Ararat

by Christopher Golden

  Father Cornelius fixed him with a searing glare. “Of course not. But I can’t pronounce it and don’t have time for guessing. It’s Noah, all right? Or it’s where the story began. Many ancient scholars believed that demons roamed the Earth in its infancy. In the fourth century Genesis Rabbah, Hebrews examining the early versions of the Bible interpreted certain passages to say that Noah took demons on board the ark. It’s just one of the many examples of ancient texts that establish—”

  “I’ll take your word for it,” Walker said, heart pounding. He didn’t believe in any of this. So why did he feel a prickling at the back of his neck? Why did he wish he was anywhere but here?

  “The same text, the Genesis Rabbah, discusses the idea that man existed in God’s image until the days of Enos, and then we changed. I’ve never been persuaded by any of the translations I’ve seen. There’s no clarity, but the suggestion is there that demons changed humanity in some fundamental way. This runs parallel to the myth of the Nephilim, who were supposed to have been born of a union between angels and human beings, or fallen angels and humans.”

  “Fallen angels?” Kim echoed. “You mean demons.”

  Father Cornelius grimaced. “Scholars can never agree. Tonight it doesn’t matter. The only thing that does is that the history written inside the coffin tells the story of a world in which demons began to infect people with their own evil. Some kind of seer predicted the flood—a priest or magician or even something Noah saw in a dream. It’s unclear, but Noah was persuaded. He built the ark for himself and his extended family. They brought plants and seeds and all the animals they thought they would need to settle wherever they landed, and they were ready when the flood came. But a demon called Shamdon found its way aboard. The demon murdered two of Noah’s sons and a granddaughter before they were able to capture and kill it.”

  Walker waited, thinking there must be more to the story. Then he understood that he already knew how the tale ended. Kim and Polly were staring at the priest, but now both women turned their focus on him.

  “The writing in the coffin—it identifies the demon by name?”

  Father Cornelius nodded. “Shamdon.”

  Walker ran his hands through his hair, hanging his head. He could feel his pulse throbbing in his temples. “You know I don’t believe any of this.”

  Kim moved nearer, drawing his eyes to hers. “I think you do.”

  “Is the body still back there?” he asked, looking to Polly.

  “Still wrapped. It’s just a husk. No way has that thing been walking around, hurting anyone.”

  “I agree,” Father Cornelius said. “The cadaver is a shell. But the demon … I believe it’s still here. Inside the ark … and inside one of us.”

  “We’re talking about possession now?” Walker said.

  The priest’s gaze hardened. “We are.”

  Kim found her gloves and began to pull them on. “Come on, Walker. Meryam and Adam need to know. Whether they believe it or not, we’ve got to tell them.”

  His face flushed. Did he have to believe it completely himself in order to pass along what Father Cornelius had found? Maybe not. When Polly and the priest led the way out into the passage and Kim followed, he realized that his own feelings were of no consequence. Father Cornelius and Polly would pass along their findings. His only decision was whether or not to back them up.

  He hurried to get his own gloves, then hauled on his thick, woolen hat. By the time he caught up with them, they were already to the reinforced stairs that led down to level two. Snow swirled up the steps, driven on gusts of wind, and Walker realized the noise he heard was the storm. They moved past the overhanging portion of the outer wall of the cave and into the open as they descended to the first level. Teeth chattering, he regretted not having taken the time to dress more thoroughly, but when Father Cornelius had woken him, he had not imagined he’d be leaving his quarters.

  At first the shouts from below sounded as if they came from far away, carried on the wind or echoing off the mountainside. Kim had led them down the steps and now she started to hurry. Polly tried to take Father Cornelius by the arm but he barked at her to go and find out what the fuss was about.

  Below, voices shouted Adam’s name, ordered him to back off. Someone called out in urgent Turkish, but by then Walker was hurrying as well. One hand on the wall, he took the steps two at a time, the whole structure shuddering under his boots. Father Cornelius took his time, but old as he might be, he didn’t need anyone’s help. He’d used the word “fuss”, but whatever had happened on level one, it was a hell of a lot more than that.

