Ark (27 page)

“We all have feelings. Marta, for example.”

“Women,” said the General scornfully.

“Well,” said Jim, “that’s how she feels. Not surprising that a person might get upset watching a sheep get its throat slit. This isn’t 2000 B.C, you know. Most people never see how their meat gets to the table."

“Whatever,” said the General. “I’m looking for some answers from you. No feelings of foreboding? No voices?”

Jim stared at the General. “Nope.”

Wilcox raised an eyebrow. “And no glow from the ark. Interesting. Oh well, I guess we’re too deep underground. Or maybe God isn’t interested.”

The General put his hands on his hips and surveyed the grotto. Then he said in a voice loud enough for everyone to hear; “We’ll leave all this up overnight and go to Phase Two tomorrow.” Then he walked away toward the rabbi.

Obviously following his own agenda, Rabbi Levi ignored the General. Wilcox said something to the rabbi a few times before giving up. He peered into the open Tabernacle, then turned and walked away.

“The General looks disappointed,” Gene said to Jim. “I guess he was expecting fire and brimstone, huh?”

“He just might get it,” Jim surveying the crowd. “It looks like Archbishop Frazetti is out of here.”

Gene turned to see the Catholic entourage leaving through a side door. The elevators there led directly to the surface.

Jim smiled. The archbishop, like everyone else present, had his own agenda, and his earlier mentioning of the Holy Father had been an obvious ploy to assert control over the operation. Gene had said he doubted that there had been any contact with the Vatican unless that contact had come from the President of the United States. Thunderbolt was, after all, a secret military project.

Jim surveyed the scene, taking a snapshot with his mind. For what it was worth this had been a historic event, secret or not.

The Tabernacle sat in the middle of the cavern, still as a tomb, while inside the menorah candles flickered, making the boards of the Tabernacle shimmer with orange light.

The overhead lights had been dimmed to blend with the light that illuminated the painted cyclorama. Ignoring the ceiling one could easily imagine that they were in the middle of a desert. Earlier Jim had thought that the detailing of the walls was a folly, but now he wasn’t so sure. The diorama set a mood that raw rock walls might have shattered. Someone, presumably an Army designer, had been ordered to decorate the cavern, and Jim thought he’d done a splendid job.

Now Phase One was complete. The recreated ark had been placed in the Tabernacle and everyone had survived.

Jim pondered the moment as he and everyone else stood silently, watching the smoke curl up from the Altar of Burnt Offerings and disappear into the swirling fans forty feet above. Had all of this been just an exercise in stupidity?

Maybe not. This was only Phase One of Thunderbolt. In Phase Two the Tabernacle would be reassembled on the surface and aligned, like the cavern, on an east-west axis so that the rising sun would shine into the Tabernacle at dawn. When that happened they might still see apocryphal events, but now more than ever, Jim had doubts.

When they finally headed toward the tramway, Jim listened in silence as Gene enumerated the many reasons why the ark didn’t perform like the computer simulation. He had to agree. They were deep underground where radio wouldn’t penetrate, and that was precisely why the ark had been assembled underground. They wanted to know if it was something else, some other force that resonated the ark.

Now, that unknown force seemed to be ruled out. To Gene that meant that the idea that God was operating the ark was being called into question. Couldn’t God penetrate a quarter mile of stone? If he could and if He did, then why wasn’t there some sign of activity?

Jim knew the Christian argument that Christ’s visitation on Earth eliminated the need for an ark. Jesus had forged a new covenant with man. The ark was just antique furniture. The Hebrews would have countered that there could only be one true ark, and the reason it didn’t work was that God simply didn’t want it to, or that He didn’t approve.

As they entered the tram Jim saw that the General was walking behind them with his son, listening to Gene. “Interesting, Mr. Henson,” he commented.

“What’s next, General?” asked Gene as the four of them took the tram car into the tunnel.

The General waited for the car to pass the first turn. “The Levites will dismantle the ark and then they and our crew will truck everything to the test range. I’d say we’re right on track for Phase Two. That’s unless you have any messages for us to the contrary.” Wilcox was leaning forward looking directly at Jim.

