Flood

by Brennan McPherson

  The roots of bitterness would grow strong in Noah. The God-King would force the boy into isolation. He would destroy every one of his relationships. He would tear Noah down until there was nothing left.

  And then, at the end of all things, he would strike.

  “I will not fail you, Father,” the God-King said. “I will not fail.”

  Chapter 32

  With one arm still draped around Lamech, Elina held Jade close in the darkened room filled with the scent of dusty bodies and molded thatch. She drank the warmth of her daughter’s clammy fingers against her neck and thought back to before Jade was born.

  After failing to terminate the child her own brother had forced to grow within her, she had murdered him and the rest of the men who’d stood complicit.

  As she watched her belly grow, she had thought only of the destruction of her body and the prison-like weight her child would be.

  But the moment Jade erupted from her covered in blood and screaming for comfort, her dread of life had been replaced by something else. Something dense and transcendent.

  What a mystery that to care for her own flesh, it need first be taken out from her.

  Now Jade was a mighty weight indeed. No longer a prison chain, but rather an anchor.

  Hold me down, she thought. Hold fast, and never let go.

  At length, the woman caring for Noah entered and offered the boy to his father, but Lamech shook his head and said, “I want nothing more than to hold my child. But Elina needs help to bear her weight. Her ankle is still injured.”

  The potter nodded, disappeared into the next room, and to Elina’s surprise, returned with the very tool Lamech had crafted for her. Elina let go of Lamech and leaned on the crutch, letting Lamech tie the wrap around her torso and slide Jade inside. Finally, he took hold of Noah, and his body relaxed. “Thank you,” Lamech said, and the woman bowed.

  After an awkward silence, Lamech turned to leave, and Elina followed.

  After exiting, they turned south and made their way out of the village as quickly as Elina’s pace allowed. They went deeper through the forest, where trees and dense brush blocked the sounds of battle in the village. Darkness settled and they traveled on. Their bodies ached with exhaustion, but they both knew that to stop would have fatal consequences.

  Finally, the sun rose on the next day, and they hobbled on. Their pace was much slower, and they broke for Elina to feed the children and eat and drink. They exited the woods, climbed hills, traversed valleys, and plowed their way through long grasses in myriad prairies.

  Night fell a second time, and they settled next to each other in the dark, too afraid to light a fire in the open yet too exhausted to continue.

  Elina felt no more fear of Lamech, and no longer begrudged his touch. They warmed each other, for the night was deadly cold, and they held their children close. As the night rolled on, she listened to him cry, and joined him.

  Elina knew Jade’s life would be bettered by the company of this man and his son. Though the pain of her past still held her enthralled, in what little way she could, she’d grown to love Lamech and Noah, and to think of the four of them as a strange sort of family.

  Lamech seemed to feel the same, for when Jade cried in the night, he picked her up and rocked her, hushing her and whispering tenderly about how loved and safe she was.

  Weeks passed into months as they traveled, scavenging food and continuing south. Fall blended into winter, and winter into spring.

  Jade and Noah grew larger, stronger. They babbled, and eventually began speaking. Travel became difficult as the two grew heavier. But Lamech and Elina managed as best they could.

  At times, they were forced to pass through villages and barter for goods by offering labor or what little materials they could scavenge.

  Lamech gathered herbs as he found them. These he tied and hung from his shoulder to dry as they moved. When they entered towns, he would sell the most valuable for simpler necessities.

  Sometimes, Lamech would work an entire day for food or supplies. A few times, the children became ill, and passed their sickness to Lamech and Elina. But never again did they spend a night in a village, for everywhere they went came rumors of horrific violence. Ever they seemed only just in front of the tide of war, and so they continued.

  Elina still, at times, felt an aversion toward Lamech’s presence, but believed now that fate had bound them together. They agreed that to brave the world without the other would likely mean death for their children, and so they cleaved to one other, for they trusted no one else.

