Doorways: Nephilim Trilogy

By ERIC O’CONNOR

The nephilim, born from a forbidden union between fallen angels and human women, were an abomination to God. They were gigantic, immensely strong, and very warlike.
Nephilim is a trilogy and is a story of redemption. In book one, the last and most powerful of all the nephilim is released from a prison where it was held for five thousand years. One remaining fallen angel has repented of his sins and now must face this giant in a weakened state before he can be brought back into Gods presence. Before, he had other repentant fallen angels to stand with him. Now he only has three humans chosen by God to fight at his side.
A weapon created by angelic hands to destroy the nephilim can also be used to open doorways into other worlds, which would release onto earth terrible creatures from dark and violent ecosystems. The nephilim pursues the weapon in order to open a doorway into hell and release Satan as a physical being. The giant leaves death and destruction in its path, while one of the human warriors, a despairing widower who finds love again, fights to protect the ones he loves from the swarm of released creatures.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Trafford Publishing
• Release date: Oct 25, 2014
• ISBN: 9781490747569

ERIC O’CONNOR

Eric O’Connor is a graduate of the Dallas Baptist University school of applied business administration and works at a hospital in the small town of Waxahachie, Texas, just outside of Dallas. He grew up in Dallas watching scary movies of all types and was introduced to the amazing world of books by his then fiancee while in college. After reading incredible tales by Stephen King and Dean Koontz, he became a full-blown addict of horror novels. Eric has trained in several styles of martial arts and holds a black belt in Judo. He currently lives in Arlington, Texas, with his beautiful wife, Chris, of more than two decades; two sons; and his full-grown German shepherd, who thinks he is a lap puppy.

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Copyright 2014 Eric O’Connor.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the written prior permission of the author.

ISBN: 978-1-4907-4754-5 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4907-4755-2 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-4907-4756-9 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2014917251

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CONTENTS

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1

5:32 PM, 12.3 miles west of An-Nasiriyah, Iraq, along the Euphrates River

I t has been a stiflingly hot afternoon. The air down here in the cave is stuffy, but at least it is not as sweltering as outside. What am I doing here in a freaking cave in this god-forsaken country, and what the hell IS this thing I’m now carrying in my backpack? Husaam Jilad shuddered at the thought of that strange looking artifact he has acquired and that he must take back to the USA, to his employer who sent him on this impromptu trip to Iraq. He glanced down at the blood stains on his shirt from the nosebleed that spontaneously gushed when he touched the damned thing. Had that been a coincidence?

That uneasy feeling that he began experiencing when he entered this blasted hole in the ground is now tingling at the base of his neck with a vengeance. The hairs back there are standing on end. He glanced around in all directions in the cavern, confirming that the only footprints in the dust belong to either his guide or himself. Yet, he is still unable to shake the feeling that he is being watched.

Husaam grasped the knotted rope that hung from the opening thirty feet above, which provided the means of descent into this nether world, and looked up at the light pouring in. Even at this hour of the day, the brightness of the sun is more than sufficient to negate the night vision that he had developed from the hours of near total darkness he experienced while exploring the secrets of this enclosure.

The height of the exit from this tomb-like grotto is threatening to overwhelm his forced state of calmness. It didn’t look that deep when he descended. The thought of climbing the rope and then making the twelve-mile hike back to town in this oppressive heat seems daunting, not to mention that his body feels drained of vitality. Husaam, or Sam as he prefers to be called back in the states, is not used to this much physical exercise. His air-conditioned office in New Mexico is much more to his taste.

He shrugged his shoulders to readjust the pack and felt the weight of the item in it shift on his back. Even wrapped in burlap and stowed away in the backpack, the thought of that object so close to his skin makes his flesh crawl. He can’t wait for this trip to be over; handing the artifact over to his boss His Lordship and returning to his home, to the embrace of his wife. This treasure hunting stuff is definitely not for him. He isn’t Indiana Jones; he’s just New Mexico Jilad. Sam smiled inwardly at that thought, the sound of it in his head feels as out of place as he feels in this damned cave. Adventure is not his strong point. He wouldn’t even be here except for the bonus that Mason said he’ll receive on his return. Now that he’s here, that bonus isn’t looking as attractive.

Finding the location of this cave had been easy. A lot easier than Sam thought it would be. His boss, Charles Mason, the CEO of PreHistorical Antiquities and Entrepreneur Extraordinaire, had made all the arrangements for travel and even included a map, with detailed instructions that a child could follow. Mason never told him what it is that he is looking for but that Sam would know it when he sees it. Sometimes, actually most of the time, he is a real pain in the ass.

