The Day of the Nefilim (33 page)

We’re lucky that the old guns don’t work any more,
she thought. Too many people had them, too many of the low-life like this rabble. If this lot had been able to use their old shotguns and rifles, there would have been no contest. It was just as well that they were reduced to tearing up fragments of rock and finding pieces of rubbish to use as clubs. Fucking neanderthals!

As if to argue the point, she heard a soft ripping sound behind her. She turned to see the sergeant reach clumsily for an arrow protruding from his neck, and then pitch forward over the side of the building. There was a cheer from the street below.

She thought of her brother, and a cold, dead anger welled up inside her. She went to the edge of the building and shot a few people, more for her benefit than theirs, but she soon grew tired of that, and besides, the charge light on her gun was dimming. She crawled back to where it was safer, and sat down.

She could smell something burning. A soldier, bleeding from a head wound, came up to her. “Vice-Secretary, they’ve set fire to the building. Judging by the way it’s spreading, I’d say that they’ve used accelerants.”

She said nothing.

“Vice-Secretary?”

“What can we do, private?”

The soldier said nothing.

It wasn’t long before they could feel the heat, and not long after that the smoke began to make breathing difficult. Below them, the crowd was chanting something in Spanish.

She was gasping for breath, and was on the verge of losing consciousness, thinking that this was a shit of a way to go, and how unfair it was that both her brother and she should die before they had been able to make their real contribution to history, when she heard a new sound.

It started as a distant thrumming, then quickly became louder until it seemed to fill the sky.

Lying on her back looking up through the smoke, she saw something. It was big. If there had been a sun in the sky, it might well have been blocked out by the object that was hovering above her.

* * *

THE LOOKOUT AT THE TOP of Mount Weather was isolated and small. It reminded him of the observation tower of a submarine, open to the elements and swept by the wind. The view from the mountain’s peak was spectacular. Forest covered peaks stretched away until they met an ocean in the haze of the distance.

But the Secretary-General was oblivious to the view. He was pacing back and forth, his clasped hands twitching nervously behind his back. He was in a dark mood.
Damn them all to hell
– the Nefilim and their treacherous technology, that infernal Thead and his incompetence, not to mention losing one of his Vice-Secretaries!

It was falling apart.
Everything
was falling apart. The grid’s failure was accelerating. Even as he thought it, the earth shook, and a deep rumbling came from somewhere in the distance.

There was something new going on in the sky as well. It had become darker, turning a heavy shade of indigo as if night was falling. It seemed restless, as though it was somehow acting in sympathy with the travails of the earth. Lightning flashed intermittently, illuminating the hills with violent flashes of white light. Seconds later, heavy thunder rolled across the hills.

The Secretary-General found himself wishing that it would rain. It would help him believe that what was happening was somehow natural.

Not even attending the morning executions had helped his mood. The grid had failed totally in most of Asia and large parts of South America. There had been mass breakouts from some of the camps, and not surprisingly, the population had turned on his armies. In areas where the grid was down, their weapons had been useless, and it had been no contest. It wasn’t fair.

The few reports that were still coming in told of bands of soldiers roaming the countryside, trying to escape the vengeance of their former prisoners and subjects. In Europe, rivers had changed their courses and obliterated whole cities. Japan had disappeared into the sea, as had the southern half of England.

What was to be done? It was a good thing that the Nefilim had sent their invasion fleet when they did. If they had come now, it would have been too much.

The Secretary-General felt as though he was at some sort of terrible nadir. Things could only get worse. He heard the soft hiss of the doors of the elevator behind him, then footsteps. Whoever it was, there were two of them. One human, one not. What was it now? He turned around.

It was one of the scientists who had been working on the grid, and his Nefilim counterpart. God, he was starting to tell the boneheads apart...

“What is it?” His voice was flat.

The human scientist spoke. “We think we have a solution to the problem with the grid, Secretary-General.”

