Chapter Eighteen

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A Way Outside

© Jeannie St. John Taylor 

“Have I not commanded you? Be strong and courageous. Do not be frightened, and do not be dismayed, for the LORD your God is with you wherever you go.” Josh. 1:9

            Distracted by last night’s Dream, Atarah had to force herself to concentrate on Gadreel as he crawled back and forth between the beds chasing the long stem of grass she’d pulled from their bed. She should be giving him quality time while Shua washed up at the spring outside. Instead, she was treating him like a pet cat, dragging the fluffy end of the weed along the floor, then lifting the grass to encourage him to reach up. Oh well, the new game seemed to make him happy and she needed time to think. To figure out what the Dream meant when the Light told her it was going to do something new.

“You have too much energy for me.” She tweaked Gadreel’s nose and made him giggle. “But of course you get to sleep and play while I work, don’t you?” She took his hands, pulled him into a standing position and planted a loud smooch on his forehead. His legs buckled and he started to scream.

She immediately scooped him up comforting the baby as she walked back and forth between the beds with him. “Shhh. Your little bum didn’t even touch the floor. You are not hurt.” His cries changed to a whine and he lay his head on her shoulder. She paced as she held him, finally able to concentrate on the meaning of the Dream.

The Light had enveloped her once again as she slept in the night. “Behold, I am doing a new thing,” the Light with a voice like many waters told her. “Do you not perceive it? So be very strong and courageous.”

At first she assumed the Light meant she would escape. But later she remembered the part about being strong and courageous and fear started creeping around her like fog, leaving her with a presentiment that something even worse than the events of the last couple of weeks could happen. The light must know she was about to face a time when she would need an extra-strong dose of courage and direction.

She didn’t like the idea of that, especially since the voice had given her no direction except to be strong. She didn’t feel courageous. She felt weak. She wanted to hole up in this room where she felt reasonably, if illogically, secure.

The situation reminded her of the way she’d felt as a little girl when she and Shua burrowed into the garden hedge to hide from Father. She could see his feet pacing beside the hedge while her shoulders hunched in fright and branches poked into the flesh of her arms and legs. She knew he could reach in and yank her out at any moment. Yet the foliage offered a measure of protection. If they could just stay very, very still he would never find them.

That’s exactly how she felt now.

            The baby quieted and she sat him on the bed so she could pick dried curdled milk from his face with her fingernail. Her hair drifted forward and Gadreel grabbed tendrils in chubby hands. “Ouch!” With a smile she kissed each cheek in turn and gently extracted her hair.

“Hey, let’s play a fun game.” She flipped her scarf into the air, letting the fabric billow so it would drift onto the baby. As the scarf settled over his head and face she slowly pulled it away, letting the fabric caress him. He giggled and grabbed for the scarf, she laughed and jerked it out of his hands. He fell backward onto the bed laughing and they started the game over. e lHe lau

She couldn’t help a twinge of sadness thinking how much better one of her gauzy scarves would feel to the baby. Still, though she hated the feel of the coarse fabric, she was grateful Mother had thought ahead and dressed her in slave attire. The common clothing allowed Atarah to blend in. An embroidered veil sewn with jewels set in gold filigree would have immediately alerted the inhabitants of this place to her privileged position. She had no idea what wealth could mean for her down here, but she guessed the appearance of riches could cause problems. Residents of the commune might resent her or try to extort from her or . . . what? Maybe she’d end up in the heap of dry bones back at the temple. Her brain couldn’t sort through all the possibilities or even figure out if her thoughts were logical.

She simply knew she faced enough trouble without adding money to the mix. Especially since she herself no longer owned anything. After a lifetime of luxury it was difficult to comprehend the fact that she was poverty stricken.

 “She knows, doesn’t she?” Shua appeared in the doorway with damp hair. A dark spot near the bottom of her robe revealing how she’d dried her hair. A worried expression creased her face.

“Who knows what?”

“You know who,” Shua snorted. “She knows everything.”

