Chapter Twenty-Six

 Paw Paw patch

©  Jeannie St. John Taylor

“Also take with you every sort of food that is eaten, and store it up. It shall serve as food for you and them.” Gen. 6:21

            Not even the river rushing beyond the trees had been able to drown out Ham’s nasal complaining. He’d been griping nonstop since early morning. Shem assumed his brother was upset about having to leave Eudocea for the day, but disappointment was no excuse for whining and Shem was weary of listening. “Go ahead, Ham,” he snapped sarcastically. “Tell me again why you don’t like paw paws.” Shem reached up and plucked one of the shiny green fruits with dark spots.

“Well . . . ” Ham tilted his head, looking up and to the side in an attempt to feign concentration.  “Let’s see . . . I don’t like the slimy texture. I don’t like enormous black seeds in my fruit. I don’t like that wild-banana flavor. And especially I don’t like the snakes that lurk around here.” He scratched his arm.

“Were you unable to detect the sarcasm in my tone?” Shem walked to his donkey, shaking his head, and tucked the rest of the oblong paw paws he’d collected into one of the packs slung across the animal’s back.

“I detected your tone and didn’t care.”  Ham grinned and wiggled his brows, then scowled and scratched his other arm. “Don’t ask me to tell you something if you don’t want to hear.”

“We’ve got enough paw paws for now,” Shem said. He had to admit Ham won that battle of wits. “Let’s grab a few huckleberries from the bushes by that rock over there before we start home.”

“Stupid chiggers!” Ham scratched harder, his arm a raging red color. “I hate chiggers.”

Shem sighed and led his donkey toward the low shrubs heavy with blue berries. “I don’t like chiggers either, but I choose not to yammer on about them.”

Completely disregarding Shem’s words, Ham followed with his own donkey. Still complaining. “I think we should keep chiggers and paw paws far away from the ark. I, for one, would prefer a world without either of them and we have the power to make that happen, don’t we?”

He waggled his brows again, further irritating Shem who felt like popping him one.

“Won’t keeping chiggers off the ark be hard to do since you appear to have a whole family of the miniature insects living under your skin and as soon as you walk onto the ark . . .” Shem turned to flash a grin at Ham so he could observe his brother’s reaction. “Those chiggers will be right there with you, ready to reproduce and populate a post-flood world. We’ll have to keep you off the ark if you plan to exclude chiggers.”

Ham grimaced, showing his dimples. “We could at least ‘forget’ to take those paw paws aboard.”

“Won’t stop them from growing after the Flood.” Shem had resigned himself to the fact that the Flood rapidly approached, but a residual depression brought on by that acceptance plagued him.

“Why not? If we don’t take them to Mother there will be no seeds to dry . . .” Shem glanced back, and Ham took the opportunity to flash a victorious smile. “And without seeds . . . no paw paws to plant.” 

 “These are just for tonight’s meal. The only seeds Mother or Father plan to save are the ones we’ll and grind and eat during our voyage”

“No, Father said he intends to plant crops afterward. Grapes and spelt and . . . ”

 “And paw paws?” Shem interrupted, “Don’t think so. All the trees will sprout again without any help from us. Like olive trees, for instance. We’re not going to start new ones from seed. They’ll be in leaf and ready to produce fruit by the time we leave the ark. Food will already be growing from the earth.”

“How do you know that?” Ham asked.

“Because God always provides. And because he told Father to take every sort of food onto the ark so we’d have plenty to eat during the Flood, but he didn’t say anything about seeds for replanting the entire earth.” Shem snorted in derision. “Father must have told us that a thousand times. Don’t you listen?”

Shem’s conscience smote him as soon as the words left his mouth. He knew thinking about the Flood and his future made him anxious and he was venting at his brother’s expense. Treating Ham unkindly wouldn’t solve anything.

Shem opened his mouth to utter a rare apology when a terrified scream from Ham cut him off. Whipping around, Shem caught a movement of grass as something slithered away from his brother. Ham bent forward holding onto his right leg just above the knee, his face ashen and contorted in distress.

“Snake?” Shem rushed to his brother.

“Mmmhhhhhhh,” Ham groaned. 

“Up that high?”

“No. Shin.”

“Did you see the snake?”

“No. Aghhh. Hurts.”

