Chapter Twenty-Three

If this is your first time reading with us, go to the archives at right, click the second arrow and the title Chapter One will drop down. Double click on that chapter and read it first, then proceed with the remainder of the book in order by clicking down the arrows. 

Animals Keep Coming. And Coming 

© Jeannie St. John Taylor 

“The term species may be defined as a group of individuals . . .

which breed together freely and produce fertile offspring.” Alfred M. Rehwinkel

  At the sight and sound of the tiger, Shem yanked open the door and shot into the circular hallway by the big livestock area with his brothers close on his heels. The three men paced, breathing hard. Shem’s pulse thrashed about in his throat as though trying to find a way out.

“Well, I’m not tired any more.” Japheth pressed on his chest. “My heart’s chugging away like a waterwheel.”

“I’ve got more energy than a puppy.” Shem laughed. “That tiger worked magic.”

Ham’s voice rose in distress. “It’s never going to be safe in here if more and more animals keep coming aboard. Any time we think everything’s under control nothing will be under control.”

Shem immediately sobered, feeling empathy for Ham.

“Lost our sense of humor?” Japheth cast a sidelong look at Ham. Japheth’s uncharitable attitude toward Ham surprised Shem. But before he could open his mouth to defend Ham, Japheth spoke again. “The best thing you can do for Eudocea is help us get this mess organized.” Japheth gripped Ham’s shoulder. “Try stop worrying. You’re going to be able to take care of her. Shem will come up with a solution for managing the animals and God will protect all of us.” He lifted his eyebrows at Shem. “You do have a plan, don’t you?”

Shem nodded, observing Ham’s change of expression and noting that he wasn’t complaining about Japheth’s preaching. As he watched Ham visibly relax, Shem smiled to himself. He had underestimated his brother Japheth.

**********

“We’ll lock up the animals already in here before we go home tonight.” Shem explained his plan as the brothers zigzagged through the large central room shoulder to shoulder. A human wall. “Then we’ll leave all the doors leading into this space open.”

“That’s smart since all the animals seem to wander down here on their own.” Ham was finally himself again.

“What about all the nasty surprises – like the tiger?” Japheth asked.

“We’ll stay on the alert and worry about newcomers as they arrive,” Shem said.

The brothers lit torches as they progressed. Soon one end of the space glowed with light. Much better.

Shem squinted to bring the far end of the room into focus. He couldn’t. Too dark. But the space appeared empty. Hopefully, that was good news. Maybe the bears and lions had wandered off to settle in and the brothers would be able to locate them and lock them up effortlessly.

A pinpoint of green down by the waterwheel flickered and went black. Shem held his breath. Almost immediately, another flashed momentarily a cubit from the first one. “Psst.” Shem pointed. Another faint pinprick of green. On and off. Then another. And another. Animal eyes? “Down by the waterwheel.”

The brothers stopped, straining to see through the darkness. Another green flick, and Japheth snickered, “Fireflies.”

Before Shem could feel relieved, the click of small hooves on planks caused him to jump. The lamb had followed them in. Now what?

“Let him stay,” Ham advised. “God gave him free will.”

“What!?” Japheth exclaimed.

Shem opened his mouth to protest Ham’s theology -- free will for animals!, but thought better of it. He had more pressing things on his agenda at the moment than shepherding lambs. If the animal got killed, God could replace him with one of the several hundred more in the pastures by the house.

“The grizzles may still be down by the waterwheel,” Shem whispered.

“What do we do if we find them?” Ham asked.

“Make yourself big.” Shem demonstrated by raising his torch and whip as wide and high as possible. “Shout, stomp, crack your whip, wave your torch, pound on the wall. Anything you can think of to make noise.”

“Will running for my life make enough noise?” Ham asked.

“Ham’s back.” Japheth grinned and Shem thought he detected a bit of smugness uncharacteristic of his brother.

Shem smiled despite the fact that Ham’s words rang unfortunately true. They may have to run for their lives. The three men worked as builders and farmers. Controlling wild animals reached well beyond their expertise.

Shem squared his shoulders and spoke to Japheth. “Check to see if the crocodiles are still down in the pool.”

Japheth carefully approached the pool and held his torch over the edge, peering intently into the sunken space. With a sudden exclamation of surprise, he stumbled backward several steps. Shem caught him.

“Crocs present and accounted for,” Ham quipped.

Shem smiled despite himself.

“Those things are huge!” Japheth said. “My heart’s pounding like a buffalo stampede.”

At the mention of a buffalo stampede the thought struck Shem that Father would welcome seven of those enormous animals aboard since God classified them as clean and suitable for human consumption. This room may host a stampede at some future date. Scary thought.

“Why are they down there in a dry pool?” Japheth wondered.

“Probably searching for water,” Ham said.

 “Shhh.” Shem pressed a finger over his lips and pointed to one of the massive trees that had taken them weeks to chop down and maneuver into the ark. The female lion sprawled beside the trunk. Sleeping? The male lay on his stomach near her with his back to them. There was something between his paws. With the thick tree partially blocking their view, and the smell of burning torches covering their scent, the lions may not have spotted the brothers yet.

Shem wound the length of his whip into a circle and mouthed, “That way.” He gestured toward one of the two corridors that exited from the far end of the room. Though it was still shrouded in darkness, which prevented him from seeing it clearly, they needed to somehow convince the lions to move that direction and down that corridor. Once there, they’d direct them into a cage or one of the stalls reserved for big game.

