Last of the Nephilim

by Bryan Davis

  In a flurry of wings, Hartanna landed heavily on the platform. Striking belly first, she rocked forward, but her outstretched wings kept her from somersaulting into the main body of the flying tube.

  When Hartanna settled into an upright position, Ashley adjusted her headset and spoke into the microphone. “Walter, the dragon has landed. Now we need to turn the hospital ninety degrees to the left and keep it there. Speed it up. I’ll let you know when you’re at the right velocity for us.”

  The silver metal tube, at least five times as large as the fuselage of a jumbo jet, slowly turned. Billy steered to match and picked up the tail wind, kicking them to a faster speed.

  Ashley kept an eye on the instruments. Soon, they were flying even with the hospital, both in elevation and velocity. Wind still jostled the plane, but now it felt more like a ride on a bumpy road rather than on a rampaging bull.

  “This’ll work,” Billy said. “See if Walter can hold it.”

  Ashley pushed her microphone closer to her lips. “Keep it right there, Walter. Since it’s about five-point-two miles until we pass the focal magnetic plane, we’ll be able to stay on course for fourteen-point-two miles total. Billy will watch the distance and let you know when we’re getting close to the drop dead point for turning back.”

  “Try to think of a better term,” Billy said.

  Ashley arched her brow. “Would you prefer ‘minimum webers of magnetic flux’?”

  “Never mind. Drop dead will do.”

  As the airplane edged closer to the docking platform, Ashley shook her head. It looked smaller than a helicopter landing pad. “This is going to be really tough.”

  Billy glanced between his instruments and the hospital. “You’re telling me! When I get right next to the tube, I’m not sure what the effect will be on the air currents or the magnetic field. We might create a weird cushion of air that’ll really make us rock.”

  “Yeah, but I’m sure you can handle it.” Ashley raised her hands to her headset. “Walter, I’m going to help unload the patients. Just keep it steady. Billy will talk to you now.” After whipping off the earphones, she hurried toward the back. “Let’s make it quick, Steadfast! The magnetic field has a nine-mile range, so Walter and Cliffside have to turn it back in less than four minutes. We don’t want to ride those crosswinds while we’re wheeling our patients out.”

  She reached for the latch and pushed open the upper half of the cargo door. Freezing air rushed across her body and into the cabin. The plane bounced erratically, jostling everything not bolted to the floor. Steadfast and Pearl pushed down on the sides of the cots, while Ashley leaned against the gusts and set her hand on the lower latch.

  “Don’t open the other door until I get us right up to the dock,” Billy shouted. “We had it modified to open down like a ramp.”

  Ashley half closed her eyes, forcing herself to brave the bone-chilling wind so she could survey their destination. Tears streamed back across her temples as she read the lettering on the side of the hospital’s wall—Healing in His Wings.

  Soon, their left wing extended over the platform. With the plane rattling as it rode out the bumps, they eased even closer, bringing the cargo door within a foot of the platform’s outer edge. The gap seemed like a chasm, every bit as dangerous and impossible to cross as the chasm spanned by the rickety bridge. One wrong step, and a plunge through thousands of feet of freezing air would follow, then a bone-crushing smash in a remote forest where no one would ever find her rag-doll body.

  Ashley bit her bottom lip. Okay. Gotta stop thinking like that. This is going to work. She looked at Billy. “Ready?”

  “Okay!” He shouted. “Now!”

  She opened the latch and pushed the door with her foot. The howling wind pushed back at first, then a downdraft slapped it to the platform’s surface.

  Hartanna lumbered to the edge and set a forefoot on the ramp. As the airplane continued to bounce, the door jiggled up and down on its hinges. She extended a wing toward Ashley and bellowed, “Roll the first one to the edge! I will block the wind!”

  “Okay!” Ashley called. “Here goes!” Grabbing the head rail of Onyx’s cot while Steadfast guided the other end, she backed toward the door and set her foot down gingerly. The ramp held firm. As she lifted the cot’s wheels over the bumps, Hartanna’s wing billowed at her left, redirecting the howling wind. The plane’s engine and propeller droned, adding to the cacophony of confusing sounds.