However, on this point, Sam reluctantly has to admit that Mason is correct. The thing in his pack is unlike anything that he has ever seen. For a representative of a company that specializes in ancient artifacts, that is saying something. Now that he has seen it, he can’t get the image out of his mind.

More than anything else, though, is the wrongness he felt when he touched it. It is similar to getting an electrical shock. Afterward, at least for a while, a person’s mind can still relive the experience with perfect clarity. Sam only hopes that the memory of his experience will fade with time. Although, at this time, he doesn’t see how it’s possible for that to happen. The tactile sensation of that awful thing felt poisonous, if that is actually possible to feel. It’s the closest he can come to describing the experience he got.

Sam thought back to his meeting with Mason. Thankfully, He doesn’t have that many dealings with his boss in person. Apparently Mason considers himself too important to mingle with us commoners. The few times Sam dealt with him face to face made him very uneasy. Forget the fact that Mason treats others condescendingly, but for some reason, Sam also gets on edge in Mason’s presence. There is something about the man just gives him the creeps. Not only did he have to speak with the man directly before he left on this trip, he will have to see him again on his return, and that just really blows.

Normally, he is left alone to do his job in peace and is paid quite well for it. When Mason came to Sam’s office the other day and requested he make the trip to Iraq to retrieve the item, he had been caught off guard. The request had actually been a demand in disguise. Sam really had not wanted to go, and now that he is here he remembers why he hates being in this country. Regardless, he didn’t want to leave his home or family. After all, his son’s Little League team is competing in the regional playoffs this weekend. Besides, he is not a field worker. Most of the time he is at his desk in the relative comfort of his office, using his phone and computer.

However, the creepiness of his boss’ presence got under his skin right away; Sam didn’t want to argue and prolong the meeting. He might have agreed to explore an active volcano in the middle of a war zone in order get away from him more quickly. When Mason told him there would be a fifteen thousand dollar bonus when he got back, the decision was pretty well made. Damn, why do I have to be so greedy? Regardless, I’m committed now. I can’t just leave the thing here in the cave and go back empty-handed.

Besides, Sam knows why His Highness wanted him to go. Sam was born here, but moved to New Mexico while still a small child. He has dual citizenship in the United States and Iraq, so he can enter and leave this country more easily, not to mention quietly, than Mason, despite all his diplomatic connections. Sam’s son, Matthew, will just have to face his Little League opponents without his father’s support this time. In any case, he doesn’t think he will mind his absence too much if he gets a new video game out of it. Sam has been repeatedly informed, ad-nauseam, that the latest version of Halo has just been released.

Sam thought’s returned to his flight to this country. He slept most of the way from Albuquerque to Kuwait due to the lateness of the day when he lifted off. His few waking hours were spent studying the maps and information. As soon as he departed the jumbo jet, a uniformed man escorted him immediately to a small prop plane, already running and waiting for him. The plane flew him across the border of Iraq to a small airstrip in the city of An-Nasiriyah, where he was met by a valet and taken directly to the hotel. Due to the late hour, Sam gladly went to his room to sleep some more. Knowing the next day would be very strenuous, he wanted to be as well rested as possible.

After leaving Iraq many years ago he had no plans to ever return. Sam feels American through and through. Born to a devout Muslim family, his father had been very religious. However, Sam did not continue going to the Mosque when he became a man, much to the open disappointment of both of his parents. Sam never thought much about researching his heritage. He is not a believer in the hyper-strict regulations of Sharia law. Therefore, seeing the sights of An-Nasiriyah does not appeal to him, not to mention that since he is no longer a practicing Muslim, he is considered a pariah here. All he wants is to get back out of this country as fast as possible.

The next morning, he met Muhammad Khalid, his guide. Muhammad had arranged a ride with some locals on their boat. He said it would be a lot easier than walking the distance, but the fishermen wouldn’t wait around afterward, so Sam and Muhammad will have to walk back. Sam didn’t argue. Even though the twelve-mile hike in the hot desert sun is not among his need to do list, he sure as hell didn’t want to do it twice in the same day.

The instructions Sam received included a map showing a route from the river, so a ride for the first leg of the journey is definitely in order.

After about thirty minutes in the boat, they passed between two particularly high cliffs on either side of the waterway. They located the place marked on the map: Two stumpy trees leaning over the river from the edge of the cliff on the right side, crossing each other in his view from the boat and leaving an X-shaped shadow on the water. He might have missed the spot if not for that. Sam smiled at the obvious landmark. Suddenly he felt like he had been living in a cartoon.

