Wives of the Flood

by Vaughn Heppner

“Into my room?” asked Japheth.

  “No,” Gaea said. “That was a mistake. You admit that, don’t you, Ham?”

  “I told him I was sorry the first day it happened,” Ham said.

  Gaea bobbed her head. “Forgiveness is important, Japheth.”

  “He’s forgiven,” Japheth said with a wave of his hand.

  “That isn’t very convincing,” Gaea said.

  Japheth threw up his hands. “Must I bow down to him? Will that satisfy honor?”

  Gaea, a stern-eyed woman with strong forearms, leaned across the table. “I don’t want that kind of tone from you. This is a serious matter.”

  Japheth glanced up to meet her gaze. He had stared at the table until now. “The Ark drives all of us mad. I realize that. My room and even more my volume are my sanctuary. He invaded it and even called me a liar over words I’d written.”

  “Is that true?” Gaea asked.

  Ham shrugged.

  “I asked you a question,” Gaea said.

  “I was sweating,” Ham said.

  “What are you talking about?”

  Ham told her about the entry when the Ark had scraped across mountain rocks and they thought the ship might be holed.

  “We were all terrified that day,” Gaea said.

  “I wasn’t crying,” insisted Ham.

  Gaea exhaled. “What does it matter?”

  “Matter?” Ham asked. “Because it’s a—”

  “Hold!” Gaea said. “You’d better think very carefully what you say now, Ham. This is a serious thing, as I’ve said. We go to start a new world. Hatred is not welcomed in it. Cain hated Abel and slew him because of it. I do not want to lose my sons the same way. We are starting over and becoming like Adam and Eve. Maybe we can rid the world of war this time around, but only if we restrain hatred.”

  “That’s idealistic,” Japheth said. “And therefore it is unrealistic.”

  “Perhaps,” Gaea said. “But you two will train two thirds of humanity. Will you each teach them to hate one third of it?”

  “We’re not talking about that,” Ham said.

  “Not yet,” Gaea said. “But unsolved rage soon descends there. That is why you must think carefully, Ham. Could a tear perhaps have fallen from your eye that day?”

  Ham shrugged, scowling.

  “I implore you, Japheth,” Gaea said. “I implore you to forgive your brother.”

  Japheth twisted his mouth in the manner that said he was thinking. After a time he nodded. “I forgive you. I’m sorry I lunged at you.”

  Ham took the proffered hand. “Maybe my eyes watered and you took literary license in writing that.”

  “Maybe so,” Japheth said.

  “Good,” Gaea said. “Now help me with the dishes.”

  21.

  Two weeks later and at the family table as they sipped hot broth in lieu of dessert, Japheth broached an idea. “I’ve been wondering about the new world and the animals we’ve brought across from the old.”

  “Eh?” Noah asked.

  “Is there a need for dragons, sabertooth cats and lions?” Japheth asked. “Why don’t we kill these particular animals and insure greater safety for humanity?”

  “Kill the baby dragons?” Rahab asked.

  “They aren’t really babies,” Japheth said. “Those sharp teeth…” He shook his head. “I hate them both. Sometimes I give their cage a good kick.”

  “You shouldn’t do that,” Noah said. “They might remember that and take it out on you later.”

  “That’s exactly what I’m talking about,” Japheth said. “Let’s kill the dangerous beasts and make the Earth a safer place.”

  “No,” Gaea said. “That’s a bad idea.”

  “Why?”

  “Jehovah brought them aboard,” she said. “Who then are we to kill them off?”

  “Maybe Jehovah is testing our wisdom,” Japheth said.

  “No,” Noah said. “I agree with your mother. It might seem like the safer thing to do. But Jehovah wanted them kept alive. Thus, we’ll keep them alive.” He poked the table with his finger. “Don’t kick the dragon cage. If you can’t stand them, ignore them. They’re Ham’s responsibility; let him take care of them.”

  Ham grunted and took another sip of broth. The dragons were dangerous. Japheth was right about that. The female had almost taken off his hand three weeks ago. Ever since then, he had taken greater care around her. But maybe the dragon had snapped because Japheth had kicked the cage.