At Shem’s nod, the brothers stole toward the lions, whips and torches at the ready.

Moments later, a shocking sight unfolded before them. The lamb they had seen earlier lay between the male’s forepaws. At first Shem thought he was dead, but then his ear twitched. The lamb was sleeping peacefully while the lion nuzzled it affectionately.

“What the . . . ?!” Ham exclaimed. 

The lion swung his head around to look at them, stared for a few moments, then rested his chin on the lamb again. The female rolled onto her side and yawned.

Shem remembered the bears outside the hay storage room walking away without incident. They had seemed more curious than anything.

Taking a deep breath, Shem moved toward the lions at a leisurely pace, clapping his hands to motivate the big cats. The male lion casually rose to his feet and the female did the same. They sauntered toward the end of the room. As though driving cattle, Shem walked behind them clapping lightly. Working in sync with his brothers, they planned to funnel the animals toward the corridor.

Things moved along smoothly until, without warning, the lions unexpectedly bolted. The brothers gave chase, making themselves big, shouting and snapping whips. Their torches illuminated the way in front of them.

“That way!” Shem shouted. The brothers cut cattycorner across the room and positioned themselves in the lions’ path, hoping to encourage the beasts to turn. “When they get close, yell as loud as you can, crack your whips and go at them aggressively.” Shem prayed the technique would work as effectively with cats as it did with cattle. The brothers stood with their backs to the waterwheel, gasping for breath.

A low growl rumbled by Shem’s ear so close he could almost feel hot breath on the back of his neck. The growl swelled into the bellow of a grizzley. Out of the corner of his eye, Shem saw a bear rise upright from the darkness around the waterwheel.

Fear coiled around him, squeezing like a cobra.

The lions kept coming. Shem had misjudged the situation. Worse, concentrating on the lions, he’d forgotten the grizzlies. The brothers were trapped, lions in front and bears behind.

“Run!” he yelled.

The next few moments passed in a blur of terror. He and his brothers were running. The lions were running. The bears were running. Other animals he hadn’t noticed earlier and couldn’t identify scurried around the room in confusion. Japheth dangled by his arms from the limb of a tree. Shem couldn’t locate Ham.

At some point in the midst of the swirling disarray, the cats paused for a moment and then sauntered over to the corridor intended for them all along. They disappeared into the interior with the bears following close behind. Shem flew over and slammed the heavy door behind them. Ham materialized from nowhere to help bar the lock.

A long silence followed.

Japheth hopped down from the lower branch of a tree. “I guess I was wrong about the ‘tame’ thing. Those are definitely not domesticated animals.”

Shem massaged his forehead. The evening’s failures belonged to him. He didn’t know if they’d find a dead bear or a dead lion when they opened that door, but he knew something would be deceased. The two species confined down that small hallway together could not coexist peacefully. Was this why God hadn’t chosen to bless Shem with a wife? Because of his incompetence? He couldn’t keep even four animals alive and God expected him to protect thousands once the Flood began. What a fungus he was!

He kicked the door, in disgust stubbing his big toe.

Chapter Twenty-Two

 Please note that this is the SECOND chapter posted this week. 

Don't miss chapter twenty. 

Taming the Beasts

© Jeannie St. John Taylor 

“The wolf shall dwell with the lamb, and the leopard shall lie down with the young goat, and the calf and the lion and the fattened calf together,

and a little child shall lead them.” Isaiah 11:6

With whips in one hand and torches in the other, the brothers swept the middle deck securing every room in turn. Hours later, the tired brothers crept shoulder to shoulder down the hallway on the bottom floor where Shem had last seen the lions. Even though he wasn’t worried about the cats sneaking up on them since he’d cleared the rooms in that area earlier, the brothers lit every torch they passed. Tension grew as they silently tiptoed past room after room. Shem checked each door. Closed and locked. The cats seemed to have disappeared.

“Maybe we should go single file again,” Ham whispered. 

“Only if you take the lead,” Shem retorted. He couldn’t understand why he felt so anxious, but he could tell by his brothers’ faces they felt the same. The air around them sizzled with danger.

Things moved along uneventfully until, halfway to the large central livestock room, something nudged Shem’s calf and slid down to his foot. He stiffened, and his gaze dropped downward. The lion with the black mane crouched in an open doorway beside Shem, his mate by his side, his massive paw resting atop Shem’s sandaled foot. Claws open.

Fear paralyzed Shem. His muscles congealed. His heart fibrillated ineffectively. He couldn’t expel the air from his lungs. Frantically, his brain flipped through options. They were too close for the whip to function effectively. Should he thrust his torch in the lions’ faces and hope to drive them back into the room? Would the lion swat him into eternity if he tried? Should he run? Acutely aware of the warm weight of the lion’s foot on his, he understood all too well he had to wait for the lion to make the first move.

It would be impossible to run. Impossible to move. And if his brothers even twitched the movement might propel the lions to action.

Shem blew out his breath as quietly as possible and looked sideways at his siblings, questioning his brothers with his eyes. Two white faces and four wide eyes stared back at him.

After a few beats, the male lion retracted his claws, eased his foot from Shem’s, elongated into a lazy stretch and pulled to his feet. He briefly nuzzled his mate before lumbering down the hallway with the smaller female at his heels. They faded into the darkness before they reached the door leading to the corridor that ran around the outside of the large central space.

“Is the door to the big area open?” whispered Japheth.