“Hopefully the snake wasn’t venomous,” Shem said, though he knew Ham’s level of discomfort indicated otherwise. He supported his brother’s head and back while lowering him to the ground where he could examine the wound. “Two fang punctures. Poisonous.” Nonpoisonous snakes had rows of teeth. No fangs. Shem began squeezing around the wound, hoping to make the punctures bleed so poison would come out with the blood. “Keep holding your leg until I can wrap some strips around it. You need to calm down so the venom doesn’t pump through your system faster.”

Even as he said the words, Shem realized he was nearly as frightened as his brother and if he didn’t get his emotions under control, panic would compromise his judgment. He deliberately walked, instead of ran, to his donkey and fished around for the snake bite supplies they always kept with them though neither had been bitten before. A bar of lye soap, a walnut-sized bit of blackened bone and cloth strips. Finding them, he snatched up their last skin of water.

Kneeling beside his brother he ripped off a portion of a strip poured the last of the water on it. He washed the wound with soap and water, then wrapped the leg a hand-width above the punctures. Not too loose. Not too tight. “That should keep the venom in the lower leg. If you start wanting to move the leg that’ll mean the strips are too tight and we’ll need to loosen them,” Shem said evenly. “Now let’s see if we can bleed it out.”

Shem pulled the knife from his belt, crisscrossed two shallow cuts over the puncture site and carefully scraped the wound with the side of his knife. Venom-laden blood oozed down his brother’s leg and covered Shem’s hands.

“Eudocea,” Ham moaned, his face a mask of pain and fear.

“You’re not going to die.” Shem pressed around the wound, bringing more blood to the surface. “I’ll get you safely home to your wife.”

“You can’t promise me that.”

“I can promise!” Shem insisted vehemently – almost angrily. He hoped Ham couldn’t read his thoughts because Shem didn’t believe his own words. Ham’s pallor and dull eyes didn’t bode well and Shem was terrified his brother would die before they returned home. “I’m going to suck out the venom.”

“No!” Ham shouted with unexpected strength. “That won’t guarantee my survival and it could kill you.”

“Okay.” Shem grudgingly relented. “You have to calm down. The more upset you get the more quickly the blood will circulate poison through your system.” Ham understood that, of course, but a reminder couldn’t hurt right now. “Do you want me to use the snake stone?” Shem asked.

He had no idea if snake stones actually pulled out venom as reported. After all, the “stone” was simply a small piece cut from a cow’s dry thigh-bone and baked in a charcoal fire. But anecdotes from all over claimed it worked, and anything that could give Ham confidence and soothe him was worth a try.

“Yeah. Use the stone.”

“We’re completely out of water.” Shem placed the black bone against the puncture marks and tied it on with one of the extra strips. “You’ll have to stay here while I run to the river and get some.”

“I’m going with you.”

“No, you shouldn’t move around more than necessary.” Hadn’t Shem explained the reason for that moments ago? Was Ham already confused? “Just relax. When I get back I’ll unload your donkey so you can ride him home.”

“I’ll do that . . . “ Ham said in the midst of a low moan, “while you’re gone.”

 “No!” Shem practically shrieked the command. “Lie still! Concentrate on controlling your breathing and staying calm.” Could he trust his brother not to do something stupid in his venom-muddled state of mind?

“Okay.” Ham took a few deep breaths. His eyes cleared and color returned to his face. “Don’t touch anything until you wash the venom off your hands.”

“Problem-solving skills intact I see,” Shem said, smiling. He would not have forgotten that simple life-saving rule, but he was glad his brother appeared to be thinking rationally after all. “I’ll wash off in the river. You pray while I’m gone.”

“You pray.”

“Oh, I will.” Shem said. “I’ll yell my prayers loud enough for you to hear me all the way to the river and back. You do the same.” Shem knew God could hear a mere whisper, but Ham could not. Ham needed to anchor himself to Shem’s voice so he would know his brother hadn’t abandoned him when Shem disappeared from view. Even more importantly, Ham needed the assurance that Shem was interceding for him and asking God to clear death from his body.

Conversely, Shem needed the comfort of Ham’s voice guaranteeing that his brother still lived. 

Chapter Twenty-Five

Peleg’s Quarters 

© Jeannie St. John Taylor 

“And as you have been a byword of cursing . . . so I will save you and you will be a blessing. Fear not, but let your hands be strong.” Zech. 8:13

In a nearly catatonic state, Atarah lowered herself onto a wooden bench in Peleg’s quarters. Poor by city standards, this place was luxurious compared to the one she’d slept in the past few nights. A worn rug adorned the large space in front of the bed and a few pieces of formerly-elegant furniture slumped around the area. The bed, large enough for two people, had been draped with faded dirty fabric. Palatial for the underground. Fit for a king.

