Noah Page 4

  “No matter,” Naameh said softly. “You’re safe now.”

  She carefully pushed sweaty strands of hair out of the girl’s face. The child tried to pull away, and then cried out at the pain caused by even this slight movement. Spots of blood began to seep through the bandages. Naameh shushed her and urged her to lie still.

  “Ila,” the girl whispered. “My name is Ila.”

  “Ila,” Naameh repeated, smiling. “That’s a very pretty name. Ila, this is my husband, Noah. He’s going to carry you. Is that all right?”

  Ila glanced at Noah and nodded.

  “And this is Shem,” she said, turning to her eldest son, who was crouched beside her. “He’s going to hold your hand tight and he won’t let go.”

  Shem smiled at Ila, and she smiled back. Naameh stepped back to allow Noah to crouch down, carefully slip two arms under the girl’s body, and lift her up. He was as careful and as gentle as possible, but she still cried out in pain. Shem squeezed her hand and she squeezed his in return, her eyes flickering toward him gratefully.

  All at once, somewhere behind them, they heard angry shouts.

  Ham turned and pointed. “Father! Look!”

  A group of men, at least forty strong, had crested the lip of the rubble-strewn crater behind them. Noah saw at a glance that they were a raiding party, possibly the same one that had wiped out this community. Even at a distance it was obvious that they were wild, savage men, little more than a disorganized rabble, but it was their desperation and their sheer numbers that made them dangerous. Such bands of brigands were common. They roamed the land, subsisting by stealing and plundering wherever and whenever they could. Such was their brutality that they rarely left survivors behind. More often than not they didn’t even have to kill, but they did so anyway.

  “Up the hill!” Noah shouted. “Run!”

  He led the way, moving as fast as he dared with Ila in his arms. The girl groaned in pain as her body was jolted, but her eyes remained closed. Unburdened, Shem and Ham ran ahead of him, Naameh calling out to them to be careful. Running at Noah’s side, her hands curled protectively around Japheth so that his body wasn’t jolted by her rapid ascent, she panted, “We’ll never outrun them.”

  “We have no choice but to try,” Noah replied as they reached the top of the hill and began to run down the other side.

  For the first time, as he ran with the wounded girl in his arms, he wondered if he had made a mistake. Perhaps he had misinterpreted the message from the Creator? Perhaps he had led his family into danger for no reason? Was this how they were all going to die, butchered on an unnamed hill for what would amount to little more than scraps? It seemed so futile, and yet at the same time was a bitter vindication of his beliefs about the downfall of Man.

  He risked a glance behind him. The men were gaining on them. It would only be a matter of minutes before he and his family were overrun and hacked to death. There would be no mercy—he knew that. All he could hope for was a quick death for all of them. Facing forward again, he saw that Ham and Shem, up ahead, had both stopped.

  What are they doing? Young as they were, had they already realized how futile it was to run?

  “Shem! Ham!” he barked. “Go! Go!”

  Then he saw what had caused them to stop, what they were both looking at.

  Impaled on a stake that was sticking up at an angle out of the ground was a skeleton, its skull bashed in, its ribs splintered.

  And the skeleton wasn’t alone. In front of them, positioned every twenty paces or so, was a line of yet more skeletons. Seemingly an endless number of them, some of them appearing to be very old. Stretching ahead, as far as the eye could see.

  GENESIS 6: 4

  Giants walked the World in those days… The great and mighty warriors of ancient times.

  5

  THE WATCHERS

  The first skeleton marked a boundary of sorts. It stood at the bottom of a hill, held up by a spike, and the ground leading up to it went from soft brown earth to gray ash, gray rocks, and gray soil. But beyond that lay a burnt and tortured landscape that appeared to be a black, unmoving sea, shimmering in the late afternoon light. It was solidified lava, jagged and unyielding, that seemed to have trapped darkness within it. Deep fissures cut into its surface.

  “What is it?” Ham asked, looking back at his father.

  But there was no time to answer his son’s question. “Never mind!” Noah bellowed. “Keep running!”

