Fire and Flood

by Dawn Morris

  “That was wise to build by those waterways,” I commented.

  “Yes. They then searched out men of understanding and abilities to design the great city. Everything, where the houses are built, the grand canal that brings water through the middle of the city, and the great temple to Nergal that rises into the sky was planned in advance.”

  “Is that where they worship their idol?” I asked.

  “The moon god, Nergal, is the main god worshipped by the people of Ur. The temple can be seen for miles; the courtyard itself can fit thousands of people. Many come and bring their offerings and sacrifices.”

  Ebe poked the campfire with a stick. “I find myself wishing I’d stayed in the settlement in the mountains,” he remarked.

  “You will get used to it,” Sarai reassured him. “The temple is large, but no one forces anyone to worship Ur’s god. Serug insists on religious freedom.”

  “Good for Serug,” I said dryly.

  None of their stories prepared me for the city as it appeared before us on the horizon. It was enormous. Encircled by walls to keep out invaders, Ur spread along the plain between the great Euphrates and Tigris Rivers. A massive ziggurat rose on the western side of the sprawling city. As we drew near, I could see tiny figures moving up and down the expansive stairs leading from the ground to its dizzying height where the large temple to Nergal stood, its blue bricks gleaming in the sunlight.

  When we reached the nearest wooden gates, bound with strong, iron bands, Abram was immediately hailed by the guards. By their greetings, I gathered Abram was well-known and respected in Ur. Abram instructed Ebe to take the flocks to a great field to the right of the gate, within the city walls. Apparently, it belonged to Serug.

  “Tell the men there whose flocks these are, and they will get you settled. Once I get the women home, I will come to you.” Abram nodded toward the direction of the field, and we wound our way through the cobbled streets.

  I looked at everything around me, astonished. Abram wasn’t exaggerating!

  Even Babylon did not measure the richness of Ur. Although there must have been a lower class, I saw no evidence of poverty. In fact, the wealth of Ur was evident in the splendid homes we passed after entering the city gates. Immense two-and three-storied homes lined both sides of the broad streets through which we drove. Each home was walled and gated. I glimpsed lush gardens and sparkling fountains through gates wrought of copper and fine woods. We passed parks and markets, driving for quite some time before we came to Abram’s home.

  We turned onto a long drive, lined with palm trees on either side. I sat in stunned silence, for I had not seen this level of sophistication since before the Flood. I gasped at the splendid home. Their home would have housed the entire settlement we had just left in the mountains.

  As Sarai pulled our cart up to the house on the curved drive, servants raced out to take the horses, unpack the cart, and help us dismount. There were glad shouts of acclamation for both Abram and Sarai from their servants as we entered into the cool of the house. It was two-storied and centered around a vast courtyard garden filled with flowering plants growing on either side of a long, rectangular pool. Blue water sparkled invitingly as I moved through the front entrance, passing under intricately carved wooden arches. I stopped at the sight of the great Euphrates River. I could make out many papyrus boats sailing along the water.

  “I have not seen anything like this since before the Flood,” I gasped to Abram.

  He grinned down at me. “Serug has gathered many gifted craftsmen here in Ur. Men and women of talent are encouraged to develop their skills. There are many guilds here; often you will note they wear amulets particular to their work. Potters, jewelers, carpenters, and stonemasons have their own gods, but as I told you before, almost all here in Ur revere the moon god, Nergal, as well.”

  How quickly the world turns to idols, I thought.

  “I know what you’re thinking, Mother,” Abram said. “Remember that my grandfather, Nahor, was an idol maker. He made them in that room over there. One day, I was playing in his workshop, and I accidentally knocked a large image of Nergal to the ground. Nahor had worked on it for almost two weeks. I panicked and took a hammer from one of the shelves and put it in the hand of another idol, the sun god Utu.”

  “So you were putting the blame on another idol?” I laughed.

  “Yes, I was terribly afraid of how angry Nahor would be, so when he questioned me about what happened, I scrabbled out the story I’d made up.”

  I shook my head, “Did he believe you?”

