Noah (6 page)

“His heavenly form is renewed,” Naameh whispered. “He is back where he belongs.”

The lightning bolt vanished, and from outside, there were shouts and cries, a deafening roar.

“The Creator brings him home!” someone shouted triumphantly. More Watchers joined his cry.

Ila remembered the story Og had relayed long ago—about how the Watchers had yearned to return to heaven after coming to earth, but the Creator had not heeded their prayers. But now…

“Step back!” Shem yelled suddenly. Ila grabbed Japheth and the three of them backed away from the porthole. A second later several soldiers pried open the main hatch in front of Shem.

“Shem!” Ila screamed.

But Shem was ready for the intruders. Moving fast, he speared one of them. As the man fell back onto the ramp, he pulled Shem out of the Ark with him.

Ila watched in horror as two soldiers were instantly upon him.

In the nick of time, Noah rushed up the ramp, startling Shem’s attackers and cutting them down.

“Back inside!
Back inside!
” He thrust Shem into the Ark and then slammed the hatch closed again.

Boom!
Outside, explosions rocked the earth and sky. Ila looked back out the porthole, and saw lightning flash in the sky again and again and again. One by one, the Watchers were disappearing.

Tears streamed down her face. Sweet, powerful Og and fierce, brave Samyaza… The Watchers who had been their helpers and protectors for so long.

Shem wrapped an arm around her, his head bent in sorrow too. “They’re gone,” he whispered. “But they’ve returned home.”

They stood together watching the sky. Outside, the rain and wind pummeled the Ark relentlessly. Noah was still out there… Ila prayed that he was safe.

She turned to Shem. “What of Tubal-cain? Where is he?”

Shem shook his head. “With luck, he’s dead,” he answered gravely. “I saw no sign of him out there.”

* * *

For hours the men and the Watchers battled, and the storm pounded the Ark. Shem ushered them all up to the hearth, saying they would be safer up there. Then he went to look for Ham, whom no one had seen for hours.

Ila huddled there in the darkness with Naameh and Japheth, waiting for the men to return, and for whatever was about to happen next. She tried to contain her fears, doing as her father had told her—filling her mind with things she loved: Shem, memories of the lush green forest where they had lived for the last ten years, Ham and Japheth, friendly Og…

But still her fears seeped in. Noah had described how the water of the heavens would meet the water of the earth. And that was certainly how it sounded now. She pictured huge geysers of water shooting up from the earth as the heavens let loose their own rivers of water.

If Noah were right—if the Creator’s message to him had been clear—no one outside the Ark would survive this monstrous storm.

Ila was starting to wonder if anyone
inside
the Ark would survive it either.

* * *

Soon they heard loud frantic shouts from outside. Ila and Naameh exchanged glances, but they didn’t say anything, not wanting to alarm Japheth. The younger boy was calm at that moment, distracted by a game he was playing with rocks on the floor.

Shem returned with Ham. And then, with a booming force, something slammed into the Ark—a massive wave. Its sound and its force were like nothing Ila had ever known.

Naameh screamed, and grabbed Japheth. Ila struggled to hold on as the huge ark lurched, and then seemed to crest in the huge waves. When the ship settled, the family huddled again in the darkness, waiting for Noah. Naameh whispered prayers as water exploded all around them.

At last the hatch opened and they all looked up.

“Noah!” cried Naameh with relief as he tumbled into the chamber.

Ila looked at him. Blood covered much of his face. What terrified her though was the look in his eyes. He appeared stunned, haunted, overwhelmed by all that he had just witnessed.

“PLEASE, NOAH.” ILA STOOD IN FRONT OF HIM, PLEADING
with him. “People sound desperate. Can you not hear them wailing outside?”

Noah didn’t reply to her. Instead, with a chunk of tzohar, he ignited the great furnace. The chamber lit up.

As the fire blazed, Ila paced back and forth in front of the hearth.
This is unbearable
, she thought.

Outside the Ark, floodwaters had covered the land, rising almost to the top of mountain peaks. When she looked through the Ark’s portholes, she could see hundreds of survivors clinging to ice-covered rocks, screaming for help.