  Japheth said, “I still think we should consider the idea.”

  Noah shook his head, and there the matter ended… for the moment.

  22.

  For the rest of his life Ham remembered exactly what he was doing when it happened. He turned to Rahab as they walked down the corridor to their room. It was after supper, and Japheth had told everyone they had been aboard the Ark for five mouths or one hundred and fifty days. Ham turned to Rahab and commented on the red ribbon she had tied in her hair.

  “It looks perfect on you,” he said.

  She opened her mouth to reply. Ham noticed her white teeth and moving tongue but suddenly he couldn’t hear what she said. There came a dreadful grinding and groaning as timbers protested. In seconds, the noise became deafening. The shiver under their feet became a vicious shaking and lumber screamed.

  Ham stared at Rahab, she stared back at him and they flew into each other’s arms.

  The terrible groaning, the grind, the roar and bedlam quit. Just like that. There was silence, stillness and a lack of the ever-present sway. Motion had ceased.

  “We’re grounded,” he croaked.

  “Grounded?” she whispered.

  “Grounded!” he shouted. He leaped past her, pounding down the corridor.

  “Ham, wait for me.”

  He didn’t. Panic threatened as he ducked around corners and raced down the passageway. The Ark didn’t groan or the planks creak. The giant barge didn’t sway, pitch and make it hard to walk. They were dead still in the worldwide ocean. Like a monkey, he clambered up the chute and popped through the hatch and onto the walkway. Noah, Shem and Gaea already peered out the windows.

  “What happened?” Ham bellowed.

  None of them turned. They kept staring outside.

  Ham looked out, too. Waves crashed against the ship, shooting up spray and water. But the Ark no longer moved. The entire sea did. The whole horizon was vast motion and wave action, but not them. They had grounded fast.

  “What does it mean?” Ham shouted.

  Grave and dignified, Noah turned toward him.

  “What does it mean, Father? Will we be pounded to pieces?”

  “No,” Noah said. “I think the Flood has begun to recede. The worst of it is over and now Jehovah has remembered us.”

  23.

  For two and a half months, they rested on a mountain—they presumed. For over seventy days, the sea lashed against them and the wind howled. On several occasions, tremors shook the Ark.

  “What do you think that was?” Japheth asked their father at the dinner table.

  “The seas aren’t unusually wild during the tremors,” Gaea said. “I was on watch when it happened and that’s the first thing I noticed.”

  “Could they have been distant earthquakes?” Noah asked.

  “Upheavals in the earth,” Japheth said.

  Ham wanted to ask his oldest brother if that’s how he’d write it down. But he forked himself an extra helping of peas instead.

  They had grounded and for two and half more months, they trooped to their chores before the seventeenth day of the seventh month showed them a most wonderful sign. Rahab saw it first and raced to tell everyone else. She practically hopped from foot to foot in her eagerness to show Ham.

  “Hurry,” she said, dragging him by the hand. “Come on.”

  “I’m coming, I’m coming.”

  They climbed the chute and once again, Ham peered out a cubit-wide window.

  “Oh,” he said, staring
transfixed.

  “Thank Jehovah, Ham. Thank Him.”

  “Yes, thank you, Jehovah,” Ham said. “Thank you, oh thank you.”

  Patches of land were all around them, bare dots in the sea. Waves washed over some and made them seem like marine gophers sneaking a peek and then diving out of sight, but always popping back up to look again.

  “The tops of mountains,” Rahab said.

  Yes, that’s what they had to be. After 224 days on the Ark, not counting the first seven when nothing had happened, land once again showed itself on the face of the earth.

  24.

  At first, the lowering of the worldwide sea seemed easy to measure. But as more of the mountains were revealed, it became more difficult to notice. Ham disliked the starkness of the land. It was barren, ugly earth and rocky. It hadn’t been like that in the Antediluvian World.

  Japheth had all sorts of conjectures of what was talking place. “Those mats of seaweed we saw will eventually strike land. Plants will take root and begin to grow. After a time I suspect the insect eggs will hatch.”

