Fire and Flood

by Dawn Morris

  Sudden pounding on the bathroom door interrupted my grief. “Hey, you in there! Hurry up!” It was the guard’s voice.

  Fear shot through me. I worried that he would burst into the room. “Sorry!” I shouted. “I’m coming right out!”

  Quickly turning the water off, I got out and dried myself off. On a small metal bench, neatly folded, were the clothes I’d been told to put on. I noticed a hairbrush and other necessities next to them. It only took me a few minutes to get ready.

  The guard was standing right outside the door, glowering at me. “You’re to go through that door there.” He nodded his head toward a door on the opposite side of the room.

  “Well, it’s about time!” the intake specialist said as I entered. The room was windowless but brightly lit. There was a desk with a computer on it and a strange bed draped in white sheets.

  “Sit down there,” she ordered pointing to the bed, taking a seat herself at the desk. She asked me dozens of questions. Many, I just didn’t understand, but she explained them to me, skeptical of my ignorance.

  “Seriously, you don’t know what I’m talking about?”

  I shook my head, “No.”

  Clicking on her computer, she pointed to some pictures and gave me a quick lesson on human fertility. I knew the basics of course but not the specifics.

  “Why am I here?” I asked when she finished.

  “Really, where have you been kept? In a cave somewhere?”

  “Something like that,” I answered.

  She softened momentarily. I could see she believed me. She scratched her forehead with her right hand. I couldn’t help noticing the tattoo it bore. It was the same mark I’d seen on Mitch’s hand when he betrayed me.

  “Since the Vanishing, years ago, fertility rates throughout the world have plummeted—mostly, we think, due to sexually transmitted diseases. Many of them have become resistant to any treatments we’ve developed so far. That’s what they tested you for when you first arrived.”

  She smiled broadly with pride. “Of course, His Excellency has healed many of the faithful. He healed me two years ago when I made the choice to serve the Promised One.” She picked up a photo frame on her desk and showed me a picture of two babies held by a grinning man. “They’re mine! A reward for my allegiance to President Bellomo!”

  I felt sorry for the woman in front of me. She thought she’d really found the Promised One, but instead, the one she was following was clearly an imposter. The Antichrist! She talked on and on about her children and her plans for a future she wouldn’t have. I knew the time was short. What I didn’t know was if I would make it to the end myself.

  She finally finished and asked me another question. “So what was the first day of your last cycle?”

  I’m not usually that slow. But it was then I finally realized why I was there.

  FLOOD

  Chapter 36

  “For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the LORD, “Plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you a future and a hope.”

  Jeremiah 29:11

  As Shem and I traveled into the mountains the next day, I prayed for the child’s life. Abram did not make a sound. He had been in a deep, unnatural sleep for many hours, and I fretted over him. Shem worried as well.

  “Have you ever seen this before?” he asked. Shem held the reigns, guiding the horse and pulling the cart up the narrow trail while I cradled the babe in my arms.

  “No.” I had raised dozens of children and helped countless others more be born. I had never seen a child so silent for so long. Placing my hand on the infant’s chest, I felt it rise and fall. I listened to his heart beating sturdily. “He does not seem to be in any distress.”

  We rode on in silent concern. As the hill grew steeper and the trail even narrower, Shem clambered off the cart and led the horse up the path. The air was much cooler, so I wrapped the baby in my shawl close to my body to keep him warm and climbed down, as well. I prayed for the child in my arms, and I prayed for his father, Terah. I prayed against the evil of Babylon, and Nimrod, and Semiramis.

  “We still have a few more days until we make it to the settlement,” Shem stated again, his eyebrows creased in worry.

  I looked at him, my eyes widened. “What!” I was alarmed that we still had that far to go. We were almost to the crest of the steep hill. My legs were sore from the unaccustomed exercise, but I ignored the pain as I thought about the baby.

  “The nurse was feeding him just before I fell asleep,” I thought out loud. “That means his last meal was yesterday. He has been wetting himself, so the water I have been able to give him is helping.”