And the king himself had dropped the heavy bar on the door into place and turned a key in the metal lock. He now stood before her, looking her up and down, the key dangling from his filthy crooked forefinger.

No escape.

Though she stared straight ahead she could see the man himself a few paces off to the side posing with one foot on a low table, a come-hither gleam in his good eye. With his gaze fixed seductively on her, Peleg’s gray lips curled into a rotted-tooth smirk. “Wine, my dear?” he asked.

She managed a barely-perceptible shake of the head. The man was trying to charm her even as her every breath pulled in the putrid odor emanating from him. Nausea filled her chest and threatened to explode. She could taste blood oozing from her lower lip – yet she couldn’t force herself to stop biting. Her nails had broken the skin of her fisted palms, but she was powerless to unclench.

Without taking his eyes from her, he slowly bent to pick up a pottery jar from the table. He poured wine from a skin, tipped it back and took a deep draught, probably of the same vile wine she had tasted when first arriving in this place. “Sure you don’t want a sip?” His eyes started at her head and traced down to her feet then up again for the hundredth time.

Shame burned her neck and face, but she didn’t move. Didn’t answer. Even though wine might be the only thing that could offer her a measure of relief, she couldn’t afford to anesthetize herself. She had to be alert for Gadreel.

For Gadreel. She had to remember. Her baby. With the Light gone, thoughts of Gadreel would have to keep her going.

            Peleg tossed the key on the table and straightened. Grabbing a straight-backed chair he plunked it down on the floor in front of her and straddled it. “Look at me,” he commanded.

            The room swam around Atarah. She tried to look at him, but her eyes wouldn’t focus.

            “You belong to me now.” The words were clipped. Harsh. He leaned close, now nose to nose with her. She gasped at the stench of his breath and body.

“Think you’re too good for me?” A muscle in his jaw corded tight. He drew back and slammed the flat of his hand across her face. “You’ll learn to like me.” He leaned closer again with a humorless laugh and squeezed her face until she wondered if he might break a bone.

            Sudden loud pounding rattled the door behind her. Peleg cursed and kicked his chair away. “Go away,” he roared.

Panicked voices from the other side yelled, “Giant attack!”

Brief minutes later, Atarah sat on the floor chained to a metal ring in the wall of Peleg’s empty quarters. A metal collar like the ones she’d seen worn by slaves in the caravans that visited the City of a Thousand Gods to trade with Father encircled her neck. She carefully stood to see how far she could move. Not far. As soon as she took two steps the collar began cutting off her air supply. Holding the front of the collar with both hands she yanked backward on the chain. She stood no chance of releasing her restraints.

Peleg was taking no chances. She was trapped here until he returned.

Sliding down the wall, she lowered herself to the floor and held her head in her hands. Her mind raced to find a solution. None came. Panic set in and she began to hyperventilate. She fought to push away images of Peleg and the things that would happen to her when Peleg returned. What would happen to her if he didn’t return? Would she die here? Alone? Worse, what was happening to the baby and Shua? She pressed against her temples to clear her thoughts. The technique didn’t work.

“God of Noah, help me,” she whispered.

A key jangled in the lock, the door creaked open slowly and Mahli peeked in. Her eyes scanned the area before she stepped inside and hurried to Atarah and tested her restraints, all business. A badly battered Hoda followed. One entire side of her face was swollen and bruised. She held her ribs as she walked. Atarah had no doubt she was viewing Peleg’s work. He had beaten Hoda and possibly even broken ribs.

“Here, try this one,” Hoda said handing Mahli a key. She sank onto the bed, shut her eyes and pressed both arms into her midsection, looking ill. Scraggly hair drooped across her ashen face. Atarah wondered how the woman managed to look worse than the first time they’d met.

Mahli accepted the key, unlocked Atarah’s neck collar and helped her to her feet. “You okay?”

“He didn’t touch me,” Atarah said.

A pleased smile crossed Mahli’s face.  “We have to work quickly.” She strode to the door with Atarah following. Hoda limped along at the rear. The community room sprawled hollow and empty ahead without a person in sight. One bench lay on its side. The open oven had been emptied of bread. Hoda relocked Peleg’s door before bidding them a hasty farewell. The last Atarah saw of Hoda she was hunched over, the key grasped firmly in her hand hobbling toward the opening Atarah and Shua had come through the first day. Someone had already rolled back the stone and left the hole gaping.