They climbed to the top with relative ease via a crevasse in the stone wall. Sam isn’t used to this strenuous activity and he started breathing hard almost immediately. Once on top, away from the shade of the path, the intense heat really started to beat down on them. Muhammad looked like he had been in the sun all his life and didn’t seem to notice. Sam broke out in a sweat and began to curse Muhammad under his breath. It didn’t matter that Sam’s poor state of physical fitness is not Muhammad’s fault. He was just ticked off at having to be here.

Using a compass, they walked almost a quarter of a mile north by northwest of the river, arriving at the base of a large, rocky hill. The map described a triangular shaped rock sticking out of the side of the hill about two thirds of the way up. He found it right away. It is approximately the height of a man and nearly as wide. The directions on the map state that just a few pounds of pressure on this rock will dislodge it. How on earth would Mason know that? No time to worry about it, he’s getting too hot and the promise of the relative cool of the hotel room when this is all over is practically screaming at him. He is about ready to abort this mission right now and head back.

Both men scaled the hill to the triangular rock; Sam braced himself and then placed his foot in the center of boulder. He applied a little pressure, less than he would have imagined, and he watched as the rock came loose and then tumbled down the hill. Score one for the Great Charles Mason.

In the depression, underneath where the rock had been lodged, a hole of approximately three feet in diameter is now exposed. If the map is correct, and by now there is no reason to think otherwise, there will be a drop of about thirty feet, and then a maze of tunnels.

The directions state that this hill is full of tunnels going all the way down to the level of the river below. How can Mason possibly know what is below that rock? I’m no geologist, but it looked like that triangular boulder had been in its place for at least the last millennium, and that time and erosion had finally caught up with it.

They secured a rope and then descended into the darkness below. Once down in the cave, the relief from the intense heat made him breath out a sigh of relief. The echo of the noise from his exhale returned with a strange effect, as if heard from underwater. He felt goosebumps break out on his back and arms. For some reason he feels exposed and vulnerable standing here in the cave in the pale light from above. He wants to speak out and see if he gets that same bizarre sound effect, but suddenly he feels too nervous to make any loud noise.

Looking at the map, the men took the tunnel indicated. They went unerringly to their destination. It took almost an hour to reach the correct chamber, but the cave appeared to be much more extensive than he originally thought. He could have spent several hours, if not days, looking for the right spot.

Upon entering, he stood up straight. Muhammad came in right behind him. A quiet man, Muhammad, but a comfort nonetheless. Once they set out, after all this time together, Sam couldn’t remember him saying more than maybe a dozen words. Still, he did not think that he could have made it this far below the surface if he had been by himself. He still feels vulnerable, but not as intensely as when he stood in the initial chamber.

It had felt great to be standing upright without banging his head on the ceiling. He spent a great deal of the journey to this spot on hands and knees. For a few seconds, he stretched until his back made several audible pops. Sam did not realize that he is claustrophobic until today. The approximate forty feet of rock between him and the outside air is oppressive. He only knows the depth beneath the original room because it is stated so on the map.

Looking around the chamber of his destination, it appeared almost perfectly spherical with three tunnels, other than the one he used to get here, going off in different directions. The diameter of the open space spanned between fifteen and twenty feet. There is no way that this could be completely natural. Sometime, somebody came in here and helped clear out the walls.

In the center of the room, under the highest point of the ceiling, a raised area protruded from the floor, like a dais. On this dais, a rectangular block of stone about three feet long by two feet wide had been placed. As he neared the rectangular stone, he found a crease around the entire top portion convincing him that it is actually a flat cover on top.

Let’s just grab this thing and get the hell out of here, said Sam.

Muhammad, quiet as ever, only nodded. If he felt the effects of claustrophobia, it didn’t register on his face. Damn him. At least the sound of his voice bouncing off the walls seemed normal this time, unlike at the entrance.

Going to opposite sides of the big block, they grabbed the cover together and lifted. The cover, having been in the same location for possibly centuries, did not budge at first. The dust had collected and compressed to form a rudimentary type of cement, holding it in place.

Working together, they tried a second time with a little more effort. A couple of grunts later and the dirt seal broke with a loud crack. The cover slid to the side and fell off. The impact of it hitting the floor sounded like a gunshot in the quiet chamber, breaking it into two pieces. Sam cringed a little inwardly. He has seen enough shows on the National Geographic Channel and on the Discovery Channel to know that this is not how an archaeological find should be treated. However, he does not have the training or patience to handle this situation properly. Sam also wants to get out of the cave quickly. He felt that he might have a screaming fit if he did not quickly start making progress to get out of this crushing atmosphere.