  The boys needed no more persuasion. They ran on into the black land, Noah and Naameh following.

  Only when he felt they were out of range of spears and arrows did Noah slow down and look back. The war band reached the black lava, but they ventured no further. They milled at the edge, seething with anger and frustration. Some of them looked fearfully up at the disfigured skeleton. A few had already turned around and were trudging back the way they had come.

  Noah called for his family to halt. Panting, they all did so, looking back at the scavengers. One of the men, either braver or more foolhardy than the rest, ventured forward a few paces into the black land, but then turned and scurried back to his fellows. A few threats and curses were hurled in Noah’s direction, but it was clear that the pursuit of the family was over. One by one the scavengers began to peel away, to head back toward their camp. Clearly whatever threat lurked in the black land, the terror it inspired was greater than their desire to steal whatever provisions the family was carrying.

  Shem looked a little fearfully at his father. “Why don’t they follow?”

  Noah’s face was grim. “Watchers,” he muttered.

  “What’s that?” Ham asked.

  “Giants,” Shem told his brother, and then he turned back to his father. “Are they real? Are they dangerous?”

  Noah said nothing. But the look that he gave his eldest son was answer enough.

  After a short break for food and water, and to assess Ila’s condition, the family continued their journey. The black land was scarred, and though nothing moved on it, it seemed somehow angry, turbulent, like a raging sea frozen in time. In places black, twisted spires of solidified lava reached up, as if clawing at the sky, like tortured souls begging the Creator for forgiveness.

  They had been walking for less than an hour, trying to ignore the rows of hanging skeletons, when the sun began to sink toward the horizon, the late afternoon sky deepening toward dusk. A wind was beginning to pick up as the sun set, plucking at their clothes and hair.

  Noah raised a hand.

  “We must find shelter. It is too dangerous to walk at night.”

  Naameh examined the girl still lying unconscious in Noah’s arms.

  “Why not make camp beside those rocks?” she suggested, pointing to the right. “Ila’s bandages need changing, and the boys are hungry and exhausted.”

  Shem and Ham had already sunk onto a nearby rock, and did indeed look weary, their backs bent as they slumped forward, their heads hanging down.

  Noah nodded, scanning their surroundings. The rocks that Naameh had indicated formed a jumble of sharp-edged boulders, each of which was around the height of two, maybe three men. They would provide a natural shelter from the wind.

  Placing Ila gently on the ground so that Naameh could tend to her, Noah walked across to the rocks to check that the ground around them was secure. As he neared them he caught a flicker of movement, and came to a halt, his eyes narrowing.

  Had something moved, close to one of the rocks? It was difficult to tell in the dim light. Perhaps an animal? A lizard, or something larger? If so, it would be the first sign of life they had seen since entering the black land.

  Cautiously he slipped his blade out of its sheath and edged closer. All was silent. Perhaps he had imagined the movement. Perhaps the deepening gloom and his own weariness were playing tricks on his mind. He checked the ground and slapped the rocks, thinking that if there was anything lurking behind them, it would either show itself or scurry away.

  But nothing mov
ed.

  Satisfied that he had been mistaken, he turned to call Shem and Ham over.

  Suddenly a shadow fell over him. At the same instant he saw an expression of stark and open terror on Ham’s face. He whirled around.

  Standing behind him, blocking out what remained of the sun as it rose to its full height, was a Watcher.

  The creature was easily as tall as three men and appeared to be formed of cracked dry clay and rock. It seemed ageless and sexless, its features malformed, unfinished, its eyes burning like glowing black coals in deep sockets. Most terrifying of all, it had six fully functioning arms, three sprouting from each side of its massive body.

  Ham screamed, and after a moment Shem joined him. With a creak and scrape of stone, the Watcher swung its great head to see what was making the noise.

  Seizing his chance, Noah leaped at the giant, using its ridged and cratered flesh to secure both hand- and footholds. He drove his knife into its chest, where he guessed its heart might be, but he might as well have tried to stab a mountain. With a deep growl of irritation, the Watcher plucked him up as if he was a troublesome insect, and with no more than a twitch of its wrist, it smashed him into the ground.

