Rise of the Nephilim (21 page)

Alarms rang out to announce the first sighting of troop movement along the mountain roads. Jude sat on a bench in the mess hall and nervously recited the plan for what seemed like the hundredth time. He had been placed on reserve, relegated to the support troops on the second floor of the cylindrical base, while Eric helped Prometheus strategize further in the war room. Artemis was in charge of the main defense force gathered in the upper level, as well as the smattering of reconnaissance teams outside. He hadn’t seen Mike and Hephaestus for a few of hours, so he assumed they were safely tucked away in the lab below.

He tried to chat up a few of the Grigori around him but received terse responses and terrified looks. Despite their ancient age, the majority of them still moved about in that awkward manner usually displayed by pubescent teens. This lack of comfort with mobility, coupled with their fear of direct human interaction, prompted him to assume that many of them had not had a physical body in quite a long time. Discouraged by their noncommittal natures, he settled into a corner and eventually dozed off.

His slumber was cut short when the first muted thumps of mortar shells began to rhythmically trace a path across the landscape. They slowly zeroed in on the mountain, and the vibration from the bombardment knocked a few items off the tables. Overall, however, the attack was ineffectual against the thick stone lining the shelter.

              The reverberations from the pounding of the mortar fire eventually became less and less frequent, until they stopped completely. He took advantage of the silence to steady his nerves again. The calm, however, was merely a prelude to what felt like a gigantic earthquake. Everyone fell to their feet and covered their ears in pain, as the shockwave from the explosion outside passed through the base.

              “What the hell was that?” Jude yelled to his comrade next to him. The man pointed to his ears and shook his head, signaling that he couldn’t hear. Jude’s own ears were ringing so badly, that he didn’t think he would have been able to hear a reply anyway. Whatever that explosion was, its purpose had clearly been to kill everyone inside.

“Shit,” Eric spat blood out of his mouth and picked himself up off the floor of the command center. “That must have tried to hit us with a bunker buster!” He ran over to help Prometheus to his feet, before looking around for his walkie-talkie. He picked it up from where it had skittered under a table and quickly thumbed the signal button.

“Artemis, do you copy?” He waited for a couple of seconds, listening to the hiss of his handset. “Artemis, do you read me, over?”

“…here, over,” her voice broke through the wall of static.

“Thank God,” Eric muttered thankfully to himself. “What the hell happened up there? Did they drop a bomb?”

“Yeah,” she radioed back. “We managed to detonate it in midair, so maybe they won’t try that again.”

“Here’s hoping,” he expressed. “Keep your eyes open.”

“There won’t be any more bombs,” Prometheus conjectured over his shoulder. “That was Azazel’s ploy to demonstrate that the military is helpless without his special forces. We should be receiving Nephilim ground troops any minute now. I suggest we deploy the weapon.”

Eric nodded at the advice of the elder tactician and turned to the intercom system. He connected to the lab, impatiently waiting, until Mike picked up the phone.

“Is it time?” the former NSA operative asked.

“Yes,” Eric confirmed. “Grab Jude and set it up near the entrance. Tell him to tag as many people as he can, but he needs to retreat if things get dicey. He can always set up on a lower level, if need be.”

“Got it,” Mike replied and hung up the phone.

Architects help us all
. Eric thought to himself.

Jude lay prone against the central pillar of the first floor, sticking out just enough to have a good view of the main hallway leading outside. The small part of him that was sticking out was under the cover of a ballistic shield. Iris stood behind him for support. He adjusted the bipod attached to Hephaestus’ quantum gun in an attempt to shift its odd bulk to a comfortable position on his shoulder. A little over an hour had passed since the failed airstrike, but no one was convinced the assault had been so quickly abandoned. The outside teams had initially kept watch, but the sudden assumption of sniper fire by troops hidden in the surrounding area forced them back inside. They closed the main bulkhead door and left the hallway into the staging area open to serve as a bottleneck for the expected intruders. The only task now was to wait.

