5 Onslaught (20 page)

32

I run
toward the front wall, driven by anger over the death of Holloway. I didn’t
know him well, but he always struck me as a good man. And the world needs good
men, now more than ever. Reaching the wall, I leap into the air, lifting off
the ground like one of the helicopters.

As
I soar up and over the wall, I remember that we have planned for this moment
and mentally issue the order:
Duck and
Cover
.

The
battlefield comes into view beneath me. In the time I spent laying Holloway
down, the battle has shifted. Hunters are pouring into the trenches. Many fall
to gunfire, but others are cutting through my men. Not for long, though.

The
rows of tanks lined up in front of the base, unable to fire at such close range
targets without injuring our own forces, roll forward. The soldiers duck down as
the sixty-seven ton armored vehicles drive over the trenches. One row at a
time, the tanks park above the trenches in tight formation, sealing off the men
below from the rushing hunters, who swarm over the tanks like army ants over
beetles. Some of the hunters whack at the tanks with their weapons, but they
have no effect. The men beneath them are now retreating into the base through a
tunnel I formed.

With
the men beneath them protected, and no friendly forces in front of them, I give
the order to fire.
Just once.
Thunder rises from below
as I cross over the tanks. The hunters on top of the vehicles stumble and fall,
clutching their ears in pain. Others, unlucky enough to be in the line of fire,
simply cease to exist. Most of the tanks aimed for behemoth and the Nephilim
still holding the beast open. The giants are quickly reduced to pieces from
which they cannot heal. The mammoth body folds in on itself again, trapping
thousands of hunters that had yet to vacate the hollowed cavity.

Still
airborne, I look up. A Nephilim warrior attacks a helicopter, striking out with
its sword. The massive blade cuts through the chopper like it was a flying
tomato. The attack sends the rotor blades flying and one of them returns the
favor, severing the giant’s wings. Helicopter and Nephilim both fall, toward
the base.
Inside the base.

But
Merrill is still blowing the shofar and the base is full of fighters who have
been trained to kill Nephilim. I’ll have to trust that they can handle it. I
have to take care of this hunter swarm first. Because I’m sure there will be no
delay in what comes next.

To
prove me right, a horn sounds in the distance, and I catch a glimpse of
Nephilim warriors charging into the bottleneck. Just before landing, I direct
the
tanks,
artillery and Navy vessels to focus their
efforts on the bottleneck, while the Air Force jets continue their assault on
the forces still out of sight and the helicopters clear the cliffs.

My
entire flight, everything I saw and every command given takes just ten seconds.
Then I’m approaching the ground on the far side of the tanks, dropping down
toward a throng of several thousand hunters all working their way toward the
base. And they will have no trouble scaling the walls. Just before landing, I
see bullets tear through some of the hunters. Men on the wall are still firing.

Hold your fire
, I think, directing my thoughts to
anyone firing from the walls. Then I land and put all of my anger and
desperation into it. The earth buckles beneath me. A shockwave bursts away from
me, moving through air and land. Every hunter for a hundred feet in every
direction is knocked down. Those within twenty feet don’t get back up.

With
every human death, on either side, my anger rises, tenfold so when I am the one
responsible for their deaths. But the hunters leave me no time to mourn the
deaths of their brothers. They rush me from all sides, and I charge to meet
them.

As
they close in, I spin, swiping Whipsnap around, focusing a burst of wind from
its tip. Men fly away from me, cast hundreds of feet in the air. At least I
won’t see them die. An arrow whistles past my head, and I quickly form a
protecting swirl of wind around me, deflecting several more projectiles being
launched in my direction.

They’ve practiced this,
I think. By making me focus on
defending against arrows, knives and darts, they’re keeping me from attacking.
Any lapse in my defense could mean a quick death.

Unfortunately
for them, I’ve been practicing too.

The
hunters come at me again with little regard for their own dead, stepping around
and on their bodies. As they close the distance, I wait, deflecting the steady
stream of projectiles. And then, when the closest attackers are just fifteen
feet away, I will the ground around me to rise up.
A wall of
stone forms around me.
It does an even better job of protecting me, but
that’s not its purpose.

It’s
a weapon.

For
a moment, secluded in my dome of earth, I close my eyes and say a prayer for
the men and woman I’m about to kill. At one time, they weren’t hunters. They
were teachers, photographers, scientists and explorers. They had lives, and
loved ones. Some, like Ninnis, were married, or had children. They were good
people once. And somewhere, deep inside them, they still are.

But
not right now.

And
I’ve done everything I can to prevent this.
Right?

My
doubt disappears when Holloway’s words come back to me and my perfect memory
remembers the expression on his dying face.
Fight!