Shem’s mind blanked. Had he left the door open? He remembered thinking that crocodiles and bears had wandered into the space on their own and other animals might do the same. He also recalled thinking he should close the door and keep the bears and crocs somewhat confined. But had he?

The problem was, Paseah had screamed about then and the events immediately before and following his outburst had been blotted from Shem’s memory. He didn’t know if he had closed up the room or not. But something told him the big cats would want to get in there just as the other animals had. Some extra sense seemed to be guiding them.

He took off after the lions with Japheth right beside him. They dashed past three  doors in one of the two long corridors that ran the length of the ark on the bottom deck. The large central room with the pool cut off the corridors, but they commenced again on the other side.

A smaller hallway cutting a perpendicular path across the long corridor, crossed just ahead of the brothers. Shem pointed Japheth that direction, “Turn there. Go toward the big space and open the far door.”

At the moment Shem didn’t know if he was grateful for or hated the dizzying number of doors guarding every room and hallway on the ark.

Japheth disappeared down the hallway.

“See them yet?” Ham asked. From so close behind, the unexpected sound scared Shem, causing him to stumble and nearly fall.

“Forgot about me, huh?” Ham asked.

“Yep.” Shem laughed nervously. For the first time he realized he was shaking. “I’m not sure why we’re running.” Apparently he didn’t always think logically in emergencies. “We need to give Japheth a little longer. He has to go further than we do.” They slowed down.

The partially-open door leading to the hallway looping around the outside perimeter of the big livestock area loomed ahead. Shem knew the lions had pushed the door open because he would have either closed or opened it completely. He took a deep breath before thrusting his torch into the hallway.

 Just opposite him, the partially-open door to the big central area told him the lions had passed through. He quickly closed the door. They’d deal with the lions after they secured the whole ark.

Japheth’s torch appeared at the far end of the hall where he waved his light. Shem returned the wave. At that distance Japheth’s features were indistinct. “Make sure the door to the big space is closed. Then you head that direction down the hall and we’ll go this way,” Shem called to Japheth. Shem knew that though the brothers had found the lions, they had no idea what other beasts might be lurking in the dark. “Meet you on the far side.”

“Got it,” Japheth called back.

**********

After circling the central space and finding no stray animals, the brothers returned to finish the job they’d started earlier. Shem opened doors, peering into rooms with floor to ceiling cages. Nothing moved inside.

Barely able to lift his torch, Shem noticed suddenly how tired he was. He leaned against the hall wall gathering strength. Ham and Japheth joined him.

“Were you guys praying back there?” Shem asked. He tipped back his head and closed his eyes briefly. If he sat down he’d never be able to rise.

“Not me,” Ham chuckled. “My mind was a total blank.”

“I was too scared to pray,” Japheth admitted.

Shem agreed. “I couldn’t think of anything other than how to keep from getting eaten.” Strange the way he almost never prayed in the midst of a crisis. Survival occupied every corner of his mind.

 “Baaaaa.” A lamb trotted out of the room recently vacated by the lions and sauntered over to them.

Shem exchanged a look with his brothers.  

Ham opened one eye and quipped, “Looks like the lion brought his own lunch.”

Shem stifled a chuckle while Japheth returned to the room to check for the lamb’s family. Sheep needed the company of other sheep, so locating this one isolated from the herd presented an anomaly. If they found the bloody remains of a few other sheep he might understand why this one was alone and unharmed. A fresh kill would also explain why he was still alive -- the lions had gorged and had no appetite to eat more.

“Clean and empty,” Japheth called from the room. The lamb trailed after him.

“How’d you get out of there alive, little guy?” he asked as he stroked the lamb’s snowy coat. The animal fixed liquid brown eyes on him. ”Aww. Look how cute he is.”

“I’m looking,” Ham said. “But I’m too tired to care.”

 “Maybe the lions weren’t hungry,” Shem said. Noting the lamb’s crimped dense wool which would prove perfect for spinning into fine tapestry yarn, and addressed the lamb. “Nice to have you aboard.” Mother would love that wool.

“Or maybe,” Japheth offered, “God is temporarily suspending the new laws of nature for our voyage.”

 “What ‘new’ laws?” Shem asked.

Ham groaned. “Don’t get the preacher started.” He pushed away from the wall and opened a couple of doors. “Here I’ve been worrying a tiger might jump out and eat me or a buffalo would thunder in and stomp me to death, and now you two are trying to save them the trouble by boring the life out of me.”

Shem rolled his eyes.

Japheth ignored Ham and responded to Shem’s question about “new” laws.

“They’re new since the Fall. There were no carnivores back in the Garden of Eden.”

“Here we go,” Ham muttered. “Anyone see where the lamb went?”

Shem looked around, but saw nothing. “Looks like he just vanished.”

“That was fast,” Japheth said.

“He’ll turn up.” Right now Shem refused to concern himself with a missing lamb that offered no threat. He wanted to get back on topic. “I know animals eating other animals resulted from the curse,” Shem told Japheth. “I just never thought of the curse as initiating a set of ‘new’ laws.”

            “Semamtics.” Japheth shrugged. “I called the laws ‘new’ to make a point. God changed things then and he can change them now if he wants. And reverse them once again after the Flood.”

            “Point taken.” Shem had to admit Japheth had made him think differently. He also knew that at the end of time animals would no longer be carnivores, but he had never thought that phenomenon could relate to his family and their time. Could it be Japheth was right about God suspending the laws of nature during the Flood, too? At least on the ark? That would make everything a lot easier.