Soon, they heard the guttural thrum of heavy diesel engines hauling multiple tons of metal and personnel, as they conveyed their cargo down the steep path and came to an echoing halt under the recessed driveway. The hiss of pneumatic pistons and voices calling out orders filled the air, as the rear doors of the armored personnel carriers emptied themselves of the beings inside.

The interior of the silo was deathly silent, as they waited for the coming attack. The outer door slowly emitted a glow that grew from a dull red to white hot. It quickly started to sag from its own weight, as it was turned into molten slag. A couple of Grigori hesitated, second-guessing their decision to assist Jude and the
Aspides
and attempted to flee their current predicament. Their amorphous, pitch-colored forms rose from their host bodies and sped outward toward the edge of the room. The lights flickered rapidly, as two similar forms peeled away from the outer walls and rushed to meet them. Jude ducked behind his blast shield, as the dual explosions collapsed part of the ceiling and left a dangerous smoking mess on that side of the room.

“Dammit!” Artemis yelled above the cacophony of the surprised and injured Grigori caught in the path of the shrapnel. “Watch out everyone! They won’t let anyone leave.” He shook his head at the thought of resorting to such mutually assured destruction and refocused his attention to the main hallway.

Two squads of soldiers were already filing into the open doorway, guns up and ready to fire. Jude steeled his resolve and fired Hephaestus’ weapon. A pulsing violet haze of particles flitted in and out of existence in front of him and through the passage. Screams erupted from the corridor, as several of the attackers fell, the very nature of their existence altered. The others roared in a berserk frenzy. They zeroed in on Jude and opened fire. Jude held his ground behind the shield, while Iris used her deflection technique to ensure their safety.

The Grigori nearest the entrance shoved their guns around the corner and fired blindly. Jude saw the look of surprise in the attackers’ eyes, as their own attempts to employ the deflection technique failed to work. The first six men fell under the barrage of bullets tearing down the narrow hallway, while the rest of them blindly pushed forward. A few of them made hand gestures in futile attempts to use their telekinetic abilities or throw electricity, but they achieved nothing for their efforts. Several more of them were defeated, before the remainder retreated. Of the sixteen men in the initial assault squad, only three were able to make it back out of the hallway alive.

A small cheer rose up around Jude, but Artemis quickly shushed it. “Don’t celebrate yet. We have a long way to go.”

The chatter of the soldiers outside carried faintly into the room. The sounds conveyed fright and desperation at the new corporeal prisons their consciousness had been forced to assume. The leaders outside barked more orders to the men outside, and the small company inside soon heard scraping of heavy equipment being unloaded onto the earthen floor of the shallow cavern.

The respite from the attack was short lived. From either side of the entrance a few squat, green canisters flew down the hallway. They landed haphazardly midway between both doorways, and began to billow a thick white smoke. In a matter of seconds, Jude’s view of the entire hallway was completely obstructed. The cloud of smoke poured into the room, lowering visibility and causing the defenders near the door to cover their faces and cough uncontrollably.

“Watch your skin!” Eric called out, as he ran back toward the stairwell. “That’s hydrochloric smoke coming in!”

The group fell away from the entrance. Jude and Iris picked up the quantum gun and quickly hauled it back to the safety of the stairwell. He heard a metal object skip across the floor, moments before an explosion showered him with bits of shrapnel and wood. It predicated another wave of gunfire, as the Nephilim pushed forward in the confusion.

“Stand your ground!” Artemis commanded. “Eric, protect Jude!”

Eric followed her instruction and ran down the stairs, his sub-machine gun firing blindly to cover his approach. He stumbled slightly to prevent himself from running into Jude and Iris. “Come on you two,” he yelled over the commotion and motioned for them to descend in front of him to the second floor. They escaped onto lower level into the midst of the awaiting support troops. The Grigori down here were watching the entrance intently, focusing their senses upward toward the raging battle.

