Unexpected Visitor
© Jeannie St. John Taylor
“And now, the giants, who are produced from the spirits and flesh, shall be called evil spirits upon the earth, and on the earth shall be their dwelling. Evil spirits have proceeded from their bodies. Because they are born from men, and from the holy Watchers is their beginning and primal origin, they shall be evil spirits on earth, and evil spirits shall they be called.” Book of Enoch, Section One 15:8 – 10
When Atarah returned to the corridor where she’d left her slave, a vacant-eyed Shua huddled in the same spot against the wall where Atarah had left her. Still rocking. The odor had already dissipated slightly. Atarah didn’t know if that was good news or bad news. The fainter smell likely meant the giants had retreated, but it could also mean the monsters were already searching for a way into the underground.
Atarah once again wrapped the baby in a sling and pulled the slave to her feet. “We have to go!”
Shua stared with eyes as dark and empty as stagnant pools.
Atarah gripped the slave’s arms and looked intently at her. “You have to come with me.” Afraid that saying anything about the giants would cause her slave to withdraw further, she said nothing about them. “Do you understand?”
A spark of recognition glimmered in Shua’s eyes. She nodded hesitantly. “A-are they gone?”
“For now. But we have to hurry.”
They traveled purposefully. Atarah felt confident she had learned enough during her time in the underground that she could find another hiding place. She watched for appropriate fresh air tubes and for figures carved on walls that might lead to a temple. However, if she now had a sense of the way to traverse the labyrinth and was already learning her way around, Peleg and Dagaar would both know how to find her. She suspected Dagaar had spent enough time down here to get familiar with the place. And of course Peleg knew the underground better than Dagaar. Only the giants would require extra time locating a way in and wandering the tunnels.
Gadreel squirmed in her arms, flailing his arms, kicking his feet and shrieking insistently.
“What’s he doing?” Shua drew back and stared at him fearfully.
“Temper tantrum.”
“He’s too young to start tantrums.”
“He is not.”
“He’s becoming one of them already.”
Anger exploded from Atarah. “Don’t say that!” But even as she reprimanded the slave, she realized the thought had been hovering at the back of her mind ever since she first saw the two faces together. Gadreel had looked exactly like the monster for one brief second. “All babies his age have tantrums. He is not one of them!” she insisted desperately.
“He even smells like them.” Terror shone from the slave’s eyes.
“We both smell like them. The odor lingers on us because we spent so long in the vicinity of the giants.”
“No it doesn’t. You don’t smell. He does.”
“Stop it!!” Atarah shouted. Fury at the slave’s words simmered deep inside rendering Atarah’s arms so weak she could barely hang onto the screaming writhing child. The baby was too young for such behavior. Shua was right. Atarah knew it. But she refused to accept the truth. “We’re going to love him so much he’ll have to love us.” She finished passionately and waited for the slave to continue the mantra.
Shua said nothing.
Gadreel’s screams grew louder.
*****
A few minutes later Atarah spotted the signs of a temple ahead. She hurried forward and found an open entrance. Her heart leapt when she thrust her torch inside she saw another empty temple. “We’ll find food here!”
They entered to find a temple similar to, but larger and more magnificent than the first one. A spring burbled near the far wall. The fire-pit beside the water was three times the size of the one in the last temple. Once again columns bordered the darkness shrouding the four walls. But this time a sarcophagus-like altar carved from ivory occupied a square bronze platform directly in the center of the room. Blood stains covered the altar and dripped onto the bronze below. Rows of stone benches encircled the room. Life-sized limestone statues of Nephilim and humans engaged in unspeakable acts surrounded the grouping.
Atarah held the baby out for Shua, but the slave shrank back. With a sinking feeling, Atarah crossed the room and deposited the heavy baby onto the floor where she could keep an eye on him while she sealed off the entrance. He pushed out his lower lip and snuffled -- the after-effects of too much sobbing.
Two mice scuttled over to him and he reached out to touch one. She couldn’t help smiling. She’d let the cute little things entertain him while they worked. Keep him out of harm’s way.
