The Mountain

by David L. Golemon

  Parnell nodded his head. “Very well, trooper, you have your orders. Now, go get issued new cold-weather gear and two civilian changes of clothing. No uniform; the colonel’s orders say you are to leave it. We don’t need you getting shot when you enter Washington, I guess,” Parnell said in mock disappointment. “Now, go get some breakfast. Eat well.”

  “Yes, sir,” he said as he nervously looked at the Comanche. “Sir, Gray Dog has your orders from Colonel Thomas.” Willard saluted and then started to walk toward the wonderful smell of cooking food.

  “Trooper?” Parnell said.

  Willard stopped and turned. “Sir?”

  “Was it there, really?”

  Willard actually walked back to face the lieutenant.

  “A sight to behold, sir. A real sight, just like the Bible said. Yes, sir, it was there.”

  “Imagine,” Parnell said.

  “No, sir, we don’t have to do that no more. It’s been proven as fact, Lieutenant, sir.” Willard saluted once more and then left.

  Parnell watched him go, wishing he’d had the opportunity to see the Ark, but he knew his duty was here. He held out his hand toward Gray Dog, who approached and placed the sealed orders into his hand and then immediately turned to get some food. After the hardtack and dried bacon eaten in the saddle for the past forty-plus hours, he was ready for some navy coffee and biscuits. He undid his pack from his exhausted mount, patted the horse several times and spoke softly to it, and then joined Private Willard.

  Parnell broke the red wax seal and read. Again his brows rose as he looked up from the orders. His eyes saw the sleepy-eyed band members as they rose from sleep and stumbled from tents. They joked about having to rough it and the scary sounds they heard at night. Parnell reread the last section of the orders and then looked at the bandmates, all younger than the average soldier. They laughed and joked on their way to the chow line. Parnell closed his eyes before reading the last of his orders.

  When done he placed the orders into his pocket with the first. He might need them for his court-martial at a later date, if he survived that is, which he now had serious doubts about.

  “Sergeant Killeen,” he called out, startling many of the army band men as they strolled past.

  “Sir!”

  “Make ready to break camp. Leave the railroad equipment. That farce is now dead. We move east and set up in this draw here.” Parnell had pulled out his map and pointed at the spot into which John Henry had ordered his one hundred and fifty-six men.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Sergeant Killeen?”

  “Sir?” the old marine said he turned back.

  “The 316th is to bring their instruments, and also issue them Henry repeaters. Every man. Unload the horses.” He slowly shook his head at the purely government way this was being handled.

  “Excuse me, Lieutenant, but has some brass-hatted bastard lost his ever-lovin’ mind? Uh, sir?”

  “It seems the nation is a little short of qualified cavalrymen and we surely do not have enough marines, so I guess it’s time these men stop playing war, and join one. We have orders to set up in between the mountain and the station in a cut that will hide our … force,” he said with tongue in cheek. “I guess we’ll see now why Washington has such faith in Colonel Thomas. We move out in three hours, Sergeant.”

  “Three hours, yes, sir.”

  Marine Lieutenant Parnell turned toward the snow-covered summit of Ararat and frowned.

  At that moment lightning struck somewhere on the plain between the camp and Ararat, and for a reason he couldn’t fathom, Parnell was chilled at the sight.

  A sudden cheer went up from the center of the camp and Parnell saw the Rebel cavalryman, Willard, obviously bypassing breakfast as he shot from camp on a fresh mount. He had four other relief horses strung together behind. The entire camp again erupted in cheers as every man watched as he gave the Rebel yell leaving camp, twirling his hat in the air. It was a stirring sight and even the old-time marines were chilled as Willard broke for the west and his journey home.

  “Good luck,” Parnell said as if in prayer for the young Confederate.

  MOUNT ARARAT, THE OTTOMAN EMPIRE

  The snow began falling harder and the winds remained steady, just enough to shake the tent sides and flaps as Claire made sure the professor was all right. The old man seemed as if his narrow escape from death had started his heart rather than stopped it. He paced the tent with his coat unbuttoned and excitedly explained what Claire had missed.