  “Not the whole story, but yes,” said Abram seriously. “Finally, Sarai and I became so weary of the idolatry in our family that we decided to set out to find you and the others.”

  A servant appeared and led me through the fragrant gardens and up the winding stairway to a beautiful, three-roomed chamber overlooking the Euphrates River. I wonder what it will be like to see Terah again. Ever since Abram had rescued him, he had lived here in Ur with his family in Serug’s palace.

  I walked into the bedchamber. Opposite the bed, covered in colorful woven blankets, was an intriguing mural—a picture of the First Ones by a tree in a garden, a large serpent twisting in the branches of the tree. Through the opened doorway, I could see into another room. I moved into it and was startled to see large bathtub. Copper pipes led into the tub, and I was sure if I turned them on I would discover hot water.

  The floor of the bathroom was made of small, stone cubes, forming a mosaic. The artistic quality amazed me; I had truly not seen anything like it. The design depicted leopards, bears, elephants, and other small animals leaving a large boat. With a start, I realized there were eight people worked into the mosaic, standing on the deck of the boat.

  I stood there, mesmerized. How incredible that a boy, taken from his home as a toddler and immersed in an idolatrous culture, would reject the idolatry and recall all that he had learned at a young age.

  “This is your work, God,” I whispered, tears forming in my eyes as my heart rejoiced.

  FIRE

  Chapter 43

  My God, my God, why have You forsaken me?

  Psalm 22:1

  When I returned from the hospital, I suffered agonizing headaches and stomach aches. But this time, they wouldn’t go away. No matter how hard Taarini and Gabriella tried to get me to eat, I couldn’t keep much down. I lost weight instead of gained.

  After a couple of weeks, they took me to a private hospital for treatment. The doctors did some testing and then admitted me. I was lying in bed, an IV dripping nutrients into my arm, when one of the doctors came in, firmly closing the door behind him.

  “I am Doctor Amir Herson,” said the dark-haired, middle-aged man looking down at me over the top of his glasses. “We have a problem.”

  “What is it?” I asked, sick and tired of it all. “Am I dying?” Half of me hoped he would say yes.

  “No, you’re not dying. But you’re not pregnant either.”

  Relief washed over me.

  “But frankly, Gabriella Figoli is not a woman you want to disappoint. And I’m not sure how long we can continue trying. This is two failed attempts already.”

  What is going to happen to me? I became alarmed. Clearly, he believed there was much at stake here, and that I could be in danger if the procedure didn’t “work.”

  I know my fear was probably obvious. I also sensed he was sympathetic. I asked tremulously, “Can you help me?”

  “There’s not much I can do,” he replied soberly. “I can’t go against whatever Ms. Figoli decides. No one crosses President Bellomo’s inner circle, especially Gabriella. She and His Excellency have a very special friendship.” His tone was sarcastic. There was clearly more to that story.

  “You don’t like President Bellomo?” I asked, hesitantly, hoping to find some ground to connect with this doctor who might be the only person to help me.

  He scoffed. “Many of us did six years ago when we signed the peace deal with him. What
a deal! We got the Palestinians out of Gaza. We got real peace for the first time since we became a nation again, and best of all, we were able to build the Temple. It was all great, until Bellomo’s prophet set up that foul image of him in the inner sanctuary. It’s an abomination to every God-fearing Jew.”

  Abruptly, he stood up and walked over to the window.

  “Now every one of us is fearful for our lives. Israel’s no longer a safe place for us. President Bellomo has been systematically killing Jews for the last year or so. People just disappear. Those who have special skills, doctors like me, are allowed to live without taking the mark of allegiance, but it’s only a matter of time. Jerusalem has become just like the ghettos of the Holocaust.”

  My thoughts raced. “I know a safe place! There are many who have found refuge there. I could take you!”

  He didn’t move from the window for a few minutes. I started to panic, but then he turned to me. “I’ve heard rumors of that place. They say President Bellomo can’t get in there with his troops, and there’s some weird magnetic frequency preventing satellites or drones from flying over. It’s not something you should be so quick to tell someone about.”

