by Mark Romang
So far in their brief foray into Teredel, their enemy remained hidden. But Maddix recognized everything wasn’t what it seemed. He could feel eyes upon him, tracking his furtive movements and analyzing his intentions. The question at hand was not whether they would tangle, but when. Lord, give me discernment to recognize the enemy. I know they are here, Maddix prayed silently.
Maddix looked to his left, and then to his right. They traveled a mountain pass with jagged cliffs dropping off to either side. He saw movement a ways out, but the movement belonged to angels positioned near their flanks. A saint named Coleton Webb walked right next to Maddix. Webb and he went way back, all the way back to SEAL candidate training. They befriended each other at Coronado Beach in California. Together they helped each other through Hell Week and Bud/S training and all the subsequent special ops training that followed. Once assigned to SEAL Team 8, they went on a number of hair-raising missions together. Like David and Jonathon, their bond couldn’t be broken. Maddix glanced at Webb. His eternal friend returned his glance and flashed him a weak grin.
At the most serious and dire times, Webb always cracked a joke or grinned. He often said it was a defense mechanism he couldn’t control. The involuntary habit didn’t work out so well for him when he was trying to make the cut at SEAL candidate training. Webb probably performed more pushups than a person should be able to do and still live. The fact Webb grinned just now meant he sensed a battle loomed.
The other two saints in the rescue party were renowned warriors of old from before Christ’s birth. Eleazar, one of King David’s three mighty men, walked several paces ahead of Maddix.
Eleazar was a force to reckon with on the battlefield. He once battled a Philistine army all by himself until his hand froze to his sword.
And then the last saint in the rescue party—Samson—was even more famous for bravery and feats of strength than Eleazar. Maddix counted it as a great honor to fight alongside such fearsome warriors and to be led by Michael the archangel. His mighty and holy cohorts motivated Maddix to give everything he had to the cause. He didn’t want to be a weak link among them, someone they couldn’t depend upon and one they would have to look out after.
The small but lethal fighting force stopped in their tracks when Michael halted and raised his sword. Maddix watched Michael point to a large boulder to his left. Michael disappeared behind the boulder. They all followed suit, and Maddix filed in behind Webb. The boulder hid a cavern that opened immediately into a large room.
They formed a ragged circle and leaned against or sat on piles of pale rocks. Some set their swords down, while others opened their satchels and refreshed themselves with manna. Maddix still gripped his sword, taking comfort in its familiar reassurance. He noticed something strange about the cave. All the caves he’d ever explored on Earth had been cool and humid, with a trickling stream or pool of water standing somewhere in the caves. But Maddix saw no evidence pointing to water ever being here in this cave, and a stifling, dry heat filled the room. From a cleft in the wall, a tiny strand of smoke wafted out. If it wasn’t so hot in the cave Maddix would’ve shivered at the thought racing in his head. Somewhere close an unquenchable fire roared.
Michael stood in the middle of the circle and scanned the eyes of his warriors. “We need to finalize our rescue plan before we enter the city,” he said, lowering his powerful voice as much as he could. “Everyone here must be of the same mind and accord.” Michael began to pick up the large pale rocks littering the cave floor and tossed them to the side, revealing the dirt underneath.
With a shudder, Maddix realized the pale rocks were not rocks at all, but skulls. The skulls were abnormally large and elongated, and some were bigger than others. Maddix reined in his wandering attention and watched Michael scratch at the dirt with his sword tip, drawing an X.
“This is where we are now.” Michael then drew two rectangles parallel to each other in the dirt. He pointed toward one rectangle. “This is the dormitory. And this over here is the stadium. The dungeons are underneath the stadium. I am sure Mithellius is chained up somewhere in the dungeons. So this is where we will start our search for him.” Michael looked up at Webb and frowned. “Is there something you wish to share with us, Coleton?”