  At the top of the hill, I got back into the cart. Nothing seemed to disturb the baby’s deep sleep. He doesn’t seem to be suffering. I put my finger below his tiny nose and felt his breath on my skin.

  “I’ve never seen anything like this before,” I marveled, repeating myself to Shem.

  We continued on in silence for a while. The desert was behind us, and the mountain trail wound on ahead. The ground was still a bit arid, but there was grass. The mountains towering around us were capped with snow. The last time I’d seen snow was with Japheth, so long ago. It was on one of our last trips, or “adventures,” as he liked to call them.

  “This is very different from Babylon,” I said, trying to take my mind off my anxious litany.

  “Yes, wait until we arrive at the settlement. It is lush and green. Also, much cooler than it is here. I do have a few skins I brought with me. We can wrap him in those when it gets colder.”

  I noticed the horse’s ears prick up and motioned to Shem. He pulled the horse to a stop, listening. Horses are prey animals, with much better hearing than we have. Shem tightened his hand on the reigns. If the horse felt threatened, it would bolt for safety.

  The horse neighed, greeting someone unseen ahead of us. The horse did not seem sense danger, but it meant someone was approaching.

  “Best to be safe,” he said, handing me the reigns. Moving between whoever was coming down the mountain and the cart, Shem pulled his sword out of the scabbard, holding it in a defensive position.

  A group of young people appeared on the trail ahead of us. Right away, I noticed my youngest granddaughter, Raisa. I shrieked with tremendous joy. It had been years since I had last seen her. Eagerly, I clambered off of the cart and ran toward her, still holding the child. Seeing me, she dug her heels into her horse’s side and hurried toward me.

  “Mother!” she squealed in delight. As she got closer, I noticed she had a baby strapped to her chest in a sling.

  She came to a stop in front of me. She dismounted and we embraced.

  “Who is this?” I asked, tenderly touching the head of one of my grandchildren. The young woman’s blonde curls reminded me of Japheth. Tears of joy and sorrow mingled, threatening to fall. I blinked them back and smiled at my sweet granddaughter and the baby securely strapped to her back.

  Unwrapping him from his sling, she held him out to me. “This is Ebe, Grandmother.” Shem took Terah’s son from me so I could hold my grandson.

  “Oh, my,” I whispered, mesmerized by Ebe’s dark eyes and smile. He pulled at my hair and laughed.

  “Raisa married one of my grandsons,” Shem informed me. “Kal. They wed almost two years ago. Ebe is their first born.”

  At that very moment, the newborn in Shem’s arms woke and began to cry vigorously. Surprised, we all turned to him; Raisa quickly took the child from Shem. I explained his hunger.

  “The poor thing, let me feed him,” she gasped and began to nurse him while I held my grandson. Relief flooded my mind and my body.

  Shem introduced the others in the group. I knew most of them, but they had changed over the years, so I was grateful for the reminder. Raisa’s husband Kal embraced me, calling me Mother.

  When Raisa finished feeding Terah’s son, we climbed into the wagon together, her horse tethered behind. Raisa had many stories to tell me about her brothers and s
isters. Two of my other daughters had also married into Shem’s family.

  “How did you know we were coming?” I finally asked her, after she caught me up on my family.

  “A man came to our village two days ago and said you had escaped Babylon and were on your way. Kal immediately got some of his cousins to join us, and we hurried to find you.” Raisa answered.

  I silently wondered if it had been the same messenger who had led me out of Babylon.

  “Now, Mother, tell me about this baby. Whose is he?”

  So I told her about the child’s parents, Amalthai and Terah. When I described his difficult birth, Raisa’s eyes filled with empathetic tears, but when I got to the part about the ceremony and the child sacrifice, she cried out in horror.

  “Abominable and wicked!” She gazed down at the baby she had just nursed, now sleeping securely in her arms.

  “Even where we live so high in the mountains, rumors of Babylon’s wickedness have reached us, but I have not heard anything like this! Terah must never know where this child is!”

  “Raisa, I think he did it to protect the boy.”

