the tunnel.” He looked at Whitney and held her attention. His steady gaze put her at ease, and he held his AK-47 at the ready. “I will aim for the metal rings on their foreheads. If I am able to knock them off, you aim here.” Lei tapped his forehead.
Whitney doubted the plan would work, but it was the best they had. “I’ll fire a few exploding rounds to confuse them.”
Lei nodded his approval. “Strike fast and without mercy.”
Whitney and Lei stood and turned toward the exit. Whitney was grabbed from behind and spun around. Her parents were there, starin
g at her through tear-filled eyes. “Be careful,” her father said.
She hugged them both. “I love you guys.”
“And we you,” Aimee replied. “Godspeed.”
Whitney followed Lei to the very edge of the tunnel’s shadow. They saw the towering giants beyond. One was covered in intricate tattoos. The other had an array of piercing—eyebrows, lips, cheeks, and ears. Nothing on his face had been missed. On his head, above his metal circlet, was a crylo skull, worn like a helmet. Both carried long swords in sheaths and were clad in armor like a combination of Roman soldier and Norse Viking. Neither carried shields; they had no need for them.
Whitney aimed to lay a spread of exploding rounds at their feet in hopes that plumes of dust would block the guards’ vision. And if a few rounds exploded in their feet, so much the better. Whitney fingered the trigger.
A series of distant explosions shook the ground and caught everyone off guard. The guards exchanged a few words in a language Whitney could not comprehend. Then the pierced one with the crylo helmet left, heading toward the source of the distant concussions.
Lei and Whitney exchanged a glance. Now was the time to strike.
Whitney fired three quick shots. The first two struck the stone floor and burst, sending up clouds of dust. The third struck the tattooed giant’s foot and exploded. The giant howled in pain and pleasure. Whitney feared their attack would bring in more guards, but the din of explosions in the distance, far greater than their own feeble attack, would garner more interest from Nephilim forces. She hoped.
As Whitney switched from explosive to conventional rounds, Lei opened up with his AK-47, each bullet aimed for the giant’s head. More howling erupted from the giant as a stream of bullets, like killer bees, rained down on his face, shredding the flesh. But as each bullet entered and was enveloped, new flesh grew to fill the hole.
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