Atarah’s heart swelled with pity and gratitude for the old woman. She hesitated, feeling the need to do something for her.

“Come on!” Mahli said impatiently. “There’s no time.” Atarah had to run to keep up with her even though Atarah said little and Mahli once again talked incessantly. She offered hurried instructions as they strode through the community room and down the spidery path leading back to the baby. “Hoda locked the door so Peleg will fuss around for a long time before he figures things out and breaks down the door. When he finds you gone, he’ll know she helped you and go after her first. Hopefully, she’ll have time to hide out until her injuries heal and the giants are gone.”

“Where is everyone else?”

Mahli shrugged. “Either hiding in the labyrinth or fighting giants.”

Intense eagerness to hold the baby again pushed Atarah along. She needed to touch him. She’d tried to memorize the way, but what if she couldn’t remember? Her heart throbbed in her ears. “I’m not certain I remember the way back to Gadreel.”

“I’ll show you the way to him and then I’m going to find Hoda. She and I may have a chance to survive this if we stay together. This is an opportunity for us. The first chance we’ve ever had to escape. If we can evade Peleg after the giants leave, we may be able to leave here for good.” Her lips skewed into an off-center smile. “Or maybe we’ll get lucky and he won’t return.”

            Mahli pointed down a flight of stairs. “Go that way, then turn right and you’re there. As soon as you pick up the baby and your friend, head in the direction of the waterfall, but keep going. You’ll find another exit or two if you don’t turn toward the interior of the mountain.”

            “I remember the rest of the way.” Atarah enfolded her in a fervent hug. “Thank you.” The words were inadequate for the gratitude that nearly overwhelmed her. Mahli smiled and they separated. Moments later Atarah hurried down through the larger area leading to her room and burst through the door.

Shua sat on the bed alone and pale. She looked at Atarah with a stricken expression. “Tirza took him.”

The words struck Atarah like a blow to the gut. Panic pumped through her. “Where did she take him?”

“He’s a baby giant.”

“I know what he is!” Atarah shouted. “Where is he?”

“Tirza,” Shua sobbed.

Panic changed to fury and Atarah yelled at the slave. “Pull yourself together!” She dug rough fingers into Shua’s arm and dragged her toward the door. The Dream had warned her. But what could she have done any differently? “Show me.” There was no time to be nice. “Which direction?”

Shua pointed. The waterfall. Atarah started running. She hadn’t gone far when the slave caught up, calmer now. “Slow down,” she panted. “So you can do what you have to when we get there.”

Atarah slowed to a trot, sucking in deep gasping breaths. She wasn’t certain if she was more out of breath from the exercise or from fear or anger. Or from panic. A thousand emotions banged around her head like drums at a festival.

“Sorry I . . .,” Shua offered. “I’m just scared.”

“It’s okay.” Atarah hoped Shua was prepared to fight with her when they found the baby, but she worried. She had noticed Shua showing less affection to the baby of late. And Atarah was stunned Shua had let Tirza carry him off without protest. Was the slave repulsed by him because of the giants who killed her family? Was she identifying Gadreel with those gruesome beasts? Gadreel would never become one of them. Never.

At the muffled din of battle Atarah picked up the pace. She had to decide immediately if she could still trust Shua. No, no, stop thinking like that! Tirza had most likely brought a dozen men with her to take Gadreel. Shua would have been helpless against them. Maybe she had screamed and fought and been unable to fight them off. “How many men?”

“Huh?”

“With Tirza?”

“Oh.” 

“How many?” Atarah could hear tension in both of their voices.

“She came alone.”

Anger charged up Atarah’s spine. “Why didn’t you . . . ?” She cut off mid-sentence, stuffed the emotion and evened out her facial expression. The only visible sign of anger showed in a stiffening of her spine which Shua probably didn’t notice. In the city Atarah could have punished the slave for such betrayal. Over the past days in the labyrinth she would have openly voiced displeasure. But with their altered circumstances, if the slave could no longer be trusted Atarah dare not reveal her thoughts. She could only keep up her guard and hope she’d misjudged her slave. And she may have.

