Storm (17 page)

Ham let Shem come down the ladder alone when he expected that the lions would be roaming free. And when he expected that Nela’s body—which would have really been my body—would be in grisly pieces on the deck. He had to expect that—no matter what kind of Mighty Creator he believes in, he had to expect the lions would kill her. He did that to his wife. He did that to his brother.

I cannot imagine my brothers ever being so cruel to one
another. I cannot imagine marrying a man who would be so cruel to me. Ham is a miserable soul.

I go slack with sadness. And I shrink ever smaller within my nest. I tremble, maybe more for these humans than for myself.

Shem goes to the porthole and fills buckets with fish. Then he goes from cage to cage, throwing in fish from the bucket or dried greens from the sack. Sometimes I hear the food hit the deck. Sometimes I hear animals stir. Always I hear his clacking sandals. His stupid, trudging innocence. Then he goes back up the ladder.

Now . . . now it’s going to happen. I hug myself, and my fingers dig into my arms.

Ham and Shem come down the ladder. Shem first. Ham perches midway on the ladder and looks around the deck cautiously. He has no sack of food slung across his chest. He has only a large knife in a sheath by his side. He looks down at Shem. “Did you feed the lions yet?”

“So you’re talking to me again. Good.” Shem goes to the porthole and refills his bucket. “You slept off by yourself last night,” he calls over his shoulder. “You didn’t break bread with Father and Japheth and me. You didn’t come down the ladder with me this morning.” He walks back to the foot of the ladder. “You’re not even carrying food now, so I take it you mean not to work at all. You’re acting like a child. A petulant child. But at least now you’re talking. Good. Let’s talk.”

“The lions, you cockroach! Did you feed them yet?”

“I always feed them first. Come down, Ham. Let’s talk. We have to work this through. It’s a big ark, but not big enough. We have to get along. Father won’t change the work assignments. He prefers Japheth as his partner. He prefers Japheth in everything. We all know that. It’s you and me, stuck together. Besides, we don’t really have a problem. You misunderstood what was happening.”

“And their cage was closed?”

“What?”

“The lion cage. It was closed?”

“Of course it was.”

“With the rocks in place?”

“Of cou—What are you talking about, Ham?” Shem drops his bucket. Fish splatter everywhere. “What on earth are you talking about? Come down here!”

“Don’t shout at me. Show respect. You’re the one in the wrong.”

“Did you do something to the lion cage? Did you open it?”

Ham glares at Shem.

“You did, didn’t you? And then you didn’t come down this morning. You watched me go down alone. You set it up for them to kill me!” Shem yells. He shakes the bottom of the ladder now. “Come down here!”

Ham comes down the ladder and pushes Shem aside. He walks to the lion cage and inspects it. Shem follows right behind him. Ham turns around, and the brothers are nearly chest to chest. “Get out of my way!” growls Ham.

“What’s going on?” It’s Nela. She comes down the ladder. The quiet woman—Shem’s wife, Leba—follows her.

“Nothing,” says Shem.

Nela and Leba stand at the bottom of the ladder now.

Ham drops his head toward Nela and shakes it. “How did you do it?”

Nela’s eyes widen. “How did I do what?”

“I see you put your fancy clothes back on,” says Ham slowly. “Is that your sign of victory?”

“What does that mean? Why are you talking about my clothes? I wear these same clothes every day.”

Ham pulls back as though in surprise. “What a trivial thing to lie over.”

“Ham, why are you talking this way? I’m not lying.”

“Ah, bold again.” Ham’s voice grows stronger. “Last night you cowered. You cowered like a dog! But now you’re you again. Boldly lying.”

“I am not lying! I wear only these clothes.”

Ham points at Shem. “Do you dare to join her in the lie?” Shem shakes his head. “I saw you, Nela. I saw you in your old shift. We talked.”

Nela’s mouth falls open. One hand goes to her cheek.

“When?” It’s Leba. This is the first time I’ve heard Leba say a word. She’s loud and forceful.

Shem seems to pull himself up tall, ready to confront his wife. But he doesn’t speak.

Ham takes a step forward. “Last night.”

Leba doesn’t flinch. “Where?”

“Here. On this deck.”

“Here?” says Nela. Her voice becomes thin, wavery. She looks as though she’ll fall over.

Leba puts her arm through Nela’s. “Nela and Ada and I were all three together, from the evening meal through the night. The entire night. We link arms in sleep. There was not a single moment when we were apart.”