            Shem’s torch spluttered and he lifted a fresh one from a wall pocket with a sigh. Ham hurried ahead of them along the opposite wall banging doors impatiently.

            “Man-sized temper tantrum,” Japheth muttered under his breath.

“I heard that.” Ham banged another door shut and dropped the bar into place. “You should know we can’t count on the beasts being harmless if we hope to stay alive.” He spoke louder than necessary.

“If you can hear us speaking in conversational tones, we can hear you,” Japheph

intoned.

“Pardon me for wanting to be careful.” Ham’s voice dripped sarcasm and Shem understood why they rarely worked as a threesome. “If we let our guard down a tiger will suddenly appear and maul one of us. Count on it. I don’t see anyone we can spare, do you?”

“We’re all tired.” Shem stretched and cracked his knuckles over his head thinking he understood the reason for Ham’s nastiness. “Let’s get this done so you can go home to your future wife.”

Ham’s eyes flashed momentary gratitude. “Thanks.” It shocked Shem to realize again that the two of them might almost be friends.

Japheth yawned. “We’re not as alert when we’re tired.”

            The three men drifted wearily toward the big central space. Shem thought his brothers looked as though they dreaded the task ahead as much as he did. He had just lifted the door-bar when a strident roar sent Adrenaline pumping through him. Out of the corner of his eye he caught sight of the stripes and thick fur of a tiger’s massive head.

Chapter Twenty-One

If this is your first time reading with us, go to the archives at right, click the second arrow and the title Chapter One will drop down. Double click on that chapter and read it first, then proceed with the remainder of the book in order by clicking down the arrows.

Wild or Tame?

“Make yourself an ark of gopher wood. Make rooms in the ark, and cover it inside and out with pitch. This is how you are to make it; the length of the ark 300 cubits; its breadth 50 cubits; and its height 30 cubits. Make a roof for the ark and finish it to a cubit above, and set the door of the ark in its side. Make it with lower, second and third decks.” 

Gen. 6:14

            Hurrying toward the ark with Japheth, Shem worked out a plan for corralling the bears as well as caging the lions he’d seen with Paseah. The problem was that more than two men would be necessary to control the animals. Shem was still trying to figure out how they’d manage without Ham when running footsteps and a bobbing torch sped toward them from the direction of the house. Moments later Ham stopped breathlessly beside them. “Eudocea’s awake and Mother thinks she’ll be fine!”

            Instant relief washed over Shem. Partly because of the news about Eudocea, but also relief at having Ham back. The latter surprised him because he realized he and Ham may actually be friends. Despite all their differences.

            “Why aren’t you with her?” Japheth demanded.

Ham had come to help and Japheth wanted to send him away! Shem’s grimace was lost in the darkness.

“She’s not ready yet.” Through the black night, Ham’s words radiated happiness laced with apprehension. Shem understood. Though a measure of uncertainty remained, Ham had hope.

They continued to the ark with Ham bouncing beside his brothers like a kangaroo who’d munched sugar beets. “Got a little too much energy?” Shem asked.

“Yeah! I need something strenuous to work it off.” Ham laughed and punched Shem’s shoulder.

At the bottom of the ramp, the younger brothers fell into line behind Shem even though the ramp spanned wide enough for elephants to walk side by side. It was a habit formed in childhood and carried out subconsciously by the brothers. In the same way, they all assumed that Shem would come up with a plan for getting the animals into the appropriate stalls.      

So far Shem had nothing. He’d worked with cows and camels and could shear a sheep in his sleep, but he had no experience with wild animals.

Especially dangerous ones.

How could he control the uncontrollable? His palms were beginning to sweat.

“Got any idea how to herd lions?”

Japheth groaned. “Please tell me you’re joking. I know nothing about lions, but I’m relatively certain you can’t herd them.”

“We’ll come up with something,” Shem assured him.

“You better. I just work the fields.”

“I have a feeling you’re going to be saying, ‘I’m just a wild animal handler’ after tonight.” Ham laughed.

Japheth moaned again. “I don’t care how excited you are about your wife. That goofy cheerfulness is gonna wear me raw.”

Shem smiled.

Inside the ark, all the wall torches made it easier to see one another, but Shem still puzzled over how he would get the animals to rooms and cages where he could safely lock them up. Warily on the lookout for lions and bears, the men closed doors as they moved down corridors. Only Shem had thought to shut and lock rooms as he checked for Paseah earlier in the day. All the doors left open by Japheth and Ham left literally hundreds of places to check.

Was it really still the same day? Wow. A fly buzzed past his face and he absently swatted at it.

            “Careful about killing flies in here,” Japheth warned. “The ones by the house are okay, but aboard the ark, well . . .

“Well, what?”

“You don’t want to exterminate an entire species do you?”

            Shem chuckled, then caught a glimpse of his brother’s face. “You’re not kidding.”

            “We’re responsible to keep every creature aboard the ark alive.”

            “A fly?” Shem poked his torch into a doorway and scanned a room stacked with wooden crates before closing the door and barring it. “You really think God cares about one pesky fly?” He wished they could skip checking all the hundreds of rooms on this floor.

            “I hadn’t thought much about flies either until Father said something yesterday. He said God loves even flies.”

            “Oh, come on,” Ham derided him.

            “A fly!” Shem repeated, shocked to find himself agreeing with Ham. “Somehow I doubt that.”