She seemed to get everything wrong these days. Yesterday she was convinced Hoda could not be trusted and Shua could. Now she felt confused about both women. She  had once foolishly, if briefly, hoped Noah could be a good man, but Mahli reinforced the disappointing truth about him again. The man intended evil, just as everyone in the city claimed all along.

Strange the way facts twisted and changed colors like birch leaves in the wind. She had no wisdom to discern truth from falsehood.

“Did Tirza say what she planned to do with Gadreel?” She mentally chided herself for not asking that question sooner.

“Tirza said giants can’t reproduce because they are the progeny of Nephilim and human women -- two different species. Kind of like horses and donkeys producing mules. Mules can’t reproduce; giants can’t reproduce.”

Impatience surfaced in Atarah’s tone. “What does that have to do with Gadreel?”

“Tirza said giants will bargain to get a baby giant.” Shua spoke wearily, without inflection. “Gadreel is Tirza’s gold.”

The information stabbed into Atarah’s gut and shivered down her arms and legs, raising gooseflesh. At the same time, the last turn to the waterfall cave appeared directly in front of them. Atarah crept forward and peered around a boulder, steadying herself by holding onto its cold edge. She prayed the darkness at the back of the cave would hide her. The sight ahead startled her.

Instead of the clash of weapons she’d expected, Peleg stood as a silhouette on a tall flat rock near the center of the cave. The veil of water with light filtering through it thundered at his back. Men and women of the underground, armed with clubs and bows, grouped apprehensively around the rock, well away from the water. No torches lit the recesses of the cave. Atarah couldn’t make out features in the dim light even though she was close enough to reach out and touch one woman. Focused on Peleg the woman didn’t notice Atarah. The people spoke in grumbling murmurs while the invisible battle raged somewhere beyond the waterfall.

The city. Giants were attacking the city.

An image of Mother’s face wavered in Atarah’s mind like a reflection in turbid water. Fear and grief washed over her and she pressed a hand over her mouth to keep from crying out. She searched the crowd for Tirza and Gadreel. Where were they?

The number in Peleg’s group appeared significantly smaller than Atarah remembered. When she tried to add together the people she’d seen in the community’s main room with the others she seen working throughout the complex, she realized many had seized the opportunity to flee Peleg. Just as Mahli predicted.

One man who appeared poised to scale the rock boldly questioned Peleg. “Are we going to just stand here doing nothing?” Mutiny crouched in the group ready to strike. Rebellion flowed in a nearly palpable undercurrent.

“Doing nothing?” Peleg shouted them down. “My daughter . . .” He waited for them to quiet. “My daughter is risking her life to trade the giant baby for your freedom. Right now!”

Panic once again skittered down Atarah’s spine. She had to find the woman. Her eyes rapidly scanned the curtain of water. Nothing. Tirza already had Gadreel outside? Where?

“Where?” asked the man functioning as spokesman for the group.

“In another location.”

“Why isn’t she talking to them right out there?” He pointed to the waterfall. “So we know you’re telling us the truth.”

Peleg exploded with a curse. “Did you want her to waltz out from behind the waterfall and show the giants where we are?”

That answer pacified the man only for a moment. “What if they take the baby from her and then come here for us?” The group growled in assent.

Atarah could hear her own breathing and feel her heart bumping. Shua’s restraining hand touched her from behind and she nodded at the slave. Though everything in Atarah wanted to rush off, she knew if she hoped to rescue Gadreel in time she had to wait for more information.

“I don’t expect them to find us. But if they do, we’re in the best place possible. If they come here, we can see them against the light. They can’t see us until their eyes adjust to the dark. Before then we’ll pepper them with arrows and flee into the tunnels where they can’t come.”

The spokesman climbed the rock and fisted Peleg’s tunic at the throat. “Tell us where she is. Exactly.”

Peleg wilted. “Directly below here, two levels down at a fresh air opening.”

Atarah and Shua were already running.

Chapter Twenty-Four

Hauling Water

“It is clearly indicated that the animals collected about Noah and entered the ark of their own accord, that is, without any special effort on the part of Noah. The animals came by instinct, but God had planted in them this special instinct for this occasion.”

Alfred M. Rehwinkle

Shem leaned against the fence fronting the waterwheel, scanning the room in the aftermath of the chaos, taking inventory. His brothers looked as rattled as he felt. Ham sat with his back to a support beam, head down, eyes closed, forearms on his knees, probably thinking about Eudocea. Japheth gazed up into the tree where he’d fled for refuge during the confusion. Shem had no idea what was going on in his head.

