The Black Pyramid Book One: Daughters of Twilight

By Collette Jackson-Fink

An earthquake hits near the city of Waterloo, Iowa, caused by the sudden appearance of a gigantic black pyramid. Explorer teams organized by the military, FBI, local law enforcement, and bio Labs, whose objective is to create the perfect warrior. Dane Coles along with other members of a special tactical team and lead by Captain Ivan Steel. Partw

• Language: English
• Publisher: ReadersMagnet LLC
• Release date: Jan 12, 2022
• ISBN: 9781956780420

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The Black Pyramid Book One: Daughters of Twilight

Copyright © 2022 by Collette Jackson-Fink

Published in the United States of America

ISBN Paperback: 978-1-956780-43-7

ISBN eBook: 978-1-956780-42-0

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any way by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording or otherwise without the prior permission of the author except as provided by USA copyright law.

The opinions expressed by the author are not necessarily those of ReadersMagnet, LLC.

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Book design copyright © 2022 by ReadersMagnet, LLC. All rights reserved.

Cover design by Ericka Obando

Interior design by Mary Mae Romero

Contents

Prologue

Chapter One: The Black Towering Pyramid

Chapter Two: Engagement

Chapter Three: Contact

Chapter Four: Debrief

Chapter Five: Confession

Chapter Six: Seeking

Chapter Seven: History I

Chapter Eight: DNA

Chapter Nine: Connecting

Chapter Ten: Trace

Chapter Eleven: Foul Play

Chapter Twelve: Hybrids

Chapter Thirteen: The Roof

Chapter Fourteen: The Garden

Chapter Fifteen: Daybreak

Chapter Sixteen: In the Blood

Chapter Seventeen: Submission

Chapter Eighteen: The Changing

Chapter Nineteen: The Binding

Chapter Twenty: Knowing

Chapter Twenty-One: Fusion

Chapter Twenty-Two: Redemption

Epilogue: Then Comes Ruin

Prologue

His shadow moved sluggishly across the shiny black walls, the massive black tunnels, an occasional block of stairs, and twists and turns. He stumbled, falling hard on the stone floor that matched the shiny walls. He lay unmoving for a moment, trying to gather his bearings. He looked around in the dimly lit room, or was it a tunnel? It was too hard to tell. He glanced down at the floor beneath him and could make out the same familiar design covered the walls. He remembered there were many rooms and tunnels...and there had been nearly forty men, and only he had gotten up. Only him...

His head snapped around, remembering. They were following him. He had to get up, to get out. He struggled to his feet, his head still full of the fog that had settled on him and the others. It had dulled their senses, knocking them into a state of unconsciousness. Somehow, he had awakened enough to get away from the tainted room. He realized his clothes and gear had been removed. The chill of the air against his naked frame kept him awake, but just barely...It was the women that made him move...

He glanced forward as he staggered ahead. He knew they were behind him somewhere in the shadows. His breath came in uneven repetitions full of groans, and his mouth was bleeding. He must have hit it when he fell. He blinked, thinking he saw a light ahead. There was a sudden flash of light, then a rumble of thunder. It was storming. He followed the flashes and soon found himself outside, standing under a high stone archway, huge pillars of stone on each side. He stepped forward, and again he fell, but this time down the stone stairs to a mud puddle below. He crawled on his hands and knees, trying to distance himself from the structure that stood behind him like an ominous gaping grin. He finally stood, seeing an incline of mud and grass before him that led to the makeshift ladder they had used to descend into the black stone structure. Desperately he climbed, not stopping until he was at the top and on the platform that led to the even ground high above and away from the stone tomb. Once there he glanced back.

The storm raged. The cold sheet of rain pelted him as he held up one hand to shield his eyes as he looked back at the entrance. With the flash of lightning, he saw the two under the archway watching him. He turned and began running down the stretch of road that had been man-made for the mission. He could still see all the equipment that stood around the area, spread everywhere. He needed to run, to get to the main highway above...to get away.

Another day, another dollar, Max thought as he reached for the radio. This damn storm was going to put him behind his schedule again, which would minimize his pit stops, which meant that he would have to disappoint the wife again. No trinkets from consignment stores that were so well-known up in these parts.