            “Father said God loves every detail of his creation.”

Ham hooted. “If he cares so much about his creatures why would he be planning to destroy everyone and everything on earth?” As soon as he spoke the words, he clamped a hand over his mouth.

Still holding onto the door-bar, Shem gawked open-mouthed at his brother. Ham had accused God. Out loud! Though Shem didn’t think saying bad things rated any higher or lower on the wickedness scale than thinking them, Ham’s words indicting God were blasphemy. Paralyzing fear gripped Shem. “God help us.” He released the bar and the slat thudded into place across the door.

 “God heard you say he doesn’t love his creation!” Japheth muttered through white lips.

“Don’t tell me you’ve never thought that.” Ham laughed nervously, though Shem didn’t find his laughter appropriate. An argument between the two younger brothers ensued. Japheth insisted Ham needed to confess and repent. Ham said God would forgive him. Japheth said Ham didn’t deserve forgiveness. He’s just fortunate God is so gracious and loving that he will forgive Ham if he asks.

Lost in his own thoughts, Shem led them toward the family quarters intending to pick up whips for managing the lions and bears before they went any further. The disagreement between his siblings nattered in the background like the cacophony of Spring Peepers in a swamp. Shem couldn’t stop mulling over Ham’s statement. “Don’t tell me you’ve never thought that.”

Had Shem ever believed God didn’t care about him, especially when God failed to provide a wife? Probably. Had he ever thought of God as uncaring because he intended to destroy the world? Yes. Shem didn’t know if he actually believed that, but he had to admit the thought had flashed through his mind a few times. And stayed for awhile.

The words sounded awful when Ham spoke them, but Shem was guilty too. While believing human mothers always loved their children – their creations -- Shem had questioned whether God loved his creation. Shem had unintentionally placed God on a lower moral level than the human mothers he created. By thinking God cared nothing for his own creation, Shem had effectively labeled God as cruel.

“Forgive me, Lord,” Shem prayed. “I was wrong.”

The argument behind abruptly ceased. “What?” Ham asked.

“Nothing,” Shem replied.

“Not nothing.” Japheth wouldn’t let it go. “You said something.”

Shem glanced into a room packed with dried venison then slammed the door. “Just keep doing your job. You missed that room over there.”

“I think you said something about being wrong.” Ham’s grin exposed his relief at shifting the focus from his flaws to his brother’s.

Finding nothing on the top level, Shem led his brothers through one of the passages that cut perpendicular across the ark. They passed an elevator before descending one of the flights of stairs to the second deck. Steepest of the ark’s stairways, this one was little more than a ladder.

“I was just thinking.” Shem smiled ruefully as the trio began lighting wall torches on the middle level so nothing could sneak up on them, “that I don’t have to know everything about God’s plan. Not even his plan for me. All I need to know is that he has a plan and he’s good and he’ll work everything out for the best. That’s all.” 

Japheth nodded approval.

“Never expected you to turn into Preachy-Japheth-Number-Two,” Ham said.

Japheth snorted in disgust.

Shem opened the door to one of the numerous small storerooms located next to the elevators used for lowering food from storage rooms on the top floor to animals on the bottom decks. “Think you can find whips?”

Japheth went inside and pushed aside a small wheeled wagon used to haul animal-feed before fumbling through a jumble of supplies in a dark corner of the room. After a few moments, he triumphantly lifted three short-handled whips above his head. Intricately braided leather engulfed each handle, extending into a long lash with a single cubit-long leather popper at the end.

Ham accepted a whip from his brother and stepped into the hallway where there was more space. He flicked his wrist and arm. A loud crack sounded from the single length of leather at the end, eliciting a broad grin from Ham. “Any lions or bears catching that boom will march obediently into cages.”

“I hope so.” Shem said. “We might not live through this if they don’t.”

© Jeannie St. John Taylor 

Because this chapter is short, I'll post another by Wednesday. 

Chapter Twenty

Mahli

“Have I any pleasure in the death of the wicked, declares the LORD God,

and not rather that he should turn from his way and live?” Ezekiel 18:22Page 136

            “At l-least I don’t have to g-go right n-now.” Atarah huddled in the corner of the dried-grass bed in the room they’d slept in the night before, her teeth chattering. With knees drawn to her chest and her face buried in her hands she exhaled a hot breath that deflected from her palms to warm her skin. And still she shook. Almost convulsed. Obviously not from the cold. From fear and disgust. Peleg had advised her that his men would fetch her the next afternoon. He planned to allow her a long night of sleep, he had said with a leering grin, so she could be at her best for him the next day.

            At her best for him! She shuddered and pushed away the jar of scented oil the guards he’d stationed outside her door had given her to use after she bathed. 

Over on the opposite bed, Shua bounced a screaming Gadreel. He’d been crying when Tirza brought him to Atarah following their return from the ash storm and, for the first time ever, his distress escalated when Atarah reached for him. He pulled away from her. 

Shua crooned to the baby.

“H-he’s upset because I-I’m upset,” Atarah murmured through her fingers. Not likely. He’d seen her upset many times over the last few days and hadn’t acted like this.

“Can’t you stop shaking? Maybe that will settle him.”

“I-I’m trying.” Atarah gripped the stone sides of the bed, desperately struggling to hold still -- but not because she worried about the noise level. Gadreel couldn’t betray their hiding place -- they were no longer hiding. Peleg had dropped them off at their old room and stationed three of Tirza’s burly men outside the door. Everyone knew their whereabouts.

