Afterwards, he sat in a lounge chair and read the Bible by candlelight. It all flooded back to him, each story, the turns of phrase, the mysteries and the certainties. He felt a kinship with the men and women of the book, the doubts and strength needed to face a rock-solid world that suddenly revealed God. He was up there till the dawn, then rejoined his people.

There were a few in prayer. There were always a few in prayer. It had only been a day and a half since they’d left the Theater, but it had been a long day and a half, and through it, there were always a few in prayer. There hadn’t been much else to do. Those that had come felt less inclined now to travel the ship, to mix with the other passengers. So most remained in that one great room on the peak of the ship.

Adam kneeled and prayed himself, and when he did, many others began praying too. This time, Adam noticed. Prayers, he reflected, may be other than just pleas. They can be promises, praise or thanks. Yesterday, Adam had pleaded. Today he thanked – for life, and for the life he’d been given. For the world and for being separated from it in this moment. For the chance to know God.

As he prayed, a few of his men came up with the day’s bread. They had volunteered as the food-carriers the day before. Adam paid no heed as they arrived. The food-carriers expected the onslaught from the starving group, but with Adam solid in his place, no one else went, and the food-carriers quietly looked for a place to set their trays.

Adam had now been a day without food. Seeing the tiny rations his group had received yesterday morning, he had resolved to suffer double the privations of the others.

When Adam finished his prayers he saw the food and went for his small portion. It was an awful bread, and some kind of potato stew. The stew wasn’t too bad. There wasn’t much. He wasn’t sure if any actual meat was in it. Not in his cup. It wasn’t too bad though, for a hungry man.

There were some dried herbs in it. Parsley. Thyme. That bread was awful though. He soaked it in the bottom of his half cup o’ stew. When he was finished, just seconds really, the rest ate.

“I want to say,” Adam spoke up, and the room listened. “I’ve been thinking a lot about what has happened to us. You are here because you know something. I don’t care what religion you are, they all believe the same thing: that there is something eternal, and that being good matters. And we all know that siding with Golding was bad for whatever it is that we carry that is eternal.

“Once the Hebrews were slaves in Egypt. But what was their relationship to God then? No one had heard from Him in hundreds of years, since the days of Joseph. Then, bam. Miracles. Plagues. Exodus. Doubt. Redemption. I can tell you, I believe that a flood that destroys the world and leaves a small group alive on a ship, I believe God is there. We say everyday, how come God doesn’t show himself? How come nothing happens anymore like what happened to Noah? Well. Hello.

“I haven’t spoken to a lot of you. Maybe you’re not religious. But if you believe in God, how could you not believe he’s here, one way or another? Maybe some of you don’t believe this. Maybe some of you just came along because you couldn’t go along with what Golding and them were doing. That’s fine. I’m glad you came. But here is what I think. For us to be sitting here this long with no rescue, we all know what that means: the world as we know it has been destroyed. I think that we are lucky enough to have been given this chance, to be placed on this ship and saved from the flood, and given a chance to do right while God is watching. That may mean dying, but if God isn’t saving us, I think we’re beyond man saving us at this point. So the rest on this boat will die too. But we’ll die in control.

“Where were you when the Flood hit? Whoever you were, whatever you were doing, the flood crossed your life and your life changed. You don’t need to be the person you were. You’ve survived three disasters. Flood, attack, and abandonment by the world. Now, here, we are blessed. Our lives are short and our options are limited. We isolate ourselves. We live deliberately. We know our end.”

None of them knew what Good looked like anymore, they were desperate to know it. Now it appeared as a giant man with a beard, and they were all prepared to follow it.

 

40

“Travis,” Rick said.

Rick was holding the M16. He had spotted Travis approaching the restaurant.

Travis had given a special hug to Darren before leaving that morning, knowing he would be facing that M16. Travis had made his way around the Theater, from a distance. He’d spotted sentries at some open doors and ducked away before they’d seen him.

He wanted to learn what he could of the layout around the restaurant and galley before he presented himself to Lee Golding to talk. But Rick Dumas had seen him first.

“No soup for you,” Rick said laughing. He had his hand on the pistol grip of Lee’s rifle.

He showed no sign that he would fire it, and Travis inwardly ticked off a sigh of relief at surviving the first checkpoint.

“I want to talk to Golding,” Travis said.

Travis could see into the darkened galley. Although it was daytime, there was very little natural light seeping through. There was some kind of light around a corner that provided a glow over the parts that were in Travis’s field of vision.

Although he couldn’t see any food, he could smell it. Something had been cooked recently, it smelled good, and he realized he was very hungry.

Rick saw the nostrils flare as Travis first felt that aroma.

“You know, I had this one shore excursion booked,” Rick said. “A culinary excursion in Helsinki. A wine and dine in a Finnish farmhouse. Reindeer steaks. Roast moose sausages, and pastries and berries. Bet that sounds pretty good to you right about now.”

“You talk a lot, don’t you?”

Rick paused. He chuckled.

“Let’s go see Golding,” Rick said. “Frisk him,”

A man came out of the shadows and roughly patted down Travis from his ankles to his armpits.

“Cruise security has been tight since 9/11,” Rick said. “You know how it is.”

Rick picked up his cell phone from the counter.

“What does your GPS say?” Travis said as he shook himself loose from the pat down.

“Wish I knew,” Rick said. “Phone’s only good for taking pictures now. Someday I’ll invite you over for the slideshow. Let’s go.”

The Theater was beneath them. Rick and the gun and two other men walked with Travis down the stairs. They went into the Theater through the back entrance, to the dressing rooms behind the stage. There was more security: other refugees Travis had seen around the ship. They exchanged pleasantries with Rick and the other men. One of the two guards stared hard at Travis, the other looked around him and through him as if he didn’t exist. They walked down a hall and around a corner.

The Mighty Lee Golding was asleep sitting back on a bench. His feet were on the floor, his legs straight and crossed at the calves. His arms were raised and his hands clasped behind his head against the wall, his enormous belly vibrating in snores with each in and out breath. They stopped in front of him.

God, you slept well when your side had the gun, Travis thought. He wondered what Lee Golding dreamt of; what was his perfect outcome now? Rescue? A safe and sane world to come home to, where he would be charged with murder? Did he dream that there was another gun?

Travis looked at Rick and the other two who still made no move. Travis kicked Lee Golding’s feet, knocking one off the other and uncrossing the legs. His security detail tensed around him ready to take him down, but did nothing. Lee was quick to his feet. Not long to come from sleep to fight, this one.

The fight in Lee Golding died down as quickly and he said calmly, “What?”