UFO Hunters: Dulce – Nephilim
Posted by lamarzulli on March 27, 2009
I saw the UFO Hunters show, it was spot on as they say in the UK. Instead of writing about it, I thought I would reprint a section from my first book in the Nephilim Trilogy. This was written in 1998 and published in 1999. I think it says it all. I believe that the genetic experiments and the reemergence of the Nephilim is ongoing. That said enjoy the read.
Art MacKenzie or Mac as he is known- the hero – finds himself deep in a underground base where aliens and humans are interacting. Pay close attention to how “Mac” sorts out what he is looking at!
Art MacKenzie walked slowly down the dimly lit corridor. He fought to keep his hands from trembling as he listened to the bizarre tale his father told. “They renamed me Abaris,” he began, “after a Greek sage who had the power to heal. It was I who communicated with the one alien that remained alive after the Roswell crash. When his shell began to die I allowed him to enter into me. To the aliens it was the most noble act, the highest calling, to allow one of them to share my body.” “Is he still with you now?” Mac asked hesitantly. “You have been talking to both of us, for we are now one. It has been the most valuable experience of my life.” “So that’s why you left us and faked your murder … so that the alien could share your body?” “Yes, that and more. I want you to understand that my shell is beginning to die … That is why I brought you here. You, my son, are the person to carry on. To help change the misery on this planet. If you will allow us to enter …” Mac grew suddenly afraid. “I can’t do that.”
He fought to keep his hands from trembling as he lis-tened to the bizarre tale his father told.
“They renamed me Abaris,” he began, “after a Greek sage who had the power to heal. It was I who communicated with the one alien that remained alive after the Roswell crash. When his shell began to die I allowed him to enter into me. To the aliens it was the most noble act, the highest calling, to allow one of them to share my body.”
“Is he still with you now?” Mac asked hesitantly.
“You have been talking to both of us, for we are now one. It has been the most valuable experience of my life.”
“So that’s why you left us and faked your murder … so that the alien could share your body?”
“Yes, that and more. I want you to understand that my shell is beginning to die … That is why I brought you here. You, my son, are the person to carry on. To help change the misery on this planet. If you will allow us to enter …”
Mac grew suddenly afraid. “I can’t do that.”
Abaris stopped in front of a large black panel. He set his hand into an indentation and the door split into four sections and opened. He gestured for Mac to enter. “Don’t be so sure. You need to see for yourself. You must understand that the time of their
revealing to all mankind is almost at hand, and they are here to usher us into the new millennium. A world of peace and understanding. Harmony and love. The true brotherhood of man realized to its fullest potential.”
Mac was overwhelmed, his emotions and thought processes derailed.
“This is Ramiel, the leader of our alien brothers,” Abaris said, indicating with a nod that Mac should look.
The room was bathed in a brilliant white light as Ramiel appeared from an entrance off to the side. He was magnificent, powerful, and splendid to behold. Mac gasped with wonder. He looked similar to the angel at Maggie’s house, but seeing him here was somehow different.
A thought crossed Mac’s mind. Just a subtle whisper. “I really am an angel. Trust me.” Mac let the thought go unchecked.
Ramiel floated above Abaris and Mac. He then began to change his appearance slowly. He became Ghandi, looking serene and holy with a white dhoti wrapped around his otherwise naked, brown-skinned body. Then he changed into an image of the Buddha, silent and detached, with a beam of light streaking from the center of his forehead. Then he turned into the image of Jesus, and he was hanging on the cross, his arms outstretched and pinned horribly through the wrists to the rough, wooden cross beam. A crown of thorns rested on a bloody head, marred almost beyond recognition. He was in his final stages of death. His head was lowered. Mac watched in stunned silence as he breathed his last. Then the image changed again and became a small point of light that swirled and became a primordial cloud of spin- ning galaxies. A universe unto itself. Then it disappeared.
Mac’s head ached and he rubbed his forehead vigorously with both hands. He looked around and realized his father had left him. Abaris called from an adjacent room. Mac followed and entered a large room illuminated with a strange reddish glow.
He saw hundreds of glasslike containers. Inside the jars hybrids rested in a thick liquid in different stages of incubation and development. They were set in tiered rows, the lowest of which began at the entrance where he stood. Abaris began to speak from the topmost tier. He pointed to the rows of hybrids and said proudly, “This is the future … Their seed and ours joined together to create a race of supermen. Our genes mixed with theirs to replenish their dying race and evolve ours.”
Mac stared in shock.
Abaris chuckled. “The aliens are here to enlighten us. It was they who stimulated the creation of the world’s major religions in the first place. Krishna, Muhammad, Jesus, Moses. All genetically engineered. Soon their time of dwelling with us will be revealed, and the kingdom of heaven will be on earth.”
