by Keohane, Dan
“I swear. They built an honest-to-God ark. If you take a right out of here and go for about twelve miles you’ll see a Sunoco. Take a left at the next light and before you hit the town line, there it is.” As he gave directions, Sanjiv gestured with the hand that held his beer, spilling some down his arm. “Right in the middle of the road. I’m not kidding. Not a bad job from what I can tell. There are hundreds of them all over the country. Everyone’s nuts.”
Bernard smiled but said nothing. At last count nearly three thousand arks had been constructed across the United States. Thousands more if one counted the rest of the world. Bernard didn’t think this clarification would add anything to the conversation so he swirled his ice with an index finger and looked around the yard. A dozen guests in shorts or bathing suits wandered about the clearing. Bernard’s wife Agnes moved from group to group. A thin white contrail marked her progress as she sucked the life out of yet another cigarette. The sky, reflected in the lake before them all, was as blue as yesterday and, if one believed the forecasts, as blue as tomorrow. Maybe everyone was nuts after all.
A hand squeezed his shoulder. “Bernie. Are you OK to drive? Karen and I would love to see the Ark, if you’re up to driving two lonely girls all alone down some deserted road.” As she spoke, Maureen pressed herself against his arm and leg. Bernard was pleased to find himself not wholly unaroused by the action. He glanced for a moment across the yard, at Agnes and her accompanying cloud.
“My dear, if I weren’t so drunk I’d take you and your lovely friend on a trip you’d never forget.” He raised his glass. “After the end of the world, perhaps?”
Maureen smiled and squeezed his arm. “It’s a date.”
Sanjiv finished his beer. “Speaking of Armageddon, how much longer do we have?”
Bernard checked his watch. “Twelve minutes, give or take.”
Sanjiv moved to the center of the clearing. “Twelve minutes, everyone! If you have something you need to do on this earth you’d better do it now.” He smiled as Karen and her husband raced towards the woods behind the cottage. The husband tried to run while fumbling with his sneaker. Karen ran past him, topless and waving a bra over her head like a banner. Maureen broke away from Bernard and raced in their direction.
“Hey, wait for me,” she yelled, fumbling to raise the tee shirt over her head. Bernard watched her progress over the rim of his glass. He subtly turned his attention to Sanjiv, who no longer smiled but instead glared at the woman sitting alone at the end of the dock.
* * *
Sitting upon a green sea of grass and dandelions, the ark was not that majestic symbol of nautical power depicted in countless historical paintings. Margaret smiled like a hostess greeting dinner guests. Her gaze kept returning to the gaps in the hull where uneven planks never quite came together. God will keep us afloat, she thought. At the top of the ramp Carl tucked the clipboard under his arm and leaned over the railing. At eighteen, his skin was a deep California bronze.
“That’s it, Mrs. Carboneau,” he shouted. “Full house. Maybe you should come aboard now? Everyone’s heading below deck.”
Carl was smiling, but Margaret heard his tension. Last night the Jorgensons haunted her with phone calls, asking why she was swallowing their son up in her madness. Each time she tried to explain that he approached her, not the other way around. She let them know she was not displeased with having him aboard, and would they reconsider and join him? It was a conversation repeated with so many others over the last three months. There had been some who seemed to believe what she told them. Rationalizing that a town eighty miles from the Pacific shoreline was in no danger of flooding, they weren’t waiting below deck.
Time was up. Everyone onboard knew it. Or feared it. The true nature of their faith was not Margaret’s business. She nodded at Carl and stepped onto the ramp. Someone grabbed the back of her shirt.
The woman looked only a few years older than Carl. It seemed as if she’d risen from bed minutes before. Her black hair fell in a mass of tangles over a faded blue sweatshirt. Margaret’s attention was drawn to the baby which slept nestled against the shirt just below the Nike logo.
The woman said, “I hate to bother you like this.”
Margaret smiled, making a conscious effort not to check her watch. Only a few minutes left, she knew.
“Can I help you?”