            Shua lowered her voice and glanced toward the doorway. “We know the way out now. If we can get Gadreel to quiet down maybe we can get away.” She rose to her feet and Atarah noticed for the first time that the rounded ceiling barely cleared the top of her slave’s head. Already hardened by mistreatment at the hands of city-dwellers, Shua seemed only marginally concerned over what Peleg planned to do with her after he finished with Atarah. Sad and hard to comprehend. But commendable that she cared so much for the baby.

            After a few minutes, when Gadreel’s shrieks modified to a whimper and Atarah stopped trembling, Shua moved closer. “See if he’ll come to you now.”

Atarah forced a wan smile and reached over to wiggle each of the baby’s twelve toes in turn. He ducked his head and angled his shoulder up and away from her, leaning into Shua. Ignoring his reaction, Atarah grinned and nuzzled the bottoms of his feet. The baby looked at her doubtfully for a moment then reached toward her with a moist smile. She placed a kiss on the end of his nose and drew him into her arms. He felt so good. She shut her eyes and wrapped him in a tight hug, absorbing his comfort.

He still comforted her even if The Dream no longer did. She admitted she’d misjudged the Light. The “new thing” hadn’t meant losing Gadreel after all. But after giving into her disappointment and rejecting the Light, she hadn’t been able to open herself to it again.

The baby snuggled against her and twined twelve fingers through her hair. He was the same Gadreel. Why had she been afraid? “He’s all right.”

“I know. He’s just never seen you cry.”

“That’s right. I’ve never cried in front of him before.”

“Never.”

“I was just so . . . “             “Scared about Peleg and what’s going to happen to you.” Shua stated almost matter-of-factly.

Atarah absently bobbed her head and stared with out-of-focus eyes. She’d kept  herself pure for so many years and now . . . The familiar nausea thickened in her throat. “I’m scared about a lot of things.”

 “Yeah.”

“Besides, it’s too early for Gadreel to start changing.” Atarah hadn’t realized she’d been worrying about the awful things people claimed about baby giants until she uttered the words. She automatically covered the baby’s fingers with her hands in a protective gesture though she had no idea who she was protecting him from or how hiding his deformity would help.

Her slave studied the floor and chewed her thumb nail. “They do say the babies start changing early.”

“But Gadreel won’t change,” Atarah snapped. She lifted her chin, cloaking herself with a confidence she didn’t feel. Even though she’d thought ill of her mother a thousand times for covering over problems and pretending they didn’t exist, Atarah couldn’t stem the flow of defensive words. “We’ll love him, and when he grows up he’ll grow into a harmless larger-than-life human who loves us in return.”

“Yes.” Shua agreed hastily, but her eyes betrayed her. “He’ll never turn into one of them. He’d never hurt us.”

Atarah suspected that only a lifetime of servitude kept the slave from expressing her true thoughts, but Atarah knew Shua no longer believed in their dreams for Gadreel. The slave expected him to turn into one of the evil giants who had destroyed her village and killed her family.

The knowledge dizzied Atarah. Unable to deny, yet unwilling to admit, that Shua’s fears about Gadreel were founded in reality, Atarah turned away. Immediately, terrifying images of giants and the god Ninlel and the Nephilim and Tirza and the ash storm and Father and Dagaar and the ark streamed through her head. The pictures ended with an image of Peleg’s ugly, twisted smirk.

Her stomach lurched and she abruptly stood. “I’m going to get some water.”

“I don’t like to go out there. Those men scare me.”

“Me, too, but I’ve been cooped up too long. I need to move and get my mind off things.” She didn’t dare allow her thoughts to dwell on Peleg and his rotten-potato breath.

“God of Noah, spare me,” she whispered into Gadreel’s hair. But she knew even as she prayed . . . there was no hope.

Peleg’s men didn’t take Atarah to Peleg the next day as expected. Or the next. Another week passed and another. Still no sign of a summons. She rubbed the scented oil Peleg gave her on the baby and dumped out the rest. “You shouldn’t use the oil either,” she told Shua. “Neither of us want to do anything to make ourselves more attractive to Peleg.” The slave agreed. But they both knew Peleg stank so badly he wouldn’t notice how they smelled.

Each morning the beautiful young woman Atarah had noticed staring at her on their first day with the community brought them a bit of bread and curdled milk. She introduced herself as Mahli. She seemed gentle and timid, different from anyone else they had met in this place. Well-bred, maybe. And young. Atarah suspected that if circumstances were different Mahli might giggle and bubble, but her eyes remained dark pools of sorrow.

Once when the guards briefly moved out of hearing, words burst from Mahli like water over a rapids, rushing out as though she hungered for words she hadn’t tasted in months. She reminded Atarah of Tirza the first night they’d met her. Before Tirza kidnapped Gadreel and her character did an about-face.

Mahli informed them the ash storm had obliterated the crops. The giants had arrived shortly after the storm, hungry and on the rampage, causing the entire underground community to hunker down. As a matter of fact, fleeing to the safety of the cave to escape the storm had probably saved them all from a disastrous encounter with the giants. Since then, the monsters had been fighting to get into the city, but spies reported they hadn’t been able to break through.

Mother! Sharp pain knifed into Atarah, but she shoved the concern to the back of her mind. She couldn’t spend time worrying over Mother when she was powerless to do anything to help. The baby and Shua were her responsibility now.