“Cover the doorway, everyone,” Eric told them, as he helped Jude set the gun up again at an advantageous angle to the stairs. A stack of furniture was quickly constructed around the weapon to create another barrier. Meanwhile, soot colored specters drifted down from the upper floor, indicating an alarming rate of attrition. Within a few minutes, Artemis and a handful of fighters stormed through the entrance to the stairwell. The last of them turned around and began to close the heavy metal door behind him.

A stray bullet slammed through the side of his neck, sending a stream of blood spewing from his jugular. The man fell where he stood and convulsed silently. The phantom inhabiting the man’s body fled in a hissing whirl of agitated obsidian fog. Cursing, Artemis turned back, finished closing the entrance, and locked it. A couple of the reserves ran over to pick up the corpse and move it into the corner of the mess hall.

“How does it look up there?” Jude asked.

Artemis shook her head, “We took out quite a few, but more are coming. Without Hephaestus’ gun, they’ll just keep moving to new bodies, and we are running on limited supplies. We have to kill enough to force them to abandon that kamikaze blockade, so some of our people can escape. Are you ready for another round?”

She didn’t wait for his answer. Instead, she motioned Eric over and led him aside for a quick conference. As the door began to come under siege, Artemis hotly pointed down below, while Eric tried to argue. A few seconds later, though, he returned looking defeated. He recruited a small contingent of troops to follow him to the other set of stairs leading down.

He stopped, as he passed Jude. “I’m going to protect Hephaestus,” he said. “Stay here as long as you can, then meet Prometheus in the war room.”

“What about you?” Jude asked. “Won’t you be stuck down there, if they get to the living quarters?”

“Don’t worry about that,” Eric countered. He put his hand on Jude’s shoulder and squeezed it firmly. “Just take care of yourself, okay? Iris, you do the same.”

The two nodded and watched the small group disappear into the bowels of the facility. They set themselves up behind the barricade and waited for the next wave of attackers. The door eventually gave way to the Nephilim onslaught, followed by another acidic smoke attack. Prometheus, from his post in the command center, turned the HVAC systems for the second floor up to high, so the smoke failed to create the same effect it had previously. A wave of enemies ran through the doorway, their weapons blazing and energy crackling from their fingertips.

Jude pulled the trigger and released another violet beam of exotic particles into the chaos in front of him. The team of neutralized Nephilim was subsequently thrown against the wall by the perimeter of Grigori surrounding the entrance. Lightning cracked and danced down the side of the stairwell in a futile attempt to connect with any defenders in its reach. Cries of frustration echoed down from one of the surviving Nephilim upstairs, as the bolts failed to find a target.

Attacks on the doorway ceased, but noises could be heard upstairs, as troops occupied the top floor. They heard banging and shuffling above them, as equipment was brought in and set up, but the commotion was an enigma to the small crowd. Silence fell and ensued for almost ten minutes. A hiss drifted down from the upper floor. Jude to look up with concern. A dozen spots were growing in brilliance from the ceiling above. Drops of liquid metal began to succumb to the pull of gravity and splash down onto the floor. Everyone scattered out of the way of the molten shower, as the thermite finished eating its way through the roof. Jude managed to pull his gun away from its spot on the floor and barely avoided burning his hand.

The masses of sparking, burning slag fell to the ground, searing heat still pouring off them. The amber-ringed holes above had barely begun to cool, when a familiar voice drifted down to address them.

“Hello down there,” it called. “I hope everyone is enjoying their day, as much as I am.”

Jude’s head snapped upward.

“No way…” He murmured to himself. He left his weapon on the floor and jumped to his feet. “Azazel! Let Antonio go!”

Azazel clicked his tongue in mock disappointment. “Please, Mister Sullivan. I don’t think you’re in any position to make demands. I’m intrigued by your little toy, though. I’ve lost some valuable soldiers today because of that thing. Where did you get that? I hear you may be hiding an Architect.”