Alien Exodus

2. Nefilim

Forcas and Samael hid behind sprays of grass over a metre tall and two metres wide. They had been monitoring a clan of nineteen sapien-hybrids for two days. The one adult female nefilim was at least half again the size of the clan’s largest male. The gigantism mutation had also manifested in two of the clan’s pre-adolescents. Their long, heavy jaws and deep-set eyes with protruding eyebrows set them apart from the other children. And even at their young ages, they were already demonstrating aggressive, violent tendencies.

Forcas whispered, “I think either a group of males are out on a hunting foray, or a number of them have been killed off. The ratio of adult males to females is skewed.” She continued studying the group at the bottom of the ravine some three hundred metres away. Setting down the binoculars, she shook her head. “And I don’t believe the two nefilim youths are the offspring of the nefilim female.”

“Yeah,” Samael agreed. “Perhaps one of them, but not both – they’re not twins and they’re too close in age to be siblings.”

“And if she is the mother of one of them, who’s the father? Did she r**e one of the sapien-hybrid males?”

“That’s not common, but it’s not unheard of either.” Samael grimaced and asked, “What should we do?”

Forcas blew out a grunt. “According to our rules of engagement, we should probably infect.”

“But?”

“But if the retrovirus infects any of the non-nefilim clanspeople, the group may not have the numbers to survive,” Forcas replied.

“On the other hand, if we don’t infect and nefilim males return with a hunting party, they will continue to breed and spread the mutation.”

will “Can we hide and watch them for a few more days?” Forcas asked.

“We’ll only be able to keep the retrovirus vials cold for another day, perhaps a day and a half,” Samael answered.

“Okay. Then we’ll watch for one more day,” Forcas decided.

* * *

Pop, pop, pop. The reports of the charged particle weapons were loud enough to be heard by the clanspeople, but they didn’t understand what they were hearing. The sight of the three nefilim clan members flopping on the ground so startled the sapien-hybrids, they dove for cover in the nearby bushes.

Forcas had targeted the adult female nefilim. The direct hit was instantly fatal. Samael had shot the two nefilim youths, but they had been moving and he wasn’t certain he’d made kill shots. He continued watching their bodies. When one of them convulsed, Samael fired another shot. “Now they’re all dead,” he muttered.

Slowly, one of the adults in the clan inched out of the brush where he’d been hiding. He picked up a stick and approached the nefilim woman lying face down in the dirt. He poked her in the buttocks and jumped back a metre or so. Again he approached and poked and again he jumped back. He did this a couple more times then stood upright and looked around. His fellow clanspeople began warily emerging from their hiding places.

Emboldened, the man stepped forward and brought the stick down hard across the woman’s back. When she didn’t move, he lofted the stick overhead and whooped. Then demonstrated his primitive hatred of the brutal, remorseless nefilim by slamming the stick into the back of the female’s neck and head several times.

A toddler picked up a stick, not much more than a twig, waddled over and began s******g the dead nefilim’s butt. This caused the clanspeople to start laughing, particularly the adult females.

No one made to remove the dead bodies. No one even touched them. Instead, the sapiens began packing up their belongings. Within an hour the remaining sixteen members of the clan filed down a well-worn path through the tall grasses, leaving the nefilim corpses to feed the scavengers flying above or prowling across the tundra.

“That complicates things,” Samael observed. “We can wait here to see if a hunting party returns, or we can follow them.”

Forcas pulled off her hat and scratched the back of her egg-shaped head. “Nah, either way, we’re going to have to check on them within an annum.”

“Then we need to tag them.”

“Yep. Let’s follow, and when we see one alone we’ll stun and inject a tracking chip.”

“Okay, that’s a plan,” Samael replied. “If we get the chance, we should chip two, maybe even three of them—mortality being what it is out here.”

“Right,” Forcas agreed. “It’s a small clan and their hunters may not return. Should we put down a mammal where they can find it to scavenge?”

“Whoo boy! Ramuell’s not going to be happy with this mission’s contortions as it is.” The crow’s feet at the corners of Samael’s eyes deepened as he chuckled. “Providing food for the clan would have him spittin’ and cussin’ to be sure.”

“Yeah, you’re right. Then he’d write up an even more rigid set of when-to-infect and when-to-kill rules.”

Samael wore his typical expression of amusement as he picked up Forcas’s backpack and held it out. She wrinkled the freckled skin on her narrow straight nose and said, “Aren’t you the gentleman,” as she turned to slip on the pack.