  “The diagrams of the artifacts, do you still have them?”

  Claire rummaged through her own bag until she produced the reproductions of the symbols. She handed them to Ollafson just as the tent flap opened and in came John Henry with two very frightened men, Dugan and Taylor. Both men immediately went to the far corner of the tent and John Henry tossed over a small bottle of whiskey. They shared the bottle until their hearts started beating at a normal rate. It was Jessy who began.

  “All right, tell me what’s happening here. That was not God or heaven sent. If it was, we’re worshipping on the wrong side of the church aisle.” He took another drink and then passed it to Dugan. “Sergeant Major, I know you’re hurting, but get out there and organize a proper search party and bring that son of a bitch back here. He’s wounded and far more insane than we ever figured. Kill him if you have to, but get that man under submission.”

  “Sir,” Dugan said as he held a gloved hand to his ribs. He took one last drink of the warming liquid and then excused himself.

  “Now, Jessy’s right, that thing was not sent by God. You could feel it.”

  Ollafson was looking at the symbols Claire had recorded on the sheets of paper. He found the one he was looking for.

  “Azrael, Colonel, is not of heaven. I remind you that the archangel was an ally of Lucifer. A powerful ally, enough so that even the archangels Gabriel, Michael, Simon, and the others were afraid of him. For God, Azrael was the perfect, unconscious killing machine. He was despised by all, even his own God. I guess that would make for a touch of insanity, even for an archangel.”

  “Do you believe all of this?” Taylor asked, looking from Claire to John Henry, who listened silently.

  “I don’t know what to believe. But one thing is for sure, something is trying to kill us, and by the looks of our friend McDonald, it’s getting more powerful. I was hoping that getting the artifacts away from here would help, but it seems I may have exacerbated the situation by keeping this prayer incomplete. It doesn’t matter at this point. We leave the mountain today and place as much distance between us and the Ark as we can.”

  “Agreed,” Claire said, looking at Ollafson. “It is time to go.”

  “Yes, I think I’ve had all of the Ark history I can take for the time being.” Ollafson looked like he’d had a revelation, such as, he didn’t want to meet Azrael face-to-face at all. He looked at Taylor and rubbed his bruised neck.

  “Colonel, we have a problem,” came a voice from outside of the tent.

  “Come,” he said as he rebuttoned his coat. “Jessy, tell our camera boy, Perlmutter, he has three hours to get his pictorial documentation done. We move out in three.”

  Jessy nodded just as Dugan came in.

  “Colonel,” Dugan said, trying to keep his hard breathing under control because of the pain of his broken rib. “The navy ordnance boys, well, they say they’re missing a case of dynamite.”

  “What?”

  “Yes, sir, missing.”

  That was all that needed to be said as John Henry and Taylor burst from the tent.

  “Get every available man into the Ark. Find that madman before he blows half of this mountaintop off!”

  * * *

  John Henry and Taylor ran to the edge of the camp and looked down upon the Ark. The men were all over the decking and were searching every exposed nook and cranny of the ancient wreck. Soon they too joined the search. Claire had also come onto the snow-covered deck and assisted the men. Re
bel, sailor, or marine, all wanted McDonald found, especially after word spread that he’d killed two men in his attempt on the lives of Claire and Ollafson.

  Dugan reported to John Henry at the bow of the Ark where he and Jessy started making plans for hastily breaking camp.

  “Half of the camp’s complement is on the Ark searching, Colonel Darlin’, nothing to report.”

  Claire and Ollafson joined them on the deck as men hustled around going in and out of the exposed areas of the ship.

  “You didn’t think you could stop Azrael that easily did you?”

  The voice echoed inside the once-covered cave. The words bounced off the ice wall, making it nearly impossible to see where they had originated from.

  “He’s been waiting thirteen thousand years for you, Colonel Thomas!”

  “Look!” Dugan said as he hastily raised his Henry rifle and took aim. John Henry quickly reached out and lowered the barrel of the rifle.