  Another voice shouted. Meryam’s. “Get your fucking hands off me!”

  Walker hit the bottom of the steps at a run. Polly and Kim were ahead of him but he’d almost caught up by the time they’d reached the place where most of the staff were clustered. Kim shoved her way through, snapping at them, and Polly helped her clear a hole.

  Through the gap, Walker spotted Meryam as she reeled backward. She staggered into shadow and then strode back into the light, blood pouring from her nose and a split in her lower lip.

  “Keep back from him,” she told the staffers gathered around. “He’s lost his fucking marbles.”

  Polly pushed through them, ready for a fight. Feyiz stepped in front of Adam, blocking his access to Meryam. A cut by his eye had started to swell, and he put his hands up warily.

  “Stop, Adam,” Feyiz said. “This isn’t what you want. Not if you love her.”

  Walker pushed through the staffers and came up beside Kim. His fists opened and closed, but there were others ready to step in as well.

  Adam moved too quickly for all of them. Face carved with fury, he lunged at Feyiz, hammered at his face with such ferocity that Feyiz dropped to the snow. Adam straddled him, fists smashing down with a sickening, meaty sound. Blood smeared Adam’s fist as four people got hold of him, one student yanking his head back by the hair. Savage, snarling, eyes wide, he surged upward and grabbed Polly by the throat. She whipped an arm up and broke his grip, struck him two solid blows to the chest with a speed that indicated martial arts training. Taking his wrist, she twisted and kicked him in the softness of his armpit, then kicked again, knocking him to the ground.

  They were on him, then. Walker rushed in, put a knee on his left arm as Polly took the other, and two grad students held his legs. Kim stood above him, shouting at him to calm down, even as Meryam appeared beside her, wiping blood from her face.

  Adam roared, trying to fight them off. Struck dumb, they all stared at him. In the midst of a lull in the whipping wind, Walker heard an all-too-familiar click and turned to see Hakan aiming a pistol at Adam.

  Walker could have drawn his own weapon, but to do that, he’d have to let go.

  “No!” Meryam barked, throwing herself in front of the gun.

  “You don’t see,” Hakan told her. “Look at him again. This isn’t your man.”

  Someone had helped Feyiz to his feet. He leaned on a student’s shoulder, trying not to fall down again. “Don’t do this, Uncle.”

  Hakan laughed softly. “I’m not going to kill the man. Not as long as he keeps his hands to himself from now on. Bind him hand and foot, and bind him well, so I don’t have to shoot him.”

  Others moved in to take over. From somewhere they’d produced the sort of plastic zip ties that police officers sometimes used in place of handcuffs. Walker surrendered his position, but he watched carefully to make sure Adam wouldn’t fight them. Polly had to twist one of his arms around, but beyond that, Adam only smiled, eyes cold, a thin stream of bloody drool sliding down his chin as if he’d bitten his tongue.

  “There’s an open stall a short way along,” Hakan said, gesturing with the gun. “Take him down there and we’ll figure out how to hold him. Someone bring a light.”

  As his Kurdish workers moved to help, Polly began to dismantle some of the lighting in the camp, repositioning it as Hakan had asked.

  Walker stood, glaring at H
akan. “Is that Zeybekci’s gun?”

  “Better in my hands tonight than in his,” Hakan replied.

  Walker didn’t argue, though he didn’t trust anyone with a firearm right now. Even the weight of his own gun against the small of his back felt too dangerous, too easily turned against them all. Adam wasn’t himself—Walker didn’t want to think about what might happen if he himself lost control.

  Kim stood with Meryam, speaking quietly to her, checking over her injuries. Approaching them, Walker saw that Meryam had begun to cry. The sight of tears on the face of someone so formidable cut him deeply. The whole scene had unfolded with a surreal quality, a nightmarish aura that made it all seem a terrible dream. But now he saw how tired Meryam looked, drawn and sorrowful and confused as the blood continued to trickle across her mouth and chin, and the realness of it all made him tremble.

  “Hakan’s right,” Meryam said. “Adam wouldn’t ever raise a hand to me. Especially now.”

  Walker saw Father Cornelius pushing through the gathered staff.

