The Mountain

by David L. Golemon

  “Let’s try and not make another mistake, because you may have just as much riding on this if you’re wrong.” He lowered the glasses and then smirked at John Henry.

  “I may have at that.” Taylor saw that the colonel’s eyes never left the face of Claire.

  * * *

  John Henry was inside the Ark where headquarters had been established now that there was bright sunlight available and shelter was now abundant—a little old and musty, but still better than spending the night wondering if your tent was going to blow away. He decided that he would catch up on his journal entries that he had let slide since they started to traverse the mountain. He was using the lamp to see with. He was having a hard time concentrating because the decision he had just made was weighing heavily on his mind.

  Thus far Jackson had some men start removing the ice that was blocking access into the house-like structure atop the Ark. So far they had uncovered nothing much other than unrecognizable objects from a time long past. A few petrified animal remains that could be as old as the mausoleum that sheltered their corpses. One area that made every man who saw it take pause was what looked as if it were the familial quarters of the Ark’s passengers. It had been a revived Ollafson who had recognized the bedding pallets that may have been used by Noah and his kin. There were frozen hides of some long-dead animals that looked as if they were some ancient form of mattress. Oil lamp bowls that had been dead for thirteen thousand years. Lamps that may have illuminated a frightened family as they were tossed about in a flood-induced terror. There was a large cooking pit that had an exhaust that ran high and vanished through the battered and torn roof of the living quarters.

  John Henry had been furiously working since late last night when they received the Morse signal from Lieutenant Parnell and his command on the Plain of Ararat. The situation, he had learned, was fast becoming untenable and now he had to send instructions to the marine telling him what to do.

  Since yesterday the most disturbing thing discovered since they opened up the cave’s ceiling was the Angelic symbols found along the main bulkhead of the familial quarters. There were six lines of characters and five characters per line. Claire and Ollafson were doing their best trying to interpret the symbols. John Henry could hear their muted mumbling in the room next to the starboard animal pens of the Ark. The voices gave John Henry pause as they talked. It was as if he were hearing ghostly voices from a long ago past. Eerie, some would call it.

  Thomas stopped writing and flexed his hand. His eyes roamed to the oilcloth satchel. Claire had wanted to take it into the room with her and Ollafson to compare to the newly discovered symbols, but John Henry had refused. The satchel with its contents would not be handled any longer by anyone on the expedition. That was what his conundrum was. He had to kill two birds with one stone, and one of those birds he had grown rather fond of over the weeks.

  “Here it is,” said a voice from the ragged opening. Jessy was there and he was silhouetted in bright sunshine before stepping into the darkened interior. Taylor held up a large cloth-covered package he had retrieved from John Henry’s tent. “What is this?” he asked as he placed the parcel on the table next to the satchel. Taylor pulled up a camp chair and sat. He removed his hood and then reached into his tunic for a cigar and lit it with the aid of the oil lamp. He sat back down as John Henry finished his journal entry.

  “What’s in here?” he asked again as he toyed with the twine that held the bundle together.

  “You should know. You found it many years ago.”

  Taylor raised both brows as he looked from John Henry to the filthy white cloth bundle he held. John Henry slowly slid the bundle away and then waited.

  “Sir!” Dugan said from the opening. “Private Willard and Gray Dog. Took some doin’ to get the Indian to report, but here he is.”

  “Show them both in,” Thomas said.

  The first in was one of Jessy’s men. A nineteen-year-old private from Alexandria. A boy bred in a fine family and well educated for the time. John Henry had noted that the kid spent a full two years at the Virginia Military Institute. The real draw to the boy was Taylor’s statement that he was also the best damn rider he had ever seen. Willard spoke to horses and they did his every bidding. It seemed his father was a fine horse breeder and Private Willard, or Sam, as Jessy called the boy, was most knowledgeable about the equine species. The private stepped in and lowered the hood to his parka. The boy looked frightened as he removed a woolen cap also and twisted it in his hands. Gray Dog squeezed past Dugan, giving him a strange look as he did.