“To
the last man,” I say and then, with a focused burst of air, the stone around me
shatters explosively. Fragments of stone shoot in every direction, cutting
through the horde of hunters flooding toward me.

Men
and women fall, clutching their wounded bodies and dropping their cherished
weapons. They have known hatred and violence for as long as they can remember,
but now...they’re free.
Really free.
And unlike a
Nephilim, they have souls that will live on. This gives me some consolation. If
I can’t free them in life, I can free them in death.

As
I survey the battlefield, I find myself growing tired. The combination of
strong emotions and exertion are taking their toll. I’m not yet useless, but I
still need to watch how frequently I use my abilities, especially in unnatural
ways, like turning the earth into a big grenade.

A
battle cry spins me around.

A
wall of hunters is nearly upon me.

I
raise my hands, intending to knock them back with a homemade tornado, but then
I see the hunters leading the charge—Em, knives in hand, and Kainda, hammer
raised. These are
my
hunters.

As
they reach me, I turn and run with them, raising Whipsnap and shouting. The
roar of my hunters that follows fills me with energy, and I throw myself into
battle against men and women fighting for themselves, rather than a cause they
believe in. Their selfish motivations are weak compared to the convictions of
my hunters, and the battle turns in our favor.

I
try not to think, or feel over the next few minutes. Both ends of my weapon
quickly become stained with human blood. And as more and more hunters fall to
my skill, but also to the raw power with which I can now infuse my body, I try
not to count.

But
not counting is impossible for me.

A
sword strikes my back, but I see it coming and tighten the molecules of my
body. What would have been a killing blow clangs off my shoulder blades before
a hammer drives the man to the ground.

“Watch
yourself!” Kainda shouts at me.

Em
appears by my other side. She whips a knife, dropping a charging hunter and
draws a fresh blade before the body strikes the ground. “You shouldn’t be here!”
she shouts at me. “You’re too important.”

“We’re
all important,” I argue back, lifting a group of five hunters from the ground
and using the wind to send them flying into their comrades.
“Especially,
you two.
I will not leave you.”

“Then
fight harder,” Kainda urges.

Fight harder? Hasn’t she been watching?
She quickly strikes down two hunters,
quickly and efficiently.
Probably not
watching,
I decide.

“Our
people are dying!” Kainda says.

That’s
when I realize that it’s me who hasn’t been watching.

While
our force of hunters is formidable, we’re actually outnumbered, and though our
hunters are killing more, they have more lives to spare. But if I use my
abilities against humans, how much will I have left for the Nephilim?

It won’t matter if there is no one left
to fight,
I think.

Em
must see my inner conflict reflected in my face. “You can do it, Sol.”

Faith,
I think.

Kainda
grips my shoulder hard. Her touch is like electricity.

Passion.

I
look at my wife, the power of her words and presence filling me. Then I leap
away, rising above the battle and landing just beyond our front line. With a
pulse of air, I clear the area around me. And then, I focus.

It
doesn’t matter if I kill a hundred or a thousand, I tell myself. This is a
fight the human race cannot lose, no matter the cost. Like Luca, I must push
myself to the limit and beyond to achieve that end, even if it kills me.
This is for you, Holloway
, I think.

Then
I strike.

With
a spin, I swing Whipsnap around my head like I’m striking a combatant. But there
isn’t anyone within range—of my physical weapon. But I am not striking with
Whipsnap,
I am striking with the very air of Antarctica
itself.

A
blade, nearly a half mile long and razor thin, follows Whipsnap’s path as I
swing. With my eyes closed, I finish the strike, careful not to extend it into
our own ranks. For a moment, I fear that my attack has failed. Every hunter I
struck thus far provided resistance—a subtle tug on the blade as it severed
their flesh. But there was no resistance this time, no tug, no indication that
I struck a single enemy. That is, until I open my eyes.

While
I have left the enemies to my back alive—perhaps a few hundred hunters—the
thousands between me and the fallen behemoth are now dead.

Thousands.

God,
no.

I
fall to my knees. The weight of genocide falls on my shoulders like a cartoon
anvil.

This is what Nephil wants.

This is why he sent hunters first.

To
destroy my soul.

But
he has misjudged me. He has already used me to kill billions. And I found
forgiveness for that, and the burden lifted. Cronus’s words return to me.
“Forgiveness cannot be earned. It can only be granted and received.” The Titan
leader living in Tartarus, knowing I needed to hear the words, then said,
“Solomon, for your crimes against your fellow men, for the darkness of your
heart and for the evil thoughts of your mind, you are forgiven.”

