by J. J. Wilder
There was a grinding snarl, and the earth shivered beneath us, the ground itself expanding and pushing skyward so forcefully that the ark swayed on its creaking support frame, and in the distance an onager hee-hawed anxiously, its braying echoed by the blattering of a frightened goat and the worried squawking of chickens. The wind howled fiercely, battering and blowing in the darkness.
I did not sleep, all that night. Nor any night thereafter.
I found myself wandering farther and farther from the house and the ark, as work on the vessel slowed to completion. Supplies were laid in: stores of food in improbable quantity, barrels of water and barrels of wine, candles and rush torches by the hundreds—the result of work Zara, Sedele, Neses, and Ne’eletama had been doing for well over a year, if not more.
There were cages in the lower level meant for smaller animals like cats and rodents and birds and bugs and monkeys, giant stalls in the mid level, with half of the uppermost deck nearest the ceiling partitioned into bedrooms and storerooms, and the other half filled with more stalls, these not so large as the ones on the middle level, which was the largest open space in the vessel. Running the entire perimeter of the ark, just beneath the ceiling was an opening one cubit high, allowing in light and air; on one side of the vessel was a doorway in the very center of the boat, leading to the middle level. The doorway was tall enough and wide enough to allow the largest animals through, although the door itself was so large and unwieldy that I was unsure how even all four men working together would be able to close and seal it.
I had yet to see a single animal, aside from those that were part of Noah’s flocks. The wind continued to howl as with the voice of an animal, and the earth rumbled and shook, yet over our heads the skies remained blue and clear. In the east, however, the black clouds roiled and menaced, thunder quaking and grumbling, rain blowing in sheets visible from miles away.
On the morning the ark was finished, I departed before dawn, bringing with me a wineskin and a rind of cheese. Noah and all his family were bustling about with renewed fervor, ferrying back and forth from the house to the ark, now emptying the long, low-roofed structure of personal belongings. Even Japheth was distracted and did not notice me as I walked away.
Across the now-fallow western field I went, stepping over the furrows of brown, sun-dried soil. The field gave way to the waist-high grass, the high northern hills before me. An hour or more I walked, until I reached the hills, and then up into them I hiked, until I reached an outcropping of rock some hundreds of feet above the earth. I sat upon a rock, ate the cheese, drank from the wineskin, and stared out at the land.
From this vantage point, I could see for many, many miles, all of Noah’s fields now fallow—the northern field, the western, the eastern, and the southern, with the long low house in the center of them all and the ark beside it, dwarfing the little house. Beyond laid green rolling hills and then more squares of farmland. I could see a thin brown line snaking its way between them—the highway leading to Bad-Tibira.
I had not thought of Father in months, nor Sin-Iddim, or any of my brothers. If this flood happened, they would all die. They would be swept away. They would have no clue what was coming. Their lives would continue as they ever had; my brothers, perhaps, would be in the city beyond the palace, whoring and dicing, as was their practice. Father would be in his throne room, hearing complaints, deciding cases, or conspiring with his generals. The people in the palace would be scurrying to and fro importantly, and in the city life would be bustling onward, people loving, hating, lying together, arguing, selling, buying, trading, children crying, old ones dying. They would be praying to Inanna and Enlil and Ereshkigal and the hundreds and thousands of other gods, their prayers rising up to the deaf heavens.
Did El hear their prayers, if they did not speak or think His name? I think not, if the flood was meant to wipe them all away. If I prayed to Him now, would he hear my prayer? I was a Nephilim. I was that which He was wiping from the earth. Why would He hear me?
Elohim . . . El Shaddai . . . do you hear me? Does my prayer reach your ears? What is my lot in this life? Am I meant to die?
The skies remained silent. The wind blew, and the earth rumbled, but Noah’s God did not speak to me.
I sat on that rock until the sun sank low, and I did not hear the Voice of God.
I was woken by a droplet of cold on my forehead. I stretched and sat up, a rush of dizziness washing over me as I realized I was still perched on the outcropping of rock, a fall of hundreds of cubits below me should I slip . . . I’d fallen asleep. It was just before dawn, yet after the darkest hours of night, the sky just light enough to let me see the mountain behind me, and the fields below and before me, and the shape of the ark in the distance.