  Noah tried desperately to stay conscious. He tried for the sake of Naameh, for his boys.

  But it was no use. A vast dark wave crashed over him and everything went black.

  * * *

  The first thing he became aware of when he regained consciousness was the taste of grit in his mouth. As his senses slowly returned he realized he was lying facedown on a dirt floor, his body aching from head to toe. At first he could remember nothing of what had happened, and then it all came back to him in a rush.

  Instantly he thought of Naameh, and Shem, and Ham, and little Japheth, and of the girl, Ila. What had become of them?

  Though his arms trembled with fatigue, he pushed himself upright, gritting his teeth against the pain. Through his swimming vision he saw a number of pale ovals hovering before him. He blinked and realized that they were faces, illuminated in a wash of firelight. Immediately he felt a surge of relief. Naameh was squatting with her arms wrapped around Ham’s body, who was sitting cross-legged in front of her, and Shem had his arm around Ila in a protective embrace, the girl slumping against him, her eyes hooded drowsily.

  “Naameh,” he murmured. But then he saw the expression on his wife’s face—on all their faces. They looked terrified, their eyes darting from Noah to something beyond and above him.

  Taking a deep breath, he pushed himself into a kneeling position and turned slowly, shuffling around on his knees. Behind him, like a vast array of breathing sculptures, were at least thirty Watchers, squatting on their vast haunches, their coal-black eyes glittering. Beyond them was a wall of dirt and rock, far above which Noah could see white stars glinting like chips of ice in the night sky.

  Rising painfully to his feet he looked around, and realized that he, his family and their captors were at the bottom of a deep pit.

  The Watcher squatting at the front of the silent group appeared to be their leader. It was certainly the oldest and most grizzled, its cratered flesh barnacled with stony growths and scarred with deep rivulets. Its face was terrible to behold, its mouth a yawning chasm, its features unbalanced, asymmetrical, as if it wore a stone mask that had been shattered and inexpertly repaired. One black eye glared from halfway down its cheek, while the other glinted like a beetle from a crater in the center of its forehead.

  With a grating creak of stone, the creature leaned forward, bringing its terrible visage close to Noah’s own. It studied him closely, its hot, sulfurous breath washing over him, stirring his hair. It spoke in a voice like a subterranean shifting of rock.

  “He stinks of mankind,” the Watcher grunted, and it made a dismissive gesture with one of its six arms. “Abominations, Og! You should have killed them. They are trespassers, and they must die.”

  The Watchers at the back of the group began to rise, resulting in a sound like that of a small earthquake. Some began to climb out of the pit, their massive fingers easily finding the widely spaced handholds. Raising his voice above the grating and clattering of rock, Noah shouted to them.

  “Please,” he said urgently. “We mean you no harm. We are here to see Methuselah, my grandfather.”

  The effect of his words was dramatic. Those Watchers scaling the walls paused and turned to stare at him, their mouths agape. Those who were still in the pit froze as well, their rudimentary features adopting expressions of almost childlike wonder.

  A murmur, like an ominous underground rumble, passed among the stone creatures. One of them broke away from the group behind the leader and lumbered forward. Noah could not be certain, but he thought this might be the Watcher they had first encountered, the one he had attacked and which had smashed him into the ground.

  “Samyaza,” the Watcher said, his voice almost eager, “he is a child of the old one!”

  Noah took advantage of the opportunity to speak again.

  “We wish only to pass through your lands,” he said, struggling to keep his voice calm now.

  The grizzled leader, Samyaza, stomped across the ground that lay between them, and peered at Noah as if he was an indecipherable curiosity, a puzzle to be solved.

  “He lies,” Samyaza said. He raised a hand and pointed at Noah. “This is a man, Og. With his first breath he steals, with his second breath he kills, with his third breath he lies. Maybe they come to kill the old one. Maybe to spy on us.”