  “I’ve got a bead on him, Colonel. He’s right there by the original excavation opening, and he’s just got a pistol!”

  “That’s not all he’s got.”

  Claire saw the slowly burning fuse in McDonald’s hand.

  “Jesus!” Taylor said, wanting to scream for the men to vacate the petrified wreck. “That son of a bitch is going to blow the Ark!”

  Thomas and the others all saw McDonald in his crazed state. He stood leaning on the cave wall and he was bleeding heavily. He was weak from being shot twice by Thomas the night before. The crystalline ice was streaked with a transparent bloodstain as it ran down the ice. Still he held tightly to the burning fuse. Where the dynamite was, they could only guess.

  “No, God has passed judgment on you. And you arrogant Americans will be responsible for releasing the old world into the new. All things that have been forgotten will be reborn!”

  They watched as McDonald grew weaker by the moment. He slumped as blood poured from his wounds. Several of the Rebel and marine sharpshooters had him in their front sights. Taylor waved them off for fear McDonald would simply drop the burning fuse.

  “Steven, don’t do this,” Claire called out. “We can fix—”

  Every heart on or in the Ark froze as they all saw the giant shadow on the ice wall behind McDonald. It was a dark mass that was so black it looked obsidian. As their eyes widened, great wings of inky darkness spread behind McDonald and that was when he smiled and slowly started sliding down the wall in death. The shadow spread out wide as McDonald’s body slid to the ice floor, the fuse slipping from his hand. The fuse burned down to the first of the one hundred and eighty sticks of dynamite McDonald had placed under the exposed section of bow.

  The explosion rocked the world under them. The Ark lurched inside her grave of ice. The walls tumbled in and inundated the deck. John Henry and Taylor both knocked Claire and Ollafson off their feet and covered them. Dugan was thrown forward, breaking another two ribs. The exposed men on the deck all fell down and covered their heads. Thomas knew he was about to lose a lot of his command in this suicidal act by the insane spy.

  The area of prehistoric ice directly beneath the bow was blown free and the tremendous explosion cracked the Ark along the line in which it vanished into the glacier, from the top of the living quarters through the hull to the keel. The mountain shook. The Ark remained intact as every man realized that the explosion did not have the effect McDonald had been expecting. It mostly blew ice from under the wreck where he had planted the charges and dug a huge crater under the exposed bow of the Ark.

  The ancient vessel held together. John Henry slowly started to rise. He heard men cheering from the deck that sloped away from them. They had survived. He assisted Claire to her feet as Ollafson was thanking Taylor. Dugan was cursing his luck, but every man involved in the search felt that he had been saved by McDonald’s poor placement of the dynamite.

  John Henry looked at the spot where McDonald had been. The body would never be recovered, as thirty tons of ice had smashed out the remaining life of the British Army officer. The shadow of Azrael was nowhere to be seen, if it had ever been there at all.

  “Okay, we found McDonald. Now can we leave this miserable mountain?” Taylor asked as he took in the frightened men around him.

  “My thoughts exactly, let’s—”

  The crack sounded like a bolt of lightning had rent the mountain. John Henry was knocked from his feet and the rest of the men were thrown into the Ark’s gunwales. Another loud crack was heard and all felt the giant Ark lurch in her tomb of ice. Then the sound became unbearable as timbers hewn thousands of years before started to crack and separate like shattering glass. Every man who was on the deck felt himself fly into the air as the bow section of the massive Ark broke and fell to the floor of the once-buried cave. The tension and power of the breaking keel was so loud that many of the men inside were crushed by the enormous pressure wave created when the petrified wood released its stored energy. The sheer weight of the bow slammed its remains into the ice so hard that all fifteen men inside the cave were crushed when the bow fell.

  John Henry tried to pick himself up, that was when he felt the first forward movement of the Ark. He managed to gain his feet in time to see the bow swing away from the rest of the entombed ship. The raised prow started to roll to the right and Thomas grabbed a firm hold of the roughened petrified wood and held on as the centrifugal force started reading its laws to every person fighting for a handhold. John Henry dug in his gloved fingers and hugged the large prow as it swung so fast that he was fearful of the force slinging him from the deck. As it was, he was horrified when one Rebel and two marines were swept off only to be smashed against the ice wall as the ship swung around crazily, hitting the wall and straightening out, finally stopping its manic spin. John Henry saw what was happening and his heart froze.