“I’m sorry. I was just wondering.” She lowered her eyes and whispered, “Could you maybe fit my little boy and me on your boat? We’ll be good. He’s a very quiet baby.” She looked up with eyes a mix of pride and desperation. “I know we had to sign up weeks ago, but I swear I can pay my way. I’m a nurse. I can cook, too, and I don’t mind cleaning anything. Please, let us up.”
Margaret’s smile disappeared. Her first instinct was to hug the small family and walk them up the ramp. Then God’s instructions came back to her. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “We can only fit a certain number of people. Any more will put everyone at risk.” She put a hand on the woman’s shoulder. “I’m sorry.”
The young mother breathed quickly, rocking the baby deeper to sleep on her breast. Margaret wanted to run up the ramp and forget about this woman and her belated repentance. Her own daughters were waiting for her. “I’m sorry,” she said again. “There isn’t any more room.”
The woman cried uninhibitedly now. Tears fell onto the baby, who squirmed and stretched defiantly in his sleep. “I’m sorry for not coming sooner. Please help us. Connor’s just a baby. He doesn’t deserve to die. Just take him, then. I don’t matter. Please take my baby with you.” She pressed him against Margaret’s chest.
Margaret looked around the common. Small groups of spectators milled about, as if waiting for a band to begin playing. Families picnicked on the grass. She saw a woman pulling sandwiches from a plastic shopping bag while her three children thrashed about in some frenzied pre-lunch ritual. Any sympathy she held for them faded like a bad dream. They had been warned, but to them today was just another day. The young mother in front of her continued to offer up the baby for whatever salvation could be given. Margaret came to a sudden cold realization. There was something she could do. The thought sent her heart beating frantically in panic.
She gently pushed the child away. “A baby needs its mother.”
The woman’s horrified expression only made Margaret more convinced of her new course. Margaret looked up at Carl who still waited at the railing. He mouthed the words ‘Come on....’
“Carl, can you ask Katie and Robin to come down here?”
At first Carl didn’t respond. He looked at Margaret, then at the young mother and her baby. He slowly shook his head.
“Carl, please. We’ve got no more time left.”
“Mrs. Car—”
“Please get them now.” Her fear broke any attempt at a commanding voice. Carl waited another heart beat, then disappeared. The woman stopped crying, obviously struggling to understand what was happening. Margaret did not look at her. In a minute Carl returned with Katie and Robin. The two girls raced each other down the ramp and grabbed Margaret’s legs.
Katie was the oldest by three years and a foot taller than her sister. She smiled and said, “Mom, when are you coming up?”
Margaret kneeled on both knees. “I’m not, honey,” she whispered. “We’re going to help this lady and her baby. It’s what Jesus taught us to do. I think he wants us with Him in heaven real soon.”
Robin smiled as only a three-year-old could. She stood on her toes and hugged Margaret’s neck. “You mean it? Are we going to see Daddy?”
Katie did not smile. She sidled closer to her mother. Looking sharply at the older daughter in a silent warning, Margaret said to Robin, “I hope so baby. I’m sure we’ll see him soon.”
“Ma’am?” the woman said, then swallowed. Her expression matched that of Katie: a slowly developing horror at what was unfolding before her. “I don’t understand.” But she did.
“Go on up. A mother should stay with her bab
y.”
“Mom?”
“Hush a moment.”
Baby Connor’s eyes were now open. He stared up at his mother, offering the beginnings of a smile. “I can’t —” She did not finish the sentence. Both knew it would have been a lie.
“Go now. Please. Time is up. Go right now.”
The woman pulled the baby close and ran up the plank. She disappeared on deck behind Carl.
“Mrs. Carboneau. You can’t let her on.” Margaret ignored him and turned to Katie. The girl’s face was wet with tears.
“Katie, there’s still room for you on the boat.”
“Mom, I don’t want to leave you.”
“It’s up to you. Please think carefully. You’ll have to stay down here if you don’t go on board.” On the surface it was a painfully obvious statement. Margaret knew this was too much for a six-year old to decide, but at this point she wondered how clearly any of them were thinking.
“I don’t want to die!”
“Hush.”
“Mom, are we going to die?”
Margaret took both girls’ hands in her own. “God will take us into his arms and keep us safe. He loves us.”
