Storymania - The Nephilim by Clint Stutts

The Nephilim
Clint Stutts

The Nephilim

by Clint Stutts

The first time I saw one of them giants, I was stumbling drunk and had been beaten senseless by one of my best friends. Why he whipped me is beside the point; I don’t have time to explain that now. Anyway, that night Tom had beaten the tar out of me behind the Waterin’ Hole, our favorite bar. Here in Chesterfield, Wyoming we’re surrounded by mountains. You could say we live at the bottom of a bowl, because that’s what it looks like from the air, or so I’ve heard it told. The Waterin’ Hole is on the edge of town, and that’s about where I saw my first giant. Tom had broken my nose in our little scuffle, and my eyes were watering pretty badly. And yes, I was stumbling drunk, but I swear what I saw was real. And anyway, I’ve seen more of them giants in the past few months, and I know once or twice I wasn’t even drunk when I seen ‘em.
The backside of the Waterin’ Hole snugs right up to the base of one of them mountains I was telling you about. So I was on the ground in a lot of pain, and I looked up the side of that mountain just because there was nothing else I could do, and I saw something big walking down that mountain in my direction. I just froze where I was for a minute, trying to decide if I was having one of them hallucination things or if it was real. It didn’t take long for me to figure out that sucker was real. I was lucky it didn’t see me. That night had plenty of moonlight to go around, but it was shining in such a way so that I was in a shadow because of the building I was behind, but the mountain was lit up pretty good. I managed to pull myself behind Joe’s dumpster real quiet, and I just sat there bleeding from the nose and watching that big thing walk down the mountain.
When the giant got down to the bottom of the mountain, he came straight for the dumpster I was hiding behind. I ain’t afraid to tell you I peed my pants right then. Anybody would have. When he was maybe twenty yards away, I could feel his footsteps. It looked like he was wearing animal skins for cloths. He didn’t have no shoes. When he got to the dumpster, he lifted that big metal lid like it was a sheet of paper, and commenced to digging through the trash. I think I heard him eating some of what was in there, and when he was done with the dumpster, he spied some stray cats hanging out by the back door of the bar. Them strays have been there for quite some time, and I even named one of them, a big male, Hercules. That cat stood about a foot off the ground and had to weigh in at around thirty pounds.
The giant went for Hercules first. He kneeled down before him about ten feet away (the giant was still taller than me even so, and I’m six feet tall), and offered him a little scrap he’d found in the dumpster. Poor Hercules didn’t know any better; he fell for it right quick. When he got within arm’s reach, the giant grabbed him and broke his neck. Then that beast skinned Hercules with his bare hands. I nearly yelped when I heard that hide tearing, but I stuck my fist in my mouth as far as I could. I didn’t want to be dessert, no sir.
No more than a couple of minutes later, Hercules was nothing but a pile of bones. The giant let out a loud burp, and then turned around my direction again. I stiffened up pretty good; made myself look like I belonged on the back of that dumpster. When he turned, I the moonlight struck his face and I finally got a glimpse of his features. He was a pretty shaggy fella all right. It looked like he trimmed his beard with a dull knife about once a year. Looked like he bathed even less. His hair was about down to his shoulders, and was a dark brown color. I couldn’t tell what color his eyes were, it was a little too dark.
Anyway, I don’t guess it matter much what he looked like; he was a killer, plain and simple. If he’d seen me, I would’ve been his next course. But he didn’t see me. That’s why I’m alive right now, at least for the time being. I didn’t tell nobody what happened that night. I probably should have, though. Maybe folks would’ve cleared out of town before things got real bad real quick.
After my first experience, I got to wondering why the heck a big ‘ol giant would come down to town so he could get something to eat. I knew there was plenty of game up on them mountains, at least up to a certain altitude. Still, that giant shouldn’t have had the need dig through a dumpster and kill a cat. So I started asking questions.
I asked Bill Coates first. Bill made his living by trapping and hunting in the mountains that surround Chesterfield. I cornered him in the bar one night and asked him how the trapping business was doing.
“It’s been pretty lean here lately,” he said. I think I knew he was going to say that, but I just had to hear it for myself.
“Ever had a year like this before, Bill?” I asked.
“I ain’t never had a bad year period. I’ve been up here nearly seventeen years now, and this is the first year I’ve had trouble paying my bills. My deep freeze is nearly empty, too. I bet I ain’t got a month of meat left in it.”
“What do you reckon caused it?” I asked.
“I got no idea. But I can tell you one thing, we’ve got some kids playin’ around up there. I’ve been seeing big ‘ol tracks all over the place for the past few months.” My heart jumped out of my chest and tried to crawl out my mouth right then.
“They’ve gone and made themselves a fake pair of feet, and when they get drunk, they go up around where I trap and they put them big footprints all over the place. They probably think I’ll get scared that Bigfoot’ll come get me. I just don’t understand kids these days.”
I’d heard enough. I had two other trappers in mind to talk to, but I knew I’d get the same story: no game and drunk kids playing with big feet.