  “We could escape,” I spoke softly, tentatively. A small sliver of hope rose in me. Did I finally have an ally? Could this be a way to actually escape and go back to Petra . . . and to Jannik!

  “I have no family to save.” He sat down on the bed next to me. “There are many rumors about this safe haven. I don’t know if they’re true.”

  I sat up in the bed and put my hand over his. “Oh, they are true! I’ve been there. I was kidnapped and sold to the Institute, but I lived in Petra for over six months.”

  We spoke for quite some time, planning our escape. He planned to recommend a third fertilization attempt. When I returned for a checkup, we would make solid plans.

  I was in the hospital for one more day. Taarini came to escort me back to the Figoli estate.

  “I brought you some things to wear home.” She held out a small duffel bag. “Madam Figoli wants you to join her for lunch before we go there. We’re to meet her at the Rooftop; you know it’s her favorite place!”

  As she talked, she hurried me out of bed and fussed with my clothes and hair. “You’re so lucky to be invited. I’ve never been before, but I’ve read about it. Madam Figoli is so elegant, isn’t she?”

  Taarini chattered on and on while I dressed in the clothes she had brought me. My mind felt heavy and blank as I went through the motions. I didn’t care about Gabriella. I didn’t care about anything except making my escape.

  We left the hospital in a long, dark sedan. The windows were tinted, dimming the blinding sunlight. I leaned back in the seat as the car made its way through the streets of the city. Oddly, the streets were empty. There was no traffic, no crowds.

  “Where are all the people?” I asked Taarini.

  “The Jews,” she spat, “keep rebelling against the Promised One, President Bellomo. The Israeli Defense Forces have been fighting guerilla warfare against the Global Union Army ever since the Promised One declared himself God and built the Global Church on the Temple mount. There was a big battle while you were in hospital, and now remnants of Jews are blockaded into several neighborhoods.”

  “What happened?” I was shocked.

  “A group of them blew up the Global Church. They said only their Temple could stand on the Temple Mount. They killed hundreds of worshippers. So the President declared them terrorists and that’s when the battle started.”

  My head hurt. What else could go wrong?

  “But where are the other people?”

  “The President declared martial law in Jerusalem. Only those with official passes are allowed to leave their homes. The Global Union army is clearing the city of Jews street by street. But don’t worry; they’ve cleared the Old City where we’re going to meet the mistress. The only Jews there are those useful in service.”

  The sedan pulled up to the Hotel Mamilla, one of Gabriella’s favorite places in Jerusalem. A young man ran up to open the back door. Taarini slid out before me. As I was getting out, I heard the sound of a slap and Taarini’s harsh voice, “You filthy Jew! Don’t you dare look me in the eye!”

  I stood up shakily from the car. Taarini had stormed off toward the hotel door. The man, the Jew Taarini must have slapped, still held the door open for me. I lifted my eyes, wanting to give him some sort of apology. When I saw his face, my heart stopped. I froze. Jannik.

  I hardly recognized him. His hair was shaved off, and he was so painfully thin the sight of him wrenched my heart. He was dressed in grey clothing, a blue star embroidered on the left side of his shirt. A red mark highlighted his cheek, but other dark bruises on his face told me he was being roughly treated.

  “Jannik,” I whispered. His eyes met mine for only a second before Taarini’s voice barked at me to join her. I had no choice but to break eye contact and follow her.

  My mind reeled as we entered the cool darkness of the hotel, and I followed Taarini to the bank of elevators. Jannik! How did he get here? How can I help him? And then, What must he think of me, being with the sister of Angelo Cain? Does he think I’ve gone over to their side? I worried about what he might have assumed and wondered how in the world he had come to be here. My thoughts raced.

  We exited the elevator and made our way out to the rooftop restaurant. Breathtaking, expansive views of the Old City showed little signs of the violence and devastation its population was facing in its streets. An old phrase Daphne used to say came to mind as I looked out at the city. The calm before the storm.

  I saw Gabriella before she saw me. She was seated with her brother and was speaking intently to him. Officially, he was known as His Excellency. Besides President Bellomo, he was the most powerful man in the world. I’d seen him long ago at the Temple. That was the day I’d met Jannik. How weird that he and Jannik are both here now. What is going on, God? I felt lightheaded walking in the blaringly hot sun.

