Four More Days
“Enoch walked with God after he fathered Methuselah 300 years and had other sons and daughters. Thus all the days of Enoch were 365 years. Enoch walked with God, and he was not, for God took him.” Gen.5:22 - 24
With only four days left until the Flood, animals no longer filed onto the ark two by two – pairs streamed on in a near-solid mass of creature-flesh. Shem dared not take a step without keeping his eyes on the floor to avoid tripping over a buggy-eyed aye-aye or crushing a grasshopper underfoot. As he stowed small mammals in cages, his gaze continuously shifted from metal bars to floor planks and back again so he wouldn’t accidentally damage a hedgehog or lemming or even a pointy-nosed shrew by stepping or reaching wrong.
Atarah had worked side by side with him ever since the night he found her in his bed. Though at first she possessed few skills and little idea how to do heavy work, she was a quick study who worked tirelessly and without complaint. Since the heaviest construction work had been done before they moved onto the ark, Father suggested couples work together while Mother took care of food and did final extra tasks like making a few last batches of soap outside the ark. Father roamed the corridors finishing up odds and ends and helping whoever needed an extra hand.
With so much time alone, Shem and Atarah chatted non-stop. He explained the workings of the ark and concepts about God to her and she eagerly drank it all up.
Atarah shared the details of her past life with Shem. He felt an overwhelming sense of awe at the courage she revealed by standing against everyone and refusing to worship false gods. Her stories about the underground stunned him since he had no idea anything but a solid mountain supported the city. He fought a strong urge to go wallop Dagaar.
Even while talking incessantly, they worked efficiently as a team. With so many animals drinking and bathing, the two took on the extra responsibility of hauling additional wagonloads of water onto the ark several times a day. No one but Japheth was willing to work with Buzz, so they used a tamer smaller camel. One time Ham filled in for Atarah for a couple of hours so she could dip tallow candles with the women. Shem missed her the entire time.
Atarah’s energy seemed boundless and she was proving invaluable. Not because of her willingness to work, but because of the way she made him feel. God had fulfilled his promise even though Shem doubted.
Nevertheless, Shem still hadn’t kissed Atarah or declared his love. For two reasons. First, he wanted to wait until he had time to give her more attention. Second, he hoped a friendship could grow before the romance commenced. The latter was a ridiculous idea, of course, since every accidental brush of their fingers left him aquiver. He shook his head at his foolishness.
“Hey!” She stood facing him, hands on her hips, head cocked, eyes dancing. “Am I supposed to address you as King Shem?”
“What?”
“You’re wearing a green crown.” She rose on tiptoe and removed two lime-colored moths from the top of his head in cupped hands. Edged in purple, each moth was larger than Shem’s hand with long lobes trailing like wide tails from each wing. Huge and beautiful. Yet distracted by her, he hadn’t even noticed the insects.
She held the moths to the top of a cage where they stepped from her hands. Leaning forward she fingered the feather-like appendages growing from the head of one. “What are those?”
“I don’t know what they are,” Shem laughed. “But they let you know he’s a male. Female moths don’t have them.”
“Not fair. That makes him better looking than her. Why are the males always better looking?” She pointed at cardinals flying past, pretending to pout. “Those females don’t hold a candle to the males. Don’t you think they’d like to be bright red, too?”
Shem grinned and placed two bunnies into a cage. “That whole ‘males are better-looking than females’ law doesn’t fit the two of us.” He averted his eyes, but not before catching her blush.
“We’ve spent enough time down here for now.” He reached through the bars to stroke the white and sepia spotted bunny and noticed two skunks strolling toward them.
“Don’t move,” he whispered. “Stinkers.”
Atarah froze and her eyes grew wide.
Shem waited until the skunks almost reached her before swooping forward and snatching them up by the tails.” Keeping them upside-down and vertical he walked past a long row of cages, casually opened the door of last one, shoved the skunks inside, slammed the door of the cage and hurried away.
Atarah released a breath. “You did that without getting sprayed! Or getting me sprayed.” She grinned. “I’m impressed.”
“Don’t be,” he said, but the open admiration sparkling from her eyes made him stand a little taller. “If you keep their tails in the air they can’t share that lovely perfume with you.”
Walking ahead of Atarah to clear the way to the family quarters for the mid-day meal, Shem battled the oncoming flow of animals picking their way down to the lowest level. When two badgers waddled past, he stopped and held out a restraining arm to keep Atarah from running into one. “Need to be careful of badgers.”
“Thanks. I need all the help I can get,” she said. “I don’t want to squash anyone.” She kept her eyes fixed on the floor, concentrating.
He chuckled at the ‘anyone’ comment. “I meant the badgers might chomp your ankle. They’re cantankerous. You’re doing fine. This isn’t easy.”
“You’re telling me,” She side-stepped seven geese marching in a stately line, and nearly bumped into a pair of zebras. “Forty-five thousand animals, you say?”
“More or less.”
“The ark won’t be loaded for months.” She did a quick-step over and around a couple of centipedes.
He had just opened his mouth to let her know all the animals would be aboard and locked up in four days because that’s when God told Father the Flood would start, when a monkey landed on her shoulder. She dissolved with smiles of pleasure. “Ooooh, what a sweetie!” she cooed. She cuddled the animal while it purred like a kitty cat snuggled in her arms. “He’s purring! I didn’t know monkeys purred.”