  “You hope,” Shem said.

  “We’re doomed if they don’t,” Japheth said.

  “Will it always be this windy?” asked Ruth. “All I hear is the howl of the wind.”

  Ham nodded. It had never been windy like this in the Old World. He wondered how many things would be different.

  Thirty days after they had spotted the mountaintops, Gaea saw corpses on a nearby mountain.

  “Perhaps that’s what the predators will eat when we release them,” Japheth said.

  “When will we leave the Ark, Father?” Europa asked.

  Noah slurped soup as they ate at the family table. He lowered the spoon and dabbed his mouth with a napkin. “I’ve been thinking about that.”

  “And?” Europa asked.

  “It may be time for a test,” Noah said.

  “What kind of test?”

  “To check how much land has been uncovered.”

  “How would you do that?”

  “I was thinking of sending out a bird.” Noah said.

  “Ah,” Europa said. “Yes, why not send out a vulture? It could live off the corpses.”

  “We know there are corpses,” Gaea said. “That isn’t what we need to test.”

  “That’s right,” Noah said. “As I said, it’s the amount of dry land that concerns us.”

  “What about a raven?” Rahab asked. “Send it out.”

  Noah’s eyes lit up. “Yes. That’s a good idea.”

  So several days later Noah took a raven from the birdcages. Everyone trailed him and, one after another they climbed the chute and to the windows. Noah bowed his head and said a short prayer. Then he leaned out the middle window and threw out his hands, tossing the raven into the air. The big, black bird squawked and opened its wings, and with several hardy flaps, it climbed into the sky.

  “Look at it go,” Rahab cried.

  “It’s beautiful,” Gaea said.

  “It’s heading toward the sun,” said Shem.

  Noah plucked at his beard, watching it, his eyes hooded.

  Japheth, with his mouth twisted, said, “On the 264th day of the Flood, Noah sent forth a raven, which flew to and fro.”

  “Will he come back?” Ruth asked.

  “We’ll have to wait and see,” Gaea said.

  The raven didn’t return.

  “Ravens are unclean birds,” Gaea said six days later. “They’re scavengers with no qualms about resting on dead things.”

  “What should we send next, my dear?” Noah asked Rahab.

  “A dove.”

  “A fine idea,” Noah said.

  “The 271st day,” Japheth said quietly.

  The next day, Noah let the dove fly and it returned soon thereafter. Everyone agreed because there was no good resting-place for it.

  After a wait of seven more days, Noah tried again. It wasn’t until evening that the dove returned, with an olive shoot in its beak. Thus, they knew that things like trees had begun to grow again.

  On the 285th day, Noah released the dove again. This time it stayed away for good.

  “The land can support bird life,” Noah said. “Japheth’s theories seem to be right.”

  “The question now becomes, when do we fly away?” Japheth said.

  Noah pondered. “Not yet,” he said.

  For twenty-nine days after letting the dove go for the last time, Noah waited. The winds were less than before and it had become too hot in the bottom hold.

  “We’ve got to do something,” Ham said. “The animals are panting because of the heat.”

  “We’ll take down part of the roof,” Noah said. “That should help circulate the air better.”

  The next day, with hammers, Noah and his sons took apart some of the roof, careful to leave the cistern in place.

  Ham with the others studied the barren, forbidding landscape. Here and there were patches of greenery, but dirt and rocks lay everywhere.

  “The land must be soaked with water,” Japheth said.

  “And there will be vast lakes and terrible runoff in other places,” said Shem.

  “Look,” Ham said, “what’s that mass?”

  Shem squinted. “More corpses, I think.”

  Ham shuddered.

  Noah snapped his fingers. “Keep working. I want to be done by evening.”

  They finished the job, and for 57 days, they debated when to leave the Ark, but always Noah shook his head.

  Bit by bit the land grew greener, although it never looked as good as it had around Noah’s Keep. Finally, on the 371st day of the Flood, Noah made a long awaited for pronouncement: “It’s time to leave the Ark. For Jehovah did say to me: ‘Come out of the Ark, you and your wife and your sons and their wives. Bring out every kind of living creature that is with you—the birds, the animals, and all the creatures that move along the ground—so they can multiply on the Earth and be fruitful and increase in number upon it.’”

