The Nephilim Factor: Evil of Women and Angels

By Donald R. Cope

The Nephilim Factor by Donald R. Cope

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• Language: English
• Publisher: Page Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Jul 29, 2021
• ISBN: 9781634177016

Book preview

Prologue 

The cloud bank forming to the west seemed symbolic of how every Sunday afternoon overshadowed the comfort and enjoyment of the weekend. This was the third year that Joe made the same Sunday evening commute from the far western Atlanta suburb to the Atlanta Hartsfield Airport to catch the 8:15 flight to Boston. At the time, Joe accepted his management board-level position as vice president of sales for McVey Endoscopy. This was supposed to be a temporary thing. The family agreed that it was bad timing to move to Boston since Michelle’s orthodontic practice was just getting off the ground, and Little Joey had started middle school. 

So the compromise was for Joe to accept the position but commute until Joey was ready to go into high school. Of course, each year, Michelle’s practice grew, and it was becoming clear that she had no desire to move to the Northeast. In the meantime, Joey made the junior varsity football squad, an accomplishment next to knighthood in this Atlanta area suburb. 

So every Sunday, the same ritual took place. The family would go to church services, come back to the house, and hang out at the pool or in front of the TV until around 3:00 when Joe would start getting antsy to pack and get ready to head to the airport. 

The so-called compromise benefitted everyone’s selfish goals but no one’s family relationship. Michelle seemed more career driven than ever, measuring her esteem by the monthly receipts of the orthodontic practice. The marital relationship was comfortable and sweet. Perhaps the best way to describe it was nice. 

At church this morning, Pastor Davis had preached from some passage in the Bible that said something to the effect of You are neither hot nor cold… how I wish you were one or the other… but since you are lukewarm, I will spit you out of my mouth! 

Joe had been daydreaming when he heard the verse, but it passed through his mind that it was a fair representation of what his marriage had become. Lukewarm. While the sermon dragged on, Joe thought about the early years with Michelle. There were times that they were madly in love back then, times when they couldn’t wait to see each other. Once, after being apart for just three days, Michelle met Joe at the airport, and the two were so hungry for each other that they pulled into the cell phone lot, got into the back of Joe’s company car and made love with abandon. 

There were hot arguments back then as well. One time, after arguing over purchasing a new sectional for the family room, Michelle was so mad she put Joe’s socks through the shredder in the office. They were volatile back then. Volatile and alive! 

Now they were nice. Joe couldn’t remember the last time the two of them made love with abandon. It wasn’t that sex wasn’t satisfying. Joe knew exactly what put Michelle over the top. At the same time, Michelle could say the right words with just the right touch, and Joe’s body responded like a teenager’s. Yet, like the rest of the routine of Sundays, Michelle and Joe were on a predictable and comfortable schedule. They always woke up early on Sunday before church; the two of them would hurry into the bathroom to brush their teeth and then return to bed for their fifteen minutes of foreplay that always ended in the two of them having simultaneous orgasms. Then they would kiss briefly and get up to get ready for church. 

Joe was thinking about all this when his thoughts were interrupted by Pastor Davis calling the congregation to join him in prayer. 

And now, Lord, may we never be lukewarm in our love for you! Let us be red-hot—no, white-hot in our desire to serve you, to love you, to do everything we can to bring us to the day when we hear you say ‘Well done, my good and faithful servant!’ Amen! 

Joe rehashed those thoughts as he pulled the carry-on bag from the closet and began to pull together a few business casual button-downs and polos for the next few days. At least he would be in the office all week and wouldn’t be making customer visits necessitating a suit and dress clothes. Joe gathered a pair of jeans and a few T-shirts for the evenings as well as workout clothes and sports shoes. 

Despite the aggressive work schedule, Joe was committed to his fitness routine. He always told everyone that he worked out to maintain his health, but even as he packed, he glanced in the mirror and was proud of his physique. Few men in their middle-forties still had the V-shaped upper body that Joe worked so hard to maintain. He wondered as he looked in the mirror whether any of that mattered to Michelle. If it did, she never said anything much about it. She seemed more obsessed with her premature gray hair and her wrinkles, which she smoothed by exchanging Botox shots for doing free orthodontic work on her dermatologist’s son. 

Joe threw a few pairs of boxers and socks in the carry-on and zipped it closed. He picked it up and carried it downstairs and put it by the door. 

Are you all packed, hon? Michelle asked. 

Yeah, with the rain beginning to come down, I thought I’d leave a little bit early tonight. Maybe catch dinner at the airport. Is that okay with you? Joe responded. 