Numerous small creatures they hadn’t noticed earlier scuttled though the space, still in a flurry over the recent activity. Birds fluttered and squawked from high nests. A squirrel chattered, stopped to flick his tail, then chattered again. Two rock badgers waddled from behind the waterwheel.

Shem remembered the tiger that was still loose on the ark somewhere and wondered what other surprises might pop up. They couldn’t afford to relax yet.

 “See those owls up there,” Japheth pointed. “Along that horizontal branch.”

The lamb they’d seen earlier lay by the door through which the cats had disappeared, as though waiting for the lions’ return. The lamb must be lonely and desperate if he was actually waiting for the lions.

Shem had no trouble comprehending that feeling.

He put his palms on the fence behind him and pushed away. “May as well get started. We have to check things out.” Make sure nothing had gotten trampled.

They split up to cover the room quickly.

“Couple of hairy pigs over here,” Japheth called out. 

“Uh oh,” Ham’s worried voice floated over from the pool. “The crocs are missing.”

With his senses on high alert, Shem inspected the perimeter of the room. He nearly squashed a couple of toads underfoot, and jumped when a cricket landed on his hand, but he saw no large reptiles. Two masked raccoons examined him from a tree. They looked hungry and Shem had no food for them.

“We’ll transport you to a nice cozy home first thing tomorrow,” Shem assured them. “Then we’ll feed you.”

“Behind you!” Ham warning was nearly drowned out by a rumbling hiss.

Shem instantly recognized the reptilian thunder. And the crocodile sounded close. He streaked to the other side of the room in record time. His brothers already waited by the door they’d first entered, breathing hard, poised to make their escape. Japheth opened the door for Shem and slammed it behind the three of them. They stood panting inside the circular hallway with the crocs on the other side of the door.

Shem closed his eyes, concentrating on slowing his breathing. All the saliva in his mouth had gone dry. He needed a drink. “That was close!” His throat was so parched he couldn’t swallow. He opened the door a crack. Two crocs lumbered slowly past then started back toward the pool in center of the room. “They could have outrun us if they wanted to. Wonder why they didn’t?”

 “This is not how I envisioned life on the ark,” Ham complained. “Let’s get out of here. The lions and bears are contained for awhile.”

“In a minute.” Shem’s brain was already clicking over the task at hand while he held the door open slightly keeping an eye on the crocodiles. Maybe instead of hunting the brothers, the crocs simply needed water. He didn’t know how long they’d been on the ark with nothing to drink, but he knew they’d been here longer than he had. And he was very thirsty.

Lost in his thoughts, a tap on the shoulder surprised him. Standing on tiptoe Ham peeked through the crack over Shem’s head, his eyes fixed on a spot some distance across the big room. “How many of each kind did father say would come to the ark?”

“Two.”

“Well, the penguins must not have heard the announcement. I see . . . one, two, three. . .” Ham pointed as he counted, “. . . four, five, six . . .” His voice trailed off in searching mode. “Seven. Seven penguins. We’re going to have to shoo a few off.”

“No, seven of each bird and seven pairs of each clean animal,” Japheth informed

him.

Shem glanced Ham’s direction to ascertain whether his brother was joking or if he had the memory of a coconut. Maybe Japheth’s earlier estimation of Ham hadn’t been too far off. Ham’s lips curled into a sly smile and the dimples on his cheeks deepened. He was deliberately baiting Japheth.

Impatience rose in Shem. They were wasting time. If they didn’t get cracking they’d be up all night getting things in order. He snapped into work mode. “Japheth, can you hook Buzz up to a cart for hauling water tonight?”

“Tonight?”

“The crocodiles need water now.” Shem said. “Fill the pool and they won’t wander aimlessly. They’ll stay in the water.”

“The penguins need water, too.” Ham added.

             “All the animals need water.”

Japheth’s brow furrowed. “Do you know how spiteful that camel can get when he wants sleep?”

“Poor baby,” Ham intoned.

 “We don’t have a choice,” Shem said. “If Buzz won’t haul the water use another camel, but we both know the work will go faster with the strongest camel.”

“And the meanest,” Japheth muttered.

Shem shrugged. “We’ll do just do the basics tonight, but we need to get started.”

********

Shem and Ham filled large water pots from the well outside the ark while Japheth left to hook up Buzz. It felt kind of nice, the two of them working as a team again while Japheth did his own thing. Years of practice had taught them to work efficiently, taking turns drawing water and filling pots, staying out of one another’s way.