The giants, Mahli continued, were the reason meal portions had been small and only once a day. But on the plus side, Atarah and Shua had avoided Peleg so far because he’d been occupied with planning what to do in case the giants discovered them.

A guard approached. Mahli’s eyes dimmed and her mouth clamped tight. Timid again. Atarah got the distinct feeling the woman felt some sort of affinity for her. As though they had something in common that Atarah knew nothing about.

Other than Mahli’s brief visits, Atarah saw no one but Shua, Gadreel and the ever-present guards. With nothing else to do, Atarah and Shua took turns entertaining Gadreel any way they could. They rocked him, crossed their legs and jiggled him on their shins. They tickled him and dangled their long hair in front of him until he giggled. He gummed Atarah’s finger and grew crankier by the day. Teething. Poor baby. They made no attempt to keep him quiet.

Late one afternoon, just as Atarah started to think Peleg might have forgotten about her, a stir outside proved otherwise. An angular whiskered face poked into the room. The man snapped a forefinger her direction and jerked his head toward the door. “Come!” A surge of fear ripped through Atarah, buckling her knees as though someone had clipped her from behind. She sat down hard on the bed, unable to breathe.

“I said come!”

With legs too weak to support her, she leaned forward gripping her thighs with white knuckled fingers. Air trapped viselike in her lungs. The man scowled and his eyes narrowed into a threat. He took a menacing step toward her.

“Move! Now! It’s time.”

Before he could say anything further, Mahli appeared magically beside him. “Calm down,” Mahli told him roughly. Elbowing past him she handed a loaf of bread to Shua. “Take care of the baby until I bring her back.”

“What are you doing?” the man asked.

“You’re the one whose been complaining about cranky baby noises. Peleg sent me with a little extra food to occupy him and silence the clamor while his mama’s gone.” With her eyes locked on Atarah’s, Mahli spoke over her shoulder to the guard.  “As long as I’m going that way, I’ll deliver the woman.”

He planted his feet. “Peleg gave me the job and . . .”

“No!” she interrupted sharply. “Peleg sent me for her.” She jutted out her chin and matched his glare with a searing one of her own. “You want to risk Peleg’s displeasure?”

Atarah and Shua exchanged glances. This couldn’t be the same woman who’d been bringing meals.

“She’s all yours.” With a revolting leer, the man crossed his arms and cocked his head, mocking her. “I would never mess with one of Peleg’s girls.”

Mahli blushed and shame briefly flashed over her countenance. She quickly recovered her composure and helped Atarah to her feet. She squeezed Atarah’s hand reassuringly then shoved angrily past the man as she dragged Atarah by the arm through the door and down the corridor. The guard’s voice, thick with innuendo, followed them.

“Just make sure you get the new girl there safely.”

Mahli continued to pull Atarah away from the guards, gripping her arm with the intensity she might use in clinging to a branch high over a rushing stream.

 A hodgepodge of questions and emotions tumbled around inside Atarah. Obviously Mahli knew Peleg in the same way he intended to know Atarah. The woman’s nearly palpable empathy made that apparent. Did Mahli plan to spirit her to safety? As soon as Atarah’s heart lifted at that thought, she remembered the baby and Shua and knew she couldn’t leave them. Besides, there was no safety. Not anywhere.

After a few moments they rounded a corner and Mahli abruptly stopped. She closed her eyes and wrapped herself in a trembling hug. “Give me a minute.” She sucked in a deep gulp of air and held it for several beats before finally exhaling. Then she opened her eyes and gazed miserably at Atarah. “Sorry. I came to try and make it a little easier for you. But then I started reliving everything.” She massaged her forehead. “I’m afraid I’m not very comforting.”

 Atarah studied her. She was beautiful, really, except for the sallow skin with too many wrinkles for one so young. Long lashes brushed her cheeks. Brown hair fell across her shoulders. In a way Atarah couldn’t articulate, Mahli reminded her of a discarded hull. “You took charge back there.”

“Thanks. I was terrified.” Mahli giggled unsteadily. “I attack when I’m scared. False

bravado. I’m not really like that.”

“I appreciated it.” Atarah made no attempt to disguise her admiration.

“I wanted. . . I didn’t want . . . I thought maybe . . . ” Mahli sighed deeply and

started over. “I thought you might feel a little better if you knew that someone else . . . understands. What you’re going through.”

Pity for the girl rushed through Atarah. “You understand because . . .”

“Yes. Peleg.” Crimson rushed up Mahli’s neck. “Regularly. I hate him.”

“I hoped you intended to help me avoid Peleg.”

“I wish.” Mahli lowered her gaze. “There’s no way out of this. Sorry if I gave you false hope.” She started walking again. Very slowly. They moved down the corridor and up a flight of stairs in silence.

“Can you help us leave?” Atarah took care to use the plural so Mahli would understand she couldn’t leave without Shua and the baby.

“I’m sorry.” Wretchedness shone in her eyes. “If there was a way to escape I’d go with you. But there are guards at every exit and the stone seals are so heavy.”

Atarah had already figured as much. She didn’t feel the slightest nudge of disappointment when Mahli told her. She only felt . . . what? Numb. Resigned.

“How can Peleg spare men to watch us at a time like this?”

“He can’t. That proves how determined he is to have you.”

Atarah moved along without feeling the floor. “God of Noah, spare me.” She prayed silently. She must somehow survive this. For Gadreel. “Why didn’t Peleg send for me earlier?”

“I told Hoda his intentions and she’s been keeping him to a short tether.”

