Fire and Flood

by Dawn Morris

  I had just finished wiping myself off, the baby still sleeping in my arms, when the banging began. I heard a loud crack of wood breaking and the shouts of men coming closer. I looked around, terrified. There was nowhere to hide.

  “Where is Terah?” a loud voice demanded. “The king demands his presence at the feast.” I recognized the captain of the guard standing in the doorframe. He smirked when he saw the baby in my arms.

  “Terah is with his wife in the bedroom, grieving. You will find him there.” I tried to keep my voice from quivering. I thought if I was calm, he would just leave me there, and I could somehow hide the child.

  “What sex is that child?” The captain of the guards strode across the room as he spoke and pulled the baby away from me. Ignoring my pleas, he uncovered the baby. The boy screamed.

  “Well, this will be a pleasant addition to the plans Semiramis has for tonight’s festivities,” he laughed cruelly. “What better way for Terah to pledge himself completely to Marduk’s son, Tammuz?”

  Clutching the child, the captain ordered one of the soldiers to escort me back to the palace and left the room. I was marched out of Terah’s home, away from my dead friend and away from her child I had failed to save. All I could do was pray. So I did. I prayed the entire ride back to the palace, tears flowing silently down my face.

  When we pulled up in front of the palace, I was dragged to my room.

  “Change your clothes quickly. The banquet has already started,” one of the men ordered.

  Numb with fear and grief, I went in and changed my clothes, rejoining the soldiers waiting outside my room. We walked through the palace, passing room after room. I paused as we came to the banqueting hall.

  “Keep moving,” the man on my right ordered. “A special pavilion has been prepared for this auspicious celebration.”

  I stumbled along as they led me through corridors and then outside the palace through the gardens. Finally, we came to a noisy field. There were tables spread out upon the grounds, which were already filled with celebrants feasting and drinking. All faced a large platform, tented with purple and gold cloth. It was near sunset and torches had already been lit. The royal family was seated on the dais. As I was hauled before them, I saw they were again wearing the skins made by the Creator for the First Ones.

  “How dare you!” I spat out my bitter accusation at the bold couple. Semiramis stood up. The creamy leather dress clung to her voluptuous figure. It was still open in front, revealing her flat abdomen. Her long, dark hair curled down to her narrow waist. Scarlet painted lips sneered back at me, as she held her giant child on her hip.

  “Silence!” Nimrod ordered. I turned to face him. My friend was dead, and this was all so, so wrong. No longer was I afraid. I was angry.

  “How dare you put those skins on! You bring judgment upon yourselves wearing them and honoring that evil idol.” I pointed to the huge golden statue of Marduk that stood right to the royal platform. The dragon-snake figure was outstretched over a blazing fire. Smoky incense rose all around the idol, obscuring its evil visage.

  Nimrod nodded to the guard, and I was made to sit at the end of the table by myself. It was meant to be a humiliation before the crowd, but I was grateful. A slave poured some wine into my goblet, and I was given a plate of food, but I touched neither.

  The celebratory meal went on for some time before trumpets were blown and a procession of temple priests entered the field, led by Akkadab. They were naked, except for loincloths and ceremonial swords at their sides. All were clean-shaven and their bodies oiled. Akkadab strode up the stairs of the platform, his dark eyes focused on Semiramis.

  Without bowing before the king and queen, Akkadab turned and addressed the crowd, now quiet in anticipation.

  “Tonight, we honor the son of Marduk, Tammuz.” The high priest announced. The crowd exploded in enthusiastic praise. Akkadab turned and took the child in his arms before turning back to the people. Raising his free arm, he indicated that the crowd should quiet. “As you know, the oracle predicted the miraculous birth of this child. Tammuz is not the son of man but of the gods!”

  Again, the crowd clapped with enthusiasm and shouts of praise. Akkadab turned his face my way. With horror, I watched the image of the Magistrate appear just behind the priest. He lifted his right fist in victory smirking at me, and Akkadab mirrored his movements like a puppet.

