Free Margaret's Ark by Daniel G Keohane

hadn’t actually said the world itself would be destroyed. Devastated, perhaps. And what of the animals? She’d made no mention of them, but Nick had a hard time thinking the Lord would begin this ark business all over again and leave that part out.
    He slammed the book closed and rubbed his eyes. What was he doing? Getting caught up in a parishioner's delusions. He got up and poured a fresh mug of coffee, checked his schedule. Rounds at the hospice on Avery Road in an hour, then at seven a promise to stop in the church basement to bless the weekly AA meeting. Something he did only when invited; otherwise he respected their need for privacy.
    An hour to himself, then. Nick turned on the stereo and fumbled through his small CD collection. Something to sooth his mind and lead him to no other decision than to simply listen. Gregorian chants, perhaps.
    When it clicked on, the stereo was tuned to National Public Radio. A story about a Senator from Arkansas caught in a paternity suit. Nothing he wanted to hear. Margaret had mentioned the radio, however. He hit the tuning knob, letting the receiver scan for the next clear signal. Rap. Scan. Something harsher, which he hadn't thought was possible. Scan. More music.
    He pressed AM. Static. Scan. Sports. Scan. Sports. Scan. Another talk show, but not about sports. The moderator was rattling on about the school system and the latest rounds of test scores. Nick looked back at the CD. Monks chanting, calm, pure, holy, perfect. That's what he wanted.
    Nevertheless, he laid the jewel case unopened on the floor, and sat back against a chair. He turned up the volume but ignored the words, walked across into his office and opened the browser on the computer. He Googled “Great Flood.” Added “dreams.” After ten minutes of dead ends, he found a blog. The owner kept apologizing while repeating the same story, almost word for word an echo of Margaret’s dream. Different setting, different angel, same –
    “....yes, I know. We're all going to die.”
    Nick turned around in his chair, listened to the too-loud voices in the other room.
    “You talk like this is some joke... but I can hear the fear in your voice, sir. Fear of death, unatoned sins, of how they could still be washed clean -”
    “You can wash for the next year and never clean all the crap you're slinging our way. Bye-Bye!”
    Nick's heart raced. He walked back into the living room, feeling like a child afraid of being caught at something he shouldn't be doing.
    What was he afraid of? For all he knew, they were talking about something entirely different than Margaret's visions.
    The moderator on the radio continued, “All right. Looks like our lines are getting a little heavy with these Noah’s Ark wackos, so what say we just purge all the lines and start fresh? Sorry for anyone calling about something worth discussing. We promise...”
    Nick sat on the floor and stared at the receiver, but the moderator made it a point to discuss everything but people’s dreams. He looked towards the wall clock to be sure not to be late to the hospice. He still had twenty-five minutes. The computer screen beckoned from the office. The priest took a breath, let it out slowly. He walked to the desk and finished reading the blog, moved on, scanned every major news page for anything related. Nothing yet CNN-worthy, but local news sites had plenty to discuss. For the next fifteen minutes, he stared intently at these early news reports, to snippets of chat room conversations and miscellaneous references unfolding before him on the screen.
    As he prepared to leave for the hospice, already late, one thing was obvious. Though Nick could not yet bring himself to believe what the callers and reports were saying, the fact was that Margaret had been speaking the truth.
     
     
    *     *     *
     
    It was dark outside. Jack turned away from the window. His throat was dry. He considered ringing for the nurse again, but she took so long the last