The Return of the Ark

"Indiana?"  I called my grandfather by his given name, that was the only name he ever seemed to acknowledge. Age is a high price to pay for maturity; I wondered if his frail body would ever recover from the stress of today. And I was worried; the crowd around us was quiet now, since he had slid open the Ark, or whatever he called it. But how long before they remembered that he had interrupted their day?  What would happen when the police realized that curfew had passed and all these people were in violation?

"It all began to fall apart when we stopped believing, Marian."

My grandfather seemed coherent at this moment.  I was hesitant to send him back to where ever he went when his mind wandered. At the same time, I wondered if he was right.  With all of the technological wonders discovered over the centuries, there no longer seemed to be any reason to believe in what we could not see or hear. There were still some who practiced the Old Ways, of course. I had heard of historical buildings in other places where the worship of Theists was still conducted.  This city state did not condone such practices, however, and even now I could hear sirens in the distance.

"Indiana?  We need to go now," I grasped his arm. "The police are on their way."

"No," He shook my arm off. "I have to bring it all back, and if that means that I die, so be it."

Tiny wisps of smoke had begun drifting up from the Ark.  A soft golden glow emanated from inside, as though a small fire had started when it was exposed to the air. I heard small whispers, voices long dead, stirring from the shadows inside.  Curious, the crowd began to push forward, surrounding us and the Ark.  I looked for a means of escape; the sea of humanity around us was too vast.

"Marian, get down!"  My grandfather had knelt, and pulled me down beside him. His face was more frantic than I had ever seen.  "Whatever happens, do not look at what is in that box!  Do you understand me?  Do not look!"  

We knelt next to the Ark, our gaze centered upon the concrete beneath us.  I felt the movement of people around us as they crowded around the Ark. The whispers seemed to curl around us, flowing outward from the Ark and circulating like fog. Small sparks landed around us; I started to lift my eyes, but Indiana grabbed my hand and pulled my arm down as a reminder. 

At first, the crowd seemed awestruck by whatever was occurring; I heard small sounds of wonder and appreciation.  A child's laughter echoed in the air, and people moved closer still.  The police had arrived; a firm voice over a microphone warned that crowds gathered after curfew were subject to immediate dismemberment.  There was a sudden scream as sentences began to be carried out.

That's when the golden glow from the Ark, that gentle light, seemed to become a conflagration of unbearable heat.  Screams began echoing around us, and around us, bodies began hitting the ground suddenly. I shut my eyes tightly, terrified. What had Indiana done?

And then there was silence.



This was a continuation of last week's adventure.


Age is a high price to pay for maturity  (from the Light and Shade Challenge)

“... it all began to fall apart.”

Looking For Indiana

“He wore a faded brown fedora.”  

"What did you say?" The statement grabbed me, pulling me out of whatever hole my thoughts had fallen into.  Grasping the stranger next to me by the arm, I forced him to stop, heedless of the disapproving stares of the other pedestrians trying to make their way down the sidewalk. Curfew was coming, and everyone was in a hurry.

"Get off of me!" The man threw my arm off, and started to turn away. I grabbed at him again, desperate.  I tried to soften my tone this time, and forced my face into what felt like a smile.

"Please--what did you say about a brown fedora?"  The man looked at me, and must have seen my distress, because he softened.

"There was some old guy over on First, wearing one.  He had a brown leather jacket and a bullwhip, and kept hollering about an Ark or Covenant,"  He said.  "Do you know him?"

"He's my grandfather," I whispered, my every fear realized.  It was my fault; I hadn't realized that the old man was so far gone.  I'd only stepped outside to buy some milk before curfew, never realizing that he'd figured out how to open the door by himself.

"You'd better get over there if you want to catch him before the cops do," My reluctant informant moved away, blending into the crowd as if he'd never existed; we were all wearing the same black and gray uniforms.

Mindful of the time displayed on digital clocks everywhere, I hurried the two blocks over to First Street.  As I turned the corner, I heard a familiar voice yelling at the crowd to get back.  There would be no hiding him now.  I pushed my way to the center of the crowd to find my grandfather standing on top of a wooden crate.  On the ground around the box were littered the bodies of several unconscious men. My heart sank as I realized that my grandfather had a crowbar.  He used it to open the box, jumping to the ground to pull the top with him.

The sides of the crate fell away to reveal another box, made of what appeared to be gold. The crowd fell silent, mesmerized as the last lights of the day were reflected off the shiny material.  I could see that there were letters carved into the sides of the box, symbols that meant nothing to me. It may have been an old religious icon, but religion had been outlawed centuries before. I moved to my grandfather's side. 

"It's time to go home, Indiana," I told him; he might not recognize me, but he knew his name.  My grandfather smiled at me, his eyes radiating a secret knowledge.

"Yes. It is time to go home," he said. Then he pushed the lid off the golden box.