Damn, he sighed, pressing the button as the digital numbers raced by. He needed some hard-core rock to keep him focused, at least until he got to the next gas up. Every time he came through the Midwest there was plenty of church music; some even made him tap his feet. Then there were the Country tunes that always came in clear no matter what part of the state you were in. However, tonight, this storm was playing with his vision. His wipers could hardly keep up with the downpour of rain that splashed against his windshield. He was thankful he had taken the four-lane highway. The lines were hard enough to see, and it seemed he was the only one out tonight.

Love bites, sang the radio as he took his finger off the button. Def Leppard. That would work. He glanced down at his watch. 2:27 a.m. Later, he would think it was a good thing he didn’t linger on the time as he looked up and saw the naked man standing in the middle of the highway, waving his arms frantically, looking like a ghostly apparition.

Damn, damn! Max screamed as his foot hit the brakes, bringing the cabin to a screeching halt. He thought how ugly this could have been if he had had a load behind him. He could envision his rig jackknifing, sending its contents all over the highway, not to mention what would be left of the man.

With the rig stopped, Max took a deep breath and tried to peer through his front window into the blanket of rain. He saw a flash of lightning, followed by a rumble of thunder, but no man.

Oh, God, he moaned as he opened his door and jumped out, making his way to the front of the rig, trying to mentally prepare himself for what he was about to see. He peered around the front, steadying himself against the truck, and glanced down. The naked man was on his knees in front of the truck, arms outstretched, eyes closed as if accepting his fate. Max would think later that maybe the man had deliberately thrown himself out in front of his rig.

Jesus, dude! Max said, stepping toward the man. You all right? I could have killed you!

Max would also note later the total look of confusion on the man’s face. He was sure the man wasn’t aware that he was bare-assed and kneeling on what should have been a busy highway, in front of a truck that should have left nothing, but a mangled piece of meat tangled in its grill.

The angels, the man whispered.

Max bent down to hear the man. Did he say angels? He reached down to help the man to his feet. Can you stand? You need to stand so I can get you into the truck.

The angels, the man said again, standing slowly, looking around as if expecting someone to step out of the shadows. Max looked around them. There was no one. Just them and this crazy storm. They were coming to carry me home.

Okay, Max said, gently placing his hand on the man’s shoulder. We’re getting soaked out here, and you need to get inside the truck, man. It’s freezing out here. You’re going to get pneumonia. The man looked down at himself as if just becoming aware that he was naked. A frown crossed his face.

Yes, cold. He let Max lead him to the passenger side. Once he was safely in, Max made his way around the cab to the driver’s side. That’s when he heard the noise. It sounded like flapping wings, but to be heard through a raging storm.

Max jumped into the rig quickly, locking the door behind him. For a second, he stared out through the rain-covered windshield, then the sides. He could hear his heart beating in his ears as the sound of Def Leppard sang out in the background. He reached down, turning the radio off...listening. His breathing, the man’s breathing beside him, was all he could hear beneath the storm. This man’s madness was spreading to him.

Did you see them? The sound of the man’s voice caused Max to nearly jump through the roof. They’re coming for to carry me home.

Max stared over at the man, who was shaking now. Max reached back behind the seat, pulling a quilt that his wife often sent with him if he had to stop for a nap at a rest stop. He tossed the quilt to the man.

You got any gum? the stranger asked.

No, man. Cover yourself up, dude, he said, looking out the window as he did so. Max heard him start to hum, then suddenly he broke out into song.

I looked over Jordon and what did I see...

Max placed the rig into gear and slowly moved the truck forward.

Coming for to carry me home...

He was going to head for the first off-ramp he saw and drop this guy off at the nearest hospital or police station, whichever came first.

A band of angels coming after me...

Max had to admit to himself later, there was something else out there with them that night.

...coming for to carry me home...

Neither Max nor the naked man would see the two shadowed figures standing on the highway, watching them fade into the distance and still staring long after they were gone. Their pale faces, almost like porcelain dolls, beautiful faces, perfect but sad. Their bodies equally as perfect, clothed in sheer, thin material, yet the coldness did not bother them. They stood barefoot, unmoved by the storm and lightning that raged around them, staring down the empty highway after a vehicle that was no longer there as their wings swayed gently in the wind.