Together the two women muscled the stone seal over the hole, found another entrance and rolled the stone over it, too. Each time they closed one off, Atarah’s sense of security increased exponentially. Relief settled over her and for the first time in days hope tickled the air around her.
“We did it!” Atarah hugged Shua, eliciting a faint smile. See. The slave was warming up already. Atarah could still see the slave’s pain, but she didn’t want to address Shua’s problems head on. Not yet. Give her a little space first. She’d get better. Things like that just took time.
“See if there’s food in the sarcophagus while I get the baby,” Atarah instructed. She started back for the baby. But just before she reached him, he picked up one of the wriggling mice and lifted it to his open mouth. “No, no, sweetie!” Atarah shouted. “Mustn’t kiss the mouse!”
She dove for him, but before she could prevent it, Gadreel thrust the mouse into his mouth and bit off the head. Dropping the mouse’s lifeless body onto the floor, he grinned up at her. Scarlet specks danced in his lavender eyes.
Atarah’s stomach lurched.
Shua screamed and froze.
Quickly Atarah stuck her finger into the baby’s mouth, dug out the bloody head and tossed it aside. Fighting nausea, she frantically scrubbed at Gadreel’s tongue and four teeth with the tail of her tunic while he screeched and fought. She rushed to the spring, rinsed his mouth repeatedly then set him on the floor before washing her own hands and clothing. Her insides quivered.
Shua backed up against one of the columns, wide terrified eyes fixed on the baby.
“He only meant to kiss the mouse,” Atarah dried her hands, but didn’t go near the baby.
The slave continued to stare dumbly. Not moving. Not speaking.
“He’s teething. You know that.”
Shua edged to the far side of the column, keeping the baby in her line of vision.
“He’s not a monster,” Atarah said, but she was shaking. Shuddering with revulsion. Not at Gadreel. At what he’d done. “He didn’t understand. He loves mice.” When Shua failed to respond, Atarah snapped, “I told you to go check the sarcophagus.”
Shua obeyed, then nodded stiffly. Yes. There was food. They would survive.
No one could get in here with them all sealed up. Even if it took months, Dagaar and Peleg and even the giants would eventually give up. She and Shua and Gadreel wouldn’t leave the temple until they knew the giants had departed. Atarah would take that time to talk Shua through her fears again. She’d done it before. And then the three of them would find a far-away place where they could live safely.
She lit a fire with her torch. Orange and yellow flames leapt in the pit. She knew she should lift Gadreel high over her head and dance around the fire-pit. She should puff on his tummy and make him giggle. All babies needed that sort of love. She just needed few minutes before she touched him again.
Shua wandered into the shadows and emerged a short time later carrying two red apples. She handed one to Atarah.
Surprised and delighted, Atarah accepted the fruit from her. “Thank you.” Shua concentrated on buffing another apple, her face a dull mask.
“Are there more?”
“Yes. Stored in straw.”
“Any rotting?”
“They last for months,” Shua said refusing to meet Atarah’s eyes.
Even under the difficult circumstances, Shua’s behavior struck Atarah as strange.
She crunched the apple and wracked her brain for a way to distract the slave who had slipped back into passivity so easily. “Did I tell you Hoda helped me escape?” She sat on the floor at arms’ length from the baby and stole a sideways glance at Shua. Her slave showed no flicker of interest. She stood as though carved from pale marble.
“And we’re safe right now thanks to Mahli,” Atarah continued the idle chatter. “She is a good woman.” Chewing up a bite of the fruit, she reached out to pop the masticated treat into the baby’s mouth. His face shone with delight and her heart melted. “Delicious, isn’t it?” she said to him. He crawled onto her lap, smiling. She returned the smile.
“What a lovely sight.” The melodious voice of a Nephal drifted out of the darkness. “I knew you’d deliver my baby safe and sound.”
Atarah screamed and her eyes shot to the slave. Shua looked away.
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