  Holding her breath, Ashley took the remaining two steps to the platform and backpedaled until Steadfast also reached firmer ground. With Hartanna’s wing and body still blocking the wind, Ashley pointed at the double doors to the hospital. “Take her in! I’ll get Willow!”

  While Steadfast wheeled the cot away, his companion tucking itself under his collar, Ashley ran to the airplane. She hesitated for a moment and took a deep breath. Then, ducking her head, she leaped back inside. Pearl caught Ashley’s arm and pulled her to a stop.

  Ashley turned to the front and panted through her words. “Billy! How much time till we have to turn?”

  “Probably just under two minutes!”

  Ashley nodded at Pearl. “Let’s go!” She grabbed the head rail of Willow’s cot and backed toward the door, this time with more confidence. When she set a foot on the platform, the plane bucked and tossed the cot into the air, slinging Willow into Hartanna’s webbing. The door shot upward and slammed in front of Pearl’s face. The cot flew over the edge of the platform and tumbled end over end behind them.

  With a jerk of her wing, Hartanna made a pocket for Willow and lowered him gently to the floor.

  Now buffeted by the wind, Ashley leaned into every step until she reached Willow. “Can you carry him to the door?” she shouted. “I have to get Mason!”

  “I will,” Hartanna said, “but Pearl will have to open Merlin’s door for you. Billy can’t leave the pilot’s chair.”

  “I can do it. The upper door is open, and the lower door has a latch on the outside.”

  “As if it weren’t already dangerous enough out here.” Hartanna scooted toward the hospital entrance. “I won’t be able to shield you from the wind until I return.”

  “I know.” Ashley hurried back to the plane, leaning to her left to battle the wind. Through the pilot’s window, Billy pointed at his wrist, obviously indicating that they were out of time. They would have to make the turn.

  She walked as close to the edge of the platform as she dared and shouted into the open upper door. “Pearl! Tell Billy to tell Walter to make a full one-eighty degree turn! A headwind will be easier than a crosswind.”

  Pearl nodded, and as she made her way toward the front, her profile, bending low to avoid the ceiling, passed by each window. Ashley leaned out and grasped the door handle. It would be better to try to get inside before the turn than afterward. Who could tell how rough it would become?

  She tried to twist the handle, but it wouldn’t budge. As she used her weight to try to muscle it open, the plane eased away. Ashley lurched forward and slung her arms over the top of the lower door. Her head leaned into the cabin as her feet lifted off the platform. She tried to scream, but her “Help!” sounded more like the croak of a frog.

  Merlin slid farther from the dock and then dropped. With the sudden fall, Ashley felt almost weightless. She kicked and pulled, then finally tumbled into the cabin. After rolling to a stop, she lay on her side and gasped for breath.

  As Pearl rushed down the aisle, Billy shouted from the front. “Are you okay?”

  Ashley coughed. Her stomach boiled inside. She clutched her abdomen and dry heaved, unable to control the spasms.

  Laying a hand on Ashley’s side, Pearl called to Billy, “It is probably just temporary nausea due to extreme stress. Go ahead with the turn.”

  As Ashley curled into a fetal position, the plane dipped, slid, and banked as if batted about by the hand of a spiteful giant. Obviously they had turned back into the crosswinds. Gusts hurtled in through the open up
per door and swirled throughout the cabin.

  Closing her eyes as she tried to find a distraction from the horrible nausea, she listened to the propeller buzz and Billy’s sharp commands. “We’re at exactly ninety degrees now, Walter. Keep turning left. I’ll give you a countdown. Because of the headwinds, you might have to kick up the speed when you make the turn. I’m not sure how much. I’ll just have to let you know.”

  After nearly a minute, Ashley let out a long breath and sat up. Pearl stared, her companion sitting on her shoulder, its tiny eyes blinking. “There is medicine in the hospital for your stomach,” Pearl said. “You will be fine very soon.”

  While the plane continued to buck wildly, Ashley rubbed her abdomen. The muscles felt like knotted steel. “Let’s worry about me later. We have to get Mason inside.” With Pearl’s help, she rose to her feet, then clutched the head rail of the last cot. Mason’s shallow breaths came faster and faster. His face grimaced with every bounce.