  As Noah grew older, he started asking questions that made Lamech uncomfortable. “Why do we always have to be moving? Why can’t we live in homes like everyone else?”

  Lamech and Elina explained how the world was filled with evil, and that they needed to live separate from the Others so that they could be different, so that they could be good. People in villages were not safe because the Others knew where to find them. And when the Others found you, they took everything.

  As the years rolled by, their needs grew. Elina and Lamech talked often of finding some place to settle, but the farther they traveled, the more villages they found, so they never felt comfortable.

  But as Noah neared the end of his first decade of life, they ventured into a land completely untouched by humans, and settled in a quiet valley using stolen and bartered goods. Lamech built a shelter and a garden, and they lived there for some time. It was a quiet, patient life, filled with the longing for former years, and an anxiety for the morrow.

  In all those long years, no dreams came to Lamech, but every so often, as he hovered between sleep and wakefulness, he would think he saw eyes glinting in the night, and feel a stab of fear. Each time he opened his eyes, he found his fears unfounded.

  Each time but for one.

  Part IV

  The Father and the Son

  “Jesus, when he began his ministry, was about thirty years of age, being the son (as was supposed) of Joseph, the son of Heli . . . the son of Noah, the son of Lamech, the son of Methuselah, the son of Enoch . . . the son of Seth, the son of Adam, the son of God.”

  —Luke 3:23, 36–38

  Chapter 33

  The day before their home was discovered, Lamech stood beneath the thatched awning watching Noah and Jade chase each other around the outskirts of their garden.

  Noah was trying to catch her, but Jade was a head taller, and quicker. When Noah perceived that his pursuit was hopeless, he slowed to a stop.

  Jade glanced back and said, “You’re quitting again?”

  Noah scowled. “Say anything and you won’t walk another day.”

  Jade laughed and propped her hands on her hips. “If only you could catch me. Why don’t you go sit on a log until you grow roots? At least then you could run a little faster.”

  “That’s it!” Noah picked up a stone and dashed after her.

  She ran, laughing harder. As Noah tossed the stone, she dove and screamed, “Help! Noah’s trying to kill me again!”

  Elina appeared beside Lamech and leaned against one of the pillars that held their home aloft. “How long before Noah grows clever enough to avoid her prodding?”

  “A man’s pride is hard to let go of,” Lamech said.

  Jade was rolling on the ground, laughing while Noah walked toward the line of trees.

  “He always quits when he doesn’t get his way,” Elina said. “He is twelve years old. He should have grown out of that by now.”

  “But he always tries again,” Lamech said. “He’s tenacious.”

  “Stubborn, more like it,” Elina said. “Sometimes I think you two couldn’t be more different.”

  Lamech shrugged. “He takes after his mother.”

  Jade jogged toward them. “Mother, did you see that? He tried to kill me while you just stood there.”

  Elina swatted Jade on the shoulder and said, “There’s nothing funny about death.”

  “I’m not joking. If he ever caught me?” Sh
e feigned choking herself and glanced at Lamech. “Why is Noah always so angry?”

  “Of all people to ask that question,” Elina said, and shook her head. “Stop teasing him.”

  Jade sighed. “He’s such a bore. All he wants to do is talk about plants and making things.”

  Lamech smirked. “And all you want to do is talk about how superior you are.”

  Jade propped her fists on her hips and widened her stance, smiling. “Not my fault he can’t accept the truth.”

  Elina pressed her palms against Jade’s cheeks. “Go entertain yourself. And please, whatever you do, stop bothering him.”

  “Fine,” Jade said, and ran off, picking up a stick and whacking everything within reach.

  “I need to check on the vegetables,” Lamech said. “I thought I saw some molehills yesterday.”

  Elina nodded as Lamech strolled into the sunlight toward the eastern end of the garden. All about them lay the quiet of the forest they called home. The wind in the leaves sounded a million whispers, and birds and little animals hopped from branch to branch. Amidst these noises lay nothing but the tranquility he had known and loved in the mountains.

