Ark

  “Well, of course you do,” said Jim. That’s the deal, isn’t it?”

  “I guess,” said Lou. “So you’re done with that gig? When are you coming back?”

  “Can I take the weekend to get to know my family again? I plan to come back on Monday if that’s okay.”

  “That’ll be great! Be ready to start cranking out work, though. The city liked our Super Sunday promotion so much they want us to handle all their work.”

  “Really?” said Jim.

  “Yeah, and apparently they put out the word. Now SEPTA wants us to handle all their transit promotion. Bus cards and shit like that.”

  Jim was thrilled to hear they’d be busy. It was exactly what he needed to bring him back to reality.

  Lou never asked about the exact nature of the work Jim had done while he was away, but that wasn’t much of a surprise. The Raftworks was much richer because of Jim’s freelance venture.

  Jim hung up the phone and looked at his wife. “Good news all around, I guess.”

  For Jim, the best news of all was the open acceptance and love that Kas showed him. She didn’t even ask him about the work he’d done. That night Stephie stayed overnight with friends and Kas dragged her husband off to bed at the earliest opportunity. They made love three times.

  “I missed you so much, Kas,” said Jim. “You’ll never know how much.”

  “Oh, I knew it,” she said. “I could tell you were lonely. I could hear it in your voice when we talked on the phone.”

  “You could? You never worried about me?”

  “Of course I worried,” said Kas as she ran her fingers lightly across Jim’s bare chest. “I worried about you a lot. You sounded pretty stressed at times.”

  “Did I? You didn’t say.”

  “Well,” said Kas. “I knew it would upset you more if I said anything.”

  Jim hugged her. “You’re right. I would have worried about you worrying about me.”

  “I guess that’s the way love is,” said Kas.

  Jim looked into his wife’s deep brown eyes, so full of love and gladness at his being home again.

  “Thank God,” he said.

  As they fell asleep Jim said a prayer, but for the first time in his life he wasn’t asking for favors or help. He just wanted to express his gratitude.

  #

  Jim and Kas lolled away the rest of the weekend at home.

  Jim made several phone calls to old friends, particularly Dan Slater. Dan was busy getting established in his new job in Philly. He said he’d found a house in Media, Pennsylvania, not far from where Jim lived.

  During their conversation Dan mentioned the ark. “I heard you were out of town for a while, down in New Mexico with those characters who wanted to rebuild the ark. Anything come of that?”

  “Not as far as I can say,” said Jim.

  “That’s a shame,” said Dan. “I thought you guys really had something there.”

  Jim changed the subject; asking Dan about the house he’d found. “So, how big’s the backyard in this new place of yours?”

  Jim’s tactic was successful. Dan was more than glad to discuss his plans for a new garage and maybe even a pool. Thankfully, Dan didn’t mention the ark again.

  By Monday Jim was rested and relatively back to normal. He arrived at the Raftworks Studio before eight that morning to catch up on paperwork and mail before Lou came in. Lou came in at nine with Donna, the temp, close on his heels.

  “I figured Donna ought to come in to clean up last week’s loose ends,” said Lou.

  “We can certainly afford it,” replied Jim. He looked at the stack of mail that had accumulated on a table near his computer. “Sheesh,” he said. “Amazing how much mail there is. It’ll take me the morning at least to wade through it.”

  Lou stood nearby as Jim sat down and opened up his computer. His startup screen image of Kas and Stephie warmed him with its familiar glow. “Ahhhh, back to technology.”

  “You didn’t use a computer in Los Alamos?” asked Donna.

  “Not so much,” responded Jim, trying not to sound too cagey. “Don’t worry, I spent plenty of time staring at Mac screens. There’s no escaping them these days.”

  Donna snapped her gum. “Yaaa, that’s a fact.”

  Lou, standing behind her, rolled his eyes.

  Jim smiled. “It’s really good to be back. Tell you what, Donna, if you want to run around the corner for three joes and some danish, I’ll spring for it.”

  Donna smiled and snapped her gum again. “Shurr,” she said in a thick Philly accent.

