The Mountain

by David L. Golemon

  “I think you’ve been spending too much time with that Indian boy,” he joked and then blew out the lamp and attached it to his coat before he started climbing—intentionally faster than Claire.

  * * *

  McDonald watched Taylor vanish over the side wall of the Ark. His eyes remained watching for the time being. Then his gaze shifted to Captain Jackson as he stood and supervised the unloading of the dynamite. He wanted to make sure his navy demolition team handled it right because Thomas had men working not far from them inside a small cave where they were using the last of their wood to shore up that area.

  The British agent watched as a tarpaulin was placed over the six cases of dynamite and tied down. They made sure the area was well roped off before they started the climb back to the surface.

  McDonald watched the great cavern empty. All was quiet except for the distant sound of hammering and talking from the men in the smaller cave. He heard the voices of Thomas, Taylor, and Claire as they moved about on the deck of the Ark.

  Then he went over to the stored dynamite and started to remove the tarpaulin.

  * * *

  When John Henry hit the frozen-over deck, the bow was curved to such an extreme rake that he slipped and fell onto his back. It seemed he slid for a hundred feet before his boot heels hit a higher object that arrested his sliding fall.

  Then he heard a cry for help and before he knew it Claire smashed into him. She had done the same thing as he had just done.

  “That first step is kind of tricky,” Thomas said as he gained his feet and then assisted Claire to hers. She brushed off her backside with as much dignity as she could and then was about to say something when an accursed shout came to her ears. Before she knew it she was back down on her butt and John Henry was sprawled on top of her. Taylor was laughing as he tried to pick himself up, fell on top of Thomas, and then was laughing so hard he was close to losing control. Meanwhile, John Henry and Claire were nose to nose.

  “Now you know why I hate him.”

  “Understandable, Colonel. Now, if you don’t wish rumors to start swirling about, may I suggest you move that pistol from my pelvic region and get the hell off of me?”

  John Henry smiled widely and his old self emerged, a man he hadn’t seen or heard from in more than five years.

  “Who said I was armed?”

  With that, Claire pushed him off and he went flying backward into a laughing Taylor and they both fell once again.

  Claire stood and started brushing the ice from herself once more, and then she stopped and saw the open doorway. It was partially covered by a thin sheet of ice, but there was a hole in that ice about as wide as a barrel.

  Taylor and Thomas finally gained a little control and saw that Claire was standing rigid. They walked up and saw the portal into blackness. Taylor unhooked the oil lamp and then struck a match. The lamp flared to life and they saw what looked like a way to enter the Ark. All of a sudden the humor they felt a moment before had vanished as if it had never been.

  John Henry moved Claire aside and struck out with his boot and caught the ice center mass. The thin sheet shattered like fine crystal and they were left staring into a darkness that none of them had ever experienced before. He reached over and took the lamp from Jessy and held it just inside the well of blackness.

  “Any lions, tigers, or elephants in there, maybe a lost unicorn?” Taylor joked and both Thomas and Claire turned and looked at him in silence, finding the humor a little droll.

  John Henry came back to reality and stepped inside the interior of the Ark.

  * * *

  Ollafson awoke from a nightmare that had shaken him to the core. He sat up from his bedroll and saw that he had been placed there after being drugged. He rubbed his eyes and thought about what had awakened him. He didn’t know and couldn’t remember anything other than the cold, icy hands of death as it caressed him and the others.

  He shoved the thick blankets off him and in a panic he rummaged through the tent, tossing the last of McDonald’s personal property about. He finally found the satchel and hugged it to his chest. He fell back with the artifacts and took a deep breath as he felt inside for the strangely warm petrified wood of the planks. He started to doze off again after he knew his artifacts were secure, the drugs still affecting him.

  After the professor’s eyes closed, the satchel started to smolder in his gloved hands. Soon it died down and then the tent’s front flap blew outward. A dark shadow shot from the tent and made for the excavation site.

  * * *

  “I’m just saying, my accounting would have been better, but that ship was moving so much I could hardly stand,” Jenks said in defense of his performance aboard the Yorktown when he and Grandee had put on their little show. Now it was his own brothers-in-arms giving him a hard time about the whooping he’d taken at the hands of the mess steward. Grandee heard the joking way in which they teased Jenks but continued to place the last of the wood over the small cave opening. When a particularly harsh barb was landed by another Reb, Grandee turned and confronted the men. The other mess stewards stopped working to watch, as did the six marines.

  “I’ve been on ships like the Yorktown for more than six years. My footing is used to the rocking of a large vessel. Your friend there, he did all right in my book.”

  The men listened to the deep, throaty voice of Grandee as he turned away and went back to work. He started to sing “Swing Low, Sweet Chariot” as Jenks looked his way. He stood from where he had been sitting and moved to the opposite end of the cave. He didn’t know what to think about the large black man coming to his defense.