“Hoda?”

“Yes. His wife.”

“I know she’s his wife. When we first came . . .” No point in going through that sordid scene again. “I got the impression she already knew.”

“She did. Sort of. She tries not to believe those things about him.” Mahli shrugged. “It’s complicated. Hoda’s not as bad as she seems. She wants to protect us. Sometimes she can. Sometimes she can’t.”

“Us?”

“All the women Peleg . . . claims. Peleg started misusing her when she was still a child and he was already an old man. She’s years younger than she looks. Yet in some twisted way she’s fond of him.”

“She loves him?”

Mahli pushed out her lips thoughtfully. “Maybe something like that. I think she needs him . . . depends on him. I’m not sure. As I said, it’s complicated.” 

            Life in the underground mirrored life in the city; Hoda’s life mirrored Mother’s. “And Hoda just accepts mistreatment,” Atarah mused.

            “She allows the abuse. Sometimes I think she believes she deserves no better.” Mahli let the flat of her hand bump along the wall. “She even lets him beat her. I think that’s part of their unspoken agreement. She submits to that quirky little pleasure of his and he’s willing to forgo pleasures with other women. For a while.”

Atarah didn’t want to hear more, but she did need to map out the route in her mind. While Mahli chattered on, she committed the twists and turns of the tunnel to memory. Until a surprising statement shocked her out of her reverie.

“Crazy Noah is his brother.”

“Noah? Whose brother?” Atarah chided herself for blocking out the conversation.

“My husband’s brother.”

“Your husband?” Atarah stared blankly. Mahli was so young.

“Paseah.” 

            Atarah scrambled to figure out what Mahli was talking about. She was married? Noah had a brother? “I’m sorry, I guess my brain shut down.”

            “Oh, I’m sorry. I should know you can’t think right now.” Mahli’s brow furrowed with distress. “But I kept rattling on and on about myself. I’m so stupid.”

            Atarah caught the faint aroma of bread. They must be almost there. Her heart clenched at the thought, but she pushed fear away. “No, your story will distract me. Start from the beginning and talk fast.” Talking fast shouldn’t be a problem for Mahli.

            “You know who Crazy Noah is? That man who built an ark on the mountain?”

            Engrossed in telling her story, Mahli slowed down. Atarah was only too happy to oblige. They barely crept through the tunnel.

“I was the fourth concubine of Noah’s brother, Paseah. My father sold me to him

before I stood much higher than his waist. I worked in the garden and cooked. Concubines are just glorified slaves, you know.” She glanced at Atarah to see if she understood.

            “I know.” It was amazing how much Mahli’s life reminded Atarah of Hoda’s and Mother’s lives. Atarah briefly wondered if everything came in threes. “You were married to Noah’s brother? Wasn’t he awfully old?”

            Mahli grimaced. “He was a little younger than Noah, but that’s ancient to a half-grown girl.” Launching into the meat of the narrative she spoke faster, almost without taking time to breathe. “Paseah always talked about how terrible his brother was and how the two of them never agreed about anything and how that’s why Paseah was forced to move so far from Noah even though siblings usually look up to older brothers and  Paseah told us that all his brothers and sisters felt the same way about Noah that he does.”

            “You said Paseah told ‘us?’”

            “Yes. He told all his wives and children. Most of his children are older than I. The other wives hated me and Paseah loved only his money so I was completely alone.”

That the others wives were jealous of Mahli didn’t surprise Atarah. Mahli was so young. She served as proof that beauty wasn’t always an asset.              “So,” Mahli picked up the thread of her story, “he said Noah insisted on worshipping only one god and wasted the family fortune on building an enormous structure for animals because the god told him to and he forced his family to live in squalor in a little thatched hut by the ark. That’s why all Noah’s brothers and sisters were forced to move to another city.”

“How’d you get here?”

“I ran away from him.”

“I get why you ran away, but why did you seek out the area where Noah lives if you thought he was a bad man?”

“See that’s just it.” Impressed with her own brilliance, Mahli’s eyes lit up. “Because I knew how cruel Paseah was, and I knew he regarded Noah as the worst man in the world because they were such opposites . . .” She stopped to lift her eyebrows and palms. “Don’t you see? By default that would make Noah nice. I know. Convoluted logic.” Mahli shrugged. “But I hoped maybe Noah would take me in since I’m family. I thought he might care for me without mistreating me like his brother did.”

            “And you’re in the underground because . . .” Atarah tilted her head, questioning.

            “The day before I got here I ran into some people who told me that everything Paseah said about Noah is true.” Mahli smiled ruefully. “They brought me to Peleg. He stole my money. Kept me. He has a strong appetite for women who aren’t slaves.” She shook her head. “And now Paseah is dead.”

            “What? How do you know?”

“The underground has spies everywhere. They said Paseah traveled to the city – probably looking for me -- and paid some money Noah owed. Then Noah took him away and let some animals maul him to death up by his ark. No one has seen him since.”

Atarah barely had time to experience renewed fear of Noah and his ark when the community’s common area, with people scurrying about trying to appear busy, opened unexpectedly before them. “Peleg’s room is just over there.” Mahli pointed to a corridor Atarah hadn’t noticed the first time she visited the place. “I’m not supposed to go any further with you. Even though you can’t tell, they’re all watching. You have to go on alone.”

Atarah stood frozen.

“He’s waiting. I’m sorry.”

Raw terror closed around Atarah like a mountainous wave.