Free Storm by Donna Jo Napoli Page A

level,” says the old man. “The animals there are huge, and what they produce is huge.”
    “None of the animals on the deck below are meat eaters,” says Ham. “Nothing stinks as bad down there. Ask Shem. We face the foulest stench every day.”
    “Stand on his shoulders!” shouts the old man at Japheth. “Stand on your brother’s shoulders.”
    “And if I fall?”
    “Shem will catch you.”
    The third man, Shem, knits his big bushy eyebrows together and nods. “I will. I swear.” He slaps one fist against the other palm. Slap, slap, slap .
    “We could both fall,” mumbles Ham.
    But Japheth grabs the latticework with hooked fingers. Thelions inside growl and bang against it. Japheth quick moves his hands higher. He clings there as he manages to place one foot on Ham’s shoulder. Now the other on the other shoulder. He’s stooped over Ham’s head, grasping the latticework with all fingers spread. The lions go wild. They growl and hiss. Japheth straightens just a little and snags a snake bit and drops it into Shem’s hand, then quickly hunches over again, grabbing lower. A lion bangs hard against the latticework high up. Japheth screams. He jumps off Ham’s shoulders, hits the ground, and rolls.
    “Cockroach,” says Ham, rubbing his shoulders. “If we have to get the other two, I’ll stand on you instead.”
    “And lose your fingers doing it,” says Japheth. He holds up a bloody hand, then licks it slowly. “That lion is some jumper.”
    “Japheth couldn’t support your weight anyway,” says Shem to Ham. He sniffs loudly, and his nose goes wide and large. In this moment he looks like a younger version of the old man. “It’s my turn next. Who’s climbing on my shoulders?” He puts both hands over his face and draws them away from each other, over his bushy eyebrows and across his temples, as though he’s getting ready for the challenge.
    “We don’t need the other two,” says the old man.
    “Ha! That’s just like you,” says Ham. “Once I’ve done the hard work, it’s over, right, Father? You’re so predictable.”
    The old man shrugs one shoulder. He turns the piece of snake in his hands. “This is definitely a sea serpent.” He looks across the three men. “Who fed them a serpent?”
    They shake their heads.
    “One of you did. One of you had to. Who?”
    The brothers shake their heads again.
    “Ham?”
    “I knew you thought it was me! Well, it wasn’t. I had nothing to do with it.”
    “You’re so easy to provoke.” The old man waves off Ham’s protests. “You three don’t know how lucky you are. Sea serpents breathe air. They can live out of water. Mostly they bite dry, but if they bite wet—if they shoot venom into you—you die.” He points in Ham’s face, then Japheth’s, then Shem’s. “That snake could have killed you. And it could have killed one of these creatures, the Mighty Creator’s creatures.” Now he puts his face in each of theirs in turn. “Not a single one of the creatures on this ark can die. Exactly the same number of creatures we led on board must be led off at the end.”
    “It’s not our fault if a sea serpent got on board,” says Ham.
    “Nothing new is allowed on board.”
    “We remember,” says Ham. “You told us that in the first days on board, over and over. It’s impossible to forget. We didn’t allow anything. It just happened.”
    Shem holds a staying hand up toward Ham. “Maybe the serpent was here at the outset, Father.”
    “He wasn’t,” says the old man.
    “How do you know?” says Ham.
    “The same way I know everything.” The old man shakeshis head. He looks shaggy and tired, like an aging ram. “It’s my fault