Flood

by Brennan McPherson

  Chapter 60

  When Enoch flicked his wrist, both he and Noah disappeared in a puff of smoke that rose and disappeared on the wind.

  Jade blinked hard, unbelieving, and turned to Barak, who watched her with quiet intensity. His hand lay on his hatchet, and his expression spoke warning.

  “Where have they gone?” Jade said.

  “They have been taken,” Barak said.

  Jade’s pulse struck her throat hard. “Forever?”

  “They have fallen into the hands of God. But they have not died. Not yet.”

  Jade pushed her hair behind her ear and took three breaths to clear the shadows encroaching on her vision.

  Perhaps this was all a dream. Perhaps she was still curled on the animal skins in Barak’s home.

  “It’s real,” Barak said. “The Almighty is teaching us all a lesson in power.”

  “I don’t like it,” Jade said.

  “It is a terrifying thing to fall into the hands of God. We are just fools to think we are ever outside of them.”

  Jade stood. “Stop speaking like that. You’re frightening me.”

  “You should be frightened, Jade. Everyone is frightened when they encounter true purpose. That is why my hand sits on my axe. One never knows what another will do when faced with reality. Truth is a powerful force, and to meet it is to encounter the deepest of dangers.”

  “Do you think Noah will deny what he sees?”

  Barak shook his head. “I do not know. Only the Almighty does.”

  “If the Almighty knows, then surely Noah will accept what the Almighty shows him. Otherwise, why offer it?”

  Barak’s expression darkened. “A pigeon may think itself safe in its master’s hand. If the pigeon obeys, the master will give it freedom. But if the pigeon attacks the master’s hand . . . who would suffer it? The Almighty shows kindness to whom he will. But kindness rebuffed is death twice fulfilled.”

  Jade brushed the dust still bearing the marks from where Noah sat, then the space Enoch had occupied. She turned to Barak and said, “Then I suppose we should pray that Noah chooses rightly.”

  Barak’s hand slipped off his axe, and he nodded, a grim smile momentarily lifting his expression. “Agreed.”

  Chapter 61

  Eventually the path leveled, and the Man led Noah down a long corridor lined with doorways with images burned into their grain. A staircase that led farther down materialized out of stone before them. After descending, they arrived at a beautiful archway gilded in silver and shining like pearls.

  Through the archway lay a great basin filled with water that lapped against the sides of its domain like a crooked smile undulating in ecstasy. The Man stopped at the water’s edge. “The Light Bringer can only imitate what I do, twisting it to his liking. This water is not the water of life. Instead, it brings only death. It is unfiltered lust. Hollow, empty, intoxicating. Poison to the soul.” He opened his palm and breathed out, and the water boiled away, leaving a hollow bowl for them to cross.

  Noah followed the Man across, through new hallways and rooms and staircases as the Shrine continued to expand. Finally, as a rhythmic thumping shook the ground beneath them, the Man opened stone double doors to reveal a massive room containing a metal shape.

  “This,” the Man said, and swept his hand to indicate the monstrosity filling their ears with measured noise, “is the heart of the Shrine. It is the pump of the lifeblood, the percussion in the Music. It is the Metronome.”

  Noah rubbed his forehead, confused. “How can rhythm exist without Time?”

  The Man smiled. “The Metronome is a multiplicity. An anomaly lodged between the layers of reality. Through it, one can glimpse the workings of the Song of the Watchers throughout Time. Come, do you wish to see for yourself?”

  They ascended a bridge leading over the Metronome, and Noah caught sight of what could only be described as a bubble set into the Metronome like a great eye, the surface of which was akin to a membrane of oil with iridescent markings shifting constantly.

  “What is that?” Noah said.

  “That is the Metronome’s telescope.”

  Noah bent over the rail to peer inside, and the telescope expanded until it engulfed his vision. Strange sensations rippled down his back and sides, as if he were being removed and fastened to the Metronome’s belts.

