The Nephilim Protocol

by Stuart Killbourn

  The afternoon dragged on and the midday heat tired and subsided. Escobar felt hungry but Armando had not returned. He decided to take charge, food and alcohol were required and he, Escobar, would see that they found it. There was a drinking house near the village where they could rustle a goat and pilfer beer. It was an easy steal and they had done it before so he rounded up Jose and Idi and they set off.

  After two and a half hours of hiking, the boys approached the drinking house. It was sited beside a plantation fairly close to a crossroads. The village was a further mile-and-a-half down the road leading to the right. The walk had tired the boys and they rested. Their last bottle of water was consumed.

  “We're not going to wait for Armando?” The voice of dissent came from Jose. Escobar liked Jose. He was the most easy-going out of the troop. Everyone liked Jose especially the girls. He could be exceptionally funny and keep an audience in laughter for hours. But make no mistake, if he had any conscience about what they did together, it never showed. Jose was fully on board. Escobar had seen Jose plunge a knife into a girl who tried to stop him stealing the family chickens. Jose grinned as he left the knife embedded – it had just been another joke. The girl convulsed in shock and fear and swore at Jose. He had laughed even more.

  “Armando might as well be dead and I'm hungry. We're not waiting on him.” They were all hungry; Escobar took the lead.

  “So Escobar, how do we do it?” asked Idi. So far, Escobar's plan was to come down here and get a goat and some alcohol but mainly to usurp Armando's leadership. He was now faced with actually telling the others what to do and he began to hesitate. Then he recalled one of Armando's strategies and elucidated it to Jose and Idi. Soon they were moving off. The Kalashnikovs were loaded and ready just in case they were needed.

  Idi was sent out in front. Escobar knew he could rely on him not to do anything rash. Escobar and Jose followed at a distance. The drinking house was in an L-shaped building with one front parallel with the road into the village. Along the roadside was a shop selling groceries. The drink shop was in the wing away from the road. Across the open courtyard was a pen filled with sheep and goats for the night.

  Idi bowed and dodged up to the side of the road. He waited a few moments checking for any movements on the road and around the building opposite. There were none. Idi jumped up and ran straight across the road and pressed himself against the grocery shop front. The shutters were closed and there were no lights inside. Escobar and Jose reached the road side and waited. Idi edged along the shop front to the corner and popped his head round. He beckoned to Escobar and then disappeared round the corner heading for the animal pen. Escobar led Jose across the road and then to the corner just as Idi had done moments before. Escobar looked round the corner. Idi had reached the animal pen and was waiting motionless. The animals had been unsettled and were braying and moving to the far side of the pen. Escobar saw a glint in the night as Idi pulled out a long machete.

  Escobar advanced along the side wall to the corner and looked into the courtyard. He heard Jose breathing behind him and, at the corner, he heard laughter and shouting. The lights were on inside the den and shadows passed across grass reed screens. Escobar raised his Kalashnikov and removed the safety catch. He waved Jose ahead and aimed his rifle into the courtyard to cover Jose's dash across the open yard toward the storeroom at the end of the block. Escobar's heart beat strongly. He was more nervous than usual. Armando was not here and he felt exposed without his reassuring presence. Jose made it to the storeroom door. He tried the lock and gave Escobar as confused, questioning look. Something was wrong. The door was locked but that had not stopped them before. Time was ticking. Jose knelt at the door, his Kalashnikov laid beside him. Escobar saw that the door had been reinforced and a large lock installed. Jose was picking the lock but it was slow work. Jose's face, picked out in the harsh light from the roof above, showed flickers of frustration then anger followed by joy as the lock sprung apart and the door cracked open. Jose was up and inside.