  Before his high home had been burned, he’d gone to the mountain pass nearly every day to look out on the world and conjure some sense of permanency. In those moments, he could convince himself that the world was sublime. Now, in this copse, he frequently sensed the same.

  As he approached the root vegetables, he clucked his tongue as he found some of his crop raided by the vile creatures. He returned to the fire, fetched live coals on the flat of a hoe, and dumped them into the holes, surveying the rest of the garden on his way.

  Some of the seeds had sprouted. Beans, radishes, and carrots. Others still slept beneath little mounds. He loosened the topsoil, watered his future harvest, and returned to Elina in the shade of their shelter.

  The weather this far south was warmer than that atop the mountain, and the growing season twice as long. The only disadvantage was the summer heat. But for the stream a moment’s walk from their shelter, the sun would have been all but impossible to keep up with. As it was, they had kept their vegetables from burning, and eaten enough to survive. Still, subsistence had hardened the skin of his hands.

  Elina was mending clothing, and Lamech approached and tapped her shoulder.

  “Yes?” she said.

  “How long has it been?”

  “You asked me that a week ago.”

  “Then tell me again.” He leaned against the wall.

  “It will be six years this summer since we saw another person.”

  Six years. It felt like yesterday . . . and also like a lifetime. Strange how time could become so distorted in one’s mind. He knew that one could have solitude yet not feel lonely, and also feel lonely while surrounded by others. He and Elina could tolerate both. It was the children he feared for.

  “Stop worrying,” Elina said.

  “I’m not worrying,” Lamech said.

  “You’re staring at the wall as if it were a dead animal.”

  Lamech sniffed and breathed deeply. In the many years since Noah was born, Lamech had shifted from worrying about the danger Elina posed to the danger others posed. He had set off Elina’s madness only one other time when he woke in the middle of the night and accidentally kicked her as he padded around trying to look for Noah.

  After she recovered, he said, “What do you experience when that madness sets in?”

  “The memories,” she said. “Of how they touched me.”

  Those few words had been the final nudge he needed to do away with his worry that Elina might harm them. However, in its absence, a void seemed to erupt, and worries he’d never contemplated seemed to pool there and fester.

  He wanted to find Noah, to see what he was doing since Jade angered him.

  He left Elina to her work, and it didn’t take long, for Noah hadn’t gone deep into the woods. The boy was breaking branches and stripping them of bark while huddled over a little shape he’d formed from a round stone and sticks. It seemed he was making a doll, binding the limbs to the body and forming clothing with the bark.

  Lamech pulled back before Noah saw, and returned home. Since a young boy, Noah had been a gifted creative. He could draw anyone’s likeness in the dust with a stick. He could tell enthralling stories that stole your breath. No matter his vision, he could bring his ideas to reality in more ways than one.

  Lamech was proud of him. But Noah’s temperament troubled him. Something burned behind the boy’s eyes. At times, when Lamech gazed into them, he thought he caught sight of Adah’s blood-dappled reflection, and the flames that had consumed their home all those years ago.

  But that could only be his imagination, for Noah knew nothing of Adah or their past. Lamech had been unwilling to speak of their loss for he knew all too well the pain and damage of losing his mother. He preferred to keep the past where it belonged, lest the truth wound Noah similarly.

  He had hoped it would be enough for Noah to be near Elina and Jade, but Noah connected deeply with neither. They cared for one another, of course, but the connection built on blood possessed an intimacy Elina and Jade could never match. They did not understand Noah as Lamech did, and always Noah seemed in search of what they could not provide.

  So Noah grew angry and pulled away to tinker with sticks and stones, or to draw in the dust. Jade mocked him to hide that she resented he chose sticks and stones over her. Elina maintained her distance, and Lamech turned his focus toward keeping them safe and fed.