  Visions appeared within the shifting membrane, and he felt somehow closer to Time, as if a part of him had stepped through the layers that the Man spoke of. But he was incapable of setting both feet in any one Place, and he remained suspended as he viewed a piece of Time here, a scrap of life there.

  He watched as gray-skinned people appeared, followed by the Others, whose horns reflected the flames of burning buildings and pyres. The Others heaped piles into a foundation, and the foundation spread until there was no escaping its totality. On it, cruel empires built many black towers, and warriors beat their chests.

  Men tortured people with cruel instruments. Women were stripped and abused and slaughtered. Children were thrown into rivers, dashed upon rocks. Flames rose and licked the Metronome’s lens.

  Then came Water. It filled the foundation until it overflowed like a great basin and washed the world clean, snuffing the burning, ravaging the world, destroying everything.

  After the Water receded, the world was empty. Void.

  Noah pulled back, stumbled, and fell on his back, breathing hard. “What did I just see?”

  The Man crouched over him. “You saw what is meant to be. You saw the sin of man.”

  Noah passed a hand over his eyes. “You are going to destroy everything you made. Why?”

  “To make it anew.”

  “Is the world so lost?”

  “You tell me.”

  Noah thought of his mother. Of his father. Of Elina. Of the women being sold in broad daylight. Of the unspeakable evil hidden in the dark recesses of the world.

  Then, most terribly, he thought of the dark desires burning within his own chest.

  “Yes,” he whispered, and tears filled his eyes.

  “And yet,” the Man said, and cocked his head, waiting for Noah to finish.

  “And yet our lives must be worth something.”

  The Man nodded. “I have risked everything to give you a life, and the burden of choice.”

  “But I can’t choose to be whole. I don’t know how to.”

  “Wholeness has nothing to do with your ability.” And he lifted scarred wrists so Noah might see them again. “What I plan to do is for the sake of love. I brought you here to show you that I am real. That I have the power to destroy the universe ten thousand times over, and to resurrect it from nothing. For I am the Word. The first Music that will continue past everything. The Beginning and the End, the Alpha and Omega. I am that I am. And you and all the others are just a note within my Song. Even as you try to play a different Music. For you were created to love me. That is all that is expected of you, Noah. Love me more than you love anything and everything else. If you could only realize how my heart yearns for your joy. If you let me, I would take away the burning. I would quench your thirst.”

  Noah wiped the moisture from his cheeks and whispered, “How?”

  “Rest in me. Do that, and you need not fear anything. Not yourself. Not the Others. Not all the pain in the world.”

  Noah nodded. His face twisted, and his throat ached until he heard himself wailing. “Take it away. I just want it gone.”

  The Man embraced him, and suddenly he felt himself falling, falling into . . .

  A Light so bright he thought it would burn him. But this time, it inflicted no pain. As it shot through him, it took with it every bit of dust, every shifting shadow.

  It was a Holy Burning completely unlike the flames that had driven him since he could remember.

  What a rush to finally be fully seen. To know that no dark portion inside him could escape that Light, and yet it did not wound him.

  It was such an ultimate and unexpected joy th
at he cried out, “This! This is what I’ve longed for!”

  It all seemed so clear. So undeniable. This goodness, this Holiness, was what he was meant for. He would give his life to stay. To taste a modicum of what now engulfed him.

  Then, in the space of a single, soundless Word, the Light was gone, and he found himself once again lying on the ground, staring up at a star-filled sky.

  “Noah?” a soft voice said. “Is that you?”

  Chapter 62

  Barak had left shortly after Noah and Enoch disappeared to hunt for game, but Jade stayed and stared so long at the spot where Noah’s feet scuffed the earth that she nearly didn’t believe her eyes when a dark shape materialized on the ground before her. For a moment, she wondered if one of their enemies had come under the cover of night to steal her away.

  “Noah?” she said. “Is that you?”

