Noah (15 page)

Then he heard a sound in the pit behind him. A stealthy rustle of movement. He whirled, the bodies shifting beneath him, forcing him to stumble and pitch forward on to his knees.

It was a girl, with long, stringy hair. A thin but pretty face. She was huddled at one end of the pit, crouched behind a mound of shrouded bodies. She had created a sort of hollow among the bodies, in which to crouch, to hide. She was about Ham’s age, and the rock she held was as large as the fist in which it was clenched.

“Get away!” she hissed.

Ham raised his hands in a placatory gesture.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I won’t hurt you.”

The girl stared at him suspiciously. She sniffed and wiped her nose on her arm. Tucked a curl of hair behind her ear. She was skinny and dirty, but she was also—Ham noted, feeling a wriggle of warmth in his belly—very lovely.

“I have food,” he said softly.

The girl’s eyes flickered. He could see that she wanted to believe him, but was wary, too used to deceit, to cruelty, to pain.

Moving slowly and carefully, so as not to startle her, he reached down to the satchel on his hip, opened it and took out a piece of flat-bread and a handful of dried figs.

The girl’s eyes went wide.

Ham held the food out to her.

“Here,” he said gently, as if trying to coax a wild and timid creature out of a burrow.

The girl shifted, half-reached out a hand, then
halted, her expression a blend of desire and suspicion. “What do you want?” she said dully.

Ham shook his head. “Nothing.”

She frowned, unable to comprehend the notion. “Everyone wants something,” she insisted.

He leaned forward, holding the chunk of bread by its tip, until it was right in front of her. Like a striking snake, she darted forward and snatched it from his hand. Ham straightened, took a step back, still uncomfortably aware of the heaped corpses beneath him. The girl stuffed her mouth with bread, chewing frantically—she couldn’t eat it fast enough. She watched Ham the entire time, never blinking.

Finally she swallowed the last mouthful. “Are you alone?” she asked.

“Yes,” he replied. “You?”

The girl glanced across at a heap of corpses to her left, anguish flashing on her face.

Ham understood instantly. She hadn’t been alone, but she was now. She had lost people. He swallowed, thinking briefly of his own family back at the Ark.

He held the figs out to her. She hesitated, then took them from him, a little less fearfully this time.

“How long have you been down here?” he asked.

The girl’s voice was muffled as she chewed the dried fruit. “Two nights. They took my sisters. My father tried to stop them, but they…” She fell silent, tears springing to her eyes.

Ham waited. She sniffed, wiped her eyes, still chewing. Eventually she said, “I pretended to be dead, too. They threw us in here.”

Two nights. Ham couldn’t imagine being down here all that time among rotting corpses.

“I can help you get away,” he said.

The girl glanced at him, then looked up at the edge of the trench, at the white sky above. Her eyes became troubled, as if the reflection of a dark cloud had suddenly passed over them, and she shook her head.

Although she hadn’t said a word, once again Ham found that he knew exactly what she was thinking. She was too scared of the world out there, or rather of the cruelty and violence within it. She would much rather remain here, among the dead and the stink and the flies, because at least here she could remain unseen and forgotten, and therefore safe.

“Then I’ll stay here a little while and keep you company,” Ham said, before adding hastily, “If that’s all right?”

The girl nodded. Then she smiled. To Ham it was like the sun coming out.

“My name is Na’el,” she said.

“Na’el.” The word was beautiful. He liked the feel of it in his mouth. “I’m Ham.”

Abruptly she burst into tears. For a moment Ham was startled, dismayed, and then he realized that she was crying because of his kindness, because he was probably the first stranger who had shown her any affection for a very long time.

He took a step closer to her. She didn’t flinch.

“Is it all right if I…” He pointed at the spot beside her.

She nodded, and he clambered carefully over the stacked corpses until he was close enough to squat beside her. As soon as he did so, she leaned into him, still sobbing.

He put an arm around her.

* * *

The huge square door, which was constructed of long, straight wooden logs that had been lashed and hammered together, and that would cover the Ark’s main hatchway at the top of the ramp, was propped at an angle against several trees at the edge of the clearing. Helped by three Watchers, Noah was working feverishly, coating it with pitch, while occasionally casting anxious glances at the sky.

