It was there. The demon. Shamdon.
Meryam hurried.
Walker’s cheeks stung with the cold. Exhausted as he was, it seemed to affect him more now. His old injuries ached and he felt ancient as he trudged along beside Kim. Dr. Dwyer scurried ahead of them, frantic in his disapproval. Bringing up the rear was Father Cornelius, his age manifesting itself at last.
“Just let her sleep until morning,” said the doctor, flustered by the way they ignored him, and growing more so with every step.
When Dr. Dwyer tried to stand his ground, blocking their way, Kim put a hand on his shoulder and gently brushed him aside.
“This is Meryam’s project,” she said. “If her partner were in any condition to make decisions, I’d defer to your medical advice. But unless you think it would be popular among the staff for Dr. Walker and myself to seize control of the ark ourselves, any decisions need to be approved by Meryam.”
“In the morning,” the doctor said, his voice a harsh whisper as they approached the infirmary. He didn’t want to disturb his patients.
Walker liked that about him. “Look, Doc…” He paused, gave Dr. Dwyer a moment to gather his wits and calm his frantic heart. “What happened with Adam downstairs scared the shit out of everyone. That’s bad because there’s a lot of crying and praying going on down there right now, a lot of folks wishing they’d never climbed up here in the first place. But all of a sudden, nobody’s fighting. Hakan’s workers are helping keep watch over Adam. The grad students aren’t arguing over whether or not this is really Noah’s ark or whether they believe in angels and demons or whether there’s an actual fucking demon in this cave with us. Pretty soon they’re going to start wondering if Adam killed the four people who’ve gone missing in the last two nights, and if not, who did, because you damn well better believe they think those people are dead. But suddenly, for the first time and maybe not for very long, everyone is on the same page. We work together, gather as much of the research that’s already been done, and the second the blizzard dies out, we get off this mountain.”
Dr. Dwyer nodded vigorously, glancing from Walker to Kim. “Okay, that’s good news, right? No more fighting. We evacuate as soon as possible.”
Walker felt a thin thread of terror weaving through him. “That’s the plan.”
“But why disturb Meryam? Just let her sleep awhile,” Dr. Dwyer pleaded.
Kim threw up her hands. “The arguing will begin again soon enough. The poison of this demon is in us now.”
“I don’t believe—” Dr. Dwyer began.
“Once people start fighting again, the argument’s going to be obvious. What to do about Adam.”
Father Cornelius cleared his throat. “And if Adam isn’t possessed, then who is it? Everyone will hazard a guess, pointing the finger at someone they already don’t like. The paranoia is going to turn ugly very fast.”
Walker studied Dr. Dwyer. “We need to be ready for that, need to keep everyone on the same page and working together. If we can do that, maybe nobody else has to get hurt.”
“Please just—” the doctor said, hurrying after him as Walker reached the entrance of the infirmary.
“Be quiet,” Kim finished for him. “We know.”
Walker stood just inside the infirmary. He’d mustered up some momentum from deep within, just enough to keep going. Now he felt it bleeding out of him. In the low light, he saw only Professor Olivieri on a cot. The others were all empty.
“Shit,” Dr. Dwyer muttered.
“Where’s she gone?” Kim asked sharply. “Doctor, we can’t let anyone out of sight now, especially not anyone who’s been exposed to the presence of…”
“Of the demon,” Father Cornelius finished.
A rustling of cloth drew their attention, and then a rasping voice spoke.
“Father, you need to consider the bitumen.”
Another rustle of cloth and Olivieri rolled over and looked at them in the half light. He had no idea what the man had done to end up in the infirmary, but his head lolled and it was clear Olivieri had been sedated. A thin line of drool gleamed on his cheek.
“Armando, now is not the time,” Father Cornelius said.
Olivieri’s face contorted into a snarl. “Now is the only time. Your arrogance will cost lives, perhaps your own among them. You are not the only scholar here, Father.”
Walker flicked his gaze toward the priest, letting his confusion and curiosity show.
Kim looked back out into the passageway, searching for Meryam.
“Father?” Walker prodded.
The priest loosened his scarf. “All right, Armando. What about the bitumen?”
Olivieri coughed, a dry rattle that gave him a momentary paroxysm. He settled down and then stared blearily at the priest. “Helen Marshall’s team studied the remains of many of the ark’s passengers. Many of them wore charms around their necks on leather cords—shards of the same black bitumen that they used to encase the demon’s coffin.”
“Your point?” Walker asked.
“Have you read the historian Berossus?”
“We don’t have time for this,” Walker said, looking anxiously at Kim, who shook her head out in the passage. No sign of Meryam.
“Third century, B.C.?” Father Cornelius said. “I’ve read of him, seen some summaries, but have never had the opportunity to read the original text.”
“Small wonder. A minor historian, at best, and he reported many stories passed down to him as if he’d heard them firsthand. It’s only my research into the ark that led me to him. Even then there were scholars who argued the existence of Noah and of the ark, and tried to find evidence but instead found only more stories. Berossus reported that in his youth he had met a man who claimed to have found the ruin of the ark on one of the mountains of this range. The people who lived in the shadow of the mountain, Berossus reported, wore shards of hardened bitumen on cords around their necks as wards against evil.”
“Like the ark’s passengers,” Father Cornelius observed.
Kim brushed her hair from her eyes. “Was the bitumen supposed to have magical properties? Or did they perform some kind of ritual to imbue it with those protections?”
“I thought of it when Helen showed me the charms, but that was before all of this and I’d forgotten until now,” Olivieri said gruffly. “I don’t recall it verbatim. Berossus may have said, or he may not, but if the family who built this ark took the time to cover the coffin with bitumen—”
“They coated the coffin with at least six inches of that shit,” Walker said. “Why bother if they didn’t feel it gave them some kind of protection?”
“They must have known something of the demon still lived,” Father Cornelius said thoughtfully. “That its essence continued to be a threat.”
“Forever,” Kim added grimly. “Like nuclear waste, put in barrels and then buried inside cement and steel bunkers.”
The infirmary went quiet. Walker glanced around at the people gathered there—the priest and the doctor, Kim and Olivieri—and knew it might mean nothing. But it might mean something. It might mean life or death.
“Father, can you work with Professor Olivieri? Find any of the charms that Professor Marshall recovered. Then dig out some of the bitumen from the encasement and separate out other shards. We need enough for everyone.”
Dr. Dwyer huffed. “You believe this? It’s a two-thousand-year-old folk tale.”
Walker stared at him and couldn’t stop the dry chuckle that escaped his lips. “Yeah? What the hell do you think we’re standing in?”