Another droplet spattered on my forehead; I looked up and saw darkness, an absence of stars, a total blackness that writhed and moiled. Bright white light flashed beside me, blinding me and searing images of white and black on the backs of my eyelids. Then, a moment later, the heavens cracked apart with a shattering sound, as if the mountain was fracturing beneath me. Another droplet, and another.
I blinked in the darkness. Far to the west, another flash of lightning burst across the sky, a zagging jag of white-purple that illuminated the whole earth for a fragment of a second. In that moment, I saw the ark, as clearly as if it were a bright, clear noontime.
Moving up to the ark, toward the doorway on the far side from where I sat, was a thick dark line. It was hard to make out details from this distance, especially in the pre-dawn dark of a stormy morning, but it was obvious what I was seeing. Animals, making their way onto the ark.
Another flash of lightning illuminated the earth, and I saw a giant animal, tall and wide and gray, with a long nose and flapping, twitching ears, beside it another, identical to it. I heard the roar of a tiger, and the chittering of a monkey. Above the ark, birds flew in a wheeling cloud of spiraling confusion, pairs and pairs and pairs, no two pairs the same, birds of all sizes, from the largest soaring hawks to the smallest frantic sparrows.
A spatter of raindrops pattered on my head, and then more fell, wetting my shoulder. Thunder billowed to the north, a long rolling boil of angry sound. Lightning again, southwest. Then again, northeast. I climbed higher, then, until I could see in all directions. As I pivoted in place, spinning from north to west to south to east, I saw flickers and flashes and spears and jags of lightning in every direction, bolts striking so close they cast shadows on the earth, and others so distant they seemed like the flicker of a candle. Thunder, always thunder, a continuous roll of noise, a wall of sound from every direction, thunder so constant now that it shook my bones, shook the very earth under my feet. The mountain quaked, rocks toppling and jumping and avalanching. And, in intermittent bursts, a cold rain, hints of the deluge to come.
As a girl, I remembered when a storm struck suddenly. I was playing in one of the gardens, my mother nearby. The sun was shining, the sky blue, not a cloud to be seen. And then, with a suddenness that confused my young mind, clouds flew like a flock of ravens to blot out the sun, and the winds kicked up. I felt a drop of rain and then two and then a dozen, and then thousands, too many to count, a wall of rain cascading from the heavens. My mother hurried me into the palace and we stood in the doorway watching the rain, listening to the thunder. The moment right before the rains opened up, that moment was one I remembered vividly. The rain had begun slowly, and then picked up force so swiftly.
I had that same feeling now, standing on the mountaintop, lightning flashing in every direction, thunder all around . . . except magnified a millionfold from that time as a little girl. My heart hammered in my chest, and my blood panicked in my veins.
I did not want to be here, on this mountain, when the rains came.
I did not want to die.
Spare me, Elohim. Spare me, God of Noah.
I heard no voice, only that of thunder.
My feet scrambling on the rock face, I descended the mountain, and when I reached flat gr
ound, I ran, the skirt of my dress caught up around my thighs.
I ran, thunder crashing all around, droplets of rain striking like hail, fat and thick and hard.
I ran through the waist-high grasses, across the fallow fields, into the clearing around the ark, and the forgotten house. I stood some distance away, in the open, awed.
The earth was alive with movement. Creatures of all sizes were gathered in a stomping, snorting, bucking, snarling, hawing, keening mass. The doorway stood open, the ramp down, facing the far southern fields and the open meadow beyond, and in that space, a teeming throng of wildlife.
Every animal was there, jumbled and bumping together, tiny things skittering between legs and darting around hooves, tails whipping, teeth snapping. The air buzzed with life, hummed with the vibrancy of animal energy. I saw cows, aurochs, horses, onagers, long-necked, long-legged spotted things I had no name for, things that crawled on the ground with shaggy squat legs and an impossibly long nose, animals like lions but smaller, and things like the little leaping palace court monkeys except much larger. The noise was cacophonous, a bewildering assault of whinnies and brays and snarls and roars and moans and lows and chitters and chatters, chickens clucking and eagles keening and ravens haw-haw-hawing and goats blatting and so many noises and sounds I could not separate one from the other.