Jim wondered if he should tell the General about the odd things he’d noticed: the music only he had heard, Aaron’s rapture, Gene’s ghosts. But he didn’t see how bringing any of that up would make any difference, and he he might run the risk of sounding like a fool.

Jim decided to sit back and enjoy the ride. Better to let the skeptics deal with the workings of the ark. Yet he couldn’t help but wonder if God was watching over them and having a good laugh, or worse, was going to nuke them for their arrogance when they least expected it.

“The more I think about it,” Gene was saying, “the more I think we can rule out heavenly intervention.”

The General’s answer surprised him. “You’d bet your life on that, Henson? Maybe it’s a little premature for that kind of conclusion. Do I have to remind you that there’s something very much like our ark sitting in a warehouse at the University of Chicago spitting fire at anyone who tries to touch it?”

“I’d sure like to see that,” said Jim.

“You’d die trying,” said the General. “Whatever it is even ignores insulated suits.”

“You didn’t tell me that, Dad,” said John.

“There’s a shitload I haven’t told you, boy,” said the General, folding his arms across his chest.

They rode on in steely silence. John and Gene looked upset.

#

That night Jim ate a quick meal with Gene and went back to their room while John and Gene decided to visit the bowling alley in the complex. Jim was glad for some time alone and used it calling Kas. He’d been away from his family for nearly two weeks and missed them terribly. He even missed their new dog.

By now Kas had returned home from visiting her sister, so he dialed his home number. Kas answered immediately with her usual breathless “hello?”

“It’s just little old me,” said Jim. “I miss you, pooks.”

Kas was obviously missing him so he placated her with the fake story about the freelance job for John Wilcox.

“Is Gene out there, too?” Kas said she tried to call Gene but heard he was visiting the Southwest.

Jim told her that Gene was in the area. “I saw him a while ago at John’s. He’s working for John too.”

“Well, they said at his publishing house that he’s on a leave of absence. Did he tell you that?”

“I want to hear how you and Steph are doing. I miss you, bigtime.”

After assuring Jim that everything was fine Kas and there wasn’t much happening of consequence she put Stephanie on the phone. Stephie told him about how Woolsey had learned to catch frisbees like a pro. “When are you coming home, Dad?” she finally asked in a sad voice. “Mommy ... we miss you.”

Stephie’s small voice made Jim feel terrible, so far away in mind and spirit. When he finally, reluctantly, said goodbye, he hated every lie he’d been forced to tell. He stared at the phone for a while, wondering if that had been the worst phone call of his life.

The wall TV blinked on. It was the General. “How’s the family, Jim?”

The face on the screen seemed to look right at him. He hadn’t pushed the TV SEND button. “Can you see me, General?”

“No. We didn’t listen to your call either, if that’s what you are wondering, but your home number registered on our monitoring system. We’ve no interest in invading your privacy. I know how hard it is to be away like this, but we have to monitor who’s calling who. We are trust your discretion.”

“Everything’s okay. Have a good night,” said Jim as politely as he could manage.

“You too,” said the General, and the screen went blank.

Jim fought the bitterness that was percolating inside by leaving his apartment and taking a walk. He wandered aimlessly through the empty corridors of the underground and eventually ended at the door to the tram tunnel.

Wondering if the thing was turned off, he pushed the button. The door slid open revealing a tram car ready and waiting.

“What the heck?” he said, as he got into the front seat and pressed the RUN button.

The lights in the cavern were off and the place smelled slightly of burnt flesh as Jim’s car bumped open the door to the grotto. Only the cyclorama lights were on.

Jim had never been in the cavern alone. In the darkness it loomed larger than he remembered.

To play it safe he pushed the green HOLD button before stepping out of the tram. For all he knew the things were automated and might speed away, leaving him alone in the cavern all night.

Jim walked the perimeter of the gray goat hair fencing that surrounded the courtyard of the Tabernacle. There were several doors that cut into the cyclorama, and Jim tested all of them, but all but they were locked. At least fifteen minutes later he was back at the tram car, relieved that it was still there. It made sense with all that gold in here that they secure the place, he thought. He wondered if they’d left the tram running for some reason.