Webb nodded. “Yeah, I have a question for you, Michael.” Webb held up a long, pale rock in the shape of a cylinder and roughly four feet in length. “I believe this is a femur; and a very long one it is. And those rocks you just tossed aside are skulls. They look like human skulls, but they’re too big to be from humans. So what is this place?”
“This is a burial chamber. The bones inside here are Nephilim bones.” Michael tapped a skull with his sword. “After the great flood, when the waters subsided and the earth finally dried up, the demons banished to earth gathered up the Nephilim bones and brought them here as a favor to those locked up in the dungeons. These bones are the offspring of the wicked angels who took human wives before the flood.”
“The Nephilim must’ve been huge,” Webb said, still awestruck at the femur’s great size.
Michael nodded soberly. “The Nephilim were freaks, half-angel and half-human. Most of them grew to fifteen-feet in height, and some were even taller. And they were exceedingly wicked. After the Lord God cursed Satan in the Garden of Eden, Satan became terrified. The words, ‘he shall bruise your head, and you shall bruise his heel’ drove Satan to even greater madness. So he came up with a plan to destroy the human race, to try to prevent Abraham’s birth and the people of Israel from ever coming to be. This is why Satan commanded the fallen angels to impregnate the women of earth. He wanted to create beings in his own image, to make humans not human at all. But he was unable to corrupt Noah and his family, and after the flood, mankind reproduced naturally once again in God’s image.”
Maddix couldn’t help but wonder about the planet’s first few years. How dangerous and terrifying it must’ve been with no laws or policemen, and wicked angels taking human wives and producing giant hybrid offspring that walked around bullying people. Maddix had to know something, so he raised his voice to Michael. “Why are some of the demons here in Teredel free to walk about, while others are locked up in dungeons and bound with eternal chains?”
“Not every fallen angel banished to live here actually took a human wife and consummated the relationship, just the ones in chains. But every fallen angel here at one time looked upon women with lustful desire,” Michael explained.
Webb swung the Nephilim bone around like a giant club. He looked over at Samson, who stood across from him. “Hey, Samson, didn’t you kill five-hundred Philistines with the jawbone of a donkey? Just think what kind of damage you could inflict with this Nephilim femur.”
“Get it right, Coleton, it was actually a thousand men I killed with a donkey jawbone. But to answer your question, the damage would be severe. However, I will not take the credit for any feat of strength I perform. It is the Spirit of the Lord providing me with unnatural strength,” Samson said humbly. He leaned against the cave wall, his powerful arms and legs relaxed for the moment, his long black hair draping across his broad shoulders like a shawl.
Maddix had met many of the Old Testament saints since he entered Heaven a little over three and a half years ago. And although he loved them all, Samson was one of his favorite ones. Maddix supposed they bonded quickly because they were both warriors during their short time on earth. They shared a common quality: the desire to serve and fight for a noble cause. Although Samson’s life on earth was marked by unmet potential and tragedy, Samson was a totally different person now. Selfless and humble as a saint, his strength had increased by a wide margin over his earthly power.
“There are two entrances into the dungeons. One at the north end of the stadium, and one at the south end. We will divide up evenly and enter both entrances, and then work toward each other. Mithellius should be easy to spot inside the cells. He’ll be the only angel emitting a glow,” Michael said. He looked around soberly, his cerulean eyes scan
ning across everyone. “Be careful and on your guard. Just because we haven’t met any resistance doesn’t mean we won’t. In fact, I’m expecting a confrontation. If there isn’t one, something is wrong.”
“They know we’re here. I’ve been hearing whispers in the dark,” Maddix said.
Michael nodded. “As have I, Andrew. But I believe the whispers are coming from the dungeons.”
Eleazar spoke up. “How did Mithellius get caught in the first place? And do our foes have any weaknesses we can exploit in battle?”
“Mithellius was sent here to spy. A battle in Heaven with Satan and his army looms. Mithellius was to report back when he witnessed an army mobilizing. I guess he got careless and was spotted,” Michael speculated. “As far as weaknesses go, the tribes in Teredel battle each other constantly. They do it for sport. So they are excellent fighters in all aspects. The only weakness we can exploit is their poor vision. Their eyes have decayed from living in the darkness for so long.” Michael scanned the circle of faces. “Once we leave this cave we will not speak again. Only if someone sees the enemy should anyone utter a sound.”