  “Tell her,” the priest said, the deep lines crinkling at the corners of his eyes. “It’s all happening too fast.”

  Meryam wiped at the blood on her chin but did not try to erase her tears. “Tell me what?”

  “What you already know,” Walker replied. “What you and Hakan have both just said. That wasn’t Adam at all. It was something else … and we think we know its name.”

  * * *

  Meryam winced as Dr. Dwyer pushed the needle through her cheek, tugging the thread out the other side. She hissed air in through her teeth.

  “Sorry,” the doctor said. “I thought the topical I put on would dull the pain.”

  “I’m sure it did,” Meryam said. “Still not a pleasant feeling, having someone stabbing holes in your face. How badly will it scar?”

  Dr. Dwyer tugged on the thread and tied it off. “Four stitches. Not a huge scar, really, and it’ll add character. But if it bothers you, a good plastic surgeon could make it barely noticeable.”

  The doctor stepped back, examined his handiwork. “You want to talk about this?”

  His eyes were kind, but Meryam had no room for kindness now. All it would do was soften her, and she needed to be nothing but hard edges and blunt force at the moment.

  “I wouldn’t know how to start.”

  Dr. Dwyer nodded. “Try to get some rest. The painkillers I gave you should make you sleepy and I’m sure your body’s already exhausted. Decisions can wait for morning.”

  Meryam managed a half smile. “Get some rest yourself.”

  The doctor had dark circles beneath his eyes and as far as Meryam knew, he didn’t have cancer. She figured that under the circumstances, she had been acquitting herself pretty well. Yes, she’d been burning the candle at both ends, but her light was going to burn out soon enough—no point in conserving that flame.

  She lay down on her side on a thick bedroll, dragging a blanket over her. The heaters in the infirmary were doing their job, but with the frigid air blasting through the passages of the ark, there was a limit to what they could accomplish.

  The doctor had allowed Patil and Zeybekci to go down to the mess to get something to eat. He’d sent one of the students with them, a young woman named Belinda, and she’d been instructed to bring them back to the infirmary as soon as they’d finished eating. But their temporary absence didn’t mean Meryam was alone. Just a few feet away from her, Armando Olivieri lay with his head on a small pillow. Dr. Dwyer had sedated him, but even unconscious, the old professor’s brow was furrowed, his sleep troubled.

  Drowsy, she let her eyes close … and an image of Adam filled her mind, savage and cruel, his eyes bright with malice. She felt the sting of that first blow, the first time he had ever laid hands on her. Had she seen a flicker of strange fire in his eyes, a flash of color that didn’t belong there? She imagined him smiling, saw a riot of sharp black teeth inside his mouth, jerked back and caught a glimpse of the horns jutting from his skull, pushing through his hair.…

  Grunting, Meryam jerked awake. Her heart drummed in her chest, filling up her throat so that she could barely breathe. She stared at the unmoving form of Professor Olivieri beside her. He’d turned on his bedroll, his back to her now. As she caught her breath she took in her surroundings, recognized that the lights in the infirmary had been turned down. A dream, she thought, but it had felt more like a haunting.

  Catching her breath, she listened to Olivieri and watched his back expand and contract with his own deep breathing. Somehow she felt his breaths were too even, that he seemed not to be sleeping at all, but to be waiting. Listening.

  Hugging herself beneath the blanket, she scooted a bit further from him, listening to the dark. Meryam forced herself not to dwell on the conclusions Father Cornelius and Ben had made. All she wanted now was for Adam to be all right, to be released by whatever had seized his mind.

  Meaning you believe, she thought. You believe in the demon. Its body might be dead, but its essence remained. Ben had talked about ancient disease, some kind of contagion that nobody had been exposed to in thousands of years, and now Meryam realized it was precisely that … just not in any way either of them had been willing to imagine.

  Her face hurt and a dagger of pain stabbed into her skull, just above her left eye. Fighting drowsiness, Meryam peeled back her blanket and climbed stiffly to her feet. Her boots and jacket were nearby and she winced several times as she carefully dragged them on. Dr. Dwyer was nowhere to be seen. Olivieri still had his back to her, but he seemed too still, so that she half expected him to speak to her, there in the gloom of the half light. She waited a moment, sure he would talk. It would have been good to have help and she knew Olivieri would understand. Others might try to stop her. Before she had seen the blunt malice in Adam’s eyes, the glint of something she knew was not him staring out at her from his eyes, she’d have tried to stop herself.