Katie leaned against her mother, intelligent eyes scanning Margaret’s face. Robin did the same, hoping the imitation would help her understand her sister’s fear. Katie said, “Mom, I don’t want to go back on the boat without you.”
“Then stay here with me. I’ll hold you close.” To her surprise, Katie stayed.
They sat together on the grass, the two girls fidgeting on her lap. Margaret looked up. “Drop the ramp, Carl.”
“No.”
“Drop it, Carl. We’re out of time.”
* * *
Nicole dipped her toes in the water. The midday sun exploded in short bursts from the ripples. She heard Sanjiv shout his twelve-minute warning. The couple standing on the dock behind her walked slowly towards his voice. Nicole was left alone. She shivered though the sun had burned down on her all morning.
Bernard walked slowly along the dock until he stood beside her. He looked at the sky and took another sip from the glass. All he got was a small sliver of ice cube.
“Your husband throws quite a party,” he said. Nicole did not speak. Bernard turned back to face the cottage. From this vantage, he had a partly obstructed view of the threesome in the woods: white skin rolling and curving in the shade. He sighed and looked at his hostess. “What are you doing?”
Nicole made more ripples and said, “Praying.”
Bernard raised an eyebrow, though the effect was lost on the woman as she continued staring at the lake splashing over her toes. He said, “Not taking any chances, are we?”
Nicole stopped her silent musings and looked up “I’m praying because I was told to.”
“By God?”
“Yes.” Her embarrassment at the confession only served to soil her mood further. How could she be so concerned what this man thought? There were others screaming on every street corner who weren’t ashamed. She couldn’t help but think of the message given to her by God as deeply personal.
She looked past Bernard’s legs to her husband, who laughed and drank with his guests. He caught her gaze for a moment then as quickly looked away. She’d told him about the vision after it had come to her three months ago. He needed to know what would happen. But Sanjiv had laughed and ended the conversation. Since then he avoided any discussion of floods, or God in general. Eventually she stopped bringing the subject up. Soon after that, the visions stopped.
Now everyone was here at their postcard-perfect cottage, mocking her and her short-lived gift of sight. That wasn’t quite true, she supposed. Sanjiv likely never mentioned his wife’s premonitions to anyone. Last night he warned her not to bring it up at the party. So she didn’t. He was the only one who could know what this party meant to her. Nicole wondered if being beaten by your husband could be worse than this.
Bernard said something, but she could not make out his words. Something buzzed in her ears. She slapped at the air, then stopped with her arm in mid swing. A terrible certainty took hold of her.
“It’s time,” she said.
Bernard did not reply. He looked skyward. Nothing but a deep blue all around. And around. And around.
Bernard fell to the deck then into the lake. He thrashed at the surface, letting go of his glass. He tried to get a footing on the muddy lake bed but for the moment could not decide which way was down. The beach and dock seemed to heave and spin over him. He wondered vaguely how much he had drunk. Then the water wrapped itself around him in a swirling undertow and pulled him away from shore. The sky tumbled below him. With a panicked thrash he broke through the surface, only to see trees then a road roll above him.
Lying face down on the dock, Nicole splayed her fingers wide. Her legs dangled in the water but the rest of her body pressed against the wood. She tried to breathe. The world pulled at her from every conceivable direction, but something held her in place. She felt the water reach past her knees like a monster under the bed, grabbing her. Then the water raced away. Her legs shot out behind, desperate to follow. She remained pressed against the boards, gulping air into her compressed lungs. She hadn’t noticed Bernard Myers racing away in the retreating water.
* * *
No sound traveled into space. Earth in its tremendous majesty hung somewhere within the deep silence. Its perpetual rotation was a constant, unnoticed against the backdrop of infinity. Also unnoticed was the sudden interruption in this rotation.
Like a child’s toy on a string, the blue and white planet stopped spinning. It remained motionless for only a moment. As Nicole struggled for breath against the dock and Bernard Myers released his empty glass into the lake, the massive planet began its rotation once more, in the opposite direction.