Shem ran out of the Ark and down the long entrance ramp, his feet thumping on the boards. He ran across the clearing until he reached Noah, his forehead creased in a frown, his cheeks red with exertion and stress.

“I’ve searched everywhere, Father,” he said. “They are nowhere to be found.”

Noah hissed in exasperation and looked into the woods, as if hoping his errant wife and missing children would magically appear.

“The work is all but done,” he said. “It is almost time to seal ourselves into the Ark.” He hesitated for a moment, looking at the three Watchers who were covering the huge door with pitch at an incredible speed, a brush in each of their six hands. Then he turned back to Shem.

“Go and find them and bring them back,” he said, nodding toward the trees. “But hurry! We don’t have much time.”

F
rustrated at her inability to find Ham, and fearful of venturing too close to Tubal-cain’s camp, Ila trudged through the forest, heading back toward the Ark. The thought that Ham might even now be with Tubal-cain and his men troubled her so much that she was only vaguely aware of her surroundings, her thoughts turned inward.

Rounding a familiar rock, she entered a clearing dotted with the stumps of trees whose wood had been used to build the Ark. All at once she halted with a startled gasp. On the other side of the clearing, rooting through a dense patch of brambly undergrowth, was a crouching figure.

Alerted by her gasp, the figure looked up. It was an old man—a
very
old man. He had long, white, wispy hair and a hint of a beard.

Any wariness that Ila might have felt was immediately dispelled when the old man smiled.

“Don’t be afraid, Granddaughter,” he murmured. “Don’t be afraid.”

Ila looked at him curiously. She had heard many tales of old Methuselah, the man who lived on top of the mountain, but she had never thought that one day she might actually meet him.

“Grandfather?” she said. “What are you doing down here?”

Methuselah gestured vaguely at the bushes behind him. “I’m looking for berries. I had a craving. Come help me look for them. My eyes aren’t as good as they used to be.”

Much as she hated to refuse the old man, Ila said, “I’m sorry, I have to find Ham.”

“There is time enough for that,” he said dismissively. “Come here. Come.”

Still Ila was reluctant, but she didn’t feel she could refuse him a second time. She crossed the clearing and half-heartedly helped him root through the brambles.

After a minute or so, however, she said, “There’s nothing here, Grandfather. Let me take you to Noah.”

He waved a hand.

“No. No need for that. You go now. You go.”

She half-turned, then hovered, uncertain, loath to leave him.

“No,” he said, as if a thought had just occurred to him. “Wait, wait.”

She turned back to him.

“Ten years you’ve lived with my own family,” he said. “Ten years. And you love them? Shem?”

She blushed and nodded.

“And Noah? You love Noah, too?”

“He saved my life. Raised me.”

“Yes, he did. And you are now as his own
daughter. My own great-granddaughter.” He shook his head as if it was a truly wondrous thing. “Ten years in the shadow of my home. And yet I have never given you my blessing. May I?”

She nodded, a little puzzled. Methuselah raised his arm and slowly extended his gnarled fingers toward her. The fingers hovered over her belly without quite touching.

Even so, Ila gave a little gasp. She could feel something inside her, something that tickled, something that felt warm. It was almost painful, and yet deliciously so.

And then the feeling was gone, and Ila stepped back, panting in short, frantic bursts, trying to catch her breath.

What
was
that? What happened?
As her heartbeat slowed to its normal rate and her lungs began to work again, she patted her body with fluttering hands as if to make sure she was still intact.

She was thankful to find that she was. Indeed, all at once she felt elated, even rapturous. She looked around. The world looked new. More alive.
Burgeoning
with life.

She could almost hear the pulse of the forest, sense the rush of blood through its veins. Could almost see the glow of Creation in every branch, every leaf, every blade of grass.

It was as if she had been given new senses. As if the Creator had reached into her body and made her perfect.