  “I’ll check my E-mail and when you get back you can finish up what you were working on.”

  “Kewl,” she said when Jim gave her a five. Then she skipped out of the room.

  After the door slammed, Lou let out a gasp. “I promise you, Jim, she’s a good designer and a whiz at Quark but...”

  “Oh, you loved every minute it!” interrupted Jim. “It’s great to have her here. I missed the Philly accent.”

  Lou nodded. “Says she’s from Fifth and Shunk.”

  The phone rang and Lou ran to answer it. Jim clicked his mouse and connected his modem. The very first message was from Kas. “I didn’t show you my new blue nightie!” it said, followed by a string of X’s and O’s.

  “Thanks again, God,” said Jim as he settled into reading the rest of his mail.

  The rest of the day was just as pleasant. By noon Donna had finished the brochure she’d been working on and moved to another spare computer in the rear of the studio where she worked her digital magic in stereo headphones turned up so loud that Lou could hear them in the front room.

  Jim was amused. It seemed that nothing could go wrong that day, and when he packed his briefcase to leave that evening he’d even managed to cut into a fair piece of the week’s work.

  The next day was much the same. With the extra work coming in Lou and Jim decided to keep Donna on staff. There was no denying that her vitality balanced the mood at the Raftworks very well.

  The rest of the week sped by and before Jim knew it he was grabbing his keys to lock the Raftworks. Surprisingly, Lou hadn’t probed Jim about the work he did at Los Alamos. Once he did say that something had happened “while you were off doing that jewelry catalog,” which was his earliest cover story. Now everything seemed back to normal and the Los Alamos gig was ancient history.

  Every so often something would jog his memory, though, and he’d find himself remembering Gene and wondering what, if anything, came of Thunderbolt. He’d been content to leave just when things were getting interesting, but now his curiosity was beginning to return.

  Just as Jim’s fingers touched the doorknob to leave the studio, the phone rang. Lou and Donna had already left and Jim remembered that he’d forgotten to switch on the answer/fax.

  Jim picked up the phone. It was Aaron. “Is that you, Jim?” he said in a distressed voice.

  “Aaron?” said Jim. “What’s up? Good to hear from you.”

  “Maybe not,” said Aaron quietly. “Have you seen the news?”

  “No. What?”

  Aaron told Jim to take down his number and then he said he had to go. “Marta sends her regards,” he added. “After you’ve seen the news, when you have a chance, give me a call, okay?”

  “Can’t you tell me what’s up?”

  “I’d rather not talk now, Jim,” said Aaron. Then he added, “Call me tonight at that number. I’m not at John's, by the way.”

  The journey home from work was a typical parking lot all the way to City Avenue. He walked into the house just at the end of the evening news. As if on cue the announcer said: “To repeat our top story. Still no word on the source of the mysterious explosion that rocked the desert south of Los Alamos.”

  Jim stood in the doorway with his jaw agape, staring at the TV.

  Kas saw Jim standing in the hallway and called to him. “What would you say to going to Great Safari tomorrow? They’re having a family special and we can finally
afford it.”

  Jim didn’t hear her. “Sure.”

  He stood there for a while, long enough to draw Kas’ attention. “Are you sure, Jim? Hey, what’s the matter?”

  “Did you happen to catch the news?” he asked, walking into the kitchen where Kas was tossing a salad for dinner.

  “Did something happen? You look as though you’ve seen a ghost.”

  “I’m not sure,” said Jim, trying not to sound too alarmed. “There was some kind of explosion near Los Alamos.”

  “Well, isn’t that a coincidence? You just came back from there. Didn’t you say that you were shooting jewelry or something out in the desert?” Kas was just making small talk. While she spoke she was moving things onto the table for dinner. “I found a great little sausage store downtown,” she said. “I couldn’t resist the Hawaiian sausage. I hope you like it.”

  Jim sniffed the air. “It smells great,” he said, forcing himself to react normally. “Um, I heard that Gene and John Wilcox were out in the desert south of Los Alamos working on some project.”

