He pleaded with me as well and told me to climb into his box now, before it was too late. But I pushed him aside. At the time, he seemed so insignificant. So much smaller than me, and his words of warning were like the insane ramblings of so many other prophets of doom in those dark days. Like the seemingly mad ravings of his own great-grandfather, now long dead. I prided myself on standing apart from the irrelevant affairs of the Earthborn; of my own kind, for that matter.
He knelt and whispered something to Keena. She looked up at me, and I could see it in her eyes: she had understood him. She whined, and it was clear she was afraid.
The Builder asked me if he could take my dog with him. “Spare your animal, at least,” he said. Keena seemed to understand this request, but when the Builder held out his hand to her, she moved back behind me out of reach. Her head was bowed like a supplicant, but she would not leave my side, whatever the disaster the Builder foretold.
He seemed to accept that he could not save anyone but himself, his family, and the animals they had gathered. Without saying another word, he stood up and walked toward the box. He ushered his family inside, and standing at the doorway, he looked out on the world he knew, now soaked and swollen with the rains of many days.
He and his sons pulled on the ropes attached to the ramp, heaving until it lifted and pivoted. I realized then that the ramp was a door they were pulling closed. With a final thud lost beneath the boom of thunder, the Builder and his family and all those animals were sealed into the box.
Human faces soon appeared, staring through windows at all they were leaving behind. They watched us watching them, and I felt the knot tighten in my stomach. For I knew at last that it was no mere box the Builder had made.
It was an ark.
Keena and I slogged through the mud to our camp. Water was standing everywhere, pooling up in any low-lying spot. That night we had jerky and hot broth from the fire. The last fire we ever built.
The rain got heavier, more intense in the next days. Homes once overlooking large pastures now stood half-submerged in water. Valleys had become lakes. We sought out higher ground, moving camp multiple times a day. We had to climb constantly to stay ahead of the creeping waterline. Everything was wet now, and if you stared long enough, you could see the water rising with your eyes.
From the top of one of the hills, we could see the Builder’s ark. Water climbed up the sides until eventually it began to float. It passed out of the fertile valley we called home on top of the flood waters. As we watched it go, I knew: Keena and I were running out of options.
We climbed the highest mountain in the region, and at the top found a cave. We walked to the edge and looked out over the world. Water surrounded the mountain. Keena looked over the valley, the only home she had ever known. She bayed mournfully, and I knelt beside her and gently stroked her back. In her guttural wail, she expressed what I could not—a kind soul’s lament for the loss of her world. I stayed by her thinking I was comforting her, but it was she, through her song of sadness, that gave me the courage to face what was to come.
We watched as others sought higher ground. A bear climbed seeking safety and howled as it was washed down the cliff face. Seeking better shelter ourselves, we ventured deeper into the cave. We found a shaft leading into the core of the mountain and followed it deeper in. Eventually, the tunnel formed an elbow, and we followed it until we reached an open chamber. We sat against the far wall and rested.
“We will be fine, girl,” I soothed.
She sat next to me, her ears perked up and the fur at the back of her neck bristling and wet. The tunnel amplified the constant, driving rain outside, and the chamber was filled with the eerie echoes of those pattering drums. We needed to keep moving, but we also needed rest, so I coaxed her to relax next to me. We slept.
Five
I was startled awake by a rising pitch in the sound that filled our chamber. In the dim light of the cave, it was hard to tell how long we had slept, and Keena had awoken before me. She sat at attention, staring down the hole. I rose and we walked down the tunnel to see what the sound was.
When we reached the bottom where the tunnel started upward again, we saw that water had begun to fill the elbow down the tunnel. It was ankle high and rising. If this kept up, I knew, we would soon be trapped.
Keena and I climbed back up the path toward the outside of the mountain, slipping along the way as we fought for purchase in the running water. We reached the upper chamber and saw the problem. The water was already trickling in from the opening to the outside. The rain was fierce now, heavier than before, if that were possible.
I looked at Keena and saw her shaking. She pressed against my leg as if to reassure me that she was there to protect me, but I knew deep inside she was as afraid as I was. The world was becoming one unbroken ocean. The earth-sea had claimed everything and everyone.
The horror struck me deep in my heart. Keena and I were alone with nowhere to go.
The end chamber was still dry, at least for now, so I judged it the best place to wait out the rain. As we carefully made our way down the shaft, a fish slid past my feet. The water at the bottom of the shaft was now knee deep and teeming with fish. Keena grabbed one and I snagged another. We might be trapped, but we would not be hungry that night. We climbed up to the back chamber and had raw fish for dinner.
The roar of the water got louder and louder. I had no idea how long we could last in the dry chamber, but we made trips back to the surface to watch as the waterline rose. Rain even filled the elbow of the tunnel.
I held my breath and dove under, swimming for the surface. I reached the top and saw that the water had breached the opening. It was flooding in. I knew it would soon cover the entire mountain. I dove down again and swam back to the chamber where Keena waited, anxious for my return. I could see that she knew it was hopeless. Any words I could say would be wasted. I sat down with my back against the wall and she put her head in my lap.
Her eyes looked up at me, and I could see in them her resignation. Her low moan filled the chamber. The sound of sadness for the loss of the world. Of fear for the loss of her life. We listened to the droning of the water for a long while. It finally lulled us both to sleep.
I woke up several hours later with a raging headache. Keena was lethargic, and I soon realized that even though we were still dry, our fresh air supply had been cut off by the flooded tunnel. Our time, like our air, was growing short.
She knew it, too. Keena stretched upward and licked my face. She snuggled into me and rested her head on my shoulder. Her breathing became shallow and ragged. I knew this was the end. Finally, after all the destruction and loss of life. After the washing away of the Watchers and the drowning of His other creations, I began to weep. Not for all or any of that. But for Keena.
I wept for Keena.
Some have said that you see your life pass before your eyes at the end, but I did not. I saw hers. Every moment we had shared together played out in my head. My own flood, a flood of tears, came as she huffed her last breath. I kissed her on the end of her nose as I inhaled her last sigh. I clutched her tightly and told her I loved her. The sobs became louder and more violent and for the first time I knew what real love was. How losing one so close can devastate your heart.
Losing Keena broke me in two.
I held my friend as blackness surrounded my vision. Then all was silent and dark.
The hollow emptiness of death.
Six
I awoke. The quiet was the first thing I noticed. I had become so accustomed to the rushing sound of water that the silence was deafening.