Heavens Before (34 page)

“Look,” Shem told Annah once, his voice soft and concerned as he took her knife in his bloodstained fingers. “You’re trying too hard. The flesh doesn’t have to be cut perfectly, or evenly; just thin enough to be sure it dries well.” Almost inaudibly, he said, “Thank you, beloved.”

Annah nodded, biting back the tears.
It’s necessary
, she reminded herself again.
It has to be done
.

“I made Yepheth tell me where you were,” Ghinnah said to Annah the next morning. Her eyes were fierce as she knelt beside Annah. “At first I didn’t want to believe Yepheth when he said they were harvesting the herds, but there was blood all over his tunic. Even so, I’d rather be out here with you and I’ma-Naomi than closed in the lodge one more day with that sulking, bad-mouthed Tirtsah.”

As Ghinnah spoke, Yepheth and Shem dropped two more carcasses in front of them. Sitting back, Ghinnah looked at Annah, her eyes huge, horrified. “You did this all day yesterday?”

“All day,” Annah agreed, her muscles aching, her fingers swollen. She pressed a knife into Ghinnah’s hands. “Tell yourself that it’s necessary. Don’t think too hard. And sometimes, you have to put down the knife and just tear the flesh with your bare hands. When we’re finished with this one, we’ll hang the flesh on the cordage between those poles.” Annah motioned to numerous rows of cordage slung between narrow reed poles, set a short distance away.

“But you’ve ruined your tunic,” Ghinnah said, as if this was more important than anything else.

For the first time in two days, Annah smiled. Her tunic was stained and stiffened with blood. It looked the way she felt: as if she would never be clean again. “Dear Ghinnah,” she said, keeping her words gentle and agreeable, “I am far beyond caring about my tunic.”

“We will make new tunics for ourselves when this is done,” Naomi said, kneeling beside them. Too tired to smile, she greeted Ghinnah wearily. “It’s good to see you,
daughter, and good to have another pair of hands working with ours.”

Ghinnah said nothing, but her fading color and troubled expression betrayed her doubts. Watching her, Annah thought,
Now you are sure that the father of your husband is mad. And, most likely, you are even wondering about your husband’s sanity. And mine. Perhaps I should wonder as well
.

Annah demonstrated her carving skills for Ghinnah. Though nauseated and wincing at first, Ghinnah learned quickly. Soon she was slashing into the carcasses, her movements almost ruthless, as if she were taking her rage and fears out on the lifeless flesh before her. Annah could almost feel her inner turmoil.

But what can I say to comfort her, when I can’t even comfort myself?
Praying now, she thought,
O Most High, comfort me! Remind me that Your plans—Your infinite, loving plans—will someday include the death of Death—as it was in the Garden of Aden. Assure me that some day the Promised One will destroy Death. How I long for that day! Now, however, I must live in this day
. Thoroughly miserable, she continued to work in silence.

Near midday, Annah sat back and stretched briefly. She was about to offer to prepare the midday meal when one of Noakh’s cousins, Pathal, let out a piercing yell. He was working near the woven enclosures, but Annah heard him raging at Noakh.

“See, I’ve cut my hand! I’ve had enough! I want my animals now. I’m done with you and your accursed family!”

Noakh tried to reason with his cousin, but Pathal waved him off. “I’m going now! Give me my animals, and I’ll leave you to your Most High! You’ll get whatever you deserve, fool!”

Even as Pathal was screaming, Shem, Yepheth, and Khawm went to count out the animals—obviously, they
were glad to be rid of him.

One cousin left
, Annah thought, casting a sidelong glance at the grizzled Akar.
I wish he would go too
.

Sighing, disgusted, Naomi lifted her eyebrows at Annah and Ghinnah. “We’ll let that Pathal-child leave before setting out the midday meal. Why should we feed him? That rude thing … screaming at my dear one.”

As soon as the angry Pathal had departed, Naomi urged everyone to scrub, then eat. But Noakh’s remaining cousin, Akar, took handfuls of grain cakes and fruit and flung himself down in the scanty shade on the northern side of one of the woven enclosures, clearly shunning Noakh and his family.

Apparently disturbed by Pathal’s departure, Noakh ate standing, watching Pathal goad his flock through the distant northwestern edges of his fields.

Touching Annah’s arm, Shem gave her a grim little smile. “I’m amazed Pathal stayed as long as he did. We gave him two extra animals for his cut hand.”

“I suppose that’s fair,” Annah said, her voice low. “This hasn’t been easy work.”