  “Is that how you report, Sam?” Jessy said as he leaned back in his chair and puffed on his cigar.

  “Uh, no, Colonel.” The boy stood ramrod straight and then snapped a salute, first toward Taylor, and then thinking better of it directed the respect toward John Henry, who immediately returned the salute. Gray Dog watched this as he stood next to the boy and he was non-plussed at the respect shown to the two officers. Gray Dog just stood there looking at Private Willard, who was keenly aware the Indian had his eyes on him and was feeling a bit nervous about it.

  “At ease, Private,” John Henry said.

  Willard did not place himself at ease at all. He continued to twist his stocking cap in his hands.

  “The colonel informs me you’re one hell of a horseman,” John Henry stated.

  “Yes, sir, some say that’s a fact.”

  “You have also had some international travel before the war started, is that correct?”

  “Yes, sir, my pa and me had to travel to Europe for horse flesh, Colonel, sir. For breeding purposes.”

  John Henry saw that the boy was barely able to shave. The chin whiskers on his fresh face were sparse and his cheeks as red as a schoolchild. But John Henry knew he had no choice. Besides, it would take the youngest person on this mission out of here. That was the least he could do. He only wished he could send Claire out with him.

  “Good,” Thomas said as he exchanged looks with Jessy, who was silently smoking his cigar and watching. John Henry, then held up a letter. The boy’s eyes widened when he saw it was addressed to the president of the United States and was sealed closed. John Henry reached out and took a hold of the satchel’s handle and then opened it. He felt the air in the room grow far colder than it had been a moment before. He quickly placed the white envelope inside and then hurriedly closed the satchel. Jessy and Dugan saw how fast John Henry had done this. It was if the colonel were afraid if he left the satchel open for too long Azrael would escape like a crazed genie in a bottle. “You are going home, Master Willard.” John Henry slid the satchel toward the boy.

  “Sir?” Willard said, confused. His look went from the Yankee colonel to a stunned Jessy, who said nothing, but he did remove the cigar from his mouth and then looked at Thomas waiting for the explanation.

  “You are ordered to immediately descend the mountain with Gray Dog, my scout, and then once at the base return to camp there and select five good horses. I hear you can do that, at least, from what your colonel has informed me?”

  “Yes, sir, I know horse flesh well enough.”

  “You are to take this satchel and guard it with your life. You are to return to the coast near Constantinople and board the first transport out of this country. Get back to Washington as fast as you can travel. Ride hard, ride fast.” John Henry slid a large leather sack toward the private. “Travel in civilian attire and speak to no one until you’re home again. You are to deliver this to the White House. That letter inside the satchel will get you access to the president personally. Deliver this into his hand with the letter. Is this clear?”

  “Not at all, sir.”

  “Excuse me?” Thomas said as he shot Jessy a look.

  “I don’t wish to go, sir.”

  “And we don’t want to lose such a good trouper, but you go on and do what Colonel Thomas says. He chose you special.”

  The boy straightened and then nodded his head. “Make my way home the best and
fastest way possible, yes, sir, Colonel,” he said sadly.

  John Henry nodded his head at Jessy for assisting in convincing the young Rebel. Thomas could see why Taylor was so close to his men. He knew them and they were loyal to a fault.

  John Henry retrieved a smaller leather bag and tossed it to Willard. “There are six thousand dollars’ worth of gold double-eagles inside. That should be enough to get whatever transport you see fit to travel on.”

  “Choose the best, Sammy boy, this one’s on old Honest Abe. Perhaps board the liner The City of Paris, go first class.”

  Willard smiled for the first time. “Yes, sir.”

  John Henry stood from his chair and approached the boy. He held his hand out to Sergeant Major Dugan, who placed something there.