  The Magistrate laughed, but the laughter came out of the wicked priest’s mouth.

  I stood up, afraid but also angry. The Flood, all that death, Japheth dead, and this evil creature still walked the earth. He had stuck his claws back into the world and the world had grabbed his hand. Anger coursed within me, and I rose to my feet, shaking. I began praying out loud, but one of the guards pushed me to my seat and slapped my face with the back of his hand. Tasting blood, I glared up at him and tried to stand again.

  “Do it, and I’ll tie you down and muzzle you myself,” he threatened.

  I looked back to Akkadab. The Magistrate smirked at me as he mouthed the words the priest spoke, “The oracle also warned us there would rise up, from the servants of the king, a son who would betray Tammuz. Because of this, the king has ordered each of his servants to offer up their sons to Marduk as a sign of their allegiance to the royal family. Join with me now, in reverent silence, as these faithful ones bring their offerings to the god.”

  A solo flute played, eerie and terrifying, as a line of men entered the field and approached the glowing idol. With horror, I saw Terah—his face ashen, his eyes deadened with grief. In his arms was Amalthai’s newborn son. No one was forcing him to walk toward the flames or to place the screaming child in the metal arms of the idol. How could he do this?

  “No! Stop! No!” I screamed as Terah approached the idol and placed the child in the flames. I couldn’t think. A piercing scream left my mouth, mingled with the screams of the innocent baby. I was undone by the horror of it all.

  I tried to get up from my chair and stop it, but unseen hands held me down as, one by one, innocent children were consigned to the fire, and their fathers knelt in homage before Nimrod and Semiramis. All I could do was wail, begging the Creator over and over to help the innocent children being burned alive as an offering to evil.

  As the last victim fell into the flames, the crowd erupted in celebration. Unbelievably, I saw others like the Magistrate walking among the throng with their fists pumping the air in victory. The Fallen Ones were daring once again to walk the earth. They were darkly beautiful, like men—but not men. Sculpted muscles rippled as they moved about the crowd. I saw them whispering to women, gliding through the crowd.

  I turned back to look at the royal family and saw one of the larger ones standing behind Semiramis, whispering into her ear as he caressed her arm. Her child, a Nephilim, half fallen angel, half human, sat at her feet playing with a toy, unaware.

  Semiramis called to Akkadab, “It is time now for the offering to be made for the New Year.”

  Nimrod looked about the field. “But there is no lamb here.” He obviously did not know about this part of the celebration.

  Semiramis stood up and offered her hand to Nimrod, pulling him up before her. Leaning in, she kissed him seductively, distracting him as Akkadab crept behind with a dagger lifted up. She pulled away from the embrace as the blade plunged into his back. I gasped, but the crowd erupted, relishing their bloodthirsty queen.

  “You, my love, are the sacrifice.”

  While Nimrod lay dying on the platform, the crowd cheering, Akkadab cut out a piece of his flesh and fed it to the evil queen and declared her a living goddess, wife of Marduk, and the queen of heaven.

  The crowd fell on their faces, worshipping Semiramis, calling her Mother, and begging her favor, asking her to intercede for them with her son, Tammuz, the son of the gods. The evil creatures rejoiced mightily as the people groveled before Semiramis and Tammuz.

  I screamed as Terah made his way up with the others to the priest and queen, “No! Terah!
Don’t!”

  He took the piece of Nimrod’s flesh on his tongue and raised his arms in a show of praise, tears flowing down his face.

  There was nothing in my stomach, but I vomited, sobbing between dry heaves. There was nothing I could do but beg the Creator for help.

  In the midst of the chaos, the unseen hands holding me back let me go and, somehow, I made it out of that place, weaving in and out of the crowd, back to my apartment.

  Away from the presence of great evil, I collapsed. I sobbed and cried out to the Lord. As I cried, I felt a hand lovingly stroke my forehead. Warmth enveloped me, and the wracking sobs slowed down. I wiped my eyes and sat up. Before me was a man, dressed in shimmering white garments.

  “Who . . . who are you?” I asked in wonder.