Michael bowed his head. “Let us pray before we leave. Lord God, we serve only you. And we are honored to serve you. We do it willingly with all our might. We recognize we are outnumbered. But simply fill us with your strength and we will not be thwarted. You are the Lord God, and from you comes all power, a power that never runs out, and a power that can wipe out a demon horde. You are our shield and sword. Be also a lamp to our feet. Guide us through this dark realm. Help us find Mithellius and return him to your service unharmed. Amen.”
Michael led the way out of the cave. The thirty-five other angels filed out behind him. The four saints brought up the rear. Eleazar looked over at Maddix and winked. He lifted his sword. Maddix crossed Eleazar’s sword with his own. “For the king,” Eleazar said quietly and left the cave.
Webb tapped Maddix on the shoulder. “I have your six, Mad Dog,” Webb said, using the call sign Maddix used when he was in the SEALS with Webb.
“And I have your back, C-Dub. Even better, Jesus has both our backs,” Maddix said.
Webb grinned. His teeth glowed in the murk. “I like our odds then. With the champion of Heaven going before and after us, we can’t help but conquer the evil in this forsaken place.”
And then he and Webb left the absolute blackness of the cave for the utter darkness of the valley, two immortal warriors about to embark on their greatest and most perilous mission yet.
Chapter 7
Olympic Peninsula—Washington
Nathan Banks poked his wooly head out the end of the hollow spruce tree. He scanned the forest in a one-hundred and eighty degree arc, looking for threats, namely drones. But other than the drizzle billowing down from an ashen sky, he appeared to be alone. He didn’t spot any drones, and didn’t hear any drones searching from a distance. He also didn’t see any other humans, and deemed it safe to leave the bunker and forage for his breakfast.
When one couldn’t purchase food, one had to gather it from the land. The search for food dominated the hours in each day. Some days all he could wrangle up after a twelve hour search were a few berries or edible plants and maybe some grubs. He hoped today wasn’t like that. He hoped to find meat today, and lots of it. He planned to check his pitfall today—a large and deep pit he’d dug over several days. The pitfall lay along a game trail. He hoped to find a deer or elk in it.
Banks clambered out from the tree and stood up. He stretched his six-foot frame, gaunt from sporadic food intake. Every morning was the same. He longed for coffee—a jolt of caffeinated java to perk him up. Before the Rapture, when he lived in Seattle, he’d been a coffee addict. Now all he could do was try to remember the Starbuck’s experience, trick his mind into believing a steaming cup of dark roast slid down his throat.
It was the little things, the simple pleasures he missed the most. That’s not true. What about Jenny?
Banks instantly felt a lump form in his throat. Jenny, his beloved wife of only four months. Jenny had been a believer, and she tried her best to get him to accept what she called the Gift. She pleaded with him all through their engagement and into their marriage. But he could never get his mind wrapped around God sending his only son to die on a tree, or a cross, or whatever he supposedly died on so long ago for mankind’s sins. And now Jenny was gone, one of the millions missing after the Rapture. After three and a half years of separation, Banks still raged at God for taking her away.
What kind of God splits families apart like that? Certainly not a loving one.
Banks cleared his mind, forced it away from thinking about Jenny and God. He didn’t want the day to start off on a sour note. The day promised to be hard enough without a bad attitude making it worse. Banks looped his arms through his backpack and headed east. He had several snares to check in that direction before he checked his pitfall.
Banks wasn’t sure how he would go about killing a deer or elk should one fall into his concealed pit. He’d ran out of ammo for his rifle four months ago, and without the marking chip implanted in his forehead or wrist, he couldn’t buy any ammo. He wished now he would’ve purchased a compound bow and some arrows before turning his back on the world. But he hadn’t, and now he desperately needed a large supply of meat to turn into jerky. Without the jerky he may not make it through the winter. His smoked salmon supply already ran low and wouldn’t get him through until spring.