Chapter One

The Black Towering Pyramid

The true beauty of the massive black structure stood out under the early-morning sun. Almost resembling a pyramid, its single tower pointed toward the heavens. The base was wide, taking up most of the cornfield it had been buried under, yet a large portion of the huge structure still laid buried beneath the thick, black earth. The air buzzed with the sounds of a military transport helicopter flying overhead, then landing at ground level, revealing multiple clusters of people; a special tactical police unit, Biochem personnel dressed in orange, camera crews, and construction crews and their heavy equipment.

Several black vans were parked near makeshift military installations, the whole area was surrounded by a metal barb wire fence, and armed military personnel were strategically stationed at entry points. Outside the fence, local and national news affiliates’ vans and media trucks were parked, their satellite disks perched on the truck roofs, media personnel were scrambling around, trying to find the best spots to report from. The local news station had gotten the prime location and its national affiliate had sent their people to the hot spot to report the now front-page story first.

NBC studios, and their local Waterloo, Iowa broadcasting affiliate, news station KWLL, already had their people placed as their feed went live. KWLL’s anchorman Jeff Kaye, who sat inside the newsroom glancing into the camera before him and begin to speak.

This is, by far, the most incredible archeological find in human history. The earthquake that shook the Midwest two days ago, measuring a 7.0 on the Richter scale, unearthed this massive structure that is believed to be an ancient temple. On site is NBC’s Nancy Edwards and KWLL’s Don Stue, bringing the latest on this extraordinary find in an Iowa cornfield. Nancy and Don...

Yes, Don, Nancy said, adjusting her ear com, as you can see, there is a lot going on here. What is now being called an extraordinary archaeological find, ‘The Black Tower’ or ‘Pyramid’, here in Blackhawk County. What we can see of the structure, in comparison to a local building, would be about twenty stories high. Isn’t that correct, Don? She turned toward her fellow anchor.

That’s correct, Nancy, but it’s our understanding that there is still a major part of the structure beneath the surface of the ground...

The black van entered the secured area. It drove several feet, then stopped in front of one of the military-made buildings, this one made more solid and larger than the others. Two military-dressed men of high ranking exited the van and moved quickly, but fluidly to the entrance of the building. They were soon accompanied by other high-ranking personnel. Entering the building, the group of men were greeted by armed guards that escorted them down a long hallway, the shiny floor and walls reflecting their movements. Their faces were intensely serious and as cold as the metal floor their footsteps echoed from. The broadcast continued, sounding lowly throughout the building and out of open doorways.

Samples taken from the site have been carbon-dated to a time when the United States was said to have been nothing more than a frozen swampland, Don continued. The Black Tower is said to be Egyptian in design, yet carbon dating indicates that Egypt, as we know it, had not yet come into existence. So, Nancy, the question that everyone is asking is: How is it possible that this structure could have been built hundreds of thousands of years before a civilization, who, we’ve been taught to believe, developed and influenced our way of existence today? Was there something here before us?

Indeed, that is the question, Nancy stated, looking back at the camera.

***

The military group finally reached a secure area that required them to step into an x-ray device that did a complete body scan. Their skeletons filled the screens as they looked into a blue beam that passed over their faces, then back to their eyes, stopping. The display monitor digitally revealed the composition of their retinas, blood types, DNA structures, bone density, then flashed green for each man.

With a loud metallic thud, the two metal doors unlocked, and the men were signaled through to a special operations room. The room was large, with a mixture of personnel ranging from military special ops, Biochem units, metro police special units, to a unit of all three teams combined. Their ages ranging from twenty to forty. Their eyes followed the two military men as they took their place with the officer in a designated area toward the back of the room.

The site was first thought to be a large rock, carbon-dated to over three hundred thousand years ago. The Biochem archeologist clicked the instrument in his hand, and the high-tech visual screen in front of the room began flashing information on the Black Tower. A younger man standing off toward the back corner of the room, also dressed in black military-type garb, seemed to scan the room. He was handsome, athletically built as were most of the men in the room, but his eyes held a hardness that the others did not. Their cool greenness made them glint in the darkened room. Special ops member Dane Coles had taken note of the man’s scan. He glanced down at the operation’s stat sheet. Ivan Steel was the man’s name.

