Daniel Keohane - Margaret's Ark

Eleven Fifty-Seven. Three more minutes until a new day. Fifty-four days and three minutes until a billion souls were lost. Or saved. Maybe. Maybe not. How many people would actually do this thing?

She'd stepped into a new world, one which terrified Katie but filled her younger daughter with excitement. God had spoken to her Mommy, just like the people they talk about in Sunday School. That was how Robin had phrased it. Margaret didn't think girls her age ever paid attention in those classes. Serves her right for never volunteering to teach them.

Midnight. Time floated away. Margaret leaned on the couch in the darkened living room and stared out through the picture window to an empty street. She played out what David the angel had shown her. Even to her previously untrained mind, the design seemed flimsy. Most of the ship would be constructed of plywood, material she could get at any home supply store. She turned her head and gazed out at her Taurus station wagon. She played out the dimensions of the wood. There was no way even one sheet would fit in the back. She’d have to measure the tailgate, see what might fit. There were the support beams, two-by-fours, and the glue, and tape and... she needed to build the thing in the middle of the town, in front of everyone.

So many things, all of them nuts. She was a middle-aged women in the twenty-first century in the same position that Noah found himself in... how long ago... five thousand years? Ten? Depends whom you asked, she supposed.

Margaret buried her face in the crook of her arm and cried herself to sleep. She awoke in the same position, early morning light casting the former nightscape into sharp detail. After a few minutes of staring at the houses across the street, now and then a neighbor hurrying off to work, she realized she hadn't dreamt. In a way, she missed talking to David. If anything, for those few moments when he visited her, what was going to happen next felt like the right thing to do.

Fifty-four days. She’d fallen down a rabbit hole into some new world. No climbing out now, so she might as well get to work. Margaret got stiffly up from the couch and wondered what time the lumber store opened.

54

The rock sitting in Margaret's stomach lessened somewhat as the morning waned. After checking that her phone's battery was juiced up and the signal clean, Margaret had to believe her daughters weren't having too bad a time of it in school. She'd made a decision to let Katie and Robin go in, if for no other reason than to free her to do some initial errands with minimal distraction. She left her cell number with both girls, along with a note for their respective teachers. If anyone bothered them, they or the school were to go to the office call her and she'd come get them. Margaret asked the girls not to talk to anyone about what she had told them the night before. She wasn't certain if word had reached Katie's class or Robin's preschool. Doubtful, but gossip traveled fast in that environment.

Al l she wanted was this one day before the weekend started. Margaret rolled the shopping cart down the home supply store's wide aisles. The second errand would come after lunch. Father Nick Mayhew had been more than happy to meet with her, even on such short notice. The priest had taken extra steps to stay involved in Margaret's family since Vince's death, keeping a quiet eye on them, asking questions after Mass. She wondered how much he had heard about the “crackpots” and their end-of-the-world preaching, and almost smiled, expecting his concern for her would blossom again by the time they were done talking.

She had no list for shopping. Whenever she entered an aisle, she would think of the dream and recall every detail. Already her cart was filled with three large gallon-drums of shipper’s glue, nails of various sizes, wood putty, and some smaller boards and lumber. A portable rotary saw weighed the cart down, and the duel folding plastic saw horses jutted at odd angles making navigation of some aisles problematic. Still, these she could wrangle these into the tailgate once she got outside. It was the lumber she worried about.

A man sporting an orange nametag turned and smiled as she rolled into that department. She had to act rational. This was going to be an interesting order - more so if the man listened to the radio.

Thankfully, her request for forty eight-by-four foot sheets of plywood, along with two-by-two and four-by-two beams of low-grade oak, was taken graciously. She then explained that she would need the wood delivered. Her heart skipped a beat, dreading what was coming next, but the man simply smiled and told her to give all the delivery details to the cashier at the lumber desk. He led her to a large square counter in the center of the store, behind which two clerks rang up orders for other customers. Contractors most likely, stocking up for the next Big Project. She supposed what she was doing was not much different. That’s what she told herself as she waited her turn.

The wait was shorter than she would have liked. The customer in front of her moved aside, leaving a shopping cart's width for Margaret to roll toward the smiling young girl behind the counter.

“Do you have a lumber order? Otherwise you'll need to check those items - oh, thanks.” She took the form Margaret proffered. It took a few minutes for the hand-written manifest to get into the computer. All the while Margaret's heart beat furiously. What was she nervous about? What would anyone care what she was going to do with the wood?

Because, eventually, everyone would know. And Margaret didn't think they would like her too much when that happened.

“OK. There. Now, can I have your name?”

“Margaret Carboneau.” She spelled her last name.

“How are you going to pay for this?”

She held out the Discover Card. It's the end of the world, but why not get cash back? she thought without humor.

“Address?”

Margaret gave the address. Beat-beat went her heart.

“And you want delivery to this address?”

The girl was already typing when Margaret whispered, “No. Not there.”

“Oh.” Backspace a few times. “Sorry. Where would you like it delivered?”

“The Lavish town square.” When offered a blank look, Margaret added, “The grassy area in front of the fire department. Between Center and Cambridge Streets. I’ll be there when they come and can point out the exact location.”

Another pause, then a wide smile. It looked forced, but the girl said, “Great! What are they going to build?”

Margaret's mind whirled. What to say? Tell her an ark , she thought, and say goodbye to the order. No, definitely don't tell her. Yes, tell her . Margaret smiled sheepishly as her cheeks burned. “To be honest, I'm really not sure. But it's supposed to be ready by early June.” Then Margaret actually laughed. A nervous laugh, to be sure, but the girl behind the counter smiled and typed in the delivery instructions. Something began happening to her expression. The cashier typed slower at first, then stopped. When she looked up, the smile had faded.

“Early June?” She looked sideways, as if doing some mental calculation. Margaret felt tiny balls of sweat running from her armpits. The girl added, “You don't know what they're going to build?” Her eyes bore into Margaret, as if begging for a straight answer.

The look wasn't accusing. It was something else - enough to make Margaret say, “Yes, I do know, but please,” a quick glance around the store ( please let her know what that means ), “don't ask me. Not now. Please.”

The young woman's face went pale, but she completed the order.

Margaret looked at her nametag. All it said was “Holly”. The name filled her with an unease she didn't understand. Margaret needed twenty-seven people, not counting her own family. Was this how missionaries felt when they arrived in the darkest corners of the world?