  Everyone cheered and together went to the mighty door. There, Noah prayed, and the door opened with a thump onto the dry land. Noah led the way, with his family behind him. They had survived the terrible journey.

  25.

  The weather-beaten Ark with its bottom hull overgrown with marine grass and barnacles lay athwart the mountain of Ararat. The door stood ajar, the vessel empty, used up, fulfilled of its awesome task.

  In the almost bare valley below there stood eight weary people. They had searched for rocks, one by one piling them together until Noah had his altar. Cold winds howled. Storm clouds billowed. It looked like rain.

  Rahab snuggled closer beside Ham. He drew his cloak about the two of them.

  Noah lifted his arms in prayer, the smoke of burnt offerings strong and dark, snaking to the heavens with their angry clouds. Noah prayed as thunder boomed, making each of them flinch. The thunder boomed louder. Lightning flashed.

  Noah cried out and fell on his face before the altar.

  Ham’s stomach clenched. He dropped to his knees and bowed low before the altar. All of them did. Then a great and powerful wind tore at the mountain of Ararat, shattering rocks.

  Ham trembled uncontrollably. He cried out, so did Rahab and the others.

  “Don’t look up!” Noah shouted. “For Jehovah is not in the wind.”

  After the wind, there was an earthquake, but Jehovah was not in the earthquake. After the earthquake came a fire, but Jehovah was not in the fire. And after the fire came a gentle whisper.

  Noah pulled his cloak over his face and rose from his knees. Ham and the others kept their faces pressed to the ground.

  “This is what Jehovah says,” Noah told them, “Never again will I curse the ground because of man, even though every inclination of his heart is evil from childhood. And never again will I destroy all living creatures, as I have done. As long as the Earth endures, seedtime and harvest, cold and heat, summer and winter, day and night will never cease.”

  Then Noah
ceased speaking, and in a whisper, Jehovah spoke to them all.

  “Be fruitful and increase in number and fill the Earth. The fear and dread of you will fall upon all the beasts of the Earth and all the birds of the air, upon every creature that moves along the ground, and upon all the fish of the sea; they are given into your hands. Everything that lives and moves will be food for you. Just as I gave you the green plants, I now give you everything.

  “But you must not eat meat that has its lifeblood still in it. And for your lifeblood, I will surely demand an accounting. I will demand an accounting from every animal. And from each man, too, I will demand an accounting for the life of his fellow man.

  “Whoever sheds the blood of man, by man shall his blood be shed; for in the image of Jehovah has Jehovah made man.

  “As for you, be fruitful and increase in number; multiply on the Earth and increase upon it.”

  Then Jehovah said to Noah and to his sons with him: “I now establish My covenant with you and with your descendants after you and with every living creature that was with you—the birds, the livestock and all the wild animals, all those that came out of the Ark with you—every living creature on Earth. I establish My covenant with you: Never again will all life be cut off by the waters of a flood; never again will there be a flood to destroy the Earth.”

  And Jehovah said, “This is the sign of the covenant I am making between me and you and every living creature with you, a covenant for all generations to come: I have set My rainbow in the clouds, and it will be the sign of the covenant between Me and the Earth. Whenever I bring clouds over the Earth and the rainbow appears in the clouds, I will remember My covenant between Me and you and all living creatures of every kind. Never again, will the waters became a flood to destroy all life. Whenever the rainbow appears in the clouds, I will see it and remember the everlasting covenant between Jehovah and all living creatures of every kind on the Earth.”

  So Jehovah said to Noah, “This is the sign of the covenant I have established between Me and all life on the Earth.”

  Ham feared Jehovah, but to hear Him repeat these promises over and over again calmed him and reassured him that a new flood, a new disaster wasn’t about to slay them. Ham swallowed, wishing to call out and tell Jehovah that he was sorry for all the wrong he’d done. But he didn’t dare.