Of course she knew. Tirza. Atarah concentrated on finger-combing the baby’s curls. “I don’t think she knows.”

“Really.” Sarcasm migrated from Shua’s face to her voice. “Then why won’t you look at me?”

Atarah sighed. Why wouldn’t she give Shua eye contact? Because Atarah was her mother’s daughter. Avoid. Ignore. Pretend. “I suppose she might know,” Atarah acceded reluctantly.

“She keeps staring at his fingers. Like she can’t help herself.”

“I know.” Atarah leaned her cheek on the baby’s head. He snuggled into her while she played over his palm with her fingertips. “But she may not know giants have six fingers.”

“She said he was big for his age.” Shua moved to sit on the bed opposite Atarah.

“No. She just said he was big. Not big for his age. She doesn’t know his age. People talk like that to babies. It’s just a way of saying babies are cute.”

“I hope so.” Shua rubbed her thumb nail against her lower teeth.

“I’m sure that’s all she meant. She wasn’t saying, ‘You’re big so I can tell you’re going to grow up and become . . .’” Atarah broke off mid-sentence, refusing to put words to the thought.

Shua finished for her. “Grow up to become a monster who takes all the food and when the food is gone eats people.”

Stunned, Atarah instinctively cupped a protective hand over the baby’s cheek and stared at Shua in disbelief. “Don’t ever say that again!”

 “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it.” Shua leaned forward and patted the baby’s leg. Gadreel  leaned shyly away from her and into Atarah as though he understood the slave had been disloyal. Shua’s eyes glistened with regret. “I’m sorry, Sweetie. You’ll never grow up to become one of those nasty giants. You couldn’t.”

“Of course you won’t!” Atarah was glad the baby couldn’t understand. She puffed a raspberry on his belly, walked her fingers over to his ribs and tickled. He giggled.

Atarah blew another loud sound under the baby’s double chin and began to speak the mantra she and Shua had rehearsed many times over the last months. “We’ll love you so much you’ll be the best boy.” They’d repeated the words so often both women fully believed the lie.

“And we’ll keep you safe,” Shua continued.

“You’ll prove to everyone that you are kind and nice, won’t you?” Atarah tickled Gadreel as she baby-talked to him. “Won’t you?” He stretched away from her, giggling.

Smiling, Shua supported his back while he continued to laugh, showing his single front tooth.

Shua sobered. “And he’ll protect us when he grows up.” Her eyes beseeched Atarah for confirmation. “He’ll love us because we love him.”

“That’s right.” Atarah hugged the baby desperately. “With all the love we give this one he’ll have no choice but to love us back.” And she would never tell him that his grandfather and mother and father tried to kill him. That knowledge could ruin him. 

“He’ll have to know his father was a Nephal, won’t he?” Shua anxiously chewed the nail on her pinkie finger.

Atarah shrugged. “We’ll see. If we can keep him away from people he might not notice he’s different.”

Silence hung between them.

“If Tirza knows he’s a young giant, why is she letting us stay?”  

An icy rivulet of fear trickled down Atarah’s spine. Why couldn’t Shua just let it drop? “We don’t have to think about that right now.”

But she did think about it. What did Tirza gain by letting them stay? Letting a young giant boy stay? As hard as she tried, Atarah couldn’t fathom the reasons.

A primal fear rose within her.

**********

She should never have trusted Tirza. Atarah scanned the group assembled in the open area outside the sleeping room while the word “betrayal” twanged in her brain. Was Peleg among them? She had allowed a desire for security to lure her into staying put when she and Shua should have been courageous and fled.

“I thought our whereabouts was supposed to remain secret.” Atarah’s anger flashed toward Tirza.

“Don’t worry.” Tirza lifted her chin and haughty defensiveness laced her tone. “I told you, Peleg’s not here. He’s the man-in-charge who stays back with a few workers to keep the place humming. He’s too good to go out with us ordinary people.”

Several of the impatient-looking men and women holding large baskets sniggered at Tirza’s comment. Evidentially, they didn’t like Peleg any better than Atarah did.