My next idea was to pay a visit to Sheriff Ivey, but I didn’t want to do that until I had a little more proof to take to him. Alan Ivey never did like me none, due to my frequent visits to his fine jail. If I was gonna holler at him about giants, I figured I’d better have some kind of solid evidence. While I was waiting for my next giant sighting, two of them kids Bill Coates was griping about came up missing.
The way I heard it, Joe Irvin and his buddy Mark Carrol went up to their favorite drinking spot and that was the last anybody ever heard from them. Of course, now there ain’t nobody left to hear from them. Anyway, as soon as I heard, I knew they weren’t just missing; them kids was dead. Abigail Hennessy down at the gas station told me that the Sheriff and two of his deputies didn’t find anything up there but a few empty beer cans and what looked like about seven different sets of big footprints. That got me worried a little. Bill Coates never said a word about different sets of prints.
The same day I talked to Abby, I decided I’d go up there where them boys disappeared and have a look at those tracks myself. I guess I had it in my mind that the giants only showed themselves at night and hid out during the day. Boy, was I wrong.
I was almost to the spot, and I stopped cold right where I was. Not twenty yards ahead of me there was a whole mess of giants. It was more than seven of them, believe you me. I ducked behind a tree real quick. They were in what could be almost described as a football huddle, as if they were planning something. I counted twenty two of them before I got scared and ran off. I didn’t know if they’d heard me, and I didn’t care; I just wanted out of there.
What happened next was just pure luck. I was running hysterically, not paying attention to where I was going. As a result, I fell off a ten foot drop off and knocked myself silly. When I woke up, I had what felt like a hangover, but I knew it wasn’t. The front of my shirt and trousers was all covered in dried blood. That nearly scared me to death, all that blood. My head was busted pretty good, and my nose apparently broke my fall, too. I still don’t know how long I was out for. All I know is that it was just after lunch when I went on my little expedition, and when I woke up it was a little before noon and I was starving to death. So I figure I was out about a day. It was long enough for the giants to either kill or run off everybody in Chesterfield. There was only about four hundred residents here, but I still would’ve thought the town would have a chance with guns. Heck, nearly everybody in town owned a gun.
When I had checked myself out real good and made sure nothing was broke, I started to make my way back to town, or what was left of it. When I got close to the outskirts, I made kind of a circle around the town, looking real close so I wouldn’t be surprised by any of the giants. I could see quite a few dead bodies laying around in pieces. The giants really tore ‘em up bad. I dry heaved at the sight of it, there wasn’t anything in my stomach to come out.
It looked like the giants had moved on, so I went on into town to look for survivors and something to eat. My first stop was the Sheriff’s Office. The door had been torn off the hinges and Sheriff Ivey was laying up against the front of his big oak desk. His left leg was gone. I quit looking at all that and looked for a weapon. Ivey’s shotgun was on the floor on the other side of the room. I grabbed it and some shells and was about to leave when I saw Ivey’s Bible sitting on the side of his desk. It was a big black one with a leather cover, and it was well worn. I figured at a time like this, it wouldn’t hurt to get a little closer to God, so I grabbed it and headed out.
My next stop, and last one as it turned out, was Vern’s Meat Market. Vern did all the meat processing in town and I knew even if them giants got to his stock, even they couldn’t finish it all. So I moseyed on over there and took a look in his cooler. They had sure enough been in there, but there was plenty left for me. I was in the middle of cutting myself a steak when I heard a noise outside the cooler. I carefully peeked out the cooler door and saw two giants messing around in the storefront. I didn’t know what else to do, so I shut the cooler door as quick as I could. If I had thought it out, I wouldn’t have made so much noise as I shut the door. So much for afterthoughts. Anyway, they heard me and came a runnin’. Vern had a big pry bar he used in the cooler for various reasons, and I stuck it through the latches on the door and wall so as to keep the door shut.
That was over a day ago. The giants have been banging on that big door ever since. I think there’s more of them now. I had my first raw steak last night. It’s not so bad when you’re starving. I figure I picked the worst place in town to be with those dang giants hanging around. The town meat locker. Geez. I’ve had time to read that Bible some, too. Them preachers say all the answers are in there, and I ain’t far from believing it now. I didn’t get but a few pages into it and I found out where them giants came from. In the sixth chapter of Genesis, it mentions giants called Nephilim. Best I can tell, they were angels who decided they’d like to sleep around with earth women and have themselves a good time. Their offspring lived to be as big as they were. The name Nephilim basically labeled the giants as men of violence, which is something I can obviously attest to. I read more than just that stuff. I skipped over to the last half of the Bible and read about that fella named Jesus. I figure I’ll be seeing him soon.
I hope somebody finds this record of events and is able to keep this from happening to any other towns in this area. I sure did drop the ball, so to speak. I feel bad for it, and I made peace with my God about it all, too. My name is David Grange, and I’m fifty years old. I have written this on Vern’s notepad which I found in this here cooler. If you come into contact with the giants, may God be with you.