  “Really?” said Kas, folding napkins. She walked to the sliding screen door that led to the back yard. “Stephie ... dinner!”

  Jim went back to the living room and switched to the all news channel. The anchorman was superimposed on a brown and orange map of New Mexico. Next to his head was a red graphic of an explosion and the words “Los Alamos.”

  “No word yet on the source of the mysterious explosion that lit up the predawn skies of northern New Mexico,” said the announcer. “While the U.S. Military remains mum, speculation on the nature of the explosion ranges from a nuclear accident to a secret munitions test. CBN has contacted the State Department and the Los Alamos Police but still can’t find a knowledgeable witness.”

  “My God,” said Jim.

  He thought of Gene and the people he worked with at Los Alamos, and in the next moment he saw them all frozen in yellow light as they gazed into the fireball that had only moments before been the Tabernacle of the Ark. He saw them; Gene, John and his father, the soldiers, even Mr. Megabyte, as they vaporized instantly in the fiery blossom of death that consumed the entire complex.

  Jim was seated on the sofa, sweat pouring from his body. How he got there, he wasn’t sure. Softly, as if from a great distance, the word echoed in his mind. “Remember.”

  Kas entered the room. “Dinner will be in a few minutes, darling,” she said cheerfully. She paused and looked at the TV. “I wonder what happened. I hope Gene is okay.”

  She turned to walk back to the kitchen. Then she stopped and turned back to look at him. “Wait a minute,” she said. “They were all involved in that ark thing of yours, weren’t they? Is that what this is about?”

  “Maybe. I don’t know,” said Jim.

  Jim could feel her eyes on the back of his head.

  “Were you out there on the ark project?” she said. “Is that what you were doing?”

  “I’m just an artist, Kas. Why would they need me?”

  Once it had been fairly easy for Jim to bend the truth. Not that he was a liar. Jim never lied if he could avoid it. But there were times ...

  Now the person he loved and trusted the most was asking him a direct question.

  Jim bit his lip as he said, “I told you what I was doing. Besides, if they were ever going to build the thing they wouldn’t need me there. My work on that was done long ago. I don’t know what this is about.”

  “Well,” said Kas, “the potatoes are nearly done. Stephie’s washing up. You should do the same.”

  #

  Jim managed to eat, although he didn’t have seconds.

  Kas stared at him when he refused dessert. “I’m sorry,” he said, “I’ll have some later.”

  Jim excused himself and went to the bathroom, where he sat down on the closed toilet and shook. His jaw clenched, as did his fists. Like a physical affliction, the shaking spread through his body. Finally it abated, leaving him covered in sweat.

  He knew he had to call Aaron. Jim found the note with Aaron’s number in his shirt pocket, slightly damp from perspiration. He picked up the bathroom extension carefully and listened to see if Stephie was using it. Finding the line clear he dialed the number. It rang four times before a woman answered.

  Jim recognized Marta’s accent. “Brownstein residence,” she said cautiously.

  “It’s Jim. Is Aaron there?”

  “Jim? Jim Wilson?”

  “Yes, Marta. That is you, isn’t it?” said Jim.

  “Oh, Jim,” she said, her voice cracking with emotion, “I’m so afraid.”

  “You’re talking about the news from Los Alamos? Why are you afraid?”

  “They killed them all.” She began to sob.

  “Can I talk to Aaron? Is he there?”

  “Yes,” she said. The phone rattled as Marta put it down.

  A moment later Aaron picked it up. “Jim?”

  “I saw the news, Aaron,” said Jim. “I can’t talk long. What’s going on?”

  “I left John’s employ. And, as far as I know her went back to LA for another test. I think they were killed.”

  “You mean Gene and John?”

  “Everyone. They’re all dead. I know it!”

  Jim refused to accept what Aaron was telling him. “Calm down, Aaron. What are you afraid of? Who killed them?”

  “The ... gov ... I can’t say over the phone.”

  “You think that the government nuked the site?”

  “Yes.”