  Escobar, whose attention was fixed on Jose, failed to notice a shadow moving behind the door from the drink den. Jose reappeared edging from inside the store. He took off back across the courtyard clutching a crate of bottles but one foot dragged behind and he lunged back toward the store room. His Kalashnikov was lying propped against the wall. He had made an error that proved fatal for many. A thick set man emerged from the door wielding a shotgun. A shaft of light from inside the building caught Jose in mid turn in an absurd, balletic pose. Jose scrambled back toward his Kalashnikov. The concussion of the shotgun destroyed the nocturnal silence. The crate crashed to the ground and beer bottles tumbled and rolled across the courtyard. Red splashes erupted from Jose. A second blast sent Jose to the ground. Escobar saw all this play out but was strangely disconnected. He had hesitated and now Jose was lying in his own blood. Escobar felt his head tighten and pound as he depressed the trigger. A volley of shots sprayed across the courtyard. The man with the shotgun convulsed and went down. The Kalashnikov rode up as Escobar kept firing. Several shots hit the wall; brick and render exploded. The grass reed blinds danced as Escobar poured shots into the drinking den indiscriminately. The clip was exhausted and Escobar deftly reloaded. The breathing space was enough to regain his composure. He looked at Jose. He was in a bad way. Out the corner of his eye he saw Idi was roused and flailing to get to his feet. Idi disappeared round behind the animal pen. With his Kalashnikov pushed out front, Escobar padded across the courtyard. The buzz of conversation from the drinking den was replaced by the screams of the injured and dying. Idi reappeared moving close to Jose who was clutching his gut. Idi's face was full of terror. Jose's writhing was grotesque and then he went limp. Escobar reached the man with the shotgun and prodded him with his foot. A single unnecessary shot opened his head across the ground. Jose's screams demanded revenge and Escobar emptied the second clip through the window into the drinking den. Idi was tugging his arm and shouting. Escobar struggled and tried to pull away. Suddenly, the blood lust was gone and there were only empty, gutless shivers. He became compliant to Idi's insistence. Escobar staggered a few steps backwards then turned and ran full pelt overtaking Idi.

  In the darkness they quickly lost all sense of direction but ran blindly. Out of breath they finally stopped. Escobar swore under his breath over and over. Neither spoke. Neither looked at each other. Jose was dead. He has taken two shotgun blasts to the gut and his blood was pooled where he lay. Escobar dreaded meeting Armando. Armando would be furious.

  Chapter 5

  National Secure Archive Facility

  Julia contemplated the last few days. She had been interviewed by the Ark directors about her involvement in finding the man on the beach. She maintained that she had gone topside on a whim. She had seen the sky and on impulse had gone out as part of her time quota. Perhaps she had seen something on the camera that, on a subliminal level, had raised a curiosity that she wanted to investigate. She was not sure. No, she had certainly never seen the man before and had no idea who he was.

  Julia was on her way to another interrogation – or briefing as they preferred to call it. She was filled with apprehension. No one had explicitly directed any accusation against her but she felt it sure enough. They were all thinking it. She arrived at the Patriarch's office and waited until she was invited in. Patriarch Ryan welcomed her politely and indicated that she take a seat.

  “Julia, thank you for coming. I wanted you to sit in on this meeting as it concerns the man you found on the beach several days ago. Well, he has regained consciousness and Thomas tells me that he is making good progress.” Julia was relieved to hear it but hoped it did not show too much on her face. “In your previous briefing you told us that the man spoke to you. It is likely that he remembers you and may trust you more than others. For this reason we'd like you to spend some time with him and find out where he comes from. As you can imagine, it is quite perplexing for us to have a visitor from the surface who seems to be unaffected by
the radiation. Since we don't have all the facts yet, we can't say for certain.”

  Everything that Patriarch Ryan said was logical and reasonable but nonetheless Julia suspected there was a hidden agenda. She wished she knew what it was.

  “So you'd like me to visit him?” asked Julia.

  “Precisely, just get him talking – see what he has to say.” Ryan looked at Julia to check she was engaged. Julia felt oppressed under his gaze but the prospect of seeing the man again trumped her dismay.

  “Sure. Of course. I mean I wanted to see how he was. He's not mad or violent is he?”

  “It's natural to have a curiosity – an affinity – with someone you rescue. Anyway, Thomas, how is your patient?”