Shem nodded somberly, caressing her cheek. “I wouldn’t blame you if you wanted to run away. This isn’t the sort of work I’d ever wish for you to do.”

Suddenly Noakh cried out, alarmed. “What am I seeing?”

They all stood and followed his gaze northwest toward the departing Pathal. A trio of great lizards loped toward Pathal and his retreating flock.

“Those are monstrous carrion-eaters!” Ghinnah clutched at Yepheth.

Taller than men—their leathery long-necked heads and bodies counterbalanced by long tails—the carrion-eaters
charged the distant flock and scattered it.
Like children playing
, Annah thought, stunned, unable to believe her eyes. Normally, carrion-eaters avoided humans, ignoring them—as if humans were mere gnats, or flies, or little nothing-creatures meant to be disregarded.

“That’s what my uncle was saying,” Ghinnah cried, distraught. “It’s as if the carrion-eaters are too impatient to wait for the carrion to become carrion!”

Even from this distance, Annah could see the sheep of Pathal’s herd being flung about like sticks. The carrion-eaters were amazingly agile, snapping at their victims with their teeth and razing them with great hooklike claws. Annah stepped back, as if she could retreat from the scene. Catching her by the arm, Shem said, “Hurry! We need to move the herds closer to our lodge.”

Akar, Noakh’s last remaining cousin, screamed a death wail. “Pathal, my brother! How can he survive against those terrible monster-lizards? He’s dead! He’s dead!”

“The carrion-eaters must smell the blood of the herds on him,” Yepheth said, as he helped the terrified Ghinnah gather their supplies.

“The carrion-eaters have departed from their purpose,” Noakh said, grieving. “The violence of the earth has affected them—as man is affected.”

Appalled and silent, they hastily decamped to the lodge of Noakh.

“Am I supposed to accept this?” Tirtsah’s beautiful face was ferocious as she confronted Annah and Ghinnah amid the flocks, which now surrounded the lodge. “Am I supposed to be silent while my husband and his family
destroy their wealth?”

“Yes, please be silent!” Ghinnah retorted. “I’m sick of your complaints. I had enough of you yesterday. Even cutting flesh today was preferable to listening to you again. And the only reason we’re here now is to save ourselves from those terrible lizards—though I’m sure you wouldn’t mind if they killed all of us!”

Undeterred by Ghinnah’s hostility, Tirtsah challenged Annah. “Do you accept this madness? This cutting down of the herds?”

Exhausted and frustrated, Annah said, “Yes. I accept it. And whether you like it or not, you must accept it as well. Now, you can help us, or you can go tend the lodge. But please, sister, don’t say another word against your husband and his family.”

Annah marched back to her task of cutting and drying flesh. She could feel Tirtsah staring after her in disbelief.
You’ll have to make your decision soon
, Annah thought to Tirtsah.
Will you go or stay?

Entering the lodge the next afternoon, Shem knelt beside Annah and pulled her into his arms. Softly, he said, “We found Pathal’s body and buried him. He was crushed and torn almost beyond recognition. At least those carrion-eaters have not acquired a taste for the flesh of humans.”

Absorbing the full impact of his words, Annah shuddered and pressed a hand to her mouth.
Don’t think about it
, she commanded herself.
Carrion-eaters chewing the flesh of a man, then spitting him out
. Overwhelmed by nausea, she ran out of the lodge.

“Today we rest,” Noakh said quietly, his dark eyes sweeping over them all as they sat together for their morning meal. “There’s nothing more to be done. Tomorrow we will move into the pen and prepare ourselves. In seven days, the waters will come.”

Naomi lifted her eyebrows. “The Most High has told you it is time?”

“It is time,” Noakh agreed, without enthusiasm.

Annah felt Shem’s warm, callused fingers curling around her hand. Clearing his throat, he said, “Then we should all go to our shelters and pack everything.”

“No. You must rest today,” Noakh commanded them sternly. “Enjoy the sun, the earth, and the skies. This will be our last day of calm and freedom. Do nothing except rest and pray. By tomorrow evening, we should have all our belongings inside the pen. Everything else will be destroyed—as the Most High has said.”

Annah and Shem left the lodge, accompanied by Yepheth, Ghinnah, Khawm, and the sullen Tirtsah. Unsettled by Tirtsah’s smoldering expression, and by Ghinnah’s obvious unhappiness, Annah slowed her steps. Shem, Yepheth, and Khawm went onward, engrossed in their own subdued conversation. Ghinnah and Tirtsah lingered to talk with Annah.