  “Let’s do it, Billy!” Ashley called.

  “Two seconds!” Billy barked into his microphone. “That’s it, Walter! Hold her there!”

  With a turn into the headwind, the bucking eased a bit, but not enough. Mason continued to hyperventilate. His lips turned blue and his face ashen.

  “We’re losing him!” Ashley reached for the handle. “I’m opening the door.”

  “Go for it! We’re steady.”

  As before, she opened the lower hatch and pushed it down with her foot. Hartanna, now near the center of the platform, shuffled toward the plane. Turning her back again to the door, Ashley grasped Mason’s cot.

  Pearl tugged on Ashley’s arm. “I will go first this time. You stay here.”

  Too sick to resist, she switched places with Pearl. As soon as she put her hands on the cot near Mason’s feet, his gasping breaths stopped.

  Ashley’s stomach knotted twice as hard. “Go! Go!”

  As soon as Hartanna created her wing shield, Pearl backed onto the ramp. Her blond hair flew into a swirl over her head, and her tunic and trousers slapped against her arms and legs. Grunting with every inch of progress, she finally set the front wheels on the docking floor.

  Just as Ashley picked up her end of the cot to lift it over the final bump, a shout of “I’ll get that!” pierced the rushing wind. Steadfast was running toward them from the other side of the platform.

  Pearl turned toward him. The force of Ashley’s lift thrust the cot into Pearl’s legs. Pearl toppled backward, flailing. The cot slipped from Ashley’s fingers and ran over Pearl’s body.

  Hartanna shifted her free wing to scoop Pearl and Mason to safety, but the wind breezing underneath her shield swept them over the platform’s side. Hartanna leaped after them and disappeared.

  Steadfast dropped to his knees and stared. Ashley backed up to the opposite side of the plane, dashed forward, and jumped to the platform. Landing on the run, she rushed to him and stooped at his side, breathless. “Hartanna … will catch them. … I know she will. … She is fast … and powerful.”

  Still staring straight ahead, Steadfast could only say, “Perhaps one of them. Catching both would take more than a miracle.”

  Billy pulled the plane away from the platform, waving from the window. Ashley returned his wave, then hoisted Steadfast to his feet. “We can’t wait. We have two patients who will die if we don’t do something right now. I know your companion gave you that name for a reason, so let’s move!”

  Poking out from under Steadfast’s collar, his companion flashed a soothing blue light. Without another word, he laid a shaking arm over Ashley’s shoulders, and the two leaned against the wind as they hurried inside.

  Chapter 24

  United Forever

  Dikaios eyed the village, a collection of modest huts, some with angled thatched roofs, others with flat tops or domes of brown grass. Since most of them had been constructed with crudely sawn logs, it was easy to spot Flint’s home, the only brick-and-mortar structure in the area and the only one with a second floor. Positioned well away from the other homes and close to the water, apparently Flint felt himself superior to his neighbors.

  Easing one hoof in front of the other, Dikaios crept toward Flint’s house, listening carefully. Someone chopped wood nearby, yet out of sight, and the breeze provided the usual background hum, but nothing else stirred. Why was no one around? Were they all inside their homes? Out hunting? Did they have children? If so, why were there no sounds of playing or laughter?

  As he approached the wooden door, he let out a whinny, then blew through his flapping lips. Surely that would be enough to attract attention. Humans always had a strange habit of running toward a horse’s natural sounds when they didn’t expect such a noble creature to be in the area.

  After several seconds with no response, he stomped a hoof on the hard dirt. What would it take to get Flint to notice? Maybe if he snorted, but he would resort to that only if he truly had to. That would be a rather rude way to make his presence known.

  Finally, the door swung open, revealing Flint. Dressed in black trousers and a sparkling black tunic tied at the waist, he smiled. “Well, what do we have here? Did Abraham’s horse follow his scent?” He patted Dikaios on the nose. “This is an unexpected addition to our catch today, a fine stallion indeed.”

  Now Dikaios wanted to snort. The typical pat on the nose. Such condescension! But at least Flint was a good judge of horseflesh. He scanned Flint for a weapon and spied a sheathed dagger fastened into his belt.