  Corporal Jenks turned away and saw that he was near an exposed section of the Ark. He reached out and felt the ancient petrified wood and then he pulled his gloved hand back quickly. The black stone was so cold the gloves had zero effect at stopping it. His eyes traveled upward and he noticed large holes in the hull before it vanished into the ice far above. Then he noticed what looked like long claw marks dug deep into the wood. It looked like thousands of fingers had tried desperately to hold onto the sides of the hull as the world around them flooded. He didn’t know why that thought struck him when he saw the scratches in the ancient wood, but it did. He shook his head and then returned to the company of real men, not the blank stare of an object he never would have believed was real.

  As he moved away, a dark shape reached out from a large crack in the petrified wood and barely missed Jenks’s head as he turned to leave. There was a hiss of anger and then the hand-like shadow backed into the crack.

  After thirteen thousand years, the Ark was waking up from an ancient sleep.

  * * *

  The inside was dark and smelled like old vegetation. John Henry held the lamp high as he examined what he could. The area was small, and he could see that anything beyond was buried in a solid wall of ice.

  “What are these, do you suppose?” Claire said at his side.

  John Henry held the lamp close to the nearest object and saw the cage-like pen. It looked as if it had been hand-crafted from extremely thick vines.

  “Cages?” Taylor ventured. “Looks like a mess of them. But I’m not buying that story about animals boarding two by two and all of that. This vessel, though large, could never fit that many beasts inside.”

  “Well, Colonel, maybe you are taking the Bible a little too literally when it comes to the descriptions. After all, the Bible was written by men. Men such as yourselves, and as I have had recent dealings with the male species, I believe the stories were embellished somewhat.”

  John Henry and Jessy exchanged a look. They had just been insulted in the strangest way, and they knew it.

  “Now wait a minute, I think—”

  That was as far as John Henry got when the world shook and knocked them from their feet.

  The cave started to fall in beneath the Ark where the men were struggling to shore up that area.

  Thomas and Taylor both knew that men had just died.


  * * *

  Grandee heard the men talking behind him as the mess crew started packing up their tools. The last of the wooden planks had been laid and now the small cave was as secure as they could make it with the limited amount of wood they had to work with.

  Jenks and the others watched as first the marines and then Grandee’s mess crew started to leave the cave. The corporal still pictured the images of the humanlike scratch marks on the side of the Ark’s hull. The image, he knew, would stay with him for the rest of his life.

  Grandee saw the shadow first as he turned to retrieve the last of the tools. His eyes widened when the large manifestation spread what looked like massively strong arms. The entity knocked down the nearest soldier and fell upon him. Jenks screamed in horror as he fought to help the man. He was flailing and fighting with something they could not see. As Jenks reached him the shadow turned on him and then struck out, and the blow sent Jenks into the wall of ice. Other men yelled and screamed as the shadow rose to the cave’s ceiling and then the boards they had just placed started to shatter as if they had been hit by a sledgehammer. They all heard the horrid noise at once as the wooden bracing gave way and the wood went flying. At that same moment each man would swear later that he heard the cries of a thousand voices as they shouted out in terror. The men would also say they heard the roar of a great beast as the shadow shot free of the cave.

  Suddenly large chunks of ice started to fall from the ceiling. Grandee was the first to react. He started to pull and push the Rebel soldiers from the cave. All the while he was screaming at Jenks to get out. More ice fell and Grandee knew that Jenks and two others would never make it. He ran as fast as he could, stooping over in the low-hung cave. He reached up and braced the main beam they had used for the centermost reinforcement. He pushed with everything he had, bending the cracked and broken wood upward.

  “Get out while you can!” he screamed as his muscles bulged and sweat poured from his face.

  Jenks pushed the last two men outside the cave opening and then turned back to help Grandee.

  “Come on, let it go! You can make it!”

  “Go, I can’t hold it any longer!”

  The cave started to come down, but still Jenks was fighting his way through the falling ice to reach Grandee. Suddenly the big man kicked out with his size-fifteen boot and hit Jenks, who went flying backward until assisting hands caught him and pulled him free of the collapsing cave.

  “Get out of there!” Jenks cried in frustration as he angrily slapped the helping hands away from him. He locked eyes with the man he had fought only a week before and saw in his eyes what he himself already knew.

  “Go!” was all Grandee said as the entire world fell upon him from above.

  The horrified Jenks shouted and yelled and cried that Grandee could have gotten out.

  The men picked up Jenks and started dragging him away. The corporal shook them off and then turned back to see the closed space that was once the small cave. He looked around at the exposed hull of the ancient Ark. He spit and then cursed it with the last ounce of faith he had.

  The hard-luck night was just beginning for Americans everywhere.

  ONE HUNDRED MILES NORTH OF TRABZON HARBOR, THE BLACK SEA

  The captain of the U.S.S. Carpenter relieved his first officer at 0400 hours. The seas were finally calm and the winds had died down. He received the report from the Argo that her flooding was now under control and they were stable for the time being. The first officer saluted and made the announcement that the captain had command of the deck watch.

  The young captain went aft and checked on the towline and spoke with the men manning it. He saw that the men were awake and the towline was tight. He went to the quarterdeck, where he took a bearing from the stars that were finally visible in the night sky.

  Suddenly the crow’s nest warning bell started chiming at an alarming rate. The captain strained to look up into the tall rigging.

  “Ship on a collision course, bearing two-three-two degrees to starboard!”