Whatever you want to do, hon. Just take your time and be careful on the way! Michelle answered sweetly. I’ll miss you! 

Joe went over to her and kissed her on the forehead. 

I’ll miss you too, babe, Joe whispered. Have a good week! 

Joe grabbed the car keys from the key ring by the door. Then he lifted the carry-on and his computer bag and put them in the trunk of the Buick. He opened the garage door and was thankful not to have to get into the car in the rain. It was pouring, the rain pounding against the windshield as Joe backed the Buick out of the garage and down the long driveway to the street. He turned the wipers on high and looked back at the English Tudor–styled house that he rarely inhabited anymore. 

Joe turned on the radio and rotated the dial to a few of his favorite stations on XM-Sirius. Joe loved a variety of music alternating between music of the 80s, current hits, and his most recent favorite, smooth jazz. He found the jazz station and settled into the warm leather seat for his thirty-minute drive to the airport that, with the relentless rain, might take a bit longer. 

Joe’s thoughts were drifting to the weekly-review meeting that was scheduled each Monday at 8:00 a.m. When the company was below forecast as they were a couple of years ago, these meetings were brutal for Joe as he would be grilled over everything the sales organization was doing wrong. For the past twenty-three months, however, sales were outstripping the forecast by a healthy margin. Even when the company raised the forecast, Joe’s sales organization was able to find additional growth. Joe smiled as he thought about the success he had brought to the company. Joe wondered how big his bonus would be this year. The stock options alone would likely outstrip his regular salary. 

As Joe fantasized about his success, the rain intensified, making it difficult to see more than a couple of car lengths ahead. Joe slowed the Buick to about thirty miles per hour and turned on the hazard flashers. He had learned over the years never to pull over during a heavy downpour but rather to put the flashers on and follow the car ahead at a distance. So many cars have been struck at the side of the road during a rainstorm, their drivers no doubt shocked that doing what they thought was the smart thing turned out not to be such a good decision. 

The heavy downpour was going on for a few miles too many. As it began to get dark, visibility became more difficult, making driving more tedious. Joe looked at the digital clock on the dashboard and was glad that he had taken extra time to make the trip to the airport. 

The rain lightened some as Joe began to cross the narrow bridge over Martin Reservoir. The bridge was the last stretch of road before the ramp to Interstate 85, which would take Joe the rest of the way to the airport. 

The bridge was empty of traffic, and Joe upped his speed just a bit, feeling confident of the improving road conditions. Joe was about halfway across the bridge when he noticed the flashing red lights in the water on the right. At first, he thought it strange that a boat would be so close to the bridge, but as he slowed and took a second look, he realized in horror that a car had gone into the water. Immediately pulling to the side of the road, Joe brought the Buick to such a sudden stop that the car slid slightly to the right. He jumped out and yelled out over the water, Are you okay? Is anyone there? 

At first, there was no response, but when Joe shouted again, he could hear a weak but shrill voice, Help us! Please help us! 

Joe ripped off his shirt and shoes and jumped in the chilly lake. The depth of the water dropped off immediately from about two feet where the rear of the car was lodged on the bank to well over his head where the front door was positioned. 

Joe confidently swam to the front of the submerged car and found the handle to the driver’s side door. He reached for the handle and pulled it outward. The door didn’t even budge, apparently locked. He looked in the window and saw a woman in the driver’s seat and two children, one still strapped backward into its car seat and the other loose in the backseat of the car. Joe noticed that the water was quickly filling the front seat. 

Joe pounded on the glass, and the woman looked at him in desperation. The fear on her face was as evident as the cut across her forehead. Dazed, she motioned to the windows and shook her head back and forth, indicating that the doors of the car were locked and the windows were inoperable. The depth of the water at the driver’s door must have been over six feet because Joe couldn’t find his footing. When he pulled himself up on the side of the car it began to shift forward as if it were hanging on some invisible but vulnerable overhang of the bank. The waterline was just inches from the windshield, and Joe backed himself off the car in order to keep the car from falling into the abyss. 

Joe suddenly had an inspiration. If he could get the woman to pull the trunk release, he thought he could get them out safely. 

Pull the trunk release! Joe screamed. 

The woman looked at him blankly. 

Joe pointed to the back of the car and then down to where the trunk release should be. 

Pull the trunk release! he shouted again. 

This time, she seemed to understand and reached down below the waterline. 

Joe heard the trunk pop open and quickly swam to the bank. He gently raised the trunk lid as wide as it would open and felt around for the seat release. When he found it, he pulled it toward him slowly, and the seat gave way. 