“Are you coming or not?” Tirza began walking and gestured for the group to follow. “Because these people have a long night of work ahead and they don’t intend to wait on you. I thought you said you wanted to do your part.”

“I do.” Relieved that Peleg wasn’t with the others, Atarah looped the long-handled basket Tirza had provided over her shoulder. She pasted a pleasant expression over the sheepish look on her face. She had misjudged Tirza once again. Hoisting Gadreel higher on her hip, she fell in step with Shua near the middle of the group, just behind Tirza. A group of shirtless muscular men, each bearing several baskets on their shoulders, brought up the rear.

Atarah had several reasons for wanting to go on the gathering excursion: Helping gather food would repay Tirza for her kindness, they would move out of Peleg’s range and before first light she and Shua and the baby could steal away unnoticed. “I was shocked she brought people and revealed where she’d hidden us,” Atarah whispered to Shua. The sounds of marching feet and low conversation covered her words.

“Me, too. Someone is bound to tell Peleg. I’m scared.”

“I know.” But they wouldn’t be there when he came for them. Atarah intended to flee before returning in the morning. “Try to map out the way outside in your head just in case we’re forced to return for some reason.”

Shua’s eyes communicated agreement and the two women hiked in silence. Atarah strained to memorize tunnel turns and flights of winding stairs. The focused concentration squeezed her brain until it felt tight in her skull. She would not forget the way out. Gadreel’s life might depend on her remembering.

To Atarah’s surprise, a brief twenty minutes after they began the tangy smell of falling water rushed through the tunnel on wind that rapidly dropped the temperature. The breeze stirred excitement in her, stimulating senses dulled by days spent underground. Atarah bent into the wind, amazed at the sounds of eager chatter swelling around her. These people longed for fresh air and the outside world as much as she did.

“Watch out. The rocks are slick up here!” someone shouted back.

Soon the roar of a waterfall deadened every other sound and mist blew into the cavern. At the mouth of the cave, the group clustered in front of a curtain of falling water bouncing with light reflected from torches. Gadreel awakened giggling and tried to grab the spray while Atarah rubbed his bare legs to warm him. The thrill of imminent freedom lifted small bumps on her arm.

Many of the people laughed and whirled in circles in the spray, dancing with hands raised over heads. Atarah found herself laughing and bouncing the baby. Shua mirrored her joy. They both knew that soon they’d be free! Away from the city and its gods! Away from Peleg! Free to find a place where they could settle down and raise the baby. Maybe plant a few crops to feed the three of them so there’d be little need for outside contact. Even as she thought about the necessity of staying isolated, Atarah realized how that need conflicted with her desire to find a husband.

No matter. Never marrying was a small price to pay for the baby’s life.

Tirza strode to the front of the group and the jubilation stilled. She raised a hand and all eyes swung toward her. “The mission tonight is urgent.” Her voice rose easily above the roar of the water. “Giants may be headed our way. Though they’ve never raided these parts before, reliable sources tell us that once they consume all crops in an area they turn on the humans.” A murmur spread across the group.

“They eat people?” someone shouted.

Tirza did not mince words. “Yes. But only after all other food is gone.”

“Cannibals!”

“They’re not really cannibals,” Tirza asserted, “because they aren’t human. They’re half Nephilim and half human – a new species. But know this . . . ” She paused to let her eyes rake the group threateningly, “every single one of them is evil through and through and they would enjoy slaughtering you. We have to gather as much food as possible over the next few days. Because once they arrive every last bit of anything to eat will be gone.”

This was a different Tirza than the friendly woman who chatted so easily as she led them to their hiding place. This was the Tirza who had assumed control of the community shortly after they met. This Tirza was completely in control of the situation – Peleg’s and Hoda’s daughter. At that realization, Atarah clutched the baby more tightly

“What do they look like,” a woman asked. The woman with the sad dark eyes stood beside her, weeping silently.

“What do they smell like is a better question,” Tirza retorted sarcastically. “You’ll smell them before you see them. Guaranteed. They’re taller than the Nephilim and they all have six fingers on each hand and six toes on each foot.” She broke off and looked directly at Atarah. 