And
I was.

As I am now.

Hands
grip my arms and pull me up. I recognize the feel of Kainda’s hands and don’t
resist. As I stand, I look back and find the enemy hunters defeated. I have
lost at least a thousand of my own hunters, but those that remain look strong
and steadfast.

“I
did it,” I say, mostly to myself, but Kainda responds.

“And
you will need to again,” she says.

I
look toward the bottleneck, but from this vantage point on the ground, so close
to behemoth, the giant’s body keeps me from seeing the enemy. But I can feel
them.
The Nephilim.

Their
true assault is just beginning.

33

Cresty-Alpha!
I think, sending out a command that
gets a loud roar in response. The cresties, natural fighters and killers have
no doubt been impatiently waiting for their chance to join the fray. Well, now
they’re going to get it.

With
a thunder that matches that of the approaching Nephilim, the dinosaurs race out
from around the base, joining the front line of hunters. Grumpy finds me and
lets out an annoyed sounding grunt. He’s not happy about being sidelined for so
long.

“Quit
whining,” I tell him and he crouches down. I climb onto his back and I’m happy
to see many other hunters and cresties joining forces as well. Em and Kainda
climb onto Zok’s long back, ready to continue the fight. But we can’t see
what’s coming from here, even from the back of a thirty foot tall cresty, and that’s
not a good thing.

“Fall
back to the tanks!” I shout, and I then remember to think the command.
As one, the force of dinosaurs and hunters races back toward the
tanks, which are still firing over our heads, smiting the distant Nephilim
forces.
Before the concussive force of each fired tank shell becomes
almost too much to bear, and before we put ourselves in the tanks’ sights, I
turn Grumpy around and the rest of my army follows suit.

Further
away from the behemoth, I can see the bottleneck again. It’s a mess. Nephilim
bodies litter the area. Some are clearly dead, the shapes of their bodies
barely discernable. Others are moving still, healing from wounds that would
have killed a mortal. But the wave of monsters flooding into the valley
continues...as does the barrage keeping them at bay.

A
never ending stream of missiles and high caliber tank and artillery shells rain
down on them, rocking the valley with thunder and cloaking the scene in smoke.
But the effort is paying off. Not only are many Nephilim dying under the force
of the barrage, but the number getting through and continuing the charge are
manageable.

Hold your positions
, I tell my front line.
Save your strength
.

During
the momentary reprieve, while trying to regain some of my own strength, I turn
my eyes upward to the cliffs. The winged warriors are all airborne, battling
with the helicopters in a deadly aerial dance. The warriors outnumber the
choppers by a large margin, but the helicopters are fast and can strike from a
distance. Despite the modern advantages, it’s still a losing fight. As I watch,
a warrior with little regard for his own safety, perhaps empowered by the
knowledge that he will heal, or simply looking forward to the pain, tackles a
helicopter. He slams into the side of the chopper, flips it upside down and as
the rotor blades propel the vehicle toward the ground, he hangs on for the
ride, laughing sadistically all the way down. The pair slams into the side of
the temple where the helicopter explodes. I can’t see what happens next, but I
think I hear a fresh spat of gunfire over the din of the continuing battle.

Are you okay?
I ask Luca.

What was that?
he
asks,
which I suppose means he’s fine.

Don’t worry about it,
I tell him.

Getting light headed,
Merrill thinks, joining the mental
conversation. He’s been blowing that horn non-stop from the beginning of this
battle. Without a breather, he could pass out. Luckily, he’s not alone under
the temple.

Have
Aimee take over for a bit,
I
tell him.

Then,
to Kat, I think,
what happened with the
Nephilim on the temple?

Mira got him,
Kat replies.
XM-29.
Explosive rounds.
It was messy. If too many
more of these guys bite it inside the base, we’re not going to be able to
maneuver
.

She’s
worried about the Nephilim blood. If it gets on anyone’s skin, it will result
in a horrible death. That said, the blood could also be diluted with water and
used to quickly heal our wounded.
Just
don’t walk through it barefoot
, I think to her, and then I transmit my
thoughts about using the blood for medicinal purposes to the medics set up
beneath the temple.

Kid,
Kat says.
You’re
doing a good job. If things go south, I’m proud of you.

I
don’t have to think my
thanks,
she can feel it through
Luca.

As for our current predicament,
Kat thinks,
the cliffs are clear. Have the snipers take out the big guys’ knees.
Then you can take them before they get up.

Before
she’s even done thinking the idea, I shoot the order off to the snipers
gathered from around the world and sense their aim shift as one.