  “It took the sergeant major here all day to dig these up. I think you should have them.” He handed Willard the items. They were a set of gold corporal’s stripes. The boy looked up at the Yankee officer. “We couldn’t very well send a mere private to meet with the president of the United States, now could we?”

  “No, sir,” Willard exclaimed with excitement as he looked at the two stripes of a corporal that sat in his gloved hand. He looked over at Jessy to confirm that he had actually been promoted. Taylor smiled and nodded his head.

  “You go on now, Sammy boy, do the regiment proud, and be sure to insult the Yankee president as much as you can while you are his guest.”

  “Sir?”

  “Good luck, Willard,” John Henry said as he saluted the boy who immediately returned it. With one last salute to Taylor, John Henry’s messenger boy left.

  “I guess lives can be sold for the cost of two cloth stripes, huh?” Jessy said as he tossed the cigar aside and looked at Thomas, who said nothing.

  “Gray Dog, it’s time for you to go also.”

  The Comanche said nothing. He looked at Dugan, who spit a stream of tobacco juice that landed outside of the opening.

  John Henry held out the second letter to the scout. “Get this to Lieutenant Parnell. Ride fast and get it to him before tomorrow morning. He’s expecting company and I hope these orders will help him. If not we’ll have a nice little surprise waiting for us when we leave this mountain.”

  Gray Dog slowly reached out and took the letter. He raised it to his face and then sniffed the envelope.

  “You’ll stay with Lieutenant Parnell, understand?”

  Gray Dog looked up and then shook his head in the negative.

  Thomas knew he wasn’t saying he did not understand. Gray Dog was flat-out telling John Henry he wasn’t leaving him.

  “This is important, and you must go or many a boy may very well die down there.”

  Gray Dog turned and looked at Dugan. The sergeant major was about to say something and then stopped. He thought about it and then faced the boy he found he had come not only to admire, but actually like, and for Dugan to say he liked another human being was astounding.

  “You go on, boyo, do like the colonel says. We will try and get along without you.”

  Gray Dog lowered his head and started to turn.

  “You may as well take this with you. I was waiting to give it to you on our return.” Thomas actually looked embarrassed. “I figured you would be of age by then.” John Henry swallowed as he looked at his adopted son. “But it seems time has run out on me.” He slid the cloth-covered package toward Gray Dog.

  The Comanche touched the package but made no move to pick it up. He only looked from it to the colonel.

  “Colonel Taylor, well, back then he was Lieutenant Taylor, found this in your village the day … the day your family was killed. He took it and delivered it to me because he knew I was close to your father, No Water. Its time you have it. It may come in handy when you meet with Lieutenant Parnell and if things get bad.”

  Gray Dog finally reached for the parcel and slowly undid the twine. He let the cloth fall to the petrified decking as he saw what Taylor and John Henry had delivered into his hands. It was his father’s headdress, a war bonnet with more than seventy-five eagle feathers arranged along the train. From headband to tail feather the war bonnet was more than six feet long. Gray Dog’s father had been one of the legendary Comanche warriors of that time. Gray Dog held it up and let the feathers unroll to their full length. He smiled like John Henry had never seen before. The Comanche turned and showed Dugan.

  “Now ain’t that somethin?” the sergeant major said as he started to spit again, but instead held it in check. “Your pa would be real proud right about now.”

  Taylor saw the grudging respect the sergeant major was showing the young brave.

  John Henry reached out and took Gray Dog’s hand. He wanted to hug him but knew that would only embarrass him. He shook the hand and then turned away.

  “Good luck, son,” was all he said.

  Gray Dog looked confused and then made up his mind that he would do as he was told. He straightened and with the war bonnet in hand stepped up to Taylor, who had saved this magnificent gift for him, and held out his hand, and Jessy took it and stood at the same time. The handshake was exaggerated with wide up-and-down shakes. Taylor smiled and nodded.

  “Godspeed, Gray Dog.”

  The Comanche turned away and left.