* * *
Slowly, the pressure holding everyone to the pavement subsided. As it did, Battery Park was filled with the sound of hundreds of people heaving gasps of air into their lungs. Jack grabbed the railing. An inner joy verging on ecstasy spun in his mind, more than the vertigo that had seized them all. God is truth, he thought. His word is truth and He has delivered unto us His promise.
He wiped his eyes so he could see God’s destruction clearly. Across the water, the Statue of Liberty was not a crumbling pile of metal and stone. It held its stained torch to the sky. Jack rubbed his eyes again. Something was happening. The screams of those behind him were overpowered by the roaring of the churning bay. Waves smashed into others crashing upon the eroded shore of Liberty Island. Jack raised his arms.
“Behold,” he shouted, “God’s final—” Then he stopped. Like a leashed dog watching his master’s car drive away Jack watched the waters of New York Bay smash and roar away from him in a reverse flood. The ferries with their screaming passengers were swept away, as if a plug had been pulled from some massive drain far out to sea. Jack fell against the railing, his mind confused by the sight. Miles away the bay surged with a momentum built over millions of years, up the shores then completely over Staten Island.
Along the milky horizon, the Atlantic Ocean moved like a fading gray wall eastward, then was gone.
Someone struck him on the shoulder. Jack did not turn around. People grabbed his arms and hands; some with violence, others pleading.
“You son of a bitch,” a man’s voice spat. “What did you do?”
“Please, it’s not too late, I know it isn’t. Please touch me and bless me.”
Jack did not listen to their words. He stared across the glistening canyon of mud. He whispered to the lost sea. “Come back. Please come back to me.”
“Turn around, you coward.”
“Forgive me, father....”
“Make it stop. Make it stop, please make it stop.”
Jack’s grip on the railing fell away. Pulled and guided and shoved into the throng of his self-proclaimed parish, he floated away on their hands and arms. He stared past the bobbing heads, into the sky. In a sea of a hundre
d faces that twisted and writhed into their own distinct emotion, Jack never felt more alone.
* * *
When she was able, Margaret gathered Robin and Katie back into to her arms. “Come here. Stay close,” she said. She could not hear her own words. Behind, what had begun a few seconds earlier as a low rumbling intensified in volume. The ramp still led up to the ark from the grass. Carl was slowly pulling himself up with the railing.
Margaret shouted louder with every word. “Drop the ramp, Carl. Do it now.” Wind blew with a panicked force against her back. Twisting along with it, or perhaps pushing it along, the roaring din sounded like a freight train storming out of control towards them.
Carl knelt by the bolts holding the ramp in place. He looked at Margaret. Again she yelled, “Drop it Carl, for God’s sake....” Her words were lost in the wind.
Katie cringed, more at her mother’s tone than words. The situation became all too clear in her mind. Instead of standing and running up the ramp like she wanted to do, she wrapped her arms around Margaret’s neck. It was then that she saw what was coming towards them.
Carl looked nervously around the perimeter of the boat. In blind unison, the spectators converged on the ark. Carl’s gaze fell to Margaret’s face. Her panicked expression shook him loose from his stupor. From the west, something massive was filling the sky. He saw but did not think about it. He pulled the bolts. The ramp fell with a thud onto the grass.
The mob slammed against the hull. Men in suits tried to scale the greased sides, only to slip and fall onto three others waiting below. The woman with the sandwiches raised one of her children towards the deck. There was no one there to lift him up.
Carl slammed the bulkhead and bolted it with one motion. He jumped the last three steps and stopped. In the sunlight streaming through the gaps in the hull, he made out the young woman whom Margaret had sent up the ramp. She wandered with her baby among the confused gazes of the passengers, shouting something he could not hear over the mind-rattling roar of the approaching water. He pushed her towards Margaret’s vacant spot in the middle of the boat. Without any other thought but the routine they had all rehearsed a hundred times prior, he tied her arms and legs against beam. At first she would not release the child, but with as much delicacy as possible Carl wrenched young Connor from her and secured him as best he could in the harness originally slotted for Robin. The baby squirmed and cried. Carl felt his own chest heaving with sobs he couldn’t hear. The entire boat shook. Whatever it was would hit them in seconds. He tried to pull the baby free and though the harness bounced and stretched, it did not release its grip. It would have to do.