She drew in a long breath. Let it out. The air was sweeter and purer than she had ever known it. She felt it rushing through her. Not an invasive presence, this time, but cool and fresh and gentle, life-giving
and life-preserving. Perhaps for the first time ever she understood how precisely Creation had been balanced, and how Man, given the choice, had tipped that balance into chaos.

She rose to her feet. She felt as if she could run forever. She felt as if she could
fly
.

Far away in the forest, she heard a voice.

“Ham?” it called. “Ila?”

It was Shem. Her beloved Shem.

Her face lit up with happiness. She looked at Methuselah.

“You can go now,” he said gently. “Go to him.”

And so, her feet making barely a sound on the forest floor, feeling truly at one with Creation for the first time in her life, she turned and began to run through the darkening forest.

* * *

The door to the Ark was finished, the pitch that coated it already hardening. Noah looked up at it. It was hard to believe that ten years of relentless, backbreaking toil was finally complete.

A breeze ruffled his hair and flowed through his beard. He looked up. There was a definite coolness to the air, perhaps even a hint of moisture.

He heard ponderous, measured footsteps. A huge shadow fell across the ground beside him and slid up the vast hatchway door, spreading across it like a black stain.

Noah turned his head. Og, his companion and friend for the past ten years, was standing at his side.

“It is done,” Og said in his rumbling voice. He nodded at the door. “Now there is only that to put in place. And then we wait.”

As if responding to Og’s words, the Watchers laid aside their tools and moved forward in a fan-like formation, their huge, misshapen shadows preceding them. They took up positions at the edge of the clearing, forming a protective semi-circle around the Ark. Only Og remained by Noah’s side. Once the Watchers had settled, hunkering down shoulder to shoulder like craggy, newly created rock formations, he stepped forward and lifted the huge door as though it weighed nothing at all. Then he clumped toward the Ark and up the ramp, holding the door out in front of him like a shield.

Noah followed, picking a discarded hammer up off the ground along the way.

Og held the door over the gaping hatchway while Noah pounded it into place and secured the huge metal hinges. None of the other Watchers moved to help. This final act seemed almost like a ritual.

Finally the door was secured. Og swung it back and forth a few times to test it. It was snug, but not too tight, against the frame. A perfect fit.

The breeze which had been ruffling Noah’s hair suddenly increased, turning into a strong wind. He looked up again, tilting his head back, gazing into the heavens.

He saw thin white wisps of cloud form with remarkable speed in the featureless sky. The wisps coalesced into thick gray clumps, ugly and forbidding. The gray clumps continued to grow and spread and darken, one clump joining with another, until they had formed a boiling, still-expanding chain of cloud. Within seconds the sky became a single, churning, purple-black blanket. It looked angry, full of wrath.

“It is coming,” Noah muttered.

* * *

Shem stumbled to a halt, looking up. The forest had suddenly become very dark.

Above him he saw thick, gray clouds forming, and then clashing like vast and powerful armies. He saw them darkening, turning into a single purple-black mass, a vast bruise spreading across the heavens.

Then, in his peripheral vision, he saw a flash of movement. Something racing across the forest floor toward him.

He barely had time to jerk his head downward or call for help before it was on him, leaping at him. He half-raised his hands to defend himself, but all at once a warm body was pressing itself against him, limbs wrapping themselves around him, kisses raining passionately down on his face.

He laughed with relief.

“Ila! Thank the heavens you’re safe,” he said. “But we have to get—”

She stopped his words with another passionate kiss. It was the sweetest, deepest,
hungriest
kiss she had ever given him. It made him giddy.

Even so, he pushed her back.

“Listen to me,” he said. “We have—”

She kissed him again. If anything, it was deeper and even
more
passionate this time.

Regardless of the darkening skies overhead, he felt himself succumbing to her. How could he not? This was Ila. And she was beautiful. The most beautiful woman in all of Creation.

Still kissing him, she began to pull at his clothes, at her clothes. He heard material tear.

She was like an animal. Voracious. She wouldn’t
stop. She took his hand, gripped it hard, and pushed it down between her legs. He felt the warmth of her. She was ready for him. He felt himself stirring, becoming aroused. But…