He supposed dropping the biggest boulder he could hoist onto the deer’s head might stun it long enough for him to climb down and slit its jugular. Banks shook his head at the gruesome thought. Man, I went from city boy to Neanderthal in a little over three years. He never would’ve imagined he could survive like this in the wild for so long.
Although he long ago adapted to his primitive lifestyle, he still missed the modern one he left behind. He had been a tech nerd, a software engineer in Seattle, and still fantasized about running his fingers over a laptop keyboard or iPhone screen.
Banks hunkered his head against the drizzle. It rains almost every day here on the Olympic Peninsula, making staying dry a difficult task. But the winters were mild in the rainforest. If he stayed in the rainforest and below three-thousand feet in elevation, the temperature rarely dropped low enough for the rain to turn to snow. And when it did snow the forest canopy collected and held the majority of the snow. Still, the winters remained hard and tested his resolve. The damp, chilly air crept into his bones and took up residence until late spring.
Banks walked at a moderate pace, his green eyes always scanning the ground for something edible, and also scanning the sky for drones. Sometimes the drones didn’t fly when the sky became turbulent. He didn’t think the drizzle fell harshly enough today to ground the drones. But the drizzle still fell hard enough to make him want to stop and put on his slicker.
One had to think through every action in the wild, even something inane like wearing a slicker or not. If he didn’t put on his slicker the drizzle would soak through his clothes in a couple of hours. And then if he didn’t take precautions and dry out, hypothermia would commandeer his body. But the bright yellow slicker contrasted against the verdant green forest and made him stand out like a sore thumb, ruining his attempts at anonymity. Someone might spot the yellow splash among the green.
In the end commonsense won out. He had no choice but to put on the slicker. Banks stopped in his tracks and took off his pack. He scrounged around inside the main compartment and pulled out his raggedy slicker. He put it on and resumed his business. He zigzagged through the forest, rarely using a game trail. He didn’t want to leave footprints in the mud. But even this precaution didn’t totally erase his presence. Bent leaves, broken twigs, disturbed lichens and depressed moss would enable an expert tracker to follow him.
He just hoped an expert tracker wasn’t out there.
Banks came up to his first snare. He frowned at the empty noose hanging just over the game trail. The empty snare dis
appointed him, but didn’t surprise him. The odds always favor the animal. Wild animals remain alive for a reason: they’re smart and can recognize something out of place and unnatural, something that threatens them.
Banks moved on through the rainforest, a solitary figure in yellow traipsing through a sea of green foliage. The steely drizzle rattled against his slicker, increasing in intensity.
One good thing about living in a rainforest is that he never lacked for fresh water. There were several streams and rivers nearby he could bathe in and even drink from if he filtered the water. Although lately he’d been noticing fish floating belly up in the Hoh River and other animals lying dead near streams. And those sightings worried him enough that he mainly set out containers to catch the rain as it fell from the sky.
In the summer the rains stop. But then the heavy fog laden with moisture rolls in every morning and settles over the treetops. The forest canopy collects the moisture and the trees drip all day, watering the ground below.
The second and third snare were untouched as well. Banks stared at the empty snare and scowled. His stomach growled insistently. A weaker person in his place might relent to their hunger about now and hike to the nearest town to get chipped. But he would rather let starvation kill him than take Henrik Skymolt’s marking chip.
Undeterred, Banks moved on and headed for the final snare he would check before examining his pitfall. He paralleled the game trail, moving gently through deer ferns nearly as tall as him. He walked delicately, not wanting to break the ferns and leave behind evidence of his presence. He eventually passed a big leaf maple tree covered with hanging moss. So much moss hung from the tree that it hardly resembled a tree. Banks thought the tree looked more like a giant swamp creature than a deciduous tree standing one-hundred-and-fifty-feet in the drizzle-laced air.
