Tails of the Apocalypse (18 page)

I am an imposing figure to your kind, or so I have been told. Nearly nine feet tall—small by my people’s standards, to be sure, but plenty big enough to intimidate your race. Which is why Keena and I steered clear of your settlements as much as possible. Every Earthborn I met seemed to regard me as either a god or a threat to be subdued. For my part, I want to be neither worshipped nor conquered.

Keena and I hunted for our food each day and ate by the fire of our camp. We enjoyed each other’s company and had no need for anyone else. We took care of each other and were content to do so. An orphan dog and her outcast master. Sharing my life with Keena was the closest I have ever come to the contentment I seek.

And we lived that way, in easy reciprocity. We were not master and animal. We were the best of friends. We protected each other, provided for each other. We understood each other. Words were unnecessary. Keena was the perfect partner. I had found the purest of all the Creator’s creatures.

The Builder and his sons began to construct a massive box of wood. Each day some of my Watcher brethren would stand and observe the construction, and each day the Builder would ask them to turn from their wickedness and join him. As his great-grandfather had. Then the Watchers and the Earthborn that were loyal to them would gather and ridicule the Builder while he worked. To his credit, he never stopped his labors to answer them.

Keena and I would watch him from the edge of the forest. He would call out for anyone to join his labors who wanted to, but no one took him up on his offer. “The water is coming!” he would shout. But anyone listening would only laugh at him.

And we watched.

One day, a group of Watchers and Earthborn brought casks of wine and filled a long table with roasted meats and feasted while the man and his sons worked in the hot sun. When they were fully drunk, my brothers and their followers began hurling stones at the family and their long, wooden box. Their attack became so furious, so relentless, that the Builder and his sons were forced to seek shelter.

And we watched.

Keena growled, and the fur on her neck and back prickled. I shook my head at her and assured her this was not our fight. We retreated to the safety of the forest and our camp, far away from the Builder and his harassment at the hands of the drunken revelers.

This pattern continued for months. Keena and I moved camp often to take advantage of better hunting or fishing, but we always returned to look in on the madman and his massive construction project.

One day the Builder climbed down from his large, long box of a building and declared it done. On that day, everything changed for Keena and me.

The Builder left his home for the wilderness. A strange thing happened while he was gone. The sky filled with dark clouds, and a tangible sense of doom pervaded the air. When the Builder returned a few days later, he and his sons gathered provisions and stocked them in the large wooden box.

One evening, after the Builder had gone to his bed, Keena and I snuck inside the box. It was the most ambitious thing I had ever seen an Earthborn undertake. The inside was a combination of house, barn, and granary. It was four times larger than the largest house, with stalls that could hold many hundreds of animals. We could see the foodstuffs the family had stored, and it looked as if they could survive inside this box for a very long while. Looking around at the great empty stalls and provisions stacked high, a keen sense of foreboding descended upon me. I called to Keena to leave, and as we passed through the doorway, I made the sign against evil. We slipped away unseen into the forest.

I lay awake under the dim light of cloud-covered stars that night, wondering at the dread that had come over me, that I was still feeling. Visions of destruction filled my mind. Terror filled my heart, and I saw the end of all things. I thought of the other Watchers and their treatment of the man, of their followers’ cruelty and the Builder’s proclamations of doom. I thought of the Creator and asked myself what the limits of His mercy might be.

I jumped up gasping for breath! I must have fallen asleep. It was just a dream. All my terror, all my ponderings. I tried to shake off the dread from my dream, but as I went about the next day’s labors, my dark mood would not lift, no matter how I tried to distract myself. My foreboding was unrelenting.

Keena and I went into the village after a few days of nervous distractions. The normal crowd was there, gathered around the Builder and his project, but they stood in sober silence. The Builder was standing watch over the main entrance of the box, while scores of animals were shepherded inside up a long ramp. Some animals in pairs, some in groups of more than half a dozen. Slowly they plodded, one after another, up the ramp and into the box. No one said a word. Keena and I watched with the same amazement as the rest.

The Builder, no doubt seeing an opportunity to address an attentive audience, climbed up on a stump.

“You see now before you the work of the Creator. You have taken it upon yourselves to leave your natural estate and conduct yourselves in a manner that goes against everything you know to be right. You, the offspring of the Earthborn and the Shining Ones, and you, the Earthborn that have pledged your fealty to these fallen few—you are witnessing the arrival of disaster, that which has been foretold. You have been warned, and now you have one last chance to redeem yourselves. Even the beasts of the fields and forests understand they are being cursed because of you. That is why they come willingly to me. The Creator will destroy his creation and start anew, with a world uncontaminated by the likes of you. Turn now from your wicked path and join us, before your eternal souls are forever held apart from Him. Turn or be destroyed utterly!”

The crowd shook off their amazement and replaced it with anger. They refused to be lectured. They refused to see. Watcher and Earthborn alike picked up stones and hurled them at the Builder. Some struck the animals still in their long march up the ramp. The silent parade became a cacophony of bleats and calls and cries and taunting curses by the crowd as the animals raced inside.

He stood strong for a while, the Builder did, but eventually he too retreated into the box, where he continued ushering the creatures to safety. Eventually his detractors tired of their sport and removed themselves to other quarters in which to seek their revels. Keena and I went back to the forest to search for supper as I pondered all that I had seen.

My dread mood deepened.

The clouds darkened.

A few days later, we felt the first drops of rain. Keena had always been fascinated by the strange water that fell from the sky. I think it scared her when it first dappled her fur, so she scampered under a tree, peeking out only to see who was sprinkling water on her. Eventually she got used to the rain, as she always did, and joined me to wander, wet, in our forest.

Over the next three days, the rain went from a gentle mist to a hard drizzle. After five days, it was a steady shower. On the tenth day, the thunder began.