  “Do not fear. I was sent the moment you first started praying, but the fallen angel of Babylon intercepted me. I am here now. Follow me, child; you are safe.”

  I felt like I was in a dream, but I got up and followed him. We left the palace and made our way through the dark streets of Babylon to a small hut on the edge of the city. The man entered, and I followed him. Sitting there by the fire was a young woman nursing a baby.

  “This is the son of Amalthai and Terah,” the man said. “Take the child and his nurse and return to your people. Shem is waiting for you just outside the city gates.”

  I grabbed the infant from the young woman, so eager in my relief. I pulled the swaddling clothes off, I turned him over and saw the pink mark on his thigh. This was Amalthai’s baby. I turned to thank the man, but he was gone. I looked back at the child and wondered whose baby had died in the fire to save this child. But I didn’t have time to think about that.

  “We need to leave now,” I told the young woman. Wrapping the child tightly in my arms, we left the hut and the city.

  FIRE

  Chapter 33

  Keep me, O LORD, from the hands of the wicked; preserve me from violent men . . .

  Psalm 140:4

  “Dani, wake up!” A voice pierced through my dreams. Groggily, I sat up, my eyes still closed against the bright sunlight. I couldn’t remember my dream, but it had been lovely.

  “What?” I was exhausted. I had stayed up late into the night talking with Jannik. It had been wonderful, better than any dream. No wonder I was so tired.

  “Where is Zivah? Neither one of you showed up to tend the goats this morning! I had to pull someone else away from his work to do yours. Get up. At least you can go out and relieve the poor guy.”

  Blinking my eyes open, I blearily made out our work supervisor, Maya, standing in the opening to the cave, hands on her hips. Maya was well intentioned but had a short fuse.

  “I’m sorry,” I said quickly, jumping up, wanting to appease her before she erupted. “I stayed up late talking to Jannik. I don’t know where Zivah is. She was sleeping when I came back.”

  Maya snorted, told me where to find the goats, and left, muttering under her breath. I quickly poured some water into the basin across from our sleeping bags and splashed water on my face. A small mirror hung over the basin, and I laughed at my image. I was exhausted but happier than I’d ever been in my life. During our late-night talk, Jannik had told me he loved me.

  It only took me a few minutes to brush my teeth and get dressed. I pulled on a pink cap, pulling my ponytail out of the back, the way Zivah had taught me, and left our room.

  Near our cave was one of the commissaries that dotted the Petra community. I grabbed a bagged lunch from the counter and a bottle of water, thanking the man who worked there before heading off to find the goats. As I walked in the blistering heat, I wondered where Zivah was. It wasn’t like her to let me sleep in, and it sure wasn’t like her to miss work. Zivah was very responsible.

  Get Jannik and look for her. A voice, unlike my own, spoke clearly in my mind. I was startled. I stopped walking and looked around. There was no one else there. I was alone in the rosy red canyon.

  I looked back toward our cave. Jannik stayed in a cave about ten minutes away. A goat bleated in the distance, and I thought of how annoyed Maya had been, so I ignored the prompting voice and continued on my way to relieve the person who was doing my job. Perhaps Zivah was ill and had gone to the clinic. She sometimes suffered from fierce migraines.

  I made my way along the dusty trail and climbed the rocks over the hill to the place where Maya instructed me to go. As I got to the top of the hill, I could see the flock in the distance. Once again, I heard the voice telling me to go back. I turned around. Was someone else here? I had already slept in and slacked off my job this morning, I didn’t have time go back. Whatever these thoughts were, I didn’t have the time to go find Jannik, however nice that sounded. I went on down the hillside, determined to do my job.

  As I neared the goats, I could see someone sitting among them on a rock. I couldn’t make out who it was, but I could hear a man’s voice singing in Hebrew.

  “I worship you, O Great One, for who is like you? You have authority over all the earth, even here where the foolish think they’re safe! Those destined for the sword have been stabbed. Blood covers her now like a deep scarlet shroud.”