She had also seen some people trying to swim toward the Ark, but the water was too rough and too cold. None of
the swimmers had made it.

She tried to talk to Noah again. “There must be something we can do to help those people. We could drag ropes for them.”

“The people cannot all be soldiers from Tubal-cain’s army, Father,” Shem put in. “They are just people. And there is room aboard our Ark.”

Noah sat down, staring forward. Ila could see his stubbornness in the set of his chin and the hardness of his eyes. He would never yield.

Naameh begged him too. “Surely, Noah, we could take a handful of survivors aboard.”

“There is no room for them,” he said resolutely.

Finally, Ila whirled away from him, angry and upset. How could he show so little mercy? Was this really what the Creator wanted, what He had commanded?

* * *

Later, the family ate supper together, sitting on low cushions and rugs. But only Noah and Japheth could eat. Ila and the others left their plates untouched. Since they’d boarded the Ark, Ham had kept his distance from everyone, even Ila. She glanced at him now, worried about his state of mind. He looked brooding and angry and lately she had noticed he was behaving strangely – keeping to himself, staying in the shadows inside the Ark as if he were hiding something.

Noah finally finished his meal and put down his plate. “Soon, everything we knew will be gone,” he told the family.
“All that is left of Creation will lie within these walls. And outside, just the waters of chaos again.”

He looked directly at Ham, who stared back with a stony expression.

“You’re angry,” Noah said. “You judge me, Ham, as do the rest of you. Let me tell you a story,” he went on. “This is the first story my father ever told me. It is a story that I have told each of you.”

He lifted the small tzohar lamp as he began. Ila said nothing, as did the others.

“In the beginning, there was nothing.” Noah covered the lamp, plunging the room into darkness to show them.

“Nothing but the silence of infinite darkness. But the breath of the Creator fluttered against the face of the void, whispering, ‘Let there be light.’

“And light was. And it was good. The First Day,” he went on.

“And the formless light took on substance and shape. A Second Day.

“And our world was born. Our beautiful fragile home. A great warming light nurtured its days. And a lesser light ruled the nights. And there was evening and morning. Another day.

“And the waters of the world gathered together. And in their midst emerged dry land.

“Another day passed. And the ground put forth the growing things. A thick blanket of green, stretching across all Creation. And the waters too teemed with life. Great creatures
of the deep that are no more. And vast multitudes of fish some of which may still swim beneath these seas. And soon the sky was streaming with birds.

“And there was evening. And morning. A Fifth Day. Now the whole world was full of living beings. Everything that creeps and crawls. And every beast that walks upon the ground. And it was good.”

Ila’s eyes were closed as she listened to the familiar story. She didn’t want to listen to him somehow, but his words still seeped in. And now, amid all the suffering and terrible destruction she’d seen, the story sounded different to her.

“It was all good,” Noah went on. “There was light and air and water and soil. All clean and unspoiled. There were plants and fish, fowl and beast. Each after their kind, all part of the greater whole. All in their place and all was in balance. It was paradise. A jewel in the Creator’s palm.

“And then…”

Ila opened her eyes.

“And then the Creator made man. And by man’s side, the Creator made woman. He gave us a choice. Follow the temptation of darkness, or hold on to the blessing of light. Our birthright.

“The man and woman ate from the forbidden fruit and their innocence was extinguished. And so for the ten generations since, Adam has walked within us. Brother against brother. Nation against nation. Man against Creation. We murdered each other. We broke the world. We did this.
Man did this. Everything that was beautiful, everything that was good, we shattered.”

Ila was thoughtful, remembering the raid upon her family’s camp and the violence outside. It was true. Man’s violence and destruction was undeniable. But did that justify Noah’s own choices? She thought again of Ham’s Na’el… the desperate people outside the ship…

“Now it begins again. Air, water, earth, plant, fish, bird, and beast. Paradise returns. But this time, there will be no humans. If we were to re-enter the garden, it would only be to destroy it once more. The Creator has judged us… humankind must end.”

Ila sat, speechless.

Shem automatically reached for her hand, squeezing it tightly. She could see Naameh holding Japheth tightly too, tears in her eyes. Only Ham’s face stayed cold and stony as Noah went on, explaining to them what was to come.