Atarah felt a cold chill that had nothing to do with the mist. She protectively covered Gadreel’s hand with hers. How would the group react when they understood he was . . . she couldn’t bring herself to even think the word ‘giant’ in connection with her sweet child.

“Believe me, you’ll have no trouble recognizing them.” Tirza told the group. “Just be on the lookout and retreat to the waterfall the moment you get a whiff of anything strange. Once you can see a giant you can’t outrun him.”

“They’ll follow us in and kill us!”

“They’re too tall to get past the back of the cave. Once you get to the smaller tunnels you should be safe.” Tirza spoke calmly, reassuring them. “But we must have food to live. Which is why Peleg decided that for the next few days we’ll gather as much as possible without even trying to cover our tracks. He’s gambling that when people of the city notice missing food they’ll assume the giants have already arrived and stay inside the gates. That will leave us free to gather all we want.”

Atarah’s mind flitted to her home. Mother would hide in one of the secret places built for such an event if the giants breached the city.

 “Because our spies learned the giants are coming, I was able to come up with a plan to save all our lives.” A glisten of emotion rose in Tirza’s eyes. “Nevertheless, no one can prevent the monsters from stealing all the food. So gather as much and as quickly as you can. Our lives depend on you.”

Tirza continued to give instructions. “Every time you fill a basket, bring it back to the waterfall, grab an empty one and my boys here will transport the full one back home.” She waved toward the men with extra baskets who now surrounded the crowd. “We’re going to be fine. We just need to work harder than ever.”

Tirza ended her speech, beamed a benevolent smile of encouragement around the group and everyone started toward the exit behind the waterfall. Tears stained the cheeks of a few women, but for the most part resolute expressions hardened faces. Aware this was a life or death situation, they intended to throw themselves into the task. Atarah herself determined to gather as much as she could. For tonight only. She would not go back to the underground and risk Peleg.

She and Shua walked near the rear of the gatherers following the slippery path that led behind the waterfall. The dark slit of sky at the end of the path beckoned. Atarah’s heart leaped in her chest. Balancing the baby and the basket, she quickened her steps.

In response to her change in pace, the man just ahead tossed a warning over his shoulder. “Slow down! If you fall here you’re a gonner. I don’t want you taking me with you.” 

Moments later, Atarah stepped from behind the curtain of water and stood with Shua on the side of a dry mountain watching workers wind down a path to still vineyards below. On her left, granite polished smooth by the wind-blown ash of previous eruptions mirrored the light of a full moon. The night seemed as bright as day. She could pick out the color of azure blue chickery. Yellow ocher kissed the crest of one hill where the moonlight touched the tops of wheat stalks.

Atarah breathed in the fragrance of aromatic lavender and honeysuckle as she struggled to hoist the basket onto her shoulders as she’d seen the others do. But the baby made the task difficult. Atarah didn’t care. The cool night and the view and the fresh air and the freedom were bliss. She felt giddy. She decided she would keep the basket slung over her shoulder. She could set it down when she picked and drag it along behind her as she moved down rows. She didn’t have to work exactly like everyone else.

A shadow fell across the path and Tirza, flanked by her “boys”, blocked the way ahead, smiling disarmingly. “Here, let me help you. That’s a little awkward with the baby, isn’t it?”

“No, no.” Atarah protested. “I can do it.”

Tirza had already taken the baby.

Atarah quickly positioned the basket on her head and reached for Gadreel, but Tirza twirled the baby out of her grasp and headed back toward the waterfall. “I’ll keep him for you till you finish working. We need everyone to be as efficient as possible tonight.”

Determination clenched in Atarah’s stomach. “No. I won’t be separated from my  baby.” She took a step toward Tirza only to find a broad-shouldered brute standing in the way, hands folded into his armpits. Locking her eyes with a hard gaze, he angled his head to the side and spit.

Behold, I am doing a new thing.

No. No. No!

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