  I stopped abruptly, fear rushing through my body. It was Noam’s voice. I turned to run away, but I was so close to him now; he saw me and started running toward me. He was fast and caught me before I could get to the ridge.

  I struggled in his grip, but he held me against him tightly and laughed. “Do you like my song? The next line is for you. Would you like to hear it?”

  His voice was strangely high-pitched. I stopped struggling, remembering Daphne’s warning to me when I lived at the Compound. Panic only made things worse. Noam slowly licked my face. I was revolted but stayed perfectly still, hoping his grip would loosen.

  “Those destined for captivity,” he whispered the next line of his strange song into my ear, “to captivity must go!”

  Noam roughly pulled my arms behind my back and viciously bit my ear. I cried out in pain, and he laughed again. Warm blood trickled down my neck. I don’t know where the rope came from, but he twisted my wrists together and roughly tied them up.

  “Why are you doing this?” I screamed at him.

  “Because you ruined everything. It’s all your fault. You came along and seduced Jannik with your beauty!” He spat in my face.

  “I did no such thing!” I protested, but he ignored me and went on a tirade as he pulled me away from Petra along a thin, dusty goat trail. “He would have been mine! That was the promise!” Noam finished with a screech.

  “Who promised you that?” I asked and was slapped hard for asking.

  “Shut up! You’re the price I have to pay to get my friend back. You and all of the others in this rosy city.”

  There was a jeep ahead of us. I knew then that this whole thing had been planned ahead of time. “Where is Zivah?” I demanded.

  Noam stopped pulling me and turned to face me. His watery blue eyes were bloodshot. He smirked. “Power requires sacrifice, you know. The great one is strengthened by sacrifice, and so he strengthens us in turn.”

  I could hardly believe what I was hearing. “You killed her?”

  “Well, I’m not sure she’s dead, yet,” he chortled wickedly, in the same strange high-pitched tone. “ I bent over and vomited, gasping between dry heaves. Noam caressed me as I threw up. Then he hauled me up and shoved me in the back seat of a jeep. His red hair glinted in the sunlight, and I could see blood smeared on the back of his neck as he started to drive away.

  I should have listened to the voice warning me to turn back. I should have listened and gone for Jannik, I thought over and over as we bounced along the desert track. All I could do was pray desperately for Zivah, wherever the maniac had left her, and try to think of a way to escape.

  We drove for hours. I wish it were in silence, but Noam talked nonstop. Insane banter back and forth between himself and an invisible someone else. I don’t know how to explain it, but Noam’s part of the c
onversation was completely deranged. The other one spoke intelligently and with authority. Both used Noam’s mouth to talk.

  I’d heard the other one before—it sounded exactly like Dominic, the psychotic leader back at the Compound, who would make long speeches all the time. The one using Noam’s voice was eerily similar.

  As I listened with horror, I realized he was giving Noam instructions about me. Back and forth they argued. Noam wanted to kill me in the desert, stake me in the sand, and watch me die.

  Bile rose in my throat, and I struggled against the rope that tied my hands behind my back. If I can get free, I can open the door. I glanced up and realized he could see me in the mirror. I had to be careful.

  Noam said a lot of other disgusting things, but the other one kept insisting that Noam take me to the city. He promised Noam would be richly rewarded and that it was the master’s will. It took a long time for the other one to convince Noam, but he finally agreed, pounding the steering wheel with his fists, screaming in frustrated defiance while obeying the other voice.

  I tried to push my body as close to the door as I could, making it harder for Noam to see me. I wanted to hide. I wanted to escape. Frantically, I tried to think of a plan, but I began to panic. Fear took over, and I started screaming for help.

  The car slammed to a stop, and I was thrown against the front seat. Dazed, I was too slow when Noam yanked the door open and grabbed me by my hair.

  “Shut up! Shut up!” he screamed in my face, covering it with spit. He made me sit up and then took a towel off of the floor next to my feet. Ripping it into a strip, he tied it around my mouth.

  “Now stop causing trouble!” he ordered. Slamming the door shut, he got back in the front seat and kept driving.