They teemed and boiled in the open space before the ark, but no animal disturbed another, though there was much snapping and jostling for space. Lions paced beside gazelles, teeth bared and snarling in staccato bursts. The throng crowded and moved and shifted, and those animals nearest the ramp hopped and leaped and stalked onto it, two by two, a male and a female, and as soon as there was room, the next pair of animals ascended the ramp.
There was no shepherd, no one guiding them. Noah was standing near the ramp but well away; watching with as much awe as I. Beside him, Zara clung to his waist, hand over her mouth, eyes wide. Shem and his wife Sedele, and Ham and his wife Ne’eletama were nearby as well, all watching the parade of life as it marched onto the ark.
I had an errant thought: neither Shem and Sedele nor Ham and Ne’eletama had children, yet it was clear both couples had been married for several years; a curiosity, one for which I had no answer.
Japheth was missing, and I cast my glance around the clearing, searching for him.
I saw him, after a moment, crouched in the narrow space beneath the belly of the boat, between the framework and the vessel it supported. He caught my eye, and gestured to me. I went to him, crouching near him; from this angle, the ramp blocked Noah’s view of us.
“Hide here,” Japheth told me. “When the animals have all boarded, my father and the others will join them. After the last animal has gone aboard the ark, make your way on after them. Hide in the lowest level. There is a space I have found, where the cages and stalls have left a gap near the prow of the boat. There is a space large enough for you. I have left food and water and a robe. You will be safe there.”
I stared at him. “Sneak aboard?” I shook my head. “I will not hide in the belly of this boat like a rat in the corner of a storeroom, Japheth.”
“It is the only way,” he insisted. “My father would not even discuss it with me. I have prayed without ceasing and have had no answer. I offered a bullock to El, and prayed for you to be spared, and received only silence.”
“Perhaps the silence is your god’s answer,” I whispered, my voice shaky.
He grabbed my arms and shook me. “I will not let you die, Aresia. Not like this.” He cast his eyes heavenward. “If that is His answer, then perhaps He is not my God.”
I cupped his cheek. “He is your God, Japheth. Do not cast aside your belief for me.” I shook my head. “I will not hide.”
“Please, Aresia.” He moved out of the space and knelt before me. “Please. You have to. It is the only way.”
I stepped away. “No, Japheth. I will not hide.”
He visibly held back tears. “I will wait. I will wait until the door is sealed, and when it is, I will go to the lowest level and seek you out. Please, Aresia. Don’t throw your life away.”
I sat down on the felled tree that served as the support base of the ark’s framework. “Go, Japheth. Do not wait. Just go. Be with your family. Be . . . be with Neses. She loves you, and you know that. She will make a good wife.”
He backed away, shaking his head, anger clouding his expression. He opened his mouth as if to speak, but found no words. His jaw snapped closed, and he whirled on a heel and marched away, anger in the hard lines of his posture.
I watched him walk away, and when he was gone I collapsed. Tears dripped down my chin as I watched him depart. I wanted to go with him, to cling to him, to tell him I loved him. But yet I knew if Noah discovered Japheth had snuck me aboard, irreparable damage would be done to their still-fragile relationship. Noah had always been clear about the numbers of humans who could go on this journey, and that number had never included me.
So, with tears in my eyes, I watched the animals climb aboard the ark, two by two, from the largest prowling lions and swaying, grumbling bears to the tiniest rabbits and pink-tailed mice. Insects whirred and hopped, wings coruscating in the intermittent flashes of lightning. Two by two, and two by two. For hours, it continued. Behind me, the ark vibrated with noise, echoing with hoof clops and animal snarls.