  Silence. Jade’s cheeks chilled, and her throat stretched tight. The shape moved, and she shuffled back. It turned toward her, a clot of darkness with two bright ovals that gleamed in the starlight.

  “Jade?” The voice was familiar, warm, and filled with confusion.

  Relief flooded her chest. “I thought you would never return.”

  “Return? How long have I been gone?”

  Jade waved away his question. “Don’t worry about that. What did the Almighty show you? Are you all right?”

  Noah took a deep breath as if to speak, then paused and let it out. “I don’t know what to think.”

  “You disappeared out of thin air,” Jade said. “You were gone for hours. Surely something happened?”

  “Certainly. I just . . .”

  Jade thought she heard his voice waver, as if he were on the verge of tears.

  Noah’s next words were the least of a whisper, as if he didn’t want to hear himself say them. “I felt him, Jade.”

  “You felt him?”

  “And I don’t know if I want to believe that I did.”

  “Why not?”

  “I’m not going to forget about Father.”

  “Who said you have to do that?”

  Noah did not answer.

  “Tell me what happened.”

  Haltingly, Noah explained the burning Light. Then how he had washed up on the shores of Time at the feet of the Almighty, and followed him into the Shrine, where he was shown the world’s terrible future.

  After he finished, Jade said, “You believe everything, don’t you?”

  “I think . . . ,” Noah said, “that I love him. I know it sounds strange, but if that Light had anything to do with the Almighty, I would die a thousand deaths just to bask in it again. It felt so clean, so pure. For the first time in my life I felt free to let myself be truly known. I never knew how much I hated hiding.”

  “Well,” Jade said, “then maybe we should follow Enoch’s advice, after all. Maybe then you’ll find the Light again.”

  Noah slipped his fingers between hers and whispered, “Maybe.”

  Jade leaned her head on his shoulder and breathed the heady smell of him.

  “Jade?” he said.

  “Yes?” She lifted her face until their lips nearly touched.

  “I’m glad you’re here with me at the end of things.”

  “Me too,” she said, as his warm breath on her face sent a chill down her spine. “Me too.”

  Chapter 63

  Noah woke in the cave the next morning to the smell of Jade’s hair and the warmth of her chest slowly pulsing at his side. She breathed deeply, slowly. Close-by a fire crackled, and the sound sent him to the day they first woke to Enoch in that same exact spot.

  Noah raised himself up on his palm and caught sight of Barak cooking skewered rabbits and wild onions over the fire.

  He wiped his face, mind foggy, and sifted through what had happened in the past few days.

  “It’s true,” Barak said.

  “He’s gone?” Noah said.

  Barak nodded. “You grew fond of him. Come. Eat.” Barak removed the skewer from the fire. He tried pulling off one of the charred rabbits that still smoked, but it wouldn’t give.

  Noah joined him and glanced at Jade.

  “She’s exhausted,” Barak said. “Let her sleep. Here—” He broke the skewer just below the first rabbit and handed it to Noah.

  The scent made his mouth water, but the flavor was sharp and the flesh dry.

  Barak pulled one knee up and stared at the fire. The lines on his face seemed to deepen as his hair fell, casting flickering shadows across his cheek. “He won’t be back,” Barak said. “God took him.”

  Noah paused midbite and lowered the meat. “I never thought I would have to say good-bye to so many. The Almighty hasn’t destroyed everyone as Enoch seemed to think he would. I think he still plans to. I just don’t know when.”

  “Everyone dies,” Barak said.

  “But not everyone lives to see their family die. That’s different.”

  “It is.” Barak said.

  Noah set the skewer on a stone and leaned back, joining Barak in searching the flames.

  “What will you do?” Barak said.

  “I will pursue him. I will seek the Almighty.”

  “Then I’ll stay with you.”

  “Does it get easier?”

  Barak took a deep breath and exhaled. “A bit.”

  “But it still hurts?”

  “Every moment.”