Mac’s mind whirled in contradiction. No, I don’t believe that, it isn’t true … He recalled the woman in the hospital. Her life was ruined by these creatures. He remembered the cattle mutilation, the carcass of which had its sex organs removed … for what? This? He gazed at the creatures curled in their containers, suspended in an alien liquid solution made partially of … cow’s blood? The thought made him sick. One of the hybrids in a container close to him turned slightly in the jar so that its eyes looked out at Mac. Its face twisted in what Mac could only associate as a look of hatred. He recoiled and stared back at it. Reaching out a clawlike hand, it scratched the side of the container. The thick liquid moved around it. Mac was transfixed. A monster, he thought, and he took a step away.
“You see,” Abaris said, almost as if he could read Mac’s thoughts, “this all might seem strange to you now, but I assure
you it is mankind’s future.”
Mac listened and wanted to believe his father … in everything he had said … in all that he was part of. He struggled with the thought … and almost embraced it. Then Mac felt the hand of God’s Spirit upon him. Where have I been?he thought, and the realization made him shiver. He closed his eyes and said two words, “Help me.” Even before he could finish asking, a thought rocketed at him. What was the alien trying to say? That Christ and Ghandi and Buddha were the same? Or that they were part of a greater force? No, it was a trick, an illusion deliberately contrived to manipulate and control. He looked at the creature in the container and let the word roll off his tongue. “Nephilim.” Images whirled in his head. The bones in the sarcophagus, Sarah’s book of David and Goliath, Dr. Elisha earnestly exhorting him to pray, the encounter at Maggie’s house, the way the creature changed its form and lunged at Laura … “Nephilim,” he repeated the word, only this time louder.
“What did you say?” Abaris said.
Mac ignored him and took another step toward the container.
“What are you thinking of, my son?” Abaris asked in a paternal tone and moved down to the next tier.
Mac made his way slowly toward the jar that held the hybrid which glared at him. He reached out and rested his hand on the jar.
“What are you doing?” Abaris demanded.
Mac didn’t look at his father. Instead, he stared at the developing hybrid. He could feel the warmth from the container work its way into the palms of his hands. The hybrid turned so that its face was pressed against the jar. Mac wanted to recoil from it.
“Are you embracing it?” Abaris asked.
The thought made Mac sick. “What?”
Abaris took a step down to another tier and said, “Yes, oh yes, embrace him, for he is your brother.”
Mac closed his eyes and ground his teeth together. Then he pushed the jar with all his might so that it toppled off its shelf and tumbled to the floor with a loud crash. The creature spilled out of the jar and began to writhe on the floor in the midst of the foul-smelling liquid.
“Nephilim!” Mac yelled, suddenly coming alive. “It’s all a lie. You’re a lie.” He pointed at Abaris. “You’re not my father.”
“What are you doing?” Abaris demanded.
At the same time Ramiel reappeared. His countenance became angry as he saw the contents of the containers spilled before him. Mac looked up at Ramiel. He felt dizzy. It seemed as if his throat was beginning to close on itself. He closed his eyes for a moment and yelled in his mind, “Jesus.” Then he opened his eyes and looked at Ramiel, tried to speak, but his throat closed tightly. He gasped for air. “What are you trying to do?” Abaris shouted. “Destroy the future of mankind?”
“What are you doing?” Abaris demanded, and took a step toward Mac.
Mac’s hands went to his throat as he tried desperately to breathe. “I am strong in the Lord,” Mac muttered. Then again more boldly, “I am strong in the Lord.” He looked at the hybrid writhing on the floor. To his horror he saw it change to the body of his son Art, twisting in agony. He gasped and was about to run toward it when he again felt the hand of God upon him. He stopped and looked again. The illusion had vanished … the hybrid was back on the floor. Mac looked toward Abaris and Ramiel. “You’re a lie,” he shouted. “You are filled with lies!” The room shook and the angel shuddered and shed its appearance, like a costume. Suddenly it became a thin, gray, wraithlike creature that floated above him menacingly. Mac steeled his mind and faced the demon. The creature glared at him. Mac’s mind was suddenly overwhelmed with horrible images. He held his hands to the side of his head and shut his eyes. Mac staggered backward. The images were replaced with an impression of Jesus hanging on the cross, in death, in hopelessness. For a moment his mind went blank … then he thought despairingly, Is that all there is? A dead man on a cross? He felt abandoned, surrounded in a fog of dark hopelessness. Then he was hammered again as twisted perverse images sought a foothold in his mind. He opened his eyes and with a great act of will he pushed the images away and managed to utter the one word that was a lifeline to his sanity …
“Jesus.” He repeated the name, again and again. Each time he said the name he felt the doubting thoughts and grotesque images retreat. The wraithlike creature glared at Mac and rose up, ready to charge him and claw him like it had Laura.
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