  She shook her head indignantly. “No, Mother! He sacrificed someone else’s child instead. He is a murderer and a liar.”

  I sighed. Raisa was right. Terah had done evil. Was his grief over Amalthai’s death an excuse? I didn’t know. But as a mother, I could not imagine the choice he’d had to make.

  As we drove on, I thought about Terah.

  “You know, Raisa,” I said gently, “Terah’s grandfather, Serug, one of Shem’s sons, left the family and went to Ur long ago. He rejected the Creator and worshipped idols, along with his wife. Terah and Amalthai had some of them in their home in Babylon.”

  “I do not care, Mother. His family life may explain his actions, but it does not excuse them.”

  I had come to love Terah and Amalthai. I wanted to somehow excuse his behavior, but I had to agree with Raisa. How someone treats the most vulnerable tells a great deal about who they are.

  The rest of our journey passed uneventfully. Finally, we arrived at the village. Shem shouted a greeting and people came pouring out of their homes to meet us. I was grateful to see my other daughters and their families and to embrace dear Nua again. It was a joyous reunion!

  Tables were set up in the field by Shem and Nua’s home and covered with food. Bread and cheeses, grapes and figs, and a cup of cooled wine started the celebratory meal while the meat was prepared. I was delighted when Noah and Laelah joined us. They had just returned from visiting some of their other grandchildren in a village on the other side of the mountain. We embraced warmly.

  “Ariana!” Laelah cried holding me. “When Shem and Nua returned without you I never thought I would see you again—just like Japheth.”

  Noah looked pained at the mention of his son. He just gave me a hug and squeezed me tightly. I started to cry then. Seeing all of them together made Japheth’s absence more pronounced. I pulled away and wiped my tears. “It looks like you found a wonderful new home here! Japheth would have loved to see it.”

  “He would have. He always liked the mountains.” Noah suddenly grew serious. “Ariana, I want you to know we did tried to rescue you,” he explained, his eyes tender and shiny with tears. “But Nimrod’s army was too large for us to attack.”

  I smiled, looking up at Noah. He had aged quite a lot since the last time I saw him. Surely losing Japheth had caused both of his parents’ great grief.

  I moved to reassure him. “I know, I know. Shem told me what you tried to do to rescue me. God had a purpose. Truly. Wait until you see!” Turning to Raisa, I motioned for her to bring me the child.

  “This is Serug’s great-grandson,” I said, as he took the baby from Raisa. Everyone around us stopped talking and turned to watch the patriarch of the family gazing down with delight at the babe in his arms.

  “He has the look of Serug,” Laelah said, tracing the baby’s cheek gently with the back of her finger.

  “Let us pray that is all of Serug he resembles,” Noah barked gruffly. “What is his name?”

  “He is named Abram because it is my prayer that he grow old enough to become a father. In his short life, he has been spared certain death several times: at birth and at the hands of his own father.”

  “So many attempts to end his life,” said Noah wonderingly. “That has all the marks of the evil one! This young man must have a special future marked out for him by the Creator. ‘Abram,’ exalted father. That is a fitting name.’” Noah nodded in approval.

  Noah offered a prayer for the child and handed him over to Laelah, who received him eagerly. We sat down to the table and ate, talking and catching up and laughing for hours.

  When we finished the meal, some of the younger people took out musical instruments and began to play. The sun set, and torches were lit.

  One of my younger granddaughters approached the group of musicians and asked to sing a song especially for me. She began sweetly singing, her voice clear and lilting. It was a song Japheth had written and taught to our children, who passed it on to their children.

  Japheth had a strong faith in the Creator, a faith that he had passed on to our children through his stories and music. As I heard my husband’s words again from the lips of our granddaughter, I marveled that love was stronger than death. Babylon had not defeated me, but its evil had taken a great toll on my heart. I had lost Japheth, Amalthai, and years with my family. Tears escaped unchecked, running down my cheeks as she sang.

  I was grateful to be with family once again, but there was a hole in my heart that would never be filled. “It’s so hard to be here without Japheth,” I said to Nua, who was sitting beside me. She took my hand in hers.