  “You still love your wife,” Noah said.

  “More than life.”

  “Yet you follow the Almighty.”

  “God gives and God takes away. Should we accept only good from him?”

  Noah ripped up some grass and tossed it in the fire. “Do you sense his presence?”

  “Most of the time.”

  “What about when you don’t?”

  “I obey his word and seek him. Emotions are fickle. The Almighty is constant. Just because we don’t feel him doesn’t mean he isn’t present.”

  “Is he here now?”

  “All around us.”

  “Then he knows our pain.”

  “He bears it alongside us.”

  Noah nodded, for he believed. After experiencing the Light, he believed it all.

  Barak stood and added wood to the fire. He stoked the embers to churn up the heat and ate one of the onions. In between bites he said, “We can stay here maybe another day. You should get as much rest as you can. Long journey ahead.”

  Noah agreed, then went and lay beside Jade again. He closed his eyes, searching for the Light. Thirsting for it. Silently asking the Almighty to show himself.

  For a moment before he fell asleep, he thought he caught sight of a small glimmer, like a candle flame in a distant cave. It warmed his chest and expelled his anxiety, nesting a little spark beneath his skin.

  A totally different kind of burning.

  Part VII

  Years Gone By

  “But Noah found favor in the eyes of the Lord.”

  —Genesis 6:8

  Chapter 64

  The next morning, Noah, Jade, and Barak made their way south to escape the spreading war.

  As they traveled, Noah recited the stories Enoch had taught him. The ancient histories came piecemeal, but he visited them frequently enough that they solidified in his mind, albeit in a simplified form.

  What Enoch said of the Almighty came easier. Noah whispered of the Almighty’s perfection, goodness, righteousness, and steadfast love until he believed it.

  As he bent his spirit toward the Almighty, the gentle spark returned, and each time was like a taste to one starving. He felt the Almighty was drawing him slowly hand over hand. But when Noah attempted to take control of the sensation, it fled. Only when he meditated on God and spoke of the Almighty’s goodness did he feel any lasting peace.

  Could it be that putting the desire for peace above the Almighty himself somehow offended God?

  They traveled on, sometimes resting for days. All the while Noah pursued the Almighty as Enoch taught. D
ays became months. Months became years, and Noah began to treasure not just how the Light made him feel, but the Almighty himself.

  In return, Noah began to find favor in the eyes of the Lord. He recognized it first after subtle nudges led them to go to certain homes to meet kindred spirits that accepted them graciously. After, the sense bloomed into a deep knowing that helped them avoid danger and find solace.

  They settled in several valleys but always felt pressed to move on, until at last they came to a small village on a great river unoccupied by the Others.

  Noah had grown in both physical stature and emotional maturity. His limbs were strong and lithe. Eyes pooling with deepening wisdom. Spirit calmed by endless prayer.

  Jade, too, had matured into full womanhood, and Barak’s hair had grown speckled with gray.

  ...

  As Noah dropped to his knees to speak to the Almighty the morning they meant to leave the village on the river, Noah heard the Voice speak for the first time since Enoch left.

  “Ask the boat master for work. I have given you gifts. Pursue the craft.”

  “For how long?” Noah said.

  But he was answered with the same silence he’d endured for years. Albeit amidst a boiling sense of purpose that blossomed into excitement. He stood and faced Jade, who watched him with interest.

  “Did something just happen?” she said.

  “The Almighty says we should stay.”

  ...

  Noah met the boat master and asked for a job, but the man was reticent. Noah still looked young, and the boat master was wary of foreigners.

  “Let me build a boat for you,” Noah said. “Then, perhaps you will know whether you want me to work for you. And you can keep the boat at no cost, whether you hire me or not.”

  The boat master eyed him, then nodded. “Come to me when you finish.”

  Noah carved a small fishing boat from a fallen tree in half the time it normally took other builders. He went to the boat master to say he’d finished, but the man said, “You began building after we spoke?”