These tunnels, the Biochem archeologist continued, with digital maps of the exterior and interior of the tower flashing across the screen of what had already been discovered. An array of colorful readouts showed atmospheric temperatures, pressures, and densities that danced across the screen as well. lead somewhere far below, and we believe from the echoes that we are receiving, there are indications of possible activity in the lower chambers. The screen changed to the external view of the Black Towering Pyramid.

Question: How did it get here? he continued. The information that has been coming in leads us to believe that this structure has been here before the land mass separated, which means that the U.S. is not the youngest of civilizations. Echoes have also revealed possible roads and other linking structures, indicating a village, perhaps even a small town, beneath this county. Our concern is, are we going to be dealing with hostiles or friendlies?

The camera zoomed on a highlighted area. This is an area in which we have no recon. That’s where the special teams come in. Civilian Captain Neal Watson...

Captain Watson, a man of about forty and six foot two also had that athletic look about him, but he had about twenty years over the seated men. His bronze skin and athletic build made him look as if he just came off a football field after a friendly game with the boys. He was a by-the-book man, but flexible when he had to be. Several of the special ops men had been personally selected by him. He was often thought of as the hammer of the department, his strong African/Indian features made him stand out. He stood next to the Biochem archeologist.

Gentlemen, he started, you probably know from your brief that you’re going to be running into some very strange shit, and that’s putting it lightly. We have thirty-nine Biochem personnel missing who are believed to be in those tunnels below us being held hostage by a group or several groups of hostiles. We’ve heard your questions, comments, and concerns. We’ve incorporated a plan to retrieve the hostages. Now it’s time to activate it.

Captain Watson pointed to the corner of the screen where photos of the missing personnel randomly appeared with their personal data. As stated before, there are thirty-nine missing, all ranging from twenty to forty years of age, taken from this site. We believe possibly from this position. He hit a button on the screen activator and the highlighted area formed into a visual place displaying darkened tunnels and twisting corners. It was an all-male professional archaeology team. The problems started when they broke the door seals on what they thought was the burial chamber. Photos showed a close-up on the black marble stone carved doors. Debris lay scattered on the shiny black floor where the sealant had been blown away.

They went inside, and something was waiting for them. Less than seventy-two hours ago, one captive was picked up not far from the Black Tower/Pyramid, currently in the hospital; dehydrated, delirious, and ranting about angels. His team was financed by Biochem Industries, and for obvious reasons, they have taken an active role in retrieving the archeologists that are still missing. Biochem...

Suddenly, a well-dressed man stepped forward. He was of medium build, about five eleven and weighed 180 pounds, all muscle. His name was Robert. He had a head full of short, unruly hair that swayed over his forehead. He was considered handsome for a scientist, whose duties also included being an on-staff doctor. His glasses seemed almost too big for his face.

We have specially treated the uniforms and equipment you will be taking with you. Our basic function, because of special precautions to protect you, is to treat infected hostages, containment of captives, and to isolate the enclosure for hazardous inspection. Biochem has put together a medical retrieval team for any emergencies that may occur.

Our knowledge of them, started Captain Watson, is limited. We do know that they are hostile and combat worthy.

We are talking highly sophisticated intellectuals. Be assured that this information comes from a reliable source, added Robert.

They kill with their hands or can take your weapon from you, stick it up your ass, and empty the clip before you even know you’ve been shot. Captain Watson looked around the room, hoping his last words had sunk in. His eyes came to rest on Detective Thorn. Known to many as the ego of the club, he would be the one to cause problems, if any. Watson didn’t have to wait long.

What kind of weapons are they packing? asked Thorn, staring down at the special pass that had given him access to this meeting. He wasn’t pleased that the photo of him showed only portions of his suntanned face. After several seconds, Thorn looked up, awaiting an answer.

They’re not. Watson was watching Thorn now, along with several others, as he knew his answer still floated in the air.

They’re not? Thorn frowned. Surely, he heard wrong. He looked around the room, his question echoing from others near him. His eyes soon fell back to Captain Watson.

I repeat, no weapons, Captain Watson responded louder this time.

Dane had sat back, taking the information in, analyzing what was being said, and more so, what was not being said. He knew Watson and Thorn and knew the two men could not be further apart. He had studied the bios on Biochem and read the stats on the others involved. The Black Tower was a true source of fascination and a kind of cautious terror to him, yet when told he would be a part of the special unit involved, he had been more than willing. It meant dealing with Thorn and his badged followers, but even that didn’t deter him from accepting this challenge.