  “Our patient is still sedated but has recovered consciousness on several occasions since he arrived. I want to take him off sedation and let him fully wake up. We haven't seen any violent tendencies but he has been delirious. Also, he is radioactive so you shouldn't sit too close to him but it should be fine to be in the same room. He is in the isolation unit where the air is extracted and filtered. As a precaution, I'll give you a suit and radiation monitor just to be sure you don't get excessive exposure. I'm happy if you visit him straight away. There's no reason to delay.”

  Julia left the meeting and headed to the medical wing. Thomas walked beside her. On arrival, Thomas gave her a badge he said would monitor radiation exposure.

  The medical wing smelled a little different to the rest of the Ark. It was sterile. Julia made her way to the isolation unit. Thomas entered first and made some adjustment to the drip line feeding into the man's arm. Julia's attention was immediately drawn to a row of plastic bottles filled to a greater or lesser degree with yellow liquid. They were neatly arrayed on the floor at the foot of his bed. Julia shook her head. For all the world it looked like urine. She looked enquiringly at Thomas.

  “Don't ask – I have no idea why. He refuses to drink but insists on keeping every drop of pee. He becomes very agitated if you interfere with it.” Thomas explained clearly thinking the patient was mad.

  “He talks about other water?” asked Julia.

  “Yes, he mentioned that.”

  “Do you think he intends to drink it?”

  Thomas shrugged his shoulders. “I could distil some and see if he'll take it.” There was, however, a distinct lack of commitment in Thomas' voice. “He will regain full consciousness in due course. It's best if you're here when he does. You can sit there.” Then Thomas left.

  Julia studied the man. He was less drawn in the face. If he had appeared frightening on the beach, all that was gone. The white hospital sheet contrasted strongly with his dark skin. Julia saw that his stubble had grown and no longer looked neat. His teeth almost shone from his face. His eyes were closed; Julia wanted to see those brown eyes again – just to be sure of what she had seen. From time to time he flinched and his mouth moved as if speaking. Abruptly, his eyes opened and he stared at Julia. She did not perceive any malice in his eyes – just confusion and amazement. He looked around the room and then back at Julia. She felt his eyes searching her soul – as if he knew everything about her – even the things she tried to keep hidden. His first words caused her to blush.

  “So beautiful.” Julia did not know where to look. No one had said such things to her. Her discomfort must have been pretty clear but the man continued. “You have beautiful red hair.” His words contradicted everything she truly believed about herself. Of all the inhabitants – or should that be inmates? – of the Ark, she alone had red hair. She was the only person to wind up with two recessive genes and thus red hair. Someone else – her mother and father – must both be carriers. It was elementary genetics. However rational, it did not diminish her sense of being an outcast. Emerging from her introspection she replied rather belatedly.

  “Thank you. You are very kind to say so but I doubt you mean it.” Her head spun as she tried to decide what to say next. What do I say? Name? I should ask his name. At last she continued. “How do you feel?”

  “Where am I?” His gaze fixed on Julia.

  “You're safe. You are in the Ark. Don't worry, you are safe. Radiation levels here are normal.” Julia smiled and tried to reassure him as best as she knew how. “Are you hungry? Or thirsty?”

  “I have other water and other food that you know nothing about.” He looked around anxiously. “Are we … underground?”

  “Yes. This is the Ark. It is entirely underground. We are protected from the radiation here. We are safe. There is no need to worry. No one will hurt you.”

  “The National Secure Archive Facility, Plum Island, Massachusetts. Latitude forty-two degrees, forty-eight minutes north, longitude seventy degrees, fifty minutes west?” He spoke with urgency in his voice. There was no point in being vague – her mouth hung wide open. How did he know about the Ark? Where was he from? How was this possible?

  “Yes. At least I don't know about longitude or latitude but, yes, this is the National Secure Archive Facility – we call it the Ark. What's your name?” It was a spontaneous question she had wanted to ask for some time. It emerged ungraciously.

  “I am so sorry,” he said. “I have forgotten my manners. I have had a long journey and I can't seem to think straight. I might be a little claustrophobic... I have never lived … in a tomb.” Julia studied his face: he was a little on edge and kept looking around. “My name is Omar son of James. It is a pleasure to meet you...?” Omar paused and stared questioningly at Julia.