  Captain Abernathy ran to the starboard side and his eyes widened until he felt they would pop free of his head. The French frigate Osiris was bearing down upon Carpenter at a speed that said this was an intentional act—an impossible mistake on a cloudless night such as this.

  “Warning rockets, fire!”

  The captain swore that if he had been at battle stations he would have laid waste to the French ship with every cannon he had, but then he realized that was exactly what the French captain wanted. He was daring the Americans to open fire.

  From the stern the officer of the deck was ready. Soon three signal rockets of bright red and green fired into the sky and exploded in a shower of sparks, but still the Osiris came on.

  “All hands brace for collision!” the captain called out and hung onto the starboard railing.

  The Osiris started to veer off at the last second. It was too late. The bow of the new warship struck the Carpenter a glancing blow along her starboard side. She scraped along, tearing rigging from both ships as their main masts and sails came into contact. The captain heard his rigging being torn away as the huge warship shuddered as Osiris finally broke contact and turned away.

  The captain regained his feet after the collision had sent him flying to the deck. He stood and saw the crew of the French ship watching the spectacle as though it were a Parisian Burlesque show. He saw the officers standing on the quarterdeck as she slid past. The men only stared at him. The captain swore he would have planted many a cannonball into her if he could have.

  “Damage report!”

  The first officer was there. He had come running from his quarters when the collision warning was sounded. He was buttoning his shirt as he shouted down, “Get the carpenter to sound the ship!” He turned back angrily to face the captain. “Bastards! We should have fired on her!”

  “That’s exactly what they wanted, Jim. Us to fire the first shot. Right now it was all just a horrible accident.”

  “My ass!”

  “The formal apology letter from their embassy is probably already on its way to President Lincoln. A letter that was more than likely drafted weeks ago.”

  “Scheming sons of bitches.”

  The ship’s master carpenter reported a few moments later.

  “We’re up to six feet of water in frames ten through sixteen. We’ve cracked some ribs for sure, Captain.”

  “Is my ship in danger of foundering?”

  “Too soon to tell, Captain. We have to get the pumps ahead while we shore up. Until then we have a job on our hands for sure.” The captain only nodded, sending the carpenter back to his duties.

  “Jim, cut the towline. Signal the Argo, inform her of the situation, and let them know they are on their own for now. We will send Chesapeake and Yorktown her last coordinates as soon as we are able.”

  “Captain?” the first officer said, astounded that they were going to cut loose the barge and its complement of men.

  “If we go down, we’ll take that unstable platform to the bottom with us. Cut the towline, now!”

  Several men started hacking at the thick ropes as the first officer started to signal Argo by message lamp.

  A moment later the tow barge Argo and her crew were cut adrift. She was now on her own as the U.S.S. Carpenter fought for her life.

  23

  MOUNT ARARAT, THE OTTOMAN EMPIRE

  It had taken six men to hold Corporal Jenks back from reentering the cave system below and beside the unstable Ark. The corporal was convinced that the large black man was still alive. It had been four hours since the expedition held its second funeral service since the mission began, and John Henry suspected it would not be the last.

  The mood after the gathered soldiers had broken up was somber even before the colonel had laid out the orders of the day. They would clear a few tons of ice from the Ark and her bow so Daniel Perlmutter could get evidentiary photographs and then they could end this mission and go home. Still, the death o
f Grandee not only affected the naval and marine personnel, but strangely enough all of the Confederate prisoners as well. Captain Jackson pointed out to John Henry that the southerners were taking it far harder than he would ever have believed. Even Jessy was not in a talkative mood. Breakfast that morning had consisted of hot coffee and bacon. The mess crew missed their leader and the men missed Grandee’s food.

  The colonel, Dugan, and Gray Dog watched as the men slowly returned to their work. There was none of the usual joking or glad-handing, nor was there the hard talk of northerner against southerner. Today it was a fellow American they were mourning, not a naval mess steward.

  Thomas looked down the steep slope of Ararat and saw that the cloud cover was still blanketing the region. The snow had stopped just before dawn and the winds had calmed. It was as if the mountain were taking a restorative breath before its next performance. He opened his pocketwatch and saw that they had wasted half a day with the futile recovery effort to remove Grandee and the Rebel soldier from the cave-in. He examined the sky and then looked at the navy petty officer who was standing by the signal rockets and he shook his head. There would be no signals to the plain far below that day.

  “This non-communication is getting a little dicey, Colonel Darlin’.”

  Dugan was right. Soon they would have to send a messenger down to give and receive information from Lieutenant Parnell.

  Captain Jackson and Taylor came to report. John Henry returned salutes without much enthusiasm.

  “Ordnance is ready to lay the charges and clear the bow,” Jackson said.

  “And we’re sure that the rest of the cave will not collapse when those charges are detonated?”

  “We’re only using quarter sticks at fifteen-foot intervals. Two charges at a time, we should get a delayed collapse of ice and then the bow section should be cleared,” Taylor said, knowing it would be two of his experts with the two navy ordnance men doing the work. In Jeb Stuart’s cavalry Taylor was known as a guerrilla fighter who was prone to blowing things Union straight to hell.