  “Oh, shit!”

  The Ark’s broken bow section started to slide down the exposed cave system toward the open air of the world that hadn’t seen its like in more than thirteen thousand years.

  “Hang on!”

  The ancient artifact started to slide down the side of Mount Ararat with more than seventy-five men clutching onto anything they could grab.

  Two hundred feet of Noah’s Ark were moving in open air once again.

  26

  The speed at which the Ark accelerated seemed far faster than it was, but the sheer weight of the ancient and petrified wood directly translated into a force that smashed any obstacle in its way.

  John Henry had a high view of the scene. He saw the camp above the cave system fly past as his hood was torn from his head. He felt the rush of air and knew the Ark was picking up speed.

  On the deck Jessy reached for Claire’s hand as she slid past him. His grip was strong and arrested her fall toward the torn and jagged stern. Ollafson was not so lucky. The Ark reached the rise of the berm that had survived the initial detonation two days before. That was the only gate that would have a chance at stopping the terrifying slide. The bow hit and John Henry was inundated with large and small chunks of ice. He felt one strike his head and he momentarily blacked out but maintained his grip. The wall exploded as if a cannon shell had struck it, and then the Ark was free. The giant hit the remains of the berm and flew skyward. The weight was so great that it only spent a split second airborne, and then it came down with a bowel-wrenching boom as it crushed some of the men on the ground who hadn’t made it out of the way. When airborne for that short period, Ollafson was bounced high and then he was just gone. The professor went over the gunwale and vanished into the cyclone storm of ice as the Ark continued to pick up speed.

  Thomas saw the photographer Perlmutter as he was thrown off the deck, hitting the large rise of the damaged familial quarters. The body smashed into the stone-like wood and then the wind caught him and he was gone. Thomas screamed in anger as he hung on for dear life. The box camera and other equipment went soon after. Men were screaming and were starting to lose their grips on handholds as the great
vessel continued down.

  Men in camp started running after the giant object. Ropes were tossed to reaching hands but missed. Other ropes were lassoed around broken spots on the deck. The lines quickly became taut but the momentum was too great. The men holding the ropes were pulled through the air only to smash into the ice in the Ark’s wake. Other men started throwing crates and any other piece of equipment they could into the path of the runaway behemoth but the Ark merely crushed anything in its path.

  Again and again the Ark bounced over rocks, rises in the mountainside, and huge cliffs, and again and again it would smash into the snow and ice and continue on its way down the mountain as if it were on a train track.

  Jessy was losing his grip on Claire’s hand. Her glove gave way and he yelled as she vanished. Dugan was hanging on by his fingers as the Ark dug into the snow and ice for the fifth time. He heard the scream and then he saw Claire sliding toward him. He knew that just beyond him there was nothing but a jagged edge of the stern as she was fast running out of deck. With a last-ditch effort he released one hand and grabbed her as she sped past. He pulled with all he had and then she was able to get a handhold just as Sergeant Major Dugan’s grip failed him.

  She was nearly blind without her goggles, which had been the first thing to fly free of her, so she barely saw the sergeant major. His fingers were tearing loose from the broken gunwale. Claire managed to see the strain in Dugan’s face as he tried but failed to hang on.

  “Tell the colonel—”

  Dugan was gone.

  The sliding brick house was now traveling at thirty-five miles per hour, nearly matching the speed of the train they’d ridden during their trip to Ararat. The Ark looked as if it would keep going until it flew off the wrong cliff and then all would be smashed in a thousand-foot plunge.

  John Henry felt the impact as the ship slammed into a large ice wall and then the Ark started to spin. It hit another wall and the spin slowed, then another and it was nearly tipped over. Again it struck and spun, the centrifugal force shooting men free of the crazily suicidal vessel.