“A solution…? What sort of solution?”

“Well, we now know for a fact that the cause of the problem is not in the grid itself.”

“Of course, it’s that fucking mutant system, isn’t it?” the Secretary-General snapped. “That’s hardly news. Haven’t we known that for a long time?”

The scientist shifted his weight nervously. The last thing he wanted was to appear redundant. “Well, yes, Secretary-General, we have supposed that to be the case, with good reason, of course, but now that we’ve done the work, we can confirm that it is.”

“Can you now, Einstein. Well, I’m so relieved I can hardly speak. So what? Or should I say, now what?”
Little weasel,
thought the Secretary-General.
He’s shitting himself.

He turned to the Nefilim scientist. “So what’s happening?”

‘What your man says is correct,’
the alien replied.
‘The answer lies in destroying the mutant stream…’

“The what? What ‘stream’?”

‘Their answer to the grid. While ours is static, theirs grows, like a living thing. They describe it as a stream, because in some respects it behaves like flowing water.’

“Then why don’t we just get control of this stream of theirs?”

‘And how would you propose that we do that? It would do you no good, things have gone too far. No, it must be destroyed.’

“I’ll have to take your word for that. How do we destroy it?”

‘If we leave things as they are, our grid will literally be eaten alive. But if we strengthen it, by giving it a large enough infusion of energy, we should be able to make it strong enough to destroy the other system.’

“Ah, a king hit! My kind of tactic. And how do we provide our grid with this much-needed power?”

‘In the same way that it was activated a few weeks ago, Secretary-General.’

He hadn’t seen the process, but he had read the reports. “You put people into it. It ate them up, somehow, it used them as some kind of fuel.”

‘A primitive understanding, but close enough. We propose using the same process, but on a much larger scale.’

“Last time, you used two individuals at each of your control points. What sort of numbers are you talking about this time?”

The Nefilim paused for a moment.
‘One hundred and eight. At each control point.’

The Secretary-General smiled. “That’s the one thing I admire about your race. You never do things by halves. So we’ll do it as soon as possible?”

‘Yes. As soon as possible.’

“Any one hundred and eight?”

‘Yes. Fifty-four males and fifty-four females.’

“Fine. Anything to satisfy your predilection for symmetry.” The Secretary-General was in a better mood already.

‘The requirement is technical, not aesthetic.’

“Of course it is, bonehead. We should be able to do it within twelve hours. Where we can, we’ll get the necessary numbers from the camps. And in areas where that’s impractical, we’ll just round them up. There are people everywhere. They’re like maggots.”

The Secretary-General’s cell phone buzzed at him. He answered it and listened in silence, then said “Yes. Very well.”

A Nefilim heavy cruiser had just reported in. That was news enough in itself, as there were only a few of them on the planet, and the Secretary-General hadn’t seen one in the flesh before, but of more importance right now was the fact that his one surviving Vice-Secretary was on it. The ship would be arriving in a few hours.

“I’ll see that your requirements are met,” he said, and dismissed the two scientists.

* * *

The Secretary-General was there to meet the cruiser when it arrived. He hadn’t seen much of the Nefilim technology for himself. He’d been stuck in his office, issuing orders and listening to reports. The cruiser was an impressive sight. At least a hundred yards long and twenty wide, it was covered in intricate, brightly colored patterns that made it look more like a work of art than a warship. Attached to the rear of the ship were large diaphanous fins that swept forward, reaching halfway along the length of its body. As the ship settled to the ground, they folded close to the body, like an insect’s wings.

It was quite beautiful. The Secretary-General dreamed of the day that humanity would be able to build such marvels for itself. And then the universe would learn all about humans…

Steps had descended from the side of the ship, and people and aliens were disembarking. His surviving Vice-Secretary was among them.

“Alexis, my dear!”

“Secretary-General.” She’d looked better. She was limping, and her hair had been singed. She had a bruise on her forehead, and she looked tired.