  “Julia. My name's Julia.”

  “Yes, Julia, you were on the beach, weren't you?”

  Julia was surprised he could remember the events – he had been barely conscious. She was also slightly embarrassed to recall the moment that had pushed her life in an entirely different direction. “Yes, I was there. You were washed up on the beach. Were you on a boat?”

  “A boat?” Omar's expression was blank. Then his brow furrowed. “I can't remember. Yes, perhaps I was on a boat. I'm sorry. I'm really not sure.”

  “But you remember being on the beach?”

  “Yes, you were there.”

  “Do you remember anything before that?” asked Julia earnestly. Omar again looked anxiously around the room. Julia already noticed this repetitive behaviour – accompanied by a look that hinted panic. Julia tried again, “Where are you from, Omar?”

  Omar held Julia's eye in a moment of clarity. He uttered, “I was born in Eden. Before the Nakba, I was born in Eden.”

  “Eden?” Julia was not sure where that was. Julia had looked away from Omar while searching her memory. When she looked back, Omar's eyes were closed and he had drifted back into disturbed sleep. Julia waited five minutes and watched as Omar entered deep and more peaceful sleep. She took a break but she would be back. The brief conversation had churned up a lot of powerful emotions that vied for supremacy within her. She fingered her red hair. She kept it fairly short and always tied up. She stroked a lock that had become unfurled. Before the Nakba. These words astounded her. Not so sure where Eden was, Julia – as all the Ark dwellers – was very sure about the Nakba. Only it did not make any sense. Nakba was Arabic for catastrophe. The Palestinians used the word to refer to the time when Israel was established and many fled their homes in fear but were never allowed to return. The same happened across the globe when radiation levels began to rise and everyone was evacuated. The houses were still there – untouched except for the slow ravage of time – the heritage of a past civilisation that had been forced to abandon everything they had built. A few people had been selected to take refuge in the Ark and wait until the radiation subsided and it was safe to return to the surface again. Julia was from the seventh generation of the Ark. If Omar were born before the Nakba, he must be two hundred years old. Yet he looked in his twenties – much the same age as Julia. No one in the Ark lived much over seventy years and by that age they were decrepit. How could Omar possibly be that old? He must be delirious – he certainty looked it. Yet, instinctively
, Julia had not sensed he was lying. In fact, he had seemed entirely sincere.

  The other thing that troubled Julia was this: for nearly two hundred years, the Ark had existed with no contact with anyone else – anywhere. Its existence was a secret. Where on Earth did Omar come from? How did he know exactly where the Ark was located? What could he possibly want here?

  Later, in her room, Julia logged into the Ark database. The Ark was, after all, essentially a huge library and Julia was a librarian so it came naturally to research things she did not know. She typed Eden. There were, of course, many references to the ancient myth about Adam and Eve – the first man and woman who lived in some kind of garden. God came to visit them and told them to be fruitful and multiply but then threw them out. As well as that, there were numerous real places round the world named Eden. It was impossible to conclude anything without more information to narrow down the search. On a whim, Julia typed Omar. It was a common enough name. Actors, politicians and ordinary people all called Omar. Curiously, the name meant long-lived. What was in a name? What does Julia mean for that matter? Perhaps look that up later. A quick meal and back to Omar before he wakes up.

  On the way back to the medical wing, Julia met Patriarch Ryan. He stopped to talk. He enquired about the man. Julia replied that he had woken briefly; his name was Omar. Patriarch Ryan smiled and said it was a good sign. He told Julia to keep up the good work.

  Patriarch Ryan had never spoken to Julia before – at least not casually in the passageway outside the canteen. They had never spoken despite the small number of Ark dwellers. Julia felt surprised that, although she had no desire to meet and be acquainted with Patriarch Ryan, she strongly resented the fact that, until now, he had blatantly ignored her. She felt more keenly her own sense of isolation and difference from others. She thought of Omar. How different he was too.