Margaret's Ark

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?

Holly fumbled her way through the rest of the order, including the supplies in the cart - all of which were barcode scanned with shaking hands. She looked more relaxed as the credit card reader screeched and whined and the slip printed out.

Margaret signed it, paying no attention to the sale total. What did it matter at this point, except to threaten her credit limit? The girl behind the counter said, almost as reflex, “They should deliver the lumber tomorrow, sometime between eight and noon. I'm sorry I can't be more specific.”

The girl’s nervousness had the inverse affect on Margaret. She felt a sudden calm as she aimed the shopping cart towards the front of the store. She hesitated, then whispered, “There's room for you. Please, come join me. I could use the help.”

Holly grew more pale and actually swayed for a moment. She muttered something Margaret didn't catch, something about clay, then looked away.

Margaret left, not wanting to seem pushy. As she worked her way outside and searched for her car, the scene played itself over. The girl hadn't laughed, nor made her feel like a nut. On the contrary, Margaret couldn't help but think she believed in what she’d been told, or not told in this particular case.

This small belief filled her with... comfort? Maybe a simple hope that she might not end up alone in all of this. She wondered if she'd see this girl named Holly again. If not at the store when she returned, then maybe on the town common.

Maybe.

You're insane .

Maybe .

*     *     *

Boston’s Faneuil Hall marketplace swam before him as Jack stood on the sidewalk and spoke the Lord's words. Most people kept a safe distance, eating their sandwiches and talking amongst themselves.

“Mothers will cling to their babies and howl for mercy. One will scream ‘Take me but spare my child’.  She will watch her innocent one disappear under the waves. In weakness and despair, she will know the ultimate horror, then fall herself into suffocating darkness.”

The words were not his own. Perhaps he knew them once, when he lived a normal life and his brain worked as it should, but not now. Jack moved awkwardly in a small circle atop a short, two-foot wall. God's power surged through him as he preached. He fed off this power, needing nothing but the blessed manna from heaven – on the power of His words. Words which Jack spewed forth to those feigning disinterest in what he said.

He stumbled. “I will...” The world swayed again. He saw the sky. No! Seeing the sky meant he was falling. He couldn't fall. Time was short. He jerked his head down, saw the ground moving. He thrust out one long skinny leg and caught himself.

Had someone giggled? No matter. He was still standing, could still proclaim. Only that mattered. Sweat trickled down his back under the multiple layers of clothes. It had been warm today. Others around him still wore their winter coats but unzipped, fluttering in the breeze. Summer