Lightning streaked across the sky in a million blinding flashes, and thunder rolled incessantly, and beneath me the earth shook like a pebble in a child’s cupped hands. Rain still dribbled intermittently, splats and splatters here and there, as if the sky was pregnant with rain, a woman nearing her time, labor pains lancing nonstop, the babe crowning, but the moment of birth not yet come.
Tension crackled. I felt it, felt my hairs standing on end, all along my arms and the back of my neck. Vibrations quaked under the soles of my feet, rumblings shivering in my belly. I looked up, and the sky was a seething black whirlpool, laced with lightning like cracks in the fabric of the sky.
I watched, and I watched, and finally, the last pair of creatures waddled aboard the ark, a giant fat pink sow and a hairy thick-tusked boar, their beady eyes glinting and their snorts coming quick and nervous.
Shem, Ham, Japheth, Zara, Neses, Sedele, and Ne’eletama were all aboard the ark long since. Only Noah and I remained outside.
Noah strode out into the meadow just beyond the ramp, now churned into mud. He stopped a dozen paces from the ramp, raised his arms to the sky, head tipped back, long silvering black hair blown horizontal in the raging wind, his beard flattened against his side and trailing under one arm. A bolt of lightning sizzled down from the heavens, striking the mud at Noah’s feet. Another bolt struck behind him, and again to his left, and then his right.
Thunder crashed directly overhead, so loud and close my eardrums ached and my stomach tumbled inside me.
Again, and again, and again, lightning struck all around Noah, until the air around him was a blinding torus of purple-blue-white, pure fire, pure light. The thunder detonated, rattling my bones in my skin, booming and booming and booming.
I could just barely make out Noah’s form inside the blazing ring of light, his arms stretched high over his head. He was at peace, unafraid. The thunder boomed in a rhythm, crashed in a syntactic pattern and became a voice.
A Voice.
His Voice.
I huddled against the side of the ark, weeping in abject terror, as the lightning seared and the thunder cracked and the whole earth shook, as if straining at the seams.
I heard the voice of El speaking in the howl of the wind, in the sizzle of the lightning, in the crash of the thunder, and I knew His Voice . . . but His words were not meant for me.
I heard Him, but I could not understand.
I wept, and I wept, and I wept.
After a time without measure, the lightning ceased to strike and to spin, the thunder faded into distant rumbles, and the presence of El receded.
Noah strode aboard the ark, his sta
ff in his hands. He paused at the top of the ramp, and he cast his eyes down to where I hid, huddled against the belly of the ark.
He saw me.
His flesh radiated, the glory of El Shaddai staining his skin luminescent.
He saw me, and I felt the sorrow in his gaze. His eyes swept across the land, from east to west, and I thought perhaps his gaze saw all the lands and all the peoples therein, all the lives in the cities, all the souls awaiting their deaths.
In that moment, Noah saw them all, and his sorrow was for them. His gaze swept across the earth and came to rest once more upon me.
Now his sorrow was for me.
14
The Windows Of Heaven
“. . . On that day all the fountains of the great deep burst forth, and the windows of the heavens were opened.” Genesis 7:11 (NLT)
A single crack of thunder, so loud my ears rang and I was rendered deaf.
In the moment of that peal of thunder, the skies opened. Heaven was cracked open upon the command of Elohim, and the rains descended. Rain so thick I could not see my hand in front of my face. Rain so dense, so hard, so fierce that the sound of the waters pouring from heaven was a roar so great and so mighty my bones shook from the violence.
The shaking from within the earth intensified, the ground rattling audibly, and the rumbling changed and deepened, the shaking became violent, and then ceased. The rains roared unending, but the rumbling from below had been so ever present for so many days that its absence was a deafening silence.
The quiet did not last for long.
The sound I heard then defies human language. It sent the ark to swaying on its supports, and the sound knocked me to the ground. It was a wall of noise, so all consuming, deafening, violent, and vengeful that I was compelled to flatten myself to the ground before it. All the earth heard it, then.
The shaking, the trembling, the rattling in the earth was gone, and now I heard a new sound, a new roaring, as of a lion prowling the floor of heaven, a lion so great it could swallow the earth in one gulp.