  Just like his father in the mountains. Was he cursing his own child to the same fate that had embittered him toward Methuselah?

  When Lamech returned to their shelter, the sun was dipping, and he barely had time to rebuild the fire before retiring. Noah returned as late as he dared, and hid the mannequin beneath his bedding. Jade was already asleep, and Elina rested upright in the corner.

  Lamech lay, but as sleep approached, the back of his neck tingled, and he fought the urge to check if something was watching them. It had been long since he’d feared they would be found in the wilderness. They had labored to find the perfect spot, secluded yet surrounded by rich vegetation and wildlife. A place they could live undiscovered while the fires of war swept the lands.

  He turned onto his belly and tried to ignore the sensation, but the tension only built. He sighed, turned onto his back, and looked up, catching two gray orbs glittering just outside the ring of orange firelight.

  Ice water flooded his wrists as he yelled, gripped the unburnt end of a log in the fire, and tossed it toward the glittering orbs, sending sparks hissing.

  The orbs disappeared, and there came a grunt, and the sound of a body tumbling through the darkness, proving itself more than ghostly vision.

  Jade awoke, and Noah twisted and said, “Who’s there?”

  Elina was already on her feet, unsheathing her dagger as Lamech found the figure, clutched its cloak, and pulled it into the light so he could see its face.

  Lamech’s jaw dropped, and he let go, rubbing his face to make sure he wasn’t dreaming. “What?”

  The old man before him nodded with gray brows bunched with worry at the dagger in Elina’s hand. “Yes. You know me.” The voice was the very same Lamech had known his entire life, even as he knew it could not be.

  “Lamech,” Elina said. “Who is this? Shall I cut him?”

  Lamech raised his hand. “Wait.” To the old man, he said, “Am I dreaming?”

  “No, you are not dreaming. Feel me.” He held out his arm, and Lamech clutched it and felt his breath thicken. There could be no mistaking it.

  His father had found them.

  But how? How could Methuselah be here, countless leagues from where they last saw each other? And in the middle of the wilderness untouched by human feet? It made no sense.

  Lamech wiped blurry eyes, struggling to choose what order in which to ask all the questions that dashed through his mind. “All this time, I thought
you were dead. They burned our home. How did you survive? And how—”

  Methuselah raised his hand to silence him. “As you can see, I am not dead, and so you have no reason to be upset. I did not come only to disappear and leave your questions unanswered. There will be time enough for conversation in the days ahead. But I am old, curse it, and weary, not to mention parched from an arduous journey. Also, you singed my cloak when you tossed that log at me.” He grabbed the burnt fibers and scowled, sucking his teeth.

  “I—certainly, I’m sorry,” Lamech said. “Elina, could you fetch my father some water?”

  Elina sheathed her dagger reluctantly and did as she was told, though not before eyeing Methuselah with supreme distrust.

  Methuselah returned her stare and, once she was gone, mumbled, “You have some taste in women, son.”

  “After you drink,” Lamech said, “you must explain how you found us.”

  “All in time,” Methuselah said, but his gaze now landed on Noah, who was staring at him. Jade kept glancing between Noah and Methuselah, as if wondering if they truly were kin. Lamech couldn’t fault her. Methuselah’s beard and hair were extremely long, heavily matted, and stained with all manner of refuse. Lamech would be surprised if his father had bathed in the last decade.

  Methuselah nodded at Noah. “This is your son, Noah?”

  “Yes,” Lamech said.

  “I don’t know you,” Noah said. “Who are you and how do you know me?”

  Methuselah chuckled, a popping wheeze. Elina returned with a wineskin and handed it to him. “I’m your father’s father,” Methuselah said. “And I was present when you were born. Well, almost.” He tipped the wineskin and drank his fill, then wiped his mouth and tried to return it to Elina, but she had already resumed her spot behind Lamech. Methuselah shrugged and set the wineskin on the ground before sitting cross-legged and extending his hands toward the fire.