  Flint touched Dikaios’s chest. “What happened here, boy? Did the muskrats try to have you for a meal?” He blew a shrill whistle into the air. “Windor! Come here!”

  Within seconds, a skinny boy ran from around the house. Wiping sweat from his brow, he slowed as he approached, his head down. Wearing an animal-hide tunic and breeches ripped at the knees, he shivered in the cold wind.

  “Have you finished chopping wood for the bonfire?”

  “Yes,” came his weak voice in reply.

  “Take this horse to the stalls and secure him. Give him a good bath and put salve on his wounds.” As he again set his fingers near Dikaios’s cuts, he smiled. “We will use Abraham’s horse for our wedding processional. With his coat decorated by the stripes of defeat, his presence will be poetic indeed.”

  Windor stroked Dikaios’s mane. “Horse needs rest. Not carry you.”

  “Did I ask your opinion?” Flint grabbed a shock of Windor’s hair and jerked his head up. “If you do what I say and care for him well, I’ll forget about what you did at the volcano.”

  Windor gulped. “I … I saved life.”

  Flint released him, then slapped his cheek with the back of his hand. The boy staggered back but held his tongue.

  “Whether you saved my life or not,” Flint said, “you rebelled against me.” He pointed across a garden area toward the stalls. “There’s a rope over there. Get it and tie him securely.”

  While Windor ran for the rope, Flint clutched a handful of Dikaios’s mane. Even though such a grip exemplified the worst kind of manners, just as it did when he grabbed the boy, Dikaios resisted the urge to break free. Better to play dumb and get all the information he could.

  He peeked through the open doorway. Inside, Abraham sat on the floor with his hands in his lap, but they seemed unbound. Angel stood next to him, wearing a silky white dress that fell to her feet, simple, yet shimmering, and a garland of white flowers decorated her neatly braided hair. They both kept their gazes on the floor, apparently not paying attention to the horse watching from outside. A giant of a man sat against the back wall. Carrying a long spear, he stared at Abraham, but he seemed bored rather than menacing.

  Dikaios blinked. So they’re planning a wedding. Could that be why the villagers had stowed away in their huts? They were probably making ready for a big event, maybe cooking or preparing their best clothes … if they had any best clothes. Judging from the state of the houses and Windor’s torn breeches, they seemed to be toiling in
poverty.

  He scanned the area for the two dragons. One trail of dragon tracks scarred a section of mud, ending abruptly near Flint’s house. Tilting his head to the side, he searched the sky, now decorated with puffy white clouds, too small to conceal a dragon for long, yet there was no sign of either of them. And where could the other Nephilim be? They, too, would have a hard time hiding in this village. Had they gone to the Valley of Shadows to gather their forces?

  Windor returned with a rope and pushed a loop over Dikaios’s head. Now that he knew where Abraham and Angel were, Dikaios followed the boy obediently, loping along rather stupidly as many of the common horses did. As soon as the boy left him alone, he would go back and work out a rescue plan.

  As Windor tied the other end of the rope to a corner fence post, Dikaios surveyed the other animals. Within the fenced area, pigs slept or wallowed, a rather foul-smelling lot, but what could he expect? They were pigs. A small herd of long-haired goats grazed in another fenced section, picking at the sparse grass within. A cow stood in one of four stalls, tied by the neck and eating some sort of green hay, its hindquarters facing him through the open door, not exactly the best view.

  One stall lay empty. Perhaps its former resident had become dinner recently. A mule occupied stall number three, his handsome head facing out, but he looked bored and stupid, not exactly a good candidate for conversation. And some kind of four-legged animal stood behind the closed door of the fourth stall. Only the lower third of the creature’s legs were visible in the gap between the bottom of the door and the ground.

  Lowering his head, Dikaios tried to get a better look. Could it be? Horse hooves? Whoever this was, his head should have been visible over the door. Maybe he was eating hay from a bin at the side of the stall. In any case, this horse had fine reddish-brown forelegs, obviously a superb runner. He would be of great help if he could be persuaded to aid their escape.