“We saw you,” says Ham to Nela. “We talked to you.”

“It wasn’t me,” says Nela.

“Then how do you explain it?”

“I don’t explain it. I can’t. But whoever you talked to, husband, it wasn’t me. My shift went missing a while ago. It could have been my shift—but it was not me in it.”

“And Ada also will swear you were with her?”

“Why wouldn’t she?” says Nela. “I was.”

“Maybe you are all in the lie together,” says Ham.

“My wife doesn’t lie,” says Shem.

“But you were talking to her,” says Ham. He puts his hands to the sides of his head and walks in a circle. “You were talking to the woman in the shift, right here on this deck! You stupid fool!”

“You talked to her too,” says Shem. He blocks Ham’s path. “Whoever wore that shift fooled you, too.”

“The only other woman on this ark is our mother.” Ham stomps a foot.

“It was not our mother,” says Shem firmly. “It must have been a man in disguise.”

“Don’t say such rubbish, Shem. Japheth and Father and Puzur are all much larger than Nela. They couldn’t fit in her shift. And they’d never fool us anyway.”

Puzur? Who is Puzur?

“Did you see anything other than the shift?” asks Nela. “Did you see hair? Arms?”

“It was dark,” says Shem.

“Why?” Ham narrows his eyes. “Why do you ask about her hair and arms? Who do you suspect?”

“An animal.”

Nela’s smart. And dangerous.

“An animal?” Shem shakes a hand, fingers up and spread, in her face. “And I thought you respected me. But instead, you must think I’m a half-wit! You’re worse than Ham! I didn’t see her face, no, but she spoke. I told you—she spoke. Animals don’t speak!”

“She didn’t speak to me,” says Ham. “I remember now. Are you sure she said something, Shem?”

“So you were here with her alone?” says Leba, weakly now.

“Only a moment,” says Shem.

“You were alone with someone you thought was Nela? My husband was alone with another woman?” Her voice is ever weaker.

“It wasn’t on purpose. I swear. I came down to check on the
bonobos. And, oh! Their cage was unlocked. I forgot about that in everything else that happened.”

“What else happened?” asks Leba in a tiny voice.

“Nothing! I saw Nela. Or I thought it was Nela. She was crouched on the floor. It was dark. I asked what she was doing down here.” Shem steps toward Leba. She steps away. “That’s all, I swear, Leba.”

Nela has been listening with a stricken face. “And what did this supposed-me say?”

“ ‘Get away.’ ”

“She told you to get away?” says Nela. “In real words, just like that?”

“Yes.”

“Maybe you imagined them,” says Nela.

“I didn’t!”

“Maybe you did. Because I am betting that she couldn’t talk.”

“Who couldn’t talk?” asks Ham.

“The bonobo.”

“What!”

I curl into the smallest ball I can form and squeeze my hands between my knees.
Don’t let them come inspect this cage. Please, please.

“I don’t see any other explanation,” says Nela. “Shem says the cage was unlocked. And a bonobo could fit in my shift.”

“How could a bonobo have gotten hold of your shift in the first place?” asks Ham.

Nela’s hand is on her cheek again. “You’re right,” she says
slowly. “And a bonobo would have no reason to put on a shift. You’re right, you’re right. I’m letting my imagination carry me away.”

“It’s the ark,” Leba says as a pronouncement.

“What?” says Shem.

“Japheth swore he saw giraffes gallop past. He swore a lion clawed his ankle. But none of that happened. Japheth’s mind is addled. Now you two swear you saw Nela when it couldn’t have been her. We don’t think straight anymore.” She looks at Shem. “It is only because we don’t think straight—none of us—that I will try to forgive you for being alone with this phantom that you thought was Nela. Your mind is addled too.” She turns and goes up the ladder.

Nela looks down, then hurries after Leba.

“You heard her talk too, Ham.” Shem crosses his arms at the chest. “You heard her last words—you heard her say, ‘Get away. Go.’ I know, because you repeated it. You should have said something now. You should have backed me up!”

“Do you think we were fooled by someone?” says Ham.

“I don’t know. But you unlocked the lion cage. Don’t deny it. You already gave yourself away.” Shem points in Ham’s face—a trick he clearly learned from his father. “And you aren’t denying it! I really didn’t know for sure till just now—but your silence confirmed it. I bet you wanted both Nela and me to die. Both of us!”