  John Henry looked up and his thoughts turned sad as he expected not to see the boy again. He faced Taylor.

  “Yes, Jessy, you’re right. Some things can be bought pretty cheaply.”

  25

  It had taken Captain Jackson’s reorganized work crews thirteen hours to clear the lowest level of the raised living quarters of the Ark. It was a small percentage because the rest of the five-story structure was in thick and unyielding ice. Jackson and his ordnance men claimed if they had the time and the right equipment, such as phosphorous charges, they could clear most of the communal living area that saw its last use more than thirteen thousand years before.

  Thus far Ollafson, who had recovered from his initial shock at not being able to remove much in the way of artifacts, was as excited as a schoolboy as he moved the oil lamp from one location to the other. Raised areas for bedding, the petrified remains of fire pits, and huge lumps of frozen and prehistoric vegetation. All of this could have kept botanists busy for a hundred years identifying strange and extinct plant life. In one corner of a small alcove on the highest mark of the living quarters, in a place where a child would retreat to play alone, Claire came across what looked like a child’s rag doll embedded in the ice. It had taken her with the assistance of Sergeant Major Dugan over five hours to remove it.

  The doll was now sitting upon a table on a piece of sailcloth for examination and return to American soil. When holding the sodden mess in her hands it was far more unrecognizable than it had been when it was embedded in the ice. The ancient materials were not reacting to the air all that well and the huge discovery was quickly turning into a pile of mush. Claire cursed herself for not having sample jars available.

  The sun had set more than six hours before, and everyone in camp felt the loss of light and a gloom settled over everyone, especially since the thrill from this afternoon had worn off. As for Steven McDonald, Claire had been shocked to see the British captain standing in line for chow at dusk. She had stepped up to him and he had actually smiled and greeted her as if nothing strange had happened that afternoon. She had informed John Henry of the spy master’s reversal of attitude and she could see in Thomas’s eyes that his concern was great, maybe even as great, to order the elimination, or expulsion, of the British intelligence officer. Claire didn’t know if John Henry had it in him to order Steven eliminated, but the strain and guilt of sending Gray Dog off to an unknown fate was weighing heavily on the colonel’s mind.

  “You know, for a master spy you seem to be taking this academia thing to the extreme,” said a voice behind her, which startled her so much it made her drop the large brush she had been using to search the walls of the Ark for any more Angelic Script. Personally she hoped she would never see a
ny of the symbols ever again.

  “If there is one place on this planet you do not sneak up on somebody, this is it, Colonel,” she said with her hand trying to still her heavily beating heart through the thick coat.

  Dugan snickered and spit his tobacco and then decided to get out of there and get some coffee. John Henry watched him go and then faced Claire again.

  “Tomorrow I am going to have our British friend escorted from the mountain and delivered back to his people.” He paused and then looked into her eyes. “Unharmed.”

  Thomas could see the relief in her eyes.

  “Thank you. Call it professional courtesy, or a favor to me. He doesn’t need to be killed, at least not as much as our French friend Renaud.”

  Thomas lowered the hood of his coat, intentionally not answering her relief with a comment. After all, he did not want her to think he had grown too barbaric over the years. But if the career military man had his druthers he would hang any person caught spying for any nation, including his own; he despised them that much. It bothered him that Claire was a spy, and he knew he would have to come to terms with that.

  “As to your question, I feel I have a certain obligation to Professor Ollafson,” she said with a nod toward the busy professor in the far corner where he was examining the remains of the large, communal fire pit in the center of the large room. “He needs me more than the nation does at the moment and I figure I can spare him at least that little bit of dignity.”

  John Henry paced to the gallery and then looked down upon the areas the naval engineers had cleared of ice. It was expansive and he imagined most articles that made up the Ark’s interior had been stripped by the survivors for use in home building and for heat. He could imagine just a portion of the Ark would have provided wood for enough housing for several large families, and as he looked around at the many giant holes in the structure he could see that was exactly what had happened.