“So, things didn’t go well for you,” said the Secretary-General. “Theo…”

“…is dead, yes,” she hissed through clenched teeth. “The fucking grid let us down, just when we needed it most. There was an earthquake. Something in the sky caused it, something weird. And we were attacked by a crowd. There were too few of us, and too many of them. We didn’t stand a chance.”

“Yes, Mexico City was never a very civilized place.”

“It’s no sort of place now. That’s why I’m late. I was almost unconscious when we were picked up. When I came around, we were well away from the city. I ordered the commander to turn around and go back.”

“Really? To what end?”

“We trashed the place.”

“You mean where you were attacked?”

“That as well, of course. No, we trashed the city. We took out the whole place. Where it used to be, there’s now just a lot of ashes. You know, these ships have got some great weapons.” She managed a tired, thin smile.

“Well done, Alexis. I don’t think we had any special plans for Mexico City. A firm hand, that’s what is needed, and that’s what you’ve got, my dear. I wish I could have been there with you.”

The Vice-Secretary’s smile was a strange one now. “So do I, Secretary-General.”

“You know, I thought for a while that you might be losing your touch, my dear. Another failure, after all. And our fugitives are still… well, fugitives…”

“Yes, but through no fault of our own.”

“Of course, through no fault of your own. Don’t worry, dear. I’ll look forward to reading your full report, but I’m not cross with you. Everyone has problems these days. And I
am
sorry about Theo.” He was, too. The Vice-Secretary had been excellent.

Despite herself, Alexis felt some relief at being let off the hook. “What now, then?”

“We’re going to fix things up.” The Secretary-General sounded confident. “But there’s time enough for that. Come to my quarters for a drink later. You can cry on my shoulder.”

* * *

THE SECRETARY-GENERAL WANTED to witness the process. It was time to take a more personal interest in things. It meant traveling to the closest control point.

He was almost late. The grid under the flier he was on screwed up. Luckily, it had happened when they were literally within sight of their destination, and even more luckily, they had been able to land safely. The Secretary-General and his entourage had made the last part of their journey in horse-drawn carts commandeered from a farm.

He was in a terrible mood by the time they arrived. He felt like having someone – it didn’t matter who – executed. But he didn’t; instead, he reminded himself that there were matters to be dealt with that were more important than his own frustration, no matter how consuming it might be. And he’d read somewhere that one of the components of emotional maturity is the ability to delay gratification.

The Secretary-General reflected on his wisdom and sagacity as he was led underground to the cavern in which the scientists and Nefilim were assembled, waiting to begin. The victims – no, the volunteers – were there, as many as the Nefilim had said were needed, and they were evenly divided between male and female.

The Secretary-General took the seat that had been set out for him. He leaned forward, rested his hands on his walking cane, and looked over the scene in front of him.

“You are all about to make a great contribution to the future of the human race,” he said in a loud voice that reverberated off the back wall of the cavern. “Of course, you haven’t been given a great deal of choice in the matter, but don’t let that disturb you.” He smiled broadly. “You can rest assured that those that matter will benefit greatly.”

“Eat shit, you fat fuck!”

The Secretary-General stopped, his mouth hanging open. He was shocked, but strangely elevated. No one had dared to speak to him like that in years.

He smiled again. “Who said that?” he asked genially, waving back the soldiers who had begun to move into the crowd.

“I did. What the fuck are you going to do about it, shithead?” The speaker was a young male.

The Secretary-General toyed with his cane. “In ordinary circumstances, citizen, I would do nothing, of course, because there would be nothing I
could
do, being merely a duly appointed servant of the people. I might, of course, be tempted to see that you came to the attention of some of the more enthusiastic members of the security community. But in this most special of instances, I think I’ll ignore your indiscretion, and be satisfied that you are going to share the fate of the rest of this rabble. Perhaps I’m learning some self-control in my old age!”