He was going to leave the grotto when he thought of the golden ark sitting alone in the darkened Tabernacle and decided to check it out. It took a few minutes to reach it because the opening to the courtyard was directly opposite the tramway. He had the feeling that he was outside walking under an overcast sky.

Jim looked at the Altar of Burnt Offerings and felt its bronze sides. It was cool to the touch, and all that remained of the ram that had lain on the bronze latticework grill were ashes and a few pieces of bone. Any arguments that the designs of the Tabernacle furniture weren’t viable had been disproved, at least where the altar was concerned. The altar had proven to be very efficient crematorium.

Next Jim walked over to the Tabernacle, pushed aside the veil that covered the entrance and stepped inside. It was pitch black inside, but soon his eyes adjusted a bit and from the light reflected off the gold boards he could see reasonably well. To the left of the opening he noticed a box of matches. He picked them up and lit the seven candles of the menorah.

The Tabernacle’s golden boards reflected light everywhere but on the place he was most curious about, the Holy of Holies. Its veil was closed.

There were two other pieces of furniture in the outer Tabernacle: the table of snow breads which was on his right as he faced the veil of the ark, and the table of offerings that was directly in front of the curtain.

Jim stood in the very middle of the Tabernacle for a while, pondering what it must have been like four thousand years ago when Aaron, the brother of Moses, stood in a place very similar. What had the Lord said to him from behind those curtains? What did the voice sound like?

If a voice had ever spoken from the ark it was mute now, and it was only proper that it should be. The mystery should remain, he thought, for all time. Because, after all, what is faith if not a belief in the unseen and unproven?

Thunderbolt contained a considerable amount of America’s gold. For what? To prove that the ark was a weapon?

Jim smiled. The Bible never said that the Ark of the Covenant was a weapon. It was the hand of God, a tool that the Alpha and the Omega used to acknowledge his reality to a people accustomed to inanimate idols.

Moses had asked God’s name. Jim understood God’s answer, “I AM THAT I AM”. A name is just one of many possible words. God is The Word. After all, He or She is everything that can be named. Call it Universe, or the Electromagnetic Spectrum. Is it any less wondrous? Wouldn’t a name diminish it?

The Bible never said that that Ark was God. Jim remembered his Old Testament: “In the beginning was the Word and the Word was God,” he said in a soft voice. “And all’s right with the world.”

Jim walked to the menorah and, using a tool that lay next to it, snuffed out the seven flames. He lingered in the darkness for a moment staring at the curtain of the Holy of Holies. He thought he saw a flicker behind the curtain but decided it was just light from above reflected off the ark.

A few minutes later he was back in the tram.

#

That night Jim’s dreams took him back to the Raftworks. He was there at the Powermac and so was Lou. It was nighttime and they were on deadline.

They had split the job, direct mail packages selling porcelain figurines of the ark, manufactured by The Franklin Mint; little golden arks with cute rosy-cheeked cherubs sitting on the top, the kind one normally sees on valentines. They were part of a “Fabulous Golden Tabernacle Collection” to be out in time for Passover and Easter. Jim and Lou had the contract and they stood to make good money. The catch was that all the promotion for the collection had to be done by morning.

The phone never stopped ringing. The mint wanted details changed, then changed again. They demanded matchprints by ten A.M..

Jim was handling the retouching of seven photos the Mint had sent them, but the images were horrible. The colors were shifted to the wrong hue. Then the computer kept crashing. After many restarts, Jim managed to get the colors where they ought to be, but the image had lost its sharpness. He worked at that for a very time.

Finally, after finishing only one image, Jim looked out the window. Dawn was breaking.

Jim sat up in bed. “Oh Christ,” he said.

It took him over half an hour to get back to sleep, but it was not the dream that had him tossing back and forth. He was thinking about the ark.

The next dream saw him back in the studio, working alone. Lou called and said he’d be late, but it was nighttime. Crumpled papers littered the studio and whenever he tried to move around there seemed to be more. Soon he was chest deep in balled-up pages. Finally he picked one up and unfolded it. It was part of a manuscript he was writing about the ark. The pages had been used to wipe up blood.