  I desperately needed to sit down and have some water. I swayed and Taarini slipped an arm around me. Gabriella noticed the movement and motioned for us to join them. Taarini led me forward.

  “She can sit there,” Gabriella said, indicating the opposite side of the table. I was grateful to slip under the cool shade of the oyster-colored canopy. Using the armrests of the wicker chair to steady myself, I sank into its soft cushions. Taarini poured a glass of water and set it before me.

  “Do you need me any longer, Madam?” she respectfully asked Gabriella.

  “No, thank you, Taarini. You may wait downstairs to escort Dani back to the villa after lunch.” Taarini bowed and left us.

  Although I was thirsty, I kept my hands tightly gripped on the arms of the chair. Gabriella noted my fear and laughed, leaning over to her brother to whisper in his ear. I couldn’t hear what she said, but the tone was mocking.

  “I’ll leave you now, dear one,” Angelo Cain said to his sister. Their lips brushed together too long. Cain ambled off, leaving me alone with Gabriella. She sipped her icy drink for a few moments, eyeing me over the edge.

  “I’ve decided to completely forgive you,” she announced, with a fake smile, “. . . for being unable to get pregnant, I mean. My brother and I have discovered what an impediment Matteo has been. I no longer want to have a child with him, and he and I are divorcing.”

  She gazed at her brother as he got onto the elevator, smiling, “You have done us a favor, actually, Angelo and me.” We’ve decided to cast aside the restraints to our love, and we have you to thank for it. If this surrogate pregnancy disaster had never happened, I might never have known the consolation and joy Angelo has brought me.”

  I was revolted, but I kept my face emotionless. My childhood had prepared me well to know the best way to survive among ruthless, evil people.

  Smiling brightly, she held her hand out to me. Cautiously, I placed my left hand in hers. She squeezed it gently but didn’t let go. “I have a gift for you,” s
he confided, pulling my hand up and sliding on a silver bracelet. Ornate letters were etched on its surface in a language I didn’t recognize. I traced the words with my other hand.

  “It means, ‘Blessed be the fruit.’ Angelo and I have decided to start our own family. Of course, we want you to carry our baby. We need a third partner to avoid any genetic mutations. He said you look so much like me that we should use your genetic material.”

  No. I thought. No, no, no. Gabriella kept talking. She and Angelo wanted a large family to carry out their dynastic plans. I was going to continue to be used and imprisoned. With all of the trauma I had experienced, I was numb to the news.

  My mind should have been horrified, but all I could think of was Jannik. With that one look, I had gained a will to live. He’s here! I know he’s here for me. I thought about the look on his face for that one moment. Please, God, make that true and help us escape, I prayed over and over.

  Gabriella and Angelo Cain could make their plans, but Jannik was alive, and I would make mine.

  FLOOD

  Chapter 44

  You are the LORD God, who chose Abram and brought him out from Ur of the Chaldees and gave him the name Abraham.

  Nehemiah 9:7

  Soon after our arrival, we were invited to the palace for a celebratory feast. I was quite surprised I had been invited, given the past history, but I reluctantly went along to Serug’s palace. He was responsible for Nua’s death and kidnapping Abram all those years ago, but Terah would be at the feast, along with the children of his second wife—Sarai’s brothers, Nahor and Haran—and their families.

  The sprawling palace was perched alongside the Euphrates River, far enough back from its banks to be safe from flooding. As we drew nearer, I observed a few snowy-breasted eagles lazily flying in circles near the water’s edge.

  I didn’t want to say anything critical about Abram’s family, but as we got closer to the palace, I felt waves of foreboding wash over me. My spirit recoiled as we passed through the gateway, and I felt the too familiar evil of the Magistrate simmering about us. The evil of the Nephilim, those half-human, fallen angel spirits, inhabited any god or idol the devil could fool people into believing. I’d seen it happen throughout my long life, called by so many names. I knew the familiar foreboding when I felt it.