An Old Friend to the Rescue
“For every beast of the forest is mine, the cattle on a thousand hills. I know all the birds of the hills, and all that moves in the field is mine.” Psalm 50:1, 11
Perched atop a thick blanket on Bavai’s shoulders, Shem listened to the familiar sounds of branches cracking beneath the elephant’s feet as they traveled down the mountain at a relaxed pace. Though Shem worried he may not have sufficient time to reach his goal of finding a wife, even at this speed the old elephant walked faster than he could run. Bavai trumpeted excitedly and Shem’s eyes crinkled with pleasure. He patted the gray flesh of her back. Obviously, she still loved him as much as he loved her. Swaying in rhythm with the elephant’s pendulum stride, he moved easily up and down with the rising and falling of the animal’s shoulders. He’d not forgotten how to ride.
He briefly reached behind him and patted her prickly back where it sloped downward, then leaned forward and again looped the rope over both palms. The elephant made him proud. No other elephant could handle this descent with its hairpin turns and boulders better than Bavai. Even in difficult circumstances and at her advanced age, he trusted this animal to carry him safely to the city and back.
Over the last few days spent watching the deepening affection between Ham and his wife, Shem had come to realize it might be possible for him to love someone, too. No matter what the woman had gone through or done -- as long as she loved God with a pure heart. Could there be another who, against all logic, believed in the One True God?
Shem adjusted the long flexible pole wedged beneath his right thigh, positioning it so he could easily grab the handle with his left hand. He had no idea why he’d brought the tool since he had never been forced to use it on the beast, and he didn’t expect to start now. He trained her starting at age three weeks, following Noah’s own Gentle Metho, and in spite of her larger-than-normal size even then, she learned quickly. Despite the scars now crisscrossing her body and callous marks left from restraints attached to her legs by a recent cruel owner, the elephant’s disposition had not changed. No elephant compared with her. He’d never met a gentler, more intelligent beast. Thinking about the way she’d been misused hurt his heart. Father would have found a way to keep her if he’d known she would be mistreated.
Bavai stopped suddenly, positioning her feet carefully and touching her trunk to the ground, listening elephant-style. Birds warbled in the branches. A flock of brilliantly painted yellow and blue-green budgies lifted from the forest, transforming into a black cloud that blocked the sky above their heads. The elephant held her position awhile longer then, satisfied nothing was amiss, resumed walking down the path.
Trees stood naked on both sides of the trail, stripped of leaves and bark, the result of elephants ravaging the mountainside for food on the trek to the ark. They must have come this way. The spicy aroma of birch and pine churned up by the foraging elephants as they dug curls of bark from the trees and exposed the tan undersides, still lingered in the breeze. Gray stones and fresh brown earth replaced the covering of white bark and green moss usually carpeting the forest floor. Only the tops of the stately firs rose tall and undisturbed, too tall for elephants to reach.
At the base of the mountain, where the forest ceased and tall grasses and wild flowers customarily colored the meadow, ash covered everything. The few trees dotting the meadow, lifted cheerless limbs above a desolate landscape. Drooping wildflowers poked sad heads from the gray. Except for one section of city wall which had tumbled partway down the mountain, the city built on rocks appeared untouched from this distance. Like Noah’s mountain.
Rather than taking the usual route on the path through waist-high wildflowers, Shem guided Bavai around the edges of the meadow toward pooled water where the tallest grasses grew nearly as high as the elephant’s head and the long blades still shimmered green when the wind kicked up. Shem hoped the density of the plants would prevent ash from rising as the elephant strode through them. He hoped to avoid breathing in the abrasive gray material and circumvent the coughing spells that still overcame Ham’s wife occasionally.
He needn’t have worried. The ash covering the meadow floor where the weeds thinned appeared dark and heavy from the evening mist. Even the nearly-white dry ash blanketing the road to the city failed to puff into a cloud as Shem expected. Too heavy. Though Bavai’s large feet sank deep into powder, little rose into the air.
Closer to the city, Shem noticed clear spots on the road and mounds of ash off to the side. Evidence of slaves.
So where were they? Why weren’t they working today? The deserted road stretched ahead like an empty arm reaching toward the city. Strange. Owners rarely permitted slaves to discontinue work in middle of the day. Especially when such large a job remained unfinished.
Bavai slowed and moved cautiously around the boulders and trees littering the road, new since Shem’s last visit to find Father. The elephant’s change in behavior told Shem she sensed something awry. His own senses prickled into high alert. The elephant paused, holding one foot above the ground. Shem made no attempt to dissuade her. Lifting her trunk she waved it in the air, then after a moment, proceeded up the road.
Had she heard something? Smelled something? Shem cocked his head, straining to listen. Nothing.
The entrance to the city was deserted and the massive iron-gate that once protected inhabitants at night by keeping out intruders leaned at an angle from its hinges. The walls of the Judgment Hall where Father’s trial had taken place remained upright, but crumbled rock had fallen across the doorway and rubble blocked the stairs descending to the dungeon. More rocks littered the pavement outside.
Shem guided Bavai around the wreckage with gentle taps behind her ears. She balked before crossing a deep fissure running the length of the road, but eventually stepped over the crack easily. Shem pivoted on his high seat, scanning the area from the elephant’s back. Where were the guards? The gatekeeper?
Elephant and man continued through the streets. Mounds of rubble slumped between a few mostly-intact homes and businesses. Tall piles of ash rose nearly as high as the buildings in some places. The inn where he’d spent the night during Father’s trial was gone. The mansion behind the jasmine-covered arch still stood, but earthquakes had knocked off a portion of the facing stone.
Nothing moved anywhere. Not even a breeze whispered through the streets.
Eerie silence enveloped the city. Was anyone left alive?
Surely, if any of the city’s residents had survived this disaster, they would believe God’s promise. They would finally confess the accuracy of Noah’s predictions and flee to the ark for safety. Only a fool would refuse.
Shem and the elephant plodded on. To his right, the top of the pagan temple emerged from behind buildings and trash. The angry god who guarded the facade was gone. Or at least the head and shoulders had disappeared. Shem couldn’t see any lower on the torso because of the houses and rubble blocking his view.
He directed his elephant toward the temple though he didn’t know why or where he planned to go. A short time later, Shem heard the distant muffled voices of an angry mob. Driven by an unseen force, he pressed Bavai forward.