Sam nervously looks around him. He is unable to shake the feeling that he’s being watched. To make matters worse, he feels as if he is doing something wrong, like he should not be here, as if he should be embarrassed or ashamed to even be standing in this chamber.

For some reason, he almost feels like he is about to be caught sneakily rummaging through a girl’s underwear drawer. He involuntarily shivered at the pervasive wrongness hammering his senses. Looking around again, he can see nothing in the darkness. Sam shined his flashlight into each of the three tunnels, but saw no strange face or movement of shadow.

The men shined their flashlights on the area that had been covered. The stone contained a hollow in the center about eighteen inches by thirty inches. Muhammad made an audible gasp. Sam looked in silence, too stunned to react. Inside the stone hollow sat what looks like a shiny metallic, yet ornately carved rectangular metallic block. Again, the information on the map confirmed this, saying that the block is hollow, and concealing a container for the item in question, sort of a box within a box.

What the map does not say is that the inner box is the color of bright gold, even through the layer of dust. It can’t be real gold, can it? Sam blew on the object, stirring the dust into a cloud. Muhammad jerked his head back to avoid it getting into his face. Sam shrugged apologetically, and said, Sorry.

When the dust settled again, the color of the metal only shined more brightly. Mr. High and Mighty said only for me to bring the contents of the ornate box, not the box itself. He didn’t need to know the inner box might be pure gold. What Mason does not know might be very beneficial for Sam. Although, why doesn’t Mr. Omniscient know this, he seems to be knowledgeable of everything else? That is something he will just have to worry about when he gets back.

Muhammad and Sam grabbed the cover of the inner box and lifted it out. It moved much more easily than the cover to the outer stone, but it is quite heavy. To Sam’s mind, that is a good thing. Isn’t gold supposed to be heavy? Trying to keep his mind on the task at hand, he shined the flashlight into the inner box. For several seconds, he could only stare at the content in confusion. He has no idea what he is looking at. His mind is not making any sense out of it.

As per Mason’s instructions, he held a Geiger counter up to it to verify that it isn’t radioactive. The reading is no greater than that of the stone walls in the cave, which is negligible. Mr. Mason’s instructions are specific in that the item is not to be touched with bare hands. The strange looking metal it appears to be made from, however, appears so bizarre that Sam is unable to help himself. It is dull gray with an oily look, but even though the surface is relatively smooth, it is not reflecting light.

What’s more, it does not even seem to acknowledge that the light is being shined on it. The heavy flashlight casts a powerful beam in the dark cave. The surrounding case carved out of solid rock brightened as the flashlight’s rays touched its surface. The inner case, which looks like it is made from pure gold, brightly shimmered from the halogen light, even through the layer of dust.

The object, in contrast, seems to defy the light. It is almost as though he is looking at a fake image superimposed over a cave background. No, that isn’t quite right. The superimposed image is the real one. The background seems to be false by comparison. The eyes are drawn to the object like a moth to a flame, except this flame is dark, instead of light. He can see it clearly, even make out the smallest details, but the light does not seem to directly touch the outer surface.

The thing is some sort of enigma. The metal has an ancient look. It appears crude and intricate at the same time. It is a ring, perfectly round on the outer circumference with a diameter of approximately eight inches. However, the inner wall of the ring is thicker at one side, flattening out to an even plane, looking from the correct angle, it appears like a clear ball holding about an inch of liquid. The opposite side, on the interior, is nearly wire thin. Where the ring is the thickest, there are three heavy square spikes penetrating from the inside out.

The spikes, which appear similar to railroad ties in the center of the circle, are parallel and extend for about twelve inches past the exterior of the ring, the middle spike extends an additional three inches past the outer two. They each taper down to a razor sharp, double-edged blade outside of the circle, maintaining the same width until the final three inches, where they narrow down to needle sharp points.

Looking at the object from the side, both the ring and the spikes are consistently almost an inch thick. There is a semi-cylindrical attachment on the underside of the ring, attached beneath where the spikes penetrate the circle, flattening out a little on the bottom end, with one hole approximately four inches by one inch. A second hole is back a little from the end and is about one inch in diameter. Both holes open in the same direction as the spikes. It looks like it was made to fit on a hand, similar to a glove, with the thumb coming out of the smaller hole and the four fingers through the larger one.