“Only that kind purr,” Shem responded. “Weird, isn’t it?” The adoring glow on her face wiped his brain clean and all he could think about was what a good mother she’d be. He tried to erase the goofy smile he could feel on his face, but the silly thing stuck fast. He forgot all about the four-day deadline.
Stew bubbled in a pot on the flat top of the metal dome over the fire pit in the family area. Shem’s mother bustled through the room and out the door with a wave telling Atarah and Shem she was on her way to help Father and everyone else had already eaten.
An image of Atarah’s own mother flashed through her mind and she couldn’t help comparing the two parents. How different their lives had been! Though Atarah dreaded the idea of separation from Shem for even the few days it would take to find Mother, Atarah looked forward to bringing her to a place where she could experience peace. Atarah fretted over whether to let Shem know she was leaving. If she told him he might try to talk her out of going. If she didn’t tell him he might be hurt. It was a dilemma.
Atarah dished up the stew for both of them and they sat at the table together. A little closer than necessary. He loved her. She could tell. Wasn’t even worried about it, though she would like him to speed things up a little.
“What in the world?” she asked slicing off a piece of purple bread.
“Purple bread.”
“I can see that.” She smiled at him. “I’ve just never tasted purple bread before.” She took a bite. “Nutty. What makes it purple?”
“Taro.”
“Never heard of Taro, but it’s nice in bread.”
“You’ll sample all sorts of new breads here.” He took a bite of stew. “Mother’s specialty. She may put as many as fifteen different kinds of flour and a several spices in a single batch of bread. Her worst concoction included ground-up acorns. She boiled out the bitterness and then dried them before she ground them, but still . . .” He made a gagging sound.
Atarah laughed.
“Yeah, you laugh now. Wait till the Flood starts and she has more time to experiment. We stored hundreds kinds of seeds and nuts she wants to grind them all into flour.” He rolled his eyes in mock dismay.
“Hundreds? I have a little trouble believing that. Name some.”
“Barley, rice, wheat, spelt, flax, coriander, wheat berry, chickpea, cornmeal, bulgar, Amaranth, Quinoa, kasha, rye berries, millet . . .” He paused and sucked in a dramatically-loud breath.
“That’s not several hundred.”
“I know. I meant thousands, but I can guarantee you’ve never heard of them.”
“Oh yeah? I told you my father deals in exotic luxuries. Try to name a grain I haven’t heard of.”
“Who said anything about grain? Mother grinds any kind of seed or dried tuber into flour. Ever had bamboo seeds in bread?”
“Yes.”
He looked skeptical.
“No. I really have.” She slugged his upper arm and reached for a peach. “I traveled with Father, remember?”
“Okay. Tell me if you’ve heard of Masa Harina, Teff, Baobab, Lotus, Breadfruit, Pigweed . . .” He continued to rattle off names, stopping only when she interrupted.
“Enough! Enough! No one cultivates those.”
“Who said anything about cultivation? I merely stated that Mother adds anything and everything grind-able to bread.” He popped a bit of kohlrabi into his mouth. “If it grows or has ever grown or is edible or used medicinally, we stored it on the ark.”
“Every seed on earth?”
“Every seed from every corner of the earth.” He lifted his chin and smiled at her through shuttered lids. “We might have traveled even further than your father.”
His flirty smile stopped her heart and she rose on wobbly legs. “We better get back to work.”
He leaned back against the table, elbows propped behind him on the top surface, and stretched his legs into the room. “We also stored every tea imaginable. What’s your pleasure?”
“I don’t like tea,” she teased. “Got any chicory?”
“Chicory and chicory substitutes: Nutsedge, Dandelion, Juniper, Coffee. . . . Want me to go on?” He flashed a toothy smile, then sobered. “Father collected everything the One True God commanded and God will have nothing missing when he renews the earth.”
“After the Flood.” She completed his thought as though she’d known him forever. The sudden world-shattering shift of the conversation from bread to the end of the world left her dizzy. Suddenly, disaster loomed imminent. She knew with certainty she would have to hurry to bring Mother here.
“Want to know the purpose of that desk over there?” Shem asked.
She nodded. He led her into the alcove holding the elaborate desk and carefully lifted a scroll out of the largest pot. This is the desk where Father will sit when he inscribes copies of this scroll onto papyrus during the Flood. Shem reverently unrolled a portion. Letters of gold flowed across a vellum surface dyed darker purple than the Taro bread.
“Amazing.” She carefully stroked the letters with her fingertips. “Vellum, right?”
“Yes. The finest calfskin.”
“What is it?” She almost thought she could feel holiness rising from the scroll. “A scroll, I know. But who wrote it?”
"It’s the Book of Enoch, written by my great, great grandfather, Enoch. He’s the only man in history who didn’t die. Because he was righteous, God took him up in a whirlwind when he was only three hundred sixty-five years old. This scroll tells the story of everything Enoch saw and did.”
Such incredible information! It was almost more than Atarah could take in and Shem must have seen. “Do you read?” he asked.
“Yes.” She saw a glint of pride spark on his face. He must have assumed she hadn’t learned to read because most women couldn’t. To Father’s credit, he encouraged learning in the women of his household. Shem seemed to like the fact that she possessed that skill.
“Good. You can read this after the animals are settled in.” Shem rolled up the scroll and eased it back into the pot. “Meanwhile, the sea lions on the bottom floor need us.”
“Yes, there’s lots to do.” Sadly, she could tell time was flying past and the Flood would start soon. She would have to leave him to work alone for a week or two.
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