The rain would not relent, and hunting is difficult when constantly bombarded from above. So Keena and I visited the village to trade some pelts for dry provisions.

We found the Builder furiously running through the village, telling anyone that would listen—and none were—that this was the time. Destruction was at hand.

He pleaded with me as well and told me to climb into his box now, before it was too late. But I pushed him aside. At the time, he seemed so insignificant. So much smaller than me, and his words of warning were like the insane ramblings of so many other prophets of doom in those dark days. Like the seemingly mad ravings of his own great-grandfather, now long dead. I prided myself on standing apart from the irrelevant affairs of the Earthborn; of my own kind, for that matter.

He knelt and whispered something to Keena. She looked up at me, and I could see it in her eyes: she had understood him. She whined, and it was clear she was afraid.

The Builder asked me if he could take my dog with him. “Spare your animal, at least,” he said. Keena seemed to understand this request, but when the Builder held out his hand to her, she moved back behind me out of reach. Her head was bowed like a supplicant, but she would not leave my side, whatever the disaster the Builder foretold.

He seemed to accept that he could not save anyone but himself, his family, and the animals they had gathered. Without saying another word, he stood up and walked toward the box. He ushered his family inside, and standing at the doorway, he looked out on the world he knew, now soaked and swollen with the rains of many days.

He and his sons pulled on the ropes attached to the ramp, heaving until it lifted and pivoted. I realized then that the ramp was a door they were pulling closed. With a final thud lost beneath the boom of thunder, the Builder and his family and all those animals were sealed into the box.

Human faces soon appeared, staring through windows at all they were leaving behind. They watched us watching them, and I felt the knot tighten in my stomach. For I knew at last that it was no mere box the Builder had made.

It was an ark.

Keena and I slogged through the mud to our camp. Water was standing everywhere, pooling up in any low-lying spot. That night we had jerky and hot broth from the fire. The last fire we ever built.

The rain got heavier, more intense in the next days. Homes once overlooking large pastures now stood half-submerged in water. Valleys had become lakes. We sought out higher ground, moving camp multiple times a day. We had to climb constantly to stay ahead of the creeping waterline. Everything was wet now, and if you stared long enough, you could see the water rising with your eyes.

From the top of one of the hills, we could see the Builder’s ark. Water climbed up the sides until eventually it began to float. It passed out of the fertile valley we called home on top of the flood waters. As we watched it go, I knew: Keena and I were running out of options.

We climbed the highest mountain in the region, and at the top found a cave. We walked to the edge and looked out over the world. Water surrounded the mountain. Keena looked over the valley, the only home she had ever known. She bayed mournfully, and I knelt beside her and gently stroked her back. In her guttural wail, she expressed what I could not—a kind soul’s lament for the loss of her world. I stayed by her thinking I was comforting her, but it was she, through her song of sadness, that gave me the courage to face what was to come.

We watched as others sought higher ground. A bear climbed seeking safety and howled as it was washed down the cliff face. Seeking better shelter ourselves, we ventured deeper into the cave. We found a shaft leading into the core of the mountain and followed it deeper in. Eventually, the tunnel formed an elbow, and we followed it until we reached an open chamber. We sat against the far wall and rested.

“We will be fine, girl,” I soothed.

She sat next to me, her ears perked up and the fur at the back of her neck bristling and wet. The tunnel amplified the constant, driving rain outside, and the chamber was filled with the eerie echoes of those pattering drums. We needed to keep moving, but we also needed rest, so I coaxed her to relax next to me. We slept.

I was startled awake by a rising pitch in the sound that filled our chamber. In the dim light of the cave, it was hard to tell how long we had slept, and Keena had awoken before me. She sat at attention, staring down the hole. I rose and we walked down the tunnel to see what the sound was.

When we reached the bottom where the tunnel started upward again, we saw that water had begun to fill the elbow down the tunnel. It was ankle high and rising. If this kept up, I knew, we would soon be trapped.

Keena and I climbed back up the path toward the outside of the mountain, slipping along the way as we fought for purchase in the running water. We reached the upper chamber and saw the problem. The water was already trickling in from the opening to the outside. The rain was fierce now, heavier than before, if that were possible.

I looked at Keena and saw her shaking. She pressed against my leg as if to reassure me that she was there to protect me, but I knew deep inside she was as afraid as I was. The world was becoming one unbroken ocean. The earth-sea had claimed everything and everyone.

The horror struck me deep in my heart. Keena and I were alone with nowhere to go.

The end chamber was still dry, at least for now, so I judged it the best place to wait out the rain. As we carefully made our way down the shaft, a fish slid past my feet. The water at the bottom of the shaft was now knee deep and teeming with fish. Keena grabbed one and I snagged another. We might be trapped, but we would not be hungry that night. We climbed up to the back chamber and had raw fish for dinner.

The roar of the water got louder and louder. I had no idea how long we could last in the dry chamber, but we made trips back to the surface to watch as the waterline rose. Rain even filled the elbow of the tunnel.

I held my breath and dove under, swimming for the surface. I reached the top and saw that the water had breached the opening. It was flooding in. I knew it would soon cover the entire mountain. I dove down again and swam back to the chamber where Keena waited, anxious for my return. I could see that she knew it was hopeless. Any words I could say would be wasted. I sat down with my back against the wall and she put her head in my lap.

Her eyes looked up at me, and I could see in them her resignation. Her low moan filled the chamber. The sound of sadness for the loss of the world. Of fear for the loss of her life. We listened to the droning of the water for a long while. It finally lulled us both to sleep.

I woke up several hours later with a raging headache. Keena was lethargic, and I soon realized that even though we were still dry, our fresh air supply had been cut off by the flooded tunnel. Our time, like our air, was growing short.