When they reached the foot of the mountain at the end of the field, they followed the forest brow across it, beyond the pass, which was impossible to climb with all their encumbrances, and on down into the valley, until the slope of the mountain had become gentle enough for them to climb without too much difficulty. From there they followed the evenly ascending ridge back again, until late in the afternoon they reached the broad plateau at the top of the mountain above their farm.
They halted and took off their packs, put Lamech’s stretcher down, took out a little food, which they ate standing up. The rain pelted the ground all around them. One or two logs from the beacon, which they’d lit so optimistically a few weeks earlier, lay scattered about.
Lamech, like the others, was soaked to the skin. But Anna saw that at least he was sleeping now. She’d already begun to accustom herself to the idea that he wouldn’t see this through.
Viewed from this altitude, there was no difference between the water inside the embankment and outside it. The whole valley resembled a lake.
And for all the latter part of the journey, they’d seen the sea. No one had ever been able to do that from this part of the valley. It was only a couple of miles farther down. For a while they had paused down there, the sight was completely incredible, sea reaching into the pine forest and rising before their very eyes. The valley sloped so that the pine trees were at different heights. They looked like bathers paddling into the sea. The water lay across the full width of the valley, swelling between the mountainsides, but it didn’t form small waves, as might have been expected. The water fell back as one, then washed across the forest floor in one single, concerted breaker.
Even from the height they’d been at, they could hear the hiss and boom of the water below. The crack of the splintering trees.
Anna had picked out a tree, which she regularly checked by sight. When they halted it had stood on the water’s edge, when they pressed on it was deep in the water. In that short space of time the water had risen at least fifteen feet.
How many feet higher was the valley itself? Three hundred? Four hundred and fifty? It was only a matter of days at most, perhaps only hours, before the water reached that height and washed over the country there.
She’d considered going down to Noah that evening to warn him. Now she wasn’t so sure. Lamech was seriously depleted, and Rachel seemed exhausted. Walking so far and carrying such a weight just before childbirth made the chances of an early start to labor very high.
She’d have to make the decision when they got there.
After the rest, which everyone wanted to get over as quickly as possible — it was depressing to stand in the rain and look over the flooding fields — they entered the forest on the far side of the plateau, through the wood and up onto the rocky ground on the other side. Here, too, the water had risen: what had previously been a small tarn was now a great lake, and all the surrounding ground was waterlogged and marshy. As a result they had to make lengthy detours and didn’t reach the summer farm until long after darkness had fallen.
The first thing they did was to undress Lamech, dry him thoroughly, put fresh clothes on him, and lay him in the bed in the room downstairs. Throughout the whole operation he slept soundly.
But what a relief to get under cover!
The twins took off their packs downstairs, where they were to sleep, the others carried theirs up to the half-loft. Anna and Javan’s eyes met as they stood up there, and they laughed.
“What are you two laughing at?” asked Rachel.
“This was where we met,” Anna said.
“Here?”
“Yes. Your father came clambering up that ladder one night. And I watched him from that bed, completely petrified.”
“Did you?” Rachel looked at Javan.
Javan smiled.
“I’ll tell you what happened another time.”
Then he turned to Jerak.
“We’d better go down,” he said. “We can change there.”
“How are you feeling?” Anna asked Rachel when they were alone.
“Fine,” said Rachel. “It hurts a bit, but. . There’s probably nothing wrong.”
“No, I’m sure there isn’t,” said Anna. “Lie down and rest awhile. It’s the best thing for you.”
She changed and went down to make some food and see to Lamech. She had decided to go over and speak to Noah that evening, but had reasoned that she had to do so without Rachel’s knowing. Rachel depended on her, and would be frightened if she weren’t there, so near her time.
What if the confinement began tonight?
Were Javan and Jerak to deliver the baby?
No, she couldn’t go.
“What are you thinking about?” asked Javan, suddenly close by her.
“Come outside for a moment,” she said. “I’ll tell you.”
The rain was too heavy for them to stand about, so they went into the lean-to at the side, where Anna explained her dilemma to him.
“Couldn’t you wait until the baby’s born before going over?” he said.
“That might be another week,” she said. “Possibly two.”
“And you have to go down to your brother?”
“Yes.”
“Do you think the baby will be born tonight?”
“No.”
Javan opened his arms.
“Well then, just go,” he said. “Leave when we’re asleep, come back before we’re awake.”
“D’you think so?” she said.
“Yes.”
“Well, that’s settled then,” she said.
Somewhere in the distance they heard a cow bellow. Then another.
“I’ll take Omak and Ophir down to the valley tomorrow,” said Javan. “We must bring what we can up here before it’s too late.”
She nodded, she’d thought about that too, and they went in to the others. After they’d eaten they went to bed. Anna waited for half an hour, then crept down the ladder, put some food and extra clothing into a pack, fetched a stick from the lean-to and set out into the thick, rain-filled darkness.
She made her way across the whole of the sloping mountainside, which was usually covered with grass, but now for the most part consisted of mud, into the forest, along the old animal track, where she could hardly see the tip of her nose in front of her, and practically had to feel her way with the stick, out onto the edge of the precipice above the gorge, up to the place where the mountain formed a bridge over the rapids.
She’d never crossed here before. Whenever she’d had to get to the other side, she’d always preferred to ford the river up by the lake. But now the lake would be much bigger, and the current far too strong to cross there. She might be able to go around the lake, but that would take all night, so this was the only option.
When she stopped in front of the bridge, she saw that the water level was so high that the river was flowing over that as well. Not much, and not over all of it.
She walked out a few tentative paces. Up here the water reached roughly to her ankles. It tugged at them, but not so much that she wasn’t able to stand comfortably. She took another pace, stopped, took another, stopped. The roar of the water in the gorge was deafening. The sky was black, the forest before and behind her was black. All that was visible was the white eddies of scum.
She mustn’t hesitate, or she might find herself stuck there, paralyzed with fear, as she had been as a child when climbing in the mountains, so she quickly took another step, and another after that, until she could lean against the rock face on the other side and gasp with relief.