“Maybe I unlocked the lion cage,” says Ham slowly. “Or
maybe I didn’t. Maybe I heard someone speak and maybe I didn’t. Maybe none of it happened. Maybe Leba is right and we’re all sick.”

“I don’t believe you think that. I believe you’re as confused as I am. We both know there was someone here last night. It wasn’t Nela, but it was someone.”

“You can’t know what I think.”

“Maybe not. But I do know what you’re capable of. Don’t for a moment think I’m addled. If you ever cross me again,” says Shem, “I’ll tell Nela about the lions. Don’t count on her even trying to forgive you for that, no matter whether she believes we’re all sick or not. You’ll be without a wife for the rest of your life.”

R
ise and shine!”

I wake with a start. Last night I didn’t wander. Yesterday made me too sad. So I slept the night away. I thought Ham and Shem and Nela would all be sad too. But here’s Ham, coming down that ladder
clack, clack, clack
, shoulders back, a smile gleaming through his beard, his long curls flopping. I’m stunned. I’ve never seen any of them smile before.

Shem comes down behind him. “Soon, you dumb beasts. Soon, soon, soon!” His face is aglow too. His eyes twinkle.

Oh! I can see them well! I can see every detail of their faces! Light comes from somewhere! I wait till the brothers are each at different ends of the ark and I sit up quickly, twisting to see the porthole. Sunlight streams in! Sun! After all this time, sun again! Blessed, blessed sun. I jump to my feet.

But then I fall back down again fast. We’re still in the middle of the sea. I can’t let them know I’m here until we are docked somewhere. Then I can exit through the porthole and run away on the land and never get in a boat again. Never ever.

It won’t be long. That’s what Shem meant: soon, soon, soon. I squeeze one hand in the other in happiness. I have almost survived this.

Ham and Shem seem to stroll through their chores. They don’t sing out loud, but I imagine them singing inside their heads. There’s a bounce in their walk.

Leba and Ada and Nela clatter down the ladder. “Ham! Shem! Come! Help!”

Ham and Shem clomp quickly across the floor. Eager. This may be the first time I’ve seen any of them act eager, too.

“What is it?” says Ham.

“Your father.” Ada looks at Nela. “You tell Ham.”

Nela shakes her head. “You.”

“So that’s what it’s come to, huh? You and your husband aren’t even on speaking terms?” Ada snorts.

“What about our father?” says Shem. “We were just with him moments ago. He was fine. Has something happened?”

“No,” says Nela. “Your father is fine.” She turns to Ada. “Ada, please.” She pulls on her fingers. “We came down here with a purpose. Don’t get us sidetracked. My problems with Ham don’t concern you.”

“All right.” Ada looks from Ham to Shem. “Listen. The sun
is out. After forty days and forty nights, the sun is finally out.”

“We’re not blind,” says Shem.

“Don’t be rude,” says Leba.

“Don’t talk to me like that,” says Shem. “I’m your husband.”

“Enough, all of you,” says Ada. “Indeed, Shem, you two are not blind. Nor are Noah and Japheth. And that’s because you’re working here, on this sunny deck, where there are portholes open to the outside, and Noah and Japheth work on the deck below, which is also sunny today, with so many portholes. But we work on the top deck.”

“Which has windows,” says Ham.

“Windows, yes. With shutters. And Noah, your father, will not allow us to open them.”

“What?” says Shem.

“That makes no sense,” says Ham. “Father welcomes the sunlight. We all do.”

“He has some idiotic idea that we’ve got to keep the shutters closed until we’re nearly ready to get out of the ark.”

“We can get out of the ark now,” says Shem.

“And do what? Swim away?” says Nela. “To where?”

“I don’t like your attitude, Nela,” says Shem.

“Her attitude is fine,” says Ham. “It’s not your business to correct my wife. Besides, she’s right.”

“Well, I didn’t mean we could get out today,” says Shem. “I meant, we’ll be able to get out soon.”

“Not according to Noah,” says Ada. “He says we must stay another eleven months on this ark.”

“Eleven months!” shouts Ham. “That’s ridiculous!”

I chew on the fat pad of my palm. I can’t survive another eleven months of this.

“Did he say why?” asks Shem.

“Does your father ever answer why?” asks Ada.

“You shouldn’t speak of him disrespectfully,” says Shem.

“You’re always talking about respect,” says Ham. “But only the Mighty Creator knows what disrespect you might have paid me.”

“Can’t you two stop it?” Leba clasps her hands in front of her chest.