Just
in time, too. The first Nephilim warrior—a mammoth specimen wielding a mace
that looks more like a spiked wrecking ball—leaps on top of behemoth’s loose
body and then off again, shaking the ground with his girth. He bellows at us,
trying to put the fear of his demon fathers in our souls. But we stand strong
and wait.

Undeterred by our lack of fear, the
giant charges.
Through
the symphony of explosions, both near and distant, the scream of jets and
missiles, and the staccato pop of several thousand guns, I hear Aimee take a
deep breath through the speaker system. It’s followed by a blast of the shofar
that dwarfs Merrill’s practiced efforts. I feel its supernatural cleansing
effect sweep through my body.

The
wave of sound strikes the big Nephilim head on. He flails wildly, dropping the
axe and sprawling to the ground with all the grace of a younger me.
A lone cresty without a rider takes advantage, charging ahead and
descending on the giant with all its primal fury.
The giant, unable to
defend himself, is quickly dispatched as the dinosaur snaps its jaws down over
the warrior’s head, twists and pulls.

The
line of cresties roar
in response, as though cheering
on their comrade.

But
the dinosaur’s victory is short-lived. Five more Nephilim warriors arrive.
Then ten.
The cresty manages to escape their grasp, but only
because Aimee’s shofar blast is still sounding.

Suddenly,
the power of the shofar is reduced. The volume drops by twenty-five percent. I
glance back and see one of the speakers, a giant arrow piercing its black case.
A second arrow cuts through the sky, piercing a second speaker. There are a
total of eight speakers lining the walls and towers. At this rate, they’ll all
be destroyed within the minute. I look up and find the culprit. A winged warrior
hovers high above, ignoring the helicopters, which are almost all destroyed or
out of ammo. His aim is uncanny, even for a Nephilim. Given his wings, scorpion
tail and blood red attire, he is one of the higher echelon warriors and likely
known as a god. The bow and arrow helps identify him.
Apollo,
Greek god of archery.
The giant nocks another arrow and lets it fly.
Before it can strike a third speaker, I divert its course with a gust of wind.
The arrows strikes one of the armored tanks and shatters.

I
turn to Kainda and Em, pointing up at Apollo. “I need to stop him!”

“Go!”
Kainda shouts. “We can handle this!” She leaps from Zok to Grumpy, claiming my
prehistoric steed as her own. “Go!”

“Be
careful,” I tell her.

I
can see that my worry aggravates her, but then she softens and says, “You,
too.”

I
launch skyward, propelling myself past the sound barrier with a boom that
drowns out the cacophony of explosions. Apollo lets another arrow fly, ignoring
my approach. I snap it in two with a blade of air, protecting the third speaker
yet again.

Whipsnap
cuts through the air, projecting an invisible blade toward Apollo. My aim is
true, but I’m struck in the side and the blade fades to a blunt wind just
before reaching the archer-god.

My
body plummets while my dazed mind regains its senses. When it does, I look up
to find Apollo, but my view is blocked by outstretched wings. A warrior
wielding a long spear drops toward me. He’s got one eye, which is odd for a
Nephilim, but it reveals his identity: Odin, grandfather of Ull, who was my
master until I killed him.

The
spear surges toward my face, but I manage to duck to the side. But the attack
was a ruse. The true attack comes from the right. I tense up, coiling my atoms
to form an impregnable layer of skin, but I’m a moment too late. The tip of the
weapon pierces my side and an all consuming fire billows through my body.

I
scream in pain, still conscious, still in control, but in absolute agony. I
don’t have to see the weapon to know what has happened. I’ve been stung by Odin’s
scorpion tail.

Odin
circles and comes back for another attack, but he’s not alone. Twenty winged
warriors are with him and they are a veritable Who’s Who of the ancient world,
identifiable by their weapons, headdresses and garments. The Greek gods: Zeus,
Poseidon, Hephaestus and Hermes. The Norse: Tyr, Heimdall and Baldur. The
Egyptian: Ra, Anubis, Horus and Osiris. There are several more, but the one
that really stands out is the Sumerian god, Enlil, brother of the slain Enki
and leader of the Nephilim warrior clan in Nephil’s absence.

This
group is basically the Special Ops of the Nephilim. They are the oldest and
most skilled of their kind. And each and every one of them has their killer
eyes set on me.

I
swing Whipsnap toward the group, intending to cut them from the sky, but the
movement causes a flare of agony to explode from my stung side. The air-blade
is never even formed.

I
cannot win this fight. Not yet. So I flee. And as I do, another speaker is
destroyed.

Then another.

The
sound of the shofar dwindles by half. It will soon disappear. And when it does,
our advantage will be lost, and maybe the human race along with it.