Ignoring the depression niggling at the back of his mind, Shem forced himself to concentrate on planning everything they would need to accomplish before they could go to bed for the night. It was difficult to stay focused and the tightness in his chest reminded him that time for finding a life’s mate had passed. A world-wide deluge was about to sweep all hope from his life. Busyness hadn’t eradicated his sadness, just pushed the hopelessness to the back of his mind for a while.

Ham grunted with the effort of carrying a water pot to the path for easier pick-up. “They’re going to need food, too.”

“We can wait and feed them in the morning.”

“Good.”

“I’ve been trying to figure out if we should bring in food or dip into ark storage.”

“Let’s use what’s on the ark.” Ham set a pot by the path and water sloshed out, darkening the dirt.

“That would be easier.” Shem’s bucket hit the water. “Problem is, we don’t know how much longer before the Flood. If its months, we could use up too much of the food. Last thing we need to do is deplete the ark’s stores and not have enough for the whole voyage.” He pulled up the rope and tipped the bucket into a nearby pot.

Ham stepped in to take a turn with his bucket. He looked over the stone wall of the well, elbows on the ledge, and lowered the pail. “Do you think Father’s right?”

“You mean that we’ll be on there more than a year?” Shem couldn’t help thinking how much more pleasant life would be for Ham than for him if Eudocea regained her health.

Ham turned the pulley to bring up his bucket. “Yep. That’s what I mean.”

“He’s been right about everything else.” Shem hated to think about it.

             A camel whined in the distance and Ham chuckled. “Buzz doesn’t sound happy.” 

Shem managed to fill and empty another pail before Japheth’s squeaking cart, pulled by a grumbling camel hobbling on three legs, stopped beside them. Their annoyed brother hopped off the cart.

“Why do you have his leg hobbled?” Shem asked.

“Don’t feel sorry for him,” Japheth snapped. “He boogies around just fine on three legs.” At Japheth’s command, the camel knelt, then after a brief hesitation, lay down.

“You think he’d bother obeying if his front leg wasn’t hobbled?” Japheth tossed a blanket over Buzz’s back and sat sideways on the camel’s back. “Before I got him hobbled he was throwing his hind legs around in the air trying to kick me and squawking like a maniac.”

“Are you going to help us load the urns onto the cart?” Ham asked.

 “Hey. You wanted me to force an unwilling head-strong camel to work. Let me at least do what I have to control him.” Japheth bounced hard on the camel’s back. Twice. “That’s to remind him I’m up here and I’m in control.”

The camel flattened his ears and a guttural protest reverberated through his throat. He swung his neck around, showing the whites of his eyes to Japheth.

“Really looks like you got him under control.” No one could miss the sarcasm in Ham’s tone. He picked up a pot and staggered to the cart with it. Shem helped him lift his load over the side. They were all overly tired and a long night stretched ahead of them.

“How is taking water onto a boat logical?” Japheth fumed from atop the camel. “Supposedly boats float in water and water is scheduled to drown the entire world in days or weeks. I spent years making pipes for that whole irrigation system on board and we’re hauling water inside pot by pot!” Japheth wasn’t usually so cranky.

 “You taking a turn at being testy?” Ham chuckled.

“Sorry but dealing with that cantankerous beast when I’ve been up all night wears on me.” Japheth sighed.

Shem agreed with Japheth about hauling water. No one had anticipated bringing water into the ark and Shem wasn’t certain if they could take in enough even if they carried in the bare minimum, but it had to be done. “One more pot to go,” he called up to Japheth giving him a head start on readying Buzz for the ordeal. “Think he can pull all that weight up the ramp with only three functioning legs?”

“No problem for him.”

Ham and Shem started around the front of the camel with the last urn.

Too late Japheth warned. “I wouldn’t go there!”

Before the words left his mouth Buzz, still sitting, snaked out his neck and nipped Ham’s bottom. “Ow!” Ham dropped his side of the pot and most of the water spilled, soaking Shem.

“It’s going to be a long night,” Shem said.

Even with Shem and Ham walking beside the cart to steady the pots, much of the water sloshed out on the trip into the ark. They lost more rattling over the third floor corridor and even more on the descent from the third floor to the second. Shem made a mental note not to fill the pots so full next time.