“Shem and Ila, you will bury me and your mother. Ham, you will bury them. Japheth will lay you to rest. You, Japheth, you will be the last man. And in time, you, too, will return to dust. And creation will be left alone, safe and beautiful.”

Ila stared at him, still unable to speak.

Noah looked at Ham. “I’m sorry about that girl,” he said softly. “And I’m sorry for you. But we have been entrusted with a task much greater than our own desires.”

Ham just glared at his father, too full of fury and shock to say anything. He jumped to his feet and rushed away from the hearth.

With a sigh, Noah sat back. No one said anything.

Ila held Shem’s hand. In the silence, she heard only the rain, the endless pounding rain, and the rush of her own thoughts.

Why had Noah given up on the idea of wives for Ham and Japheth? He had obviously never even considered her own request for a fertile wife for Shem. What his children wanted, or needed, had no effect upon him.

And now there was more—larger implications that stretched beyond their own small family.

Did Noah really mean what he had said?
Ila wondered.
Was it the end of humankind
?

* * *

Somehow the days passed. Ila tried to stay busy. She spent time with Shem, talking and lying together. She played games with Japheth and tried to help Naameh with preparing food and tending to the animals.

Sometimes she made an effort to talk to Ham. But he had retreated so far into himself, he was impossible to reach.

One day while she was sweeping the reptile deck, she thought she heard him talking to someone.

Maybe he’s talking to himself
, she thought. That would not surprise her since he spent so much time alone and seemed so lonely.

Or more likely, her mind was playing tricks on her. That seemed quite possible too, given the relentless thrumming of
the rain and the strangeness of their circumstances.

That night Ila couldn’t sleep. She left Shem and walked down to the second deck. As she walked along, she could hear voices rising and falling.

Ila looked up The main hatch was open, and Noah stood staring into the darkness while Naameh stood behind him. Outside it looked like cold sleet was mixing with the rain.

“What happened to you?” Naameh was asking. “What made you change your mind about Ham and his wife, about our future?”

Noah stood silently for a moment. “The refugee camp,” he blurted out finally. “The day I went to look at Tubal-cain’s camp for myself… I thought perhaps I’d also find wives for Ham and Japheth. Ila wanted me to find a new wife for Shem as well.”

“What?” Naameh clapped her hand over her mouth. “But I…” Her words trailed off, and Ila thought she seemed upset by this.

“Ila was thinking of him… She wants him to have a wife who can bear children,” Noah explained.

“I saw horrors at the camp, Naameh,” he went on. “Tubal-cain is a heartless monster. There were starving refugees trading children for meat… girls shackled to serve soldiers’ needs… riots and violence…

“The Creator was speaking to me again, showing me once more the devastation that we have brought. Mankind destroys everything—other humans, the land, the sea. More
than ever, I see now that mankind must be punished, washed clean of sin…” Noah kept speaking, murmuring more things to Naameh that Ila could not hear.

Then his voice rose again. “I see no more land. Everything out there must be dead by now.”

Naameh reached for his hand and he turned to grasp hers.

She has been his wife for many years now
, Ila thought.
She knows him better than anyone
.

Could Naameh make sense of what was happening… of Noah’s choices?

“It had to be what He wanted, Naameh. You see that, don’t you? It’s the Creator’s will. I am only…”

Naameh spoke gently. “What I see, Noah, is how hard this was for you to do. As a man who respects life. A man who loves his children. I could not have borne the burden. Not like you.”

She took his face in her hands. “You have been strong. But it’s done. It is done now. You can put that burden down.”

Ila slipped away as a sob escaped from Noah and Naameh comforted him.

For the first time in many days, Ila found her heart softening toward Noah, her adoptive father. She knew it was wrong to eavesdrop on others, but hearing Noah had helped her. She had caught a glimpse of the man she knew. The man who had saved her life, and treated her lovingly as his own daughter.

ILA HAD BEEN FEELING SICK. HER STOMACH CHURNED
and though she ate little, there was an odd taste in her mouth all the time. Shem thought perhaps she was seasick, but Ila wasn’t so sure.