  Not anymore.

  Quietly, she padded from the infirmary. Voices whispered along the passage off to the right, quiet footfalls headed her way, so she darted to the left and soon lost herself in the silent shadows of the ark. In the middle of the night, nobody would be back there, except perhaps a guard or two. Nobody would want to be there now, especially.

  It was there. The demon. Shamdon.

  Meryam hurried.

  * * *

  Walker’s cheeks stung with the cold. Exhausted as he was, it seemed to affect him more now. His old injuries ached and he felt ancient as he trudged along beside Kim. Dr. Dwyer scurried ahead of them, frantic in his disapproval. Bringing up the rear was Father Cornelius, his age manifesting itself at last.

  “Just let her sleep until morning,” said the doctor, flustered by the way they ignored him, and growing more so with every step.

  When Dr. Dwyer tried to stand his ground, blocking their way, Kim put a hand on his shoulder and gently brushed him aside.

  “This is Meryam’s project,” she said. “If her partner were in any condition to make decisions, I’d defer to your medical advice. But unless you think it would be popular among the staff for Dr. Walker and myself to seize control of the ark ourselves, any decisions need to be approved by Meryam.”

  “In the morning,” the doctor said, his voice a harsh whisper as they approached the infirmary. He didn’t want to disturb his patients.

  Walker liked that about him. “Look, Doc…” He paused, gave Dr. Dwyer a moment to gather his wits and calm his frantic heart. “What happened with Adam downstairs scared the shit out of everyone. That’s bad because there’s a lot of crying and praying going on down there right now, a lot of folks wishing they’d never climbed up here in the first place. But all of a sudden, nobody’s fighting. Hakan’s workers are helping keep watch over Adam. The grad students aren’t arguing over whether or not this is really Noah’s ark or whether they believe in angels and demons or whether there’s an actual fucking demon in this cave with us. Pretty soon they’re going to start wondering if Ada
m killed the four people who’ve gone missing in the last two nights, and if not, who did, because you damn well better believe they think those people are dead. But suddenly, for the first time and maybe not for very long, everyone is on the same page. We work together, gather as much of the research that’s already been done, and the second the blizzard dies out, we get off this mountain.”

  Dr. Dwyer nodded vigorously, glancing from Walker to Kim. “Okay, that’s good news, right? No more fighting. We evacuate as soon as possible.”

  Walker felt a thin thread of terror weaving through him. “That’s the plan.”

  “But why disturb Meryam? Just let her sleep awhile,” Dr. Dwyer pleaded.

  Kim threw up her hands. “The arguing will begin again soon enough. The poison of this demon is in us now.”

  “I don’t believe—” Dr. Dwyer began.

  “Once people start fighting again, the argument’s going to be obvious. What to do about Adam.”

  Father Cornelius cleared his throat. “And if Adam isn’t possessed, then who is it? Everyone will hazard a guess, pointing the finger at someone they already don’t like. The paranoia is going to turn ugly very fast.”

  Walker studied Dr. Dwyer. “We need to be ready for that, need to keep everyone on the same page and working together. If we can do that, maybe nobody else has to get hurt.”

  “Please just—” the doctor said, hurrying after him as Walker reached the entrance of the infirmary.

  “Be quiet,” Kim finished for him. “We know.”

  Walker stood just inside the infirmary. He’d mustered up some momentum from deep within, just enough to keep going. Now he felt it bleeding out of him. In the low light, he saw only Professor Olivieri on a cot. The others were all empty.

  “Shit,” Dr. Dwyer muttered.

  “Where’s she gone?” Kim asked sharply. “Doctor, we can’t let anyone out of sight now, especially not anyone who’s been exposed to the presence of…”

  “Of the demon,” Father Cornelius finished.

  A rustling of cloth drew their attention, and then a rasping voice spoke.