Surprisingly, Buzz cooperated the whole time, even during the narrow squeeze through the doorway of the large central space on the lowest level. Once inside the room, the camel didn’t make the expected fuss at the sight of crocodiles and the cart was able to easily skirt them. Japheth had done his job well.

Within a few minutes, the brothers dumped all the water. Liquid barely covered the bottom of the pool. Nevertheless, by the second trip the crocs were already resting contentedly in the skim of water on the bottom. With the third load Shem filled a trough by the waterwheel where the other animals could drink in safety. They poured all subsequent cart-loads into the pool.

The sun was peeking over the horizon and Buzz was complaining loudly by the time they finished. After Japheth cautioned they might be damaging Buzz’s leg by having it hobbled for too long, Shem gave permission for him to take the camel home and put him to bed. He and Ham could check on the fate of the lions and grizzlies trapped beyond the central big area, he told Japheth. Had onepair killed the other?

“You think the two of us can manage alone?” Ham asked as they approached the barred door.

“Caging a bear might be easier than wrangling Japheth and that camel.” Shem was almost too tired to think. “We don’t have to do anything today except locate them without getting eaten. If they’re just hanging out in a room like the lions were earlier, we’ll secure the area and relocate them to a more suitable spot tomorrow.”

“Whichever two we find alive should be full by now.” The flat inflection in his brother’s voice told Shem that Ham also expected one pair of carnivores to overcome and consume the other. “That should render them harmless for a few hours.”

“My thoughts exactly.” Shem words rang hollow. If that was true, why were his senses prickling again?

The two men crept down the long hallway reserved for large dangerous animals. It was lined with thick gopher-wood walls and iron bars. Moving along closing and latching iron cages as quietly as possible, their torches cast bar-like shadows inside each cage that extended from the hall to the far wall. Shadows danced on the floor behind them. Fear thumped in their chests.

“Did you hear that?” Ham asked. A guttural rumble came from a short distance down the hallway where solid walls closed enclosed the rooms the heavy doors opened inward.

Shem cocked his head, the hairs on the back of his neck lifting. Together the brothers walked carefully across the planks until they located the room where the sound had originated. They could hear the rumbling coming from inside, but the wall blocked their view of the room.

A few feet from the cell, Shem handed his torch to Ham and tiptoed forward in the dark. “Stay here and run if anything bad happens,” he whispered. No use in both of them dying.

Shem advanced toward the door. The unearthly sound grew louder until Shem wanted to plug his ears. Or run. Every muscle in his body tensed to flee. Holding his breath, he rushed at the door, slammed it and stepped back.

The steady rumble inside continued without lessening.

Ham hurried to Shem’s side and handed him his torch. Shem thrust the light through the bars in the door’s peep hole. Near the back of the room two bears slept. The male was snoring louder than Father. “They’re already hibernating.” Shem said. “Wish I could fall asleep so fast.”

“I can’t believe that sound was a snore!” Ham exclaimed.

For a long moment the brothers locked eyes and smirked before exploding with howling laughter. They rolled on the floor with tears coursing down their cheeks, indulging in the sort of hysterical fun that follows release from fear. Or sleep deprivation. Suffering from both, Shem felt they deserved a bit of amusement. Even after they composed themselves, occasional snickers continued to punctuate their conversation.

Eventually, Shem stood and brushed himself off. “Let’s go see what’s left of the lions.” Somehow the laughter had erased all dread of what they might find.

With no trace of blood in the corridor, the brothers would need to check every room. They strode down the hall shutting and locking the doors as they progressed. They found nothing until they reached the last room. Both lions stood side by side midway into the room, yellow eyes glowing. Watching the brothers.  

Very much alive.

            And treacherous.

            For a few moments, the brothers and the lions studied one another. Then Shem and the largest lion lunged for the door simultaneously. Shem arrived first, yanked it closed, slammed down the lock, and jumped back in one smooth motion. A split second later a paw shot through the bars, claws extended. Shem fell backward, the image of a black mane and long teeth scored deeply into his permanent memory.

He couldn’t stop shaking. He had always considered hauling timber for the ark hard work, and climbing thirty cubits to waterproof the outside dangerous, but a single day trapped inside the ark with living breathing animals made all that seem as easy as eating clotted cream.

What would life be like after the ark was crammed with thousands more?

“I hope we can get out of here without running into a tiger or two,” Shem said.

Ham sighed. “I’m afraid this is just a little taste of what the future holds for us.”

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.