Sir, Dane glanced down at the stats sheet before him. The enemy had not been identified. Are these ex-military? Political renegades? Foreign militia. Rebels against the state? An internal group of men—

Not men. Women.

The room suddenly stung of a heavy silence at Watson’s words. Just as quickly, nervous chuckles followed. They became louder as more of the men joined in. But there were several who had not joined the laughter. Dane was one of them as he tried to read the deep frown lines on Watson’s face.

Women? he heard Thorn say. Piece of cake, he smirked.

Fricking a! he heard another say.

Suddenly, there was a loud slam of flesh hitting a board as all the men turned toward the back of the room to the man dressed in military combat gear. He was a slender, yet muscular man in his mid-thirties. He stood about six foot two and from his musculature, was an easy 210 pounds in weight. His bleached blond hair was a buzz-cut close to his head. His skin was bronze, no doubt from hours of training in the sun, and his eyes had now turned to an unnatural dark green. His presence was heavy, and Dane would think about the disquieting glance he had given him earlier, the scan the man had made of him, and would later wonder why he hadn’t taken a more serious notice of him before. The name ‘Steel’ stood out in bold black letters above his right breast pocket.

A warm surge of electricity could be felt throughout the room as he made his way, in powerful strides, to the front of the room. Watson and the man name Robert respectfully stood aside, giving the high-ranking officer the space he needed for the upcoming ass-chewing he was about to deliver. Once he reached the front, he stopped, staring angrily at the men. The vein in the middle of his forehead stood out as if signaling the men of the imminent eruption about to be unleashed.

And that’s why my first team got fucked! Steel’s voice was like a dark vibration full of electrical current with barely controlled anger. We thought the same thing...women. His eyes panned the room, looking into each man’s eyes, pausing when he got to Thorn’s.

Show some skin, swing your meat, and they’re yours for life, right? Wrong! Dead wrong. We tried to talk to them. We tried to negotiate. You think women having PMS are bad? Steel began to walk down the row of chairs.

These women were pure badass, with extreme attitudes to go with it, and it took them only ten minutes to turn thirty-five highly trained men into babbling fools. No weapons you ask? Steel stood right next to Thorn now, looking down at him. You’d last maybe ten seconds...maybe, if you begged. He stared at Thorn for several more seconds as if waiting for a response. When none came, he turned away, looking back at the other men.

They used their bodies, their quickness, and our own weaknesses, against us. They used sounds and the surroundings to confuse and disorient. I have never encountered an enemy such as them before ­– or since.

Steel pressed a button on the remote he had in his hand. The room went dark and a screen in the front of the room lit up. A condensed version film of the first team was shown to them. Each man identified, and a brief presented of their training records. They were strong, battle ready, and mentally prepared for what they had to face. Then a second version was shown, post-mission. They were the same men, but different. Tired, worn, mentally disrupted. The change was unbelievable. Some of the men looked as if the life had been sucked out of them. Their muscular, strong bodies were slouched and thin; once-handsome faces now dark and drawn. Eyes that once had life in them were now empty and staring into nothingness. The screen finally went black and lights came back up in the room. The mood had taken on a different flavor. There were no more catcalls or smart-assed remarks. Some of the men had visibly paled and looked down in embarrassment. Even Thorn seemed shaken by what he had just seen.

Steel laid the remote on the table and stood still before the men. The anger that had distorted his face earlier was now gone. He had gotten his message across. His eyes swept the room again. Now, he started, his eyes coming to rest on Dane, who wants out?

***

2100 hours: The Black Towering Pyramid

It was night now and darker than it should have been for a summer night. The rain had slackened to a drizzle, though one would have thought there was a major storm passing through the area as the two large military transport helicopters came into view from the dark sky above. The whole grid had been lit up like an amusement park at night, each color coded and designated for different functions. The two birds landed inside the giant landing square. Once signaled by armed security, the doors of both opened, allowing the special team units to unload. At that very moment, it began to rain harder, the sound of distant thunder competing with the vibrations of the helicopters’ blades. The men quickly rushed into a shake and bake special operations building. Once