The seven-year-old boy in the backseat immediately reached out his hand. 

What’s your name, son? Joe asked. 

Jared, the boy quickly answered. 

Jared, give me your hand and slowly, very slowly let me lift you out of the car! Joe directed. 

Go, Jared! Listen to the man! the woman screamed from the front seat. 

Stay calm, ma’am, Joe called out. I’ll get all of you out of here. 

Jared reached out his hand, and Joe slowly and steadily pulled him out of the car through the trunk. As soon as Jared was free from the trunk, the car shifted once again with a scraping sound coming from the undercarriage. The car’s hood dove deeper into the water, sending a new wave of water into the cabin of the automobile. 

Jared’s mother screamed. Joe quickly placed Jared on the bank and moved back to the open car trunk. 

I’ve got you! Joe called out as calmly as he could. Unbuckle your daughter’s seat belt, and slowly let her float back to me. 

But she’ll drown! the woman screamed back. 

No, ma’am, Joe reassured her, I won’t let her get underwater. Let her go, and I will catch her. 

With a loud cry of anguish, the woman unbuckled the seat belt and let the little girl float backwards. 

Joe couldn’t see the child but swept his arms back and forth across the back of the car. He felt a leg sticking through the opening between the backseat and the trunk and carefully pulled the child to safety. Joe turned away from the car and placed the child on the bank next to her brother. 

Suddenly, there was a creaking noise and then a loud splash as the car lost its footing and slid completely into the lake. Joe turned and dove into the water trying to get to the car before the trunk closed. The car was barely still afloat as Joe reached the trunk. 

The water was clearly well over ten feet deep, and Joe knew there was little time to get the woman out of the car. Joe hung on to the car bumper like a life raft. 

Your kids are safe! Joe yelled out. Now it’s your turn. Slowly crawl to the back of the car. 

But I think I’m too big to get through the opening to the trunk, she answered. 

You’re fine. Come to me. Listen to my voice, Joe instructed. 

I’m going to die! she cried out. 

No. You are going to put your head underwater through the opening in the trunk, and I will pull you through! Your kids need you! 

The woman did as Joe asked. She put her head underwater and pushed through the opening. Her head was back above water, but she was stuck halfway through the backseat hatch. 

I knew I was too big! she wept. I’m not going to make it! 

Joe pushed himself up almost into the trunk and reached down to pull her. She seemed firmly wedged in the opening. 

The opening to the trunk is only made of felt—and it’s wet! Joe reasoned with her. You can push through it! Now push, and push hard! Joe shouted. 

The woman suddenly pushed and broke through. As she pushed into the trunk, the weight of the two adults was too heavy for the sinking car. The vehicle suddenly toppled backward into the water, dumping both of them into the lake. 

The water was thick with silt, and Joe’s contact lenses had been lost somewhere in the struggle of trying to save the woman and her children. He could see nothing, and all he could hear was faint splashing sounds somewhere in the distance. His head was pounding with the need for oxygen. He thrashed around trying to find his bearings. His fear was increasing as quickly as his heartbeat pounding in the silence of the abyss. He instinctively took a breath, and immediately, everything fell silent. 

Then suddenly, he could see a beacon, perhaps the car’s headlights or someone trying to guide him to safety. He swam toward the light. The water seemed to offer no resistance as he got closer to the source of the light. It was more like gliding than swimming now. Joe suddenly had the realization that he was going to be okay. 

Chapter One 

The Arrival 

The light grew ever stronger, so bright that Joe was surprised his eyes weren’t blinded by the intensity. Joe was breathing normally now with fear completely dissipating and a strange peacefulness substituting in its place. 

In the brightness, the light transformed from white to the full spectrum of color. It was as if someone had placed a glass prism somewhere around Joe, and suddenly, there were colors that he had never before experienced or observed. 

Joe looked all around, and suddenly, from the spectrum of light came images of splendor. Something like mountains, the sea, forests, and deserts all filling the space around him, each with a full range of scents and warmth. Each scene seemed somewhat familiar and yet completely foreign to Joe’s background or experience. In awe, Joe spun around taking in the overwhelming beauty of the scenery around him. 

Then figures began to emerge from the light. At first, the human-like forms seemed ghostly and undefined. Then one by one, the figures became familiar and filled Joe with a warmth and fullness that he had never felt before. 

As the figures became clearer, Joe began to recognize people that had long since been gone from his life. His grandmother, his mother, the lady from the laundromat in the town Joe lived in as a child; suddenly, a whole cadre of spirits formed surrounding Joe. 