Sam asked Muhammad, Do you know what this is?

Muhammad shook his head.

Sam looked at it for several more seconds, trying to decide if it is some kind of weapon or ceremonial peace. He is reminded of Wolverine from the X-Men who had metal claws project from between his knuckles, except this could be worn has a glove. What type of metal is it made from? Why the hell does light not seem to touch it? There are a lot of questions, but no answers. A number of ancient civilizations seemed to fly by the seat of their pants, making up a god for this or that phenomenon. After employment in his current position, he had to have a crash course, but this is beyond his realm of knowledge. He doubts that Mason will give him an answer. But, creepy or not, he is darn well going to ask him about this thing.

Sam can’t stand it any longer. His job is to get the thing out of this infernal hole in the ground and back to America, all he needs to do is wrap it in the burlap sack and stick it in his backpack, but his curiosity is now piqued beyond his ability to control. He has to get a closer look at it. Temporarily forgetting Mason’s instructions, Sam reaches down and picks the object up.

He brought it up close to his face. It must be hollow because it is almost weightless. Whatever it is, it’s very cold. Strange, it is not particularly cold in this room or even in the box, but this thing feels as cold as ice. Something isn’t quite right about it. Sam doesn’t know what it is, but it feels wrong. There is something unnatural about it. It seems to vibrate from some unknown power source, but then again, he cannot physically feel it vibrating. A dull throb began to pulse from between his ears. He is feeling sick to his stomach.

He stares at the artifact. His eyes opened widely as it seems to brighten a little from some inner glow. The brighter it gets, the more his head throbs. Sam hears the sound of angry hornets buzzing in his ears. He didn’t remember seeing any sort of insects as he entered, but he can’t seem to take his eyes away from the object to find out for sure.

Suddenly the thing is ripped from his hands. Sam blinked a few times and then fell to his knees. The stone box and dais are directly in front of him as he drops, so he does not fall all the way down. For several seconds, he cannot generate enough energy to turn his head and look at his companion. He can do no more than continue staring into his now empty hands.

Weakly, in a voice that sounds as course as the texture of sandpaper, he asks, What are you doing? Muhammad had gotten the burlap sack and used it to cover his hands as he pulled it out of Sam’s grasp. He rolled the object up in the sack, removing it from sight as he pointed to Sam’s shirt. Sam looked down and saw that it is stained crimson with his own blood.

Bright red droplets are still falling from his nose and the taste of copper is strong in his mouth. His strength is beginning to return, but slowly. His blood had also coated his hands and wrists. He wiped his fingers on the leg of his pants and inserted one into his mouth. When he pulled it out, he saw that it is again covered with blood. Apparently, his gums are bleeding also. Running his tongue over his teeth to the outside of his gums, he can feel that several of his teeth are loose.

Again, he looked at Muhammad, What happened?

Muhammad spoke the most words at one time that Sam had heard him utter, After you picked it up, I asked if you would like me to wrap it, but you did not answer. I shook you with no response, so I pulled it out of your hands.

Sam did not remember any of that, only that it felt wrong. Sam asked, I didn’t hear you talking. All I heard was some flying insects. Did you see it glow?

Yes, but it stopped when I pulled it away.

Muhammad’s eyes are wide with fear. He did not tell him that the object glowed when Sam’s blood dripped on it. He also did not mention the strange feeling he experienced when he touched Sam on the wrist, yanking his hand away as though burned. Muhammad grabbed the burlap sack and shook him violently at the shoulder. With the sack as a buffer, he did not get that strange, wrong feeling. Sticking his hand inside the sack, he then slapped Sam to get his attention but Sam’s eyes did not even blink.

He then covered his hands with the sack and yanked the thing out of Sam’s hands. Muhammad said a silent prayer of thanks. The glow from the thing began to make Muhammad nauseous, but he is feeling better now that he can no longer see it. He saw the glow fade out when it broke contact with Sam. Quickly, he went behind Sam and stuffed the sack in his backpack to hide his shaking hands. He looked around the cave in all directions but cannot see the insects that Sam stated that he heard.

Now that it is put away, the throbbing in Sam’s head subsided. The sound of buzzing hornets had almost completely gone. He no longer feels as sick to his stomach and his bleeding nose is down to a trickle. Things are starting to seem a little more normal. Why did my nose bleed? Did I hit my face on that stone lid when we moved it?

Sam can finally focus his eyes. What they now focused on is that golden box. Trying to shake off the remains of the strange feeling, he