  Jim thought for a moment. “Calm down, Aaron,” he said. “I don’t think that’s true. I’m not sure. I mean it’s just a feeling I have. Listen, just sit tight, relax and keep watching the news. I’ll call you from the studio tomorrow.”

  Jim flushed the toilet for the sake of authenticity, then left the bathroom. As soon as he hung up he started to feel queasy. He couldn’t erase the image in his mind of the fireball consuming his friends in Los Alamos. Was it a real vision or just his active imagination? For the rest of the evening he sat in front of the TV in the rec room watching CBN, but no more information was revealed.

  The next morning Jim rose early and went to the front walk for the newspaper. The story had made the front page of the Philadelphia Inquirer: “Mystery Blast Mystifies Southwest.” He walked into the house reading the story. Kas called to him from the upstairs window. “Jim, can you walk Woolsey?”

  The dog was scratching at Stephie’s door where he’d spent the night. Jim started the coffee machine, then got the dog’s leash. By the time Kas had showered and dressed he had walked the dog and had his coffee. She came down the stairs to find him standing at the front door ready to leave.

  “Where are you going? It’s Saturday.”

  “I have a little work to do at the Raftworks. I’ll be back this afternoon.”

  “But Stephie’s softball team is having a tournament today. You can’t miss that.”

  Jim got the details from Kas and promised to go directly to the park after work. “I’ll make it. I promise,” he said, giving his wife a hug. “I just have some cleanup and filing to do and I don’t want to do it Monday. We have a busy week scheduled.”

  Jim got to the Raftworks at ten. He was beginning to feel like a sneak and a liar. Just to bring some truth to his actions, he busied himself until noon cleaning the studio.

  At precisely twelve o’clock Jim called Aaron. Aaron answered immediately. Once he was sure it was Jim, he asked, “Why are you so sure the government didn’t do this?”

  “It may sound silly,” said Jim, “but I had a vision. I saw the explosion. It came from the ark.”

  “You’re sure of that?”

  “Of course not. How can I be sure? I said I just ‘feel’ sure. I can’t explain it better than that.”

  “Marta thinks they’ll find us all and kill us too,” said Aaron, almost in a whisper.

  “If so, we’d probably be dead already,” argued Jim. “All our names were listed on the Thund ... on the project
roster. They know who we are.”

  “That’s my point.”

  “Look, Aaron, I talked to the General and he dismissed me, but I’m not sure that his superiors knew that anyone left the project. For all they know we were killed too. Besides, the General and I discussed the secrecy issue. Who’d believe our story if we tried to tell it?”

  Aaron considered what Jim said. “All the same, I’m taking my money and moving to Switzerland.”

  Jim was going to ask Aaron where he was staying, but considering Aaron’s current paranoid disposition, he decided against it. “Call me again next week. Say, noon on Wednesday. Okay?”

  Aaron agreed and disconnected.

  Jim leaned back in his chair and stared at his blank computer screen. He called Gene’s home. The answering machine made an odd sound but wouldn’t take a message. From experience Jim knew that it was full of messages. Next he tried John’s home in Mount Kisco. No one there either. He assumed that Aaron was staying with his family somewhere.

  There was nothing to do but wait.

  #

  Stephie’s team won their tournament six games out of seven. Some irate parent protested that Stephie’s team were older kids. Some of the parents got so angry that a scuffle broke out between two fathers. When the fight broke out Jim hustled Kas and his daughter away from the field.

  On the way home Stephie was singing “We are the Champions” while she crowed about her victory and rebuked the losers.

  Halfway home Jim exploded in anger. “What’s the matter with people?” he said. “What’s happened to sportsmanship? This damned winner-or-loser mentality is a sickness.”

  Stephie was confused and hurt. “But we won, daddy. All the other families are proud of their kids.”

  “Aww, Steph, I didn’t mean that. I’m very proud of you, and you have every reason to be proud of your team. I’m just saying that if you’d lost and tried as hard as possible to win, you’d have just as much reason to be proud. Winning and losing isn’t that important.”

  “I don’t understand what you mean,” said Stephie.