It was as if everyone in the world recognized Joe, and even more strangely, Joe immediately knew every single person surrounding him. Some looked different from what he remembered, yet, like a dream where the faces don’t line up with the feelings, Joe knew exactly each and every person. 

Joe excitedly gasped and squealed like a child seeing these old friends and family members. There was Sally Salinksky, the little girl in a wheelchair from his first-grade class at Darlington Primary School, only she was a beautiful grown woman with full use of her arms and legs. 

Dave Carlucci, a friend who died in a car accident while Joe was still in high school, threw his arms around Joe. Dave didn’t really speak out loud, and yet somehow, Joe felt exactly as if he got the whole story from Dave just through that brief connection. The friendship felt deeper, more spiritual, and more intimate than anything Joe had remembered feeling in the past. 

Joe’s grandmother, whom he lovingly called Gammy, came forward. The last time Joe saw Gammy was when she was in the hospital. He lived for years with the image of her slight, seventy-pound frame invaded with tubes and needles while she died of lung cancer. However, Gammy wasn’t frail now as she hugged Joe. Instead, she looked like she was before the illness, a robust and healthy woman. Upon her embrace, Joe knew that whatever pain had beset her on earth was far behind her now. 

Suddenly, Joe’s mom was standing before him. Her radiance was beyond the other spirits for a mother’s love is special, even in this strange spectrum of light. Her embrace sent shock waves within Joe’s soul, breathing power and goodness into whatever creases of darkness somehow had remained inside. Joe’s soul was filled with love, gratitude, and a sense of hope finally come to fruition. 

One after another, each form came forward and surrounded Joe, an almost endless parade of well-wishers. Most of the images were people Joe knew well, yet some were only those he admired from a distance. 

George Washington Carver, Eleanor Roosevelt, Jim Marcum—Joe’s professor of political science at University of Minnesota, and Elvis Presley. Every role model, every single admired soul, sometimes many at a time, surrounded Joe in some kind of cosmic handshake. With each connection, Joe felt as if he was ingesting knowledge, love, and spirit. 

Then came a bunch of spirits that Joe didn’t even recognize. Some were children, others adults. With each encounter came a sudden awareness of gratitude and love. Hatty Gabbert, a woman who was once homeless, touched Joe, and he suddenly realized that he had once served her Thanksgiving dinner at a shelter and had been moved by her story, giving her a crisp $100 bill to help her get home to her family. Raymond Lamoure, the first openly gay man at Joe’s company who eventually died of complications of AIDS, came up to Joe to embrace him. His spirit made Joe aware that Joe once stood up for Raymond when some underlings at the company were making fun of him. Patty Pershern embraced Joe’s spirit, thanking him for mentoring her on the job. William Ungerhower reached out and touched Joe, and something like a saxophone sweetly brought on sounds like some kind of a musical entrée. When William’s soul touched Joe, he understood the special accolades. Apparently, while Joe taught a fourth-grade Sunday school class, William decided to devote his life to God. Joe remembered some saying from church about the angels in heaven rejoicing when a soul is saved. Joe wasn’t sure whether the saying came from the Bible or was just something Christians repeat over and over until it becomes accepted as the truth. Still, with the sweet music playing, Joe was sure that it must be reality. Joe’s influence was far-reaching as William later became a pastor that negotiated the sparing of a village from destruction in Tanzania. 

Every positive thing Joe had ever done to anyone seemed to be acknowledged as soul after soul presented themselves to Joe’s spirit. As each soul reached out and touched Joe, the goodness seemed to transfer from spirit to spirit, filling both. Joe’s spirit seemed to be changing, somehow growing and deepening in itself. It was the first part of the preparation for living in a perfect world. 

Joe was absorbing all of this incredible warmth when a cloudy thought emerged. What about all the people I’ve hurt? Joe thought. 

Almost as if on cue, a whole new grouping of spirits appeared. These were those whom Joe had lied to, cheated, damaged, hurt, or wronged in any way. A wave of fear started to grasp Joe’s spirit. Yet one by one, those whom Joe knew that he damaged and those whom he was unaware of his negative impact on came forward and touched Joe’s spirit. 

Mary Morgan came forward, someone Joe wasn’t sure he even recognized. When she touched him, he remembered that this was the girl in fifth grade he played a prank on by hiding her purse in the coat closet. She cried that day, and everyone made fun of her for crying over something so little. With Mary’s touch, Joe’s spirit realized the rest of the story. Mary’s mom was physically and emotionally abusive, and when Mary came home without her purse that day, her mother