  “I miss him, too. It’s strange to see you without him. You two were together every chance you had. I’ve watched your sons grow into men just like their father.” She nodded toward the other table next to us. “Look at Gomer. He treats his wife exactly as Japheth treated you!”

  I looked at our son, now in his seventies, with his wife. She was laughing at something someone else had said. Gomer’s eyes were intent on her. I felt the grief subside as I watched them.

  Turning back, I saw young Abram sleeping soundly in Raisa’s arms.

  Nua wrapped an arm around me and squeezed me close to her. “You are safe here, Ariana. You and the child are safe here.”

  FIRE

  Chapter 37

  They have also cast lots for my people, traded a boy for a harlot and sold a girl for wine that they may drink.

  Joel 3:3

  “Get moving!” The guard yanked my arm, pulling me down a long, polished hallway. I glimpsed the shimmering surface of water out of a floor-to-ceiling window. Crowds of people walked freely along the waterside.

  I was photographed in one room then taken to another. A man sat waiting next to an empty chair attached to a table. There was a strap on the table. I recoiled and tried to run.

  “Sit!” the guard commanded. He pushed me into the chair and strapped my right hand to the table, keeping a hand on my shoulder to hold me in place. The man next to me pulled on black gloves and picked up a weird sort of tool with a sharp end.

  “I’m not going to lie; this will hurt.” He turned on the machine and began piercing the skin on the back of my hand. I tried to keep a stoic face as the needle entered my skin. I felt numb and defeated and cried as my hand was poked over and over again.

  The mark wasn’t like the ones President Bellomo’s followers had. Instead, it was a grouping of thick and thin lines the guard said would be used to keep track of my records. As soon as the mark was finished, I was hustled into a glass elevator.

  As I watched the building fall away beneath my feet, my stomach lurched, but my fear was mixed with awe at the pristine glass structure in which I found myself. We emerged into a garden lounge, lined with more floor-to-ceiling windows. Outside, far below, was the water stretching out as far as I could see—clearly the water I had seen earlie
r. Turning, I could see the magnificent city of beautiful glass and steel buildings.

  The lounge was filled with trees and flowering plants and dotted with benches throughout. I could hear a fountain from somewhere within this floating greenhouse. Women sat in groups on benches and chairs placed around the room. When I looked closer, I realized that not all of them were “women.” A shocking number were girls much younger than me. Some reminded me of my little sisters back at the Compound. Everyone was dressed in the same white garments. Like prisoners, I thought.

  “One of the staff will show you to your room and schedule your first appointment with Doctor Winston,” the guard informed me. Then he left.

  I stood alone awkwardly for a few moments, feeling eyes on me. To my left was a large water tank filled with colorful fish and strange plants swaying with the water’s movement. I meandered over, pretending to survey the fish but really looking at the women reflected in the glass.

  A tap on my shoulder caused me to start in surprise. I turned around to find a freckled-faced, red-head girl about my age. “Sorry! I didn’t mean to scare you! I’m Nikki,” she said in a friendly British voice, holding out her hand. I shook it.

  “I’m Dani,” I said without hesitation. There was something trust-worthy about her, even familiar. I couldn’t help staring at her huge belly.

  Her smile faded. “Twins,” she said so softly I had to strain to hear her. “This is my third time.” I must have looked horrified because she continued quickly, “I won’t actually have to birth them. It’ll be a C-section. They don’t want to risk childbirth and harming the babies.”

  She mistook my horror for fear of the birthing process, but I was finally putting all the pieces together.

  “That’s what I’m here for? To breed babies?” My voice was rising in my hysteria.

  “Shhh! Don’t be so loud,” Nikki whispered, looking around. “When I first arrived, I didn’t know either—.” She took a deep, shaky breath looking down at her belly. “Many of the girls have chosen to be here. They basically sold themselves to the Institute to serve President Bellomo and enjoy the standard of living here.” She spat out Bellomo’s name like filth. “But there are a few of us here . . .” She pulled me over to a couch in the corner away from any of the other groups in the large room.