Immobility

now,” he said, gesturing at the walls, “is a modern-day equivalent of the Flood.”

“If I remember my Bible, God promised there’d never be another Flood,” said Horkai dryly.

Mahonri quickly backpedaled. “Metaphorically, I mean. And technically there’s no water. So we can still call it a flood—metaphorically—and yet still understand that God hasn’t broken his promise to us.”

The alarm had begun to sound, a piercing noise that made Horkai’s eardrums throb. Mahonri quickly reinserted the cylinder, closed the vat, and started the cylinder up again. The alarm stopped.

“There you have it,” said Mahonri, hanging the tongs back up and beginning to take off his gloves. “Welcome aboard. That’s all, really, that there is to see.”

“So you have everything ready for when it’s safe for humans again?”

“Yes,” said Mahonri.

“All the other cylinders are the same?” asked Horkai.

“Well,” he admitted, “not all. There are two that you’re never to touch.”

“Which are those?”

Mahonri’s eyes narrowed. “Why do you want to know?” he asked.

“If I don’t know,” said Horkai, “how can I know to avoid them?”

He watched Mahonri turn the statement around in his head until finally his eyes relaxed and he smiled. “You have a point,” he said. He led Horkai to the side closest to the wall and pointed to two of the frozen storage tanks. From the outside, they looked absolutely identical to the rest. Through the lid of one, Horkai saw only a craquelure of ice, opaque, impossible to see through, impossible to glimpse what was inside.

“What’s inside?” he asked.

Mahonri shook his head. “It’s not for me to say,” he said. “There’s much you have to learn first. In time you’ll be told.”

And Horkai, not knowing exactly how to respond to this and unable to think of a way to insist, finally simply accepted this explanation and nodded.

* * *

THEY FOLLOWED THE BACK WALL this time, passing the end of each row of cabinets, until they came to another opening. It led onto what was less a hall than a tunnel, the walls rounded rather than squared off, the stone itself unpolished. The wheelchair had some difficulty, and in the end Mahonri grew tired of waiting for him and started pushing him.

How long they traveled down the tunnel Horkai couldn’t say. It couldn’t have been long, really, perhaps no more than a hundred feet or so. In the end and very suddenly it opened out, spreading into what at first seemed a cavern until Mahonri raised his light and Horkai saw that this, too, was man-made, could see the grooves where the rock had been chiseled and blasted away.

The floor of most of the chamber was covered with water, and Horkai could hear the sound of dripping. He could not see a river or a stream; the water instead seemed to seep in through the rock walls, which were glistening with it.

“It filters in,” said Mahonri, noticing Horkai was staring. He fingered the edge of his garment. “It’s quite pure by the time it reaches us,” he said.

Near the edge of the water was a little makeshift building, made by balancing sheets of corrugated tin against one another, drilling a few well-placed holes in them and binding them together with wire. A stone bench sat just in front of it, the water lapping at its base.

“Welcome to my humble abode,” said Mahonri, and bowed.

The front of the shack was open, no wall there at all. Inside the shelter was a cot, an uneasy swirl of blankets on it. Three folding chairs were stacked against the back wall, and on the floor at the head of the bed was another LED lamp. Beside the folding chairs were a dozen or so boxes, in two stacks that almost reached the ceiling.

“Homey,” said Horkai.

“I like it,” said Mahonri. He pulled up one of the folding chairs and snapped it open. “Some of the others sleep in the archive itself, but I prefer to be here, by the water. One of us will have to sleep on the floor,” he said. “Shall it be me tonight? Then you can take tomorrow night, and after that we’ll just alternate until you know the system well enough that I can be stored.”

“Okay,” said Horkai.

“Are you hungry?” Mahonri asked.

Am I? He hadn’t thought about it until now, but yes, he did have to admit that he was not only hungry but starving even. He nodded.

Mahonri opened the top box and reached into it. He came out with two packets. He tore these open and then made his way to the underground lake, filling each of them with water.

“It’ll be just a minute,” he said when he came back and set the packets on the floor. “Which gives us just enough time to pray. Would you like to do the honors or shall I?”

“Uh, you?” said Horkai, caught off guard.

Mahonri folded his arms and bowed his head. He closed his eyes and then began to pray. “Heavenly Father,” Horkai heard, sitting there with his arms on his knees and his head unbowed. “We thank thee for bringing our brother home to help us with our work…” and by that time Horkai was no longer listening, his mind wandering instead, his thoughts only making their way when he heard Mahonri say, “In the name of thy beloved son, Amen.”

Mahonri opened his eyes and rubbed his hands. “If you don’t like the flavor you get, we’ll open you another one,” he said. He pointed to the boxes. “We’ve got plenty.”

When he handed the packet over to Horkai, its contents had become a thick, gummy paste. It didn’t taste like anything. He ate it anyway, sitting in his wheelchair, spooning it into his mouth with his fingers, occasionally exchanging glances with Mahonri, trying to make sense of him.

* * *

AFTER DINNER, MAHONRI UNBUCKLED his boots and began to talk. “I don’t get the chance very often,” he said. “Not to talk to anyone but myself, anyway. After a while it makes a person a little crazy. It’s nice to have someone else here.”

“I can understand that,” said Horkai.

“What did you do before?” asked Mahonri.

“This and that,” said Horkai evasively.

“I sold cars,” said Mahonri. “Lived in Murray but had a used lot over in West Valley City. Well, it wasn’t my lot exactly, but I worked there.”

“Where were you when it happened?”

“At home with my wife and child. We immediately went down to the basement and waited. But it didn’t do much good. A few hours later, they were covered with sores. A few days after that, they were dead.”

“But not you.”

“Not me,” he said. “Hardly seems fair, does it, but the Lord had work remaining for me here.”

“Watching over the records,” said Horkai.

“Yes,” said Mahonri. “I’m a keeper. As are you now. We are here to preserve things, to help humanity start over again, once it’s safe.”

“But how do you know things should start over?” asked Horkai. “Maybe it’s time for things to come to an end.”

“You have doubts, brother,” said Mahonri. “It is very difficult to have no doubts, to have faith instead. Faith is the more courageous path.”

“Is it?” said Horkai. “Is it really?”

Mahonri ignored him. “It is all written in the Scriptures,” said Mahonri, “if you know where to look. The wicked of the earth will be destroyed by war, death, pestilence, and disease, and only then will Christ return and live among us. And then, for a thousand years, there will be no war and the earth shall be changed so that it is again like unto the garden of Eden. There shall be no disease and there shall be an increase in understanding. Satan will have no power over the people, and the righteous shall reign. Has this happened yet? No? Then the world must needs continue until the Second Coming shall arrive.”

“You really believe that?”