The Day of the Nefilim


The premise of The Day of the Nefilim, my debut novel, is simple: take a good-sized sampling of the most popular conspiracy theories and new age thought forms that the culture has to offer, put them in a blender, and hit the switch.

From the resulting goo, create a sequence of events which begins with the arrival on earth of a time-travelling, aether-surfing ship crewed by a collection of ingrates and leeches (not literal leeches, metaphorical ones), while at the same time, in a coincidence of astronomical proportions, the Nefilim home planet, Marduk, is reentering the solar system after its 3,000 year orbit around the sun. How this plays out, and what a few of the locals have to do with it, only time can tell.

It seems that the New World Order might not be so orderly after all. Now there’s a surprise.

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“I love this book as much as I love all of my favorite science fiction books, and that’s a quantity that defies quantifiers.”

“THERE IS NOTHING more joyous to me than discovering new, raw creativity. David Major, regardless of his hallucinogen(s) of choice, is a rare find and a fun read. With a smidgen of Douglas Adams he spends all of six pages before rearranging our world with a sledgehammer and sending us down into underground caves, underworld civilizations in a ship that sails the winds of time.” — J. Stephen Peek

“I HAVE BEEN READING SF since about 1970, when I was ten years old, having inherited a bookshelf of the greats – Heinlein, Herbert, Azimov, Bradbury, Vonnegut, etc. In the last year, as a result of having an iphone and discovering, I have started consuming more and more SF from the ‘unknowns’ and ‘unsigned’ which have been showing up with a greater frequency, and the fact of the matter is: The Day of The Nefilim is one of the best SF novels I have read since I began reading. Maybe that’s just because all of what I have read until now provided the knowledge and context to appreciate the depth of David’s work, which didn’t allow me to put it down until I finished it. Straight through, in one sitting. Yeah, that’s right, I did not put the book down until I finished reading it. Couldn’t. Well done David. Keep writing. Can’t wait to read your next book…You would make Robert Anton Wilson proud, and Douglas Adams smile.” — exiledsurfer on

“Strange aliens, end of the world scenario, weird flying ships, invisibility, ugly despot. Can’t get enough of this stuff. Includes a great view of a better life beyond the war zone….”

“I’ve read a lot of SF and conspiracy theories in my time, watched thousands of SF movies and documentaries, but I’ve never come across anything like this!” – E.V.

“A little over-imaginative…”

From The Day of the Nefilim

Prolog 1

THE SUN DARKENS. At first imperceptibly, and then with greater speed, it casts an unfamiliar veil over itself. It is the first eclipse in years. The people look up at the sky, where some of them notice to the east a star falling to its death, and others watch the hulking disk of the moon that obscures the sun. It was all there in the sky that day, above Barker’s Mill.

After a few minutes, the eclipse is over. The planets creak slowly along their orbits, and soon everything is as it was.

On the ground far below, life teeters on the edge of changing forever, but for today at least, it changes its mind and proceeds as it always has, grinding along the rusting tracks of its normality. It forgets quickly the strange orange dusk that had descended from the middle of the day.

On the edge of a tree-lined bay, with water the same deep green that you find in the glass of old bottles, stands Barker’s Mill. The town has been laid out with the same care that a child gives to the arrangement of a new set of blocks. Its houses sit solidly, arranged in neat rows, portly squires gathered around a dinner table on their foundation seats of brick and bluestone. It is a most respectable gathering; everyone is well behaved.

It has been like this since the town began. To the people who live there, it feels as though it has been like this since the beginning of time. Which, of course, is not the case.

Meanwhile, far away, the General dreams, and Bark dreams.

For now, they don’t remember the things they dream, but in time that will change; for one of them at least, and for the other it won’t matter. Their paths are linked, like the curls of a tattoo of snakes; but also like a tattoo, the effect will not be to everyone’s taste.

Oh well, shit happens.


Prolog 2

THE PLANET HAD BEEN TRAVELLING through the cold, deathless silence for a long time. Like a marble worn smooth with age, it rolled across the black expanses of deep space, patiently following its preordained path. The planet’s orbit was a huge ellipse, and the sun that held it in its sway was growing closer now as the planet tumbled into the star’s inner system, towards perihelion.

The star’s radiance began to heat the frozen orb. The liquid and gas that had long since been frozen solid by the unyielding cold of the vacuum of space began to thaw. If there had been anyone on the planet’s bleak surface to see, the approach to its star would have been greeted first with wisps of vapor as the atmosphere began to return to its gaseous state. Then clouds of mist formed, covering the entire globe in wreaths of swirling white. As the approach continued, continents of ice crumbled, disintegrating into the seas that had begun to form.

Life that had been suspended in the death of absolute zero began to stir. Life cycles resumed as seed found sustenance in the chilled tundra, and creatures emerged from eggs hatching in the slight warmth of the sun. Spores drifted through the reconstituted atmosphere, seeking and finding refuge.

Deep in the frozen earth, other processes were set in motion. Ice fell from hollowed, gaunt faces; deep black eyes flickered and opened. Muscles that had been as solid as ice for eons flexed and moved again. Tall forms moved through dark caverns.

Nefilim, they called themselves.


The New World Order comes to town

FOR REINA, Barker’s Mill had been home since the day a few years ago when she had got off the bus that stopped here on its way north. It was coming up to eight years since she had left the city, and she had no nostalgia for any part of it. She had been on the dole when she first arrived in Barker’s Mill; she had worked as well, of course. This place didn’t suck money out of you with the same unrelenting efficiency that the city did. And you can’t spend your whole life on the dole, she had thought, so she gave it away, and got a couple more part-time jobs instead. Her life had soon settled down into the comfortable rhythm that the place encouraged in everyone who lived here.

One of the several jobs she held was driving for an old farmer who came into town only when he had to. Which meant almost never these days, because Reina did his driving and ran his errands. Her job was to load her pickup with produce and drive it into the buyer in town. She and the old man had piled the crates of vegetables and fruit into the back. It was a fine afternoon for a drive; she had the window down and the breeze felt good.

While Reina was driving into town, the government was doing the same.

A couple of miles out, just as she was coming up to the creamery by the bridge over Old Goat Creek, the familiar shape of an army truck, painted white with its metal and glass all shiny and its headlights burning hot in the midday sun, filled her rear-vision mirror. As she rounded a curve, she saw that the truck wasn’t alone. She pulled over into the gravel and started rolling a cigarette as the convoy went past. Damn, it was hot. She felt like a drink.

There were half a dozen trucks, followed by heavy transport vehicles that carried earthmovers, and other equipment covered by huge tarps. Everything was painted white and bore the letters ‘UN’, large and blue. The soldiers, of whom there were many, all wore the familiar blue helmets. This wasn’t new. There had been soldiers and other strangers all over the area for the last few months. They kept to themselves, in the base they had built among the sand dunes on the other side of the harbor. They didn’t have much to do with the town, and when they did, they hardly said anything, which only encouraged speculation among the locals.

At the rear of the convoy were two long shiny cars, black instead of white, with windows of dark tinted glass and little blue flags that fluttered daintily on their front guards. Inside, the General and the other officers sat in air-conditioned comfort and watched the rustic world outside glide past.


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