Daniel Keohane - Margaret's Ark

“You work at the lumber store,” Margaret said, trying not to look at her watch but knowing that it was only a matter of minutes by the way Carl was bouncing on the balls of his feet.

The girl nodded, gave Carl a quick sidelong glance then raised the baby between them. “I'm sorry. I know... I know you asked me long ago to join you. I didn’t, but I believed you. I listened to the radio, even saw you on TV. I never stopped believing. I swear!”

Margaret raised her hands, not wanting to touch the child. “It's too late -” she began.

The woman began to cry, heavy, tear-streaked sobs. When she spoke, however, the words were clear and came quickly. “I know. Really, I know. I'm not asking for me. I'll stay down here with the others. It's too late for me. But not Connor. Please! He's a good boy, and never cries, really. He won’t take up any room and I can’t let him die like this, please !”

Margaret moved to gently coax the baby back towards his mother. Holly used the opportunity to push him into her arms. She let go. Margaret was forced to take him. Connor cooed joyfully at this new game.

“Mrs. Carboneau….” Carl's agitation was obvious. “Please.”

Margaret waited a moment, feeling the wriggling child in her arms, not wanting to hold him any closer. The boy reeked of urine and feces, his face streaked with dried food. Margaret hardened herself for what she needed to say. The girl had been given a chance long ago, and she’d blown it.

That was when Margaret noticed the marks on the girl's wrists. She'd thought them tattoos or bracelets. No. They were rope burns. Red, swollen rings.

“How did -” she began but stopped. Seeing where Margaret was staring, the girl folded her arms across her chest.

Carl took a step down the ramp. “Mrs. Carboneau, you said yourself not to trust our watches. Come on!”

Margaret held Connor close now, and looked at the baby’s mother. She believed. This one believed, more so than the woman across the grass who'd managed to pin down her other two sons and give them their sandwiches.

But it was too late.

How strong is your faith, Margaret Carboneau?

The thought chilled her, for they weren't the words of the angel David nor anyone else. They were her own. Try as she might to suppress the next thought, it came. How far could such a faith carry you?

No! She’d gone this far. Damn it, she’d given up everything. What more could she do? In that moment, in the minutes before the world would fall, it no longer felt as if she'd done enough.

How far would you go?

No, please .

In those few remaining moments which seemed to stretch to eternity in her mind, Margaret had already decided.

Without looking away from the pleading face of the girl, she said loudly, “Carl. Hurry down here and take this baby with you. Then drop the ramp.”

No response. Margaret turned to face him. His expression would have been comical if she wasn't so frightened. Carl slowly shook his head.

“Carl, you said it yourself. We have no time. Please don’t question me now!”

“What the fu...” he began. His shoulders sagged. “Why?”

Connor wriggled playfully in Margaret’s arms. Forget it , she thought. Just hand him back to his mother and run onto the ship before this goes too far. Instead she said, “Carl, you haven't questioned one thing I've asked, or God has demanded, since this started. And now there isn’t any more time. Do this. Hurry!”

Carl didn’t move. Some of what had been said must have been heard through the hull, for there came muffled shouts of protest from inside the ark. One of the voices, Margaret was certain, belonged to Katie. Her older daughter screamed for someone to let her out of the harness. Her pleas were drowned out by louder, adult voices. Al’s voice boomed over them all, telling one person to “shut the fuck up and stay put!” She hoped he wasn't speaking to Katie that way.

Carl looked at his watch, gave Margaret one last glare of contempt. He whispered, “Please....” Margaret simply raised the squirming child before her like an offering. Carl let out a breath. Tears were running down both cheeks, but he bounded down the ramp. Margaret gripped Connor a little too tightly, afraid Carl was going to rip the boy from her hands and toss him aside. He took him from her gently. Through his tears, she saw so much rage and hurt in his eyes.

He ran back up the ramp. Holly cried out and took a step forward. Margaret reached for her, but the girl stopped under her own power before Margaret's hand closed around her elbow. She slowly stepped backwards. The two woman stood beside each other, watching Carl and Connor reach the top of the ramp.

The crowd around the ark, kept at bay all this time, murmured among themselves. Just a few voices, but it was obvious to Margaret that people had been paying close attention to the events. She thought of the nights seeing figures in the darkened cars, unseen faces watching and waiting. They were here now. She tried to pretend they weren't. She was alone, with the young woman, watching Carl reach the top and turn to face them.

Katie's voice inside the ship called, “Mom!” Margaret tried not to hear, listened only to the light breeze playing around her. She whispered, “I'm sorry, Katie. I'm really sorry. Take care of my babies, Carl.” Only the young woman heard. Margaret didn't know what to do next, so she looked at her watch.

It was eight-fourteen.

She led Holly two steps from the ark and knelt on the grass. Holly did likewise, still mute with the suddenness of what had happened, moving automatically.

Margaret cleared her throat, then yelled without looking up, “Carl, drop the ramp. We're out of time!”

Carl remained where he was, Connor in the crook of one arm. The baby was crying loudly now, sensing the others' distress.

“Hey, Lady!” A heavy man emerged from the crowd, a cigarette wedged between two pointing fingers. “What's going on? I'm on the list! Who was that little shit you let up there? I'm on the list!”

“Carl! For the baby's sake. Move it!”

Carl just stood there, staring down at her, mouthing “Why?” over and over.

The man stubbed out his cigarette and walked towards the ramp. “Like hell I’m letting anyone cut me in line!”

He never made it.

* * *

Suresh dipped his toes in the water. The midday sun exploded in short bursts from the ripples. He heard someone shout a two-minute warning. The couple that had been standing on the dock behind him walked quickly towards the voice. Suresh was left alone. Though the sun had burned down on him all morning, he shivered.

Bernard Meyers sauntered along the dock and stopped beside him. He looked at the sky and took another sip from the glass. All he got was a small sliver of ice.

“You don't seem to be enjoying my party, Mr. Ramprakash.”

Suresh did not respond. Meyers turned back to face the cottage. From this vantage, he watched the party-goers milling about uncertainly, laughing, looking at the sky. All but Neha, who pretended to be in conversation with Derek and Karen Jahns, but all the while was looking past them with a burning stare towards the dock.

He sighed and said, “What are you doing?”

Suresh made more ripples with his toes and said, “Praying... trying to, I guess.”

Meyers raised an eyebrow, though the effect was lost on the man as he continued staring at the lake splashing over his feet. He said, “You believe it's going to happen then?”

Suresh turned sideways on the dock and looked up at the doctor. “So do you.”

Meyers laughed suddenly, caught himself and tightened his lips. He looked around at the landscape and said, “So many people in the world. Thousands. They believe so strongly, threw everything away and built their arks. I've always wondered...” He trailed off, raised the glass to his lips but lowered it when he remembered it was empty.