  Og swept his dark gaze over Noah and his family. Softly and almost innocently he said, “But he travels with an injured child.”

  “Do you forget so soon?” Samyaza said. “Men are all born to cruelty and deceit. They betrayed us. They betrayed the Creator. The girl is nothing but a trick.”

  Though Og looked downcast, many of the Watchers nodded their heads in agreement, glaring at their prisoners. Defiantly Noah spoke.

  “It is the Creator who sends us.”

  A collective gasp echoed around the subterranean chamber. Samyaza’s ravaged features crumpled in fury. He took a lurching step forward, half-raised his arm and crunched his hand into a huge fist as if he intended to pulverize Noah where he stood.

  “I sat next to the Creator as He formed the first man!” the Watcher bellowed. “Would He speak to you before He speaks to me?” Before Noah could reply, Samyaza turned to Og and said, “The Creator does not speak anymore—to anyone! You know that, Og. He has left us alone here, forever.

  “Leave them here to rot.”

  Without another word, Samyaza turned and began to clamber out of the pit. In groups of three and four the other Watchers followed.

  “No!” called Noah. “Please! Listen to me!”

  But he was ignored.

  Og was the last to go. He stood, his vast chest rising and falling as he breathed. He looked deep into Noah’s eyes.

  “Please,” Noah said quietly.

  Og seemed to sigh. But then, without another word, he turned almost reluctantly away, and began to scale the walls of the pit.

  * * *

  Despite their predicament, Naameh and the children were so exhausted that they soon fell into a deep sleep. They huddled together for warmth, like animals in a burrow. Ham and Japheth curled up next to their mother, while Shem slept with his back pressed against Naameh’s and his arm stretched protectively around Ila. Noah remained awake for some time after the rest of his family had fallen asleep, but at last even he too succumbed to his tiredness. All the same, he slept lightly and fitfully, his mind too beset with anxieties to allow him to fully relax.

  His dreams—of pursuit, of imprisonment—were so close to the surface that it took no more than the slightest of sounds to jolt him out of them. He was alert in a moment and looking around wildly, fearful of attack.

  Then the sound came again and he relaxed a little. It was only the girl, Ila, moaning in her sleep. Somewhere in the distance he could hear a low rumble, interspersed with an occasi
onal jagged spike of sound, which reminded him of heavy metal implements clashing against rock. He was puzzled for a moment, and then he realized that it was the sound of the Watchers conversing in their deep, gravelly voices—though the intermittent outbursts seemed to suggest that they were arguing. He listened hard, but could not make out any of the words.

  Abandoning the attempt to eavesdrop, he turned his attention to Ila. The girl was soaked in sweat, shaking with fever in her sleep. Noah moved closer to her and knelt down on the ground, intending to use his scarf to gently dab away the sweat that beaded her cheeks and brow. Before he could do so, however, her eyes popped open and she stared at him in utter terror. Sensing that she was about to scream, Noah smiled and spoke gently.

  “Shh, shh. It’s all right. You’re safe. Sleep now.”

  Little by little, he saw the blaze of fear fade from her eyes. Her rigid muscles relaxed and she slumped back, licking her dry lips. Noah gave her a little water from his pack, which she swallowed gratefully.

  In a feeble rasp she said, “When I close my eyes I see soldiers… My papa…”

  Noah was deeply moved by the little girl’s anguish and grief. He knew all too well what it was like to be an orphan of war. Settling himself down, cross-legged, beside her, he said, “When I was young I used to have terrible dreams. I would lie in bed, remembering how my own father met his end. But then I would sing myself a song that my father used to sing to me, and my memories of him would become lighter, and it would enable me to sleep. Would you like me to sing it to you?”

  Ila gave the barest of nods. “It’s an old song,” Noah told her, “from many generations ago…”

  He paused a moment and then, softly, he began to sing.

  “The moon is high

  The trees entwined

  Your father waits for thee

  To wrap you in his sheltering wings

  And whisper you to sleep

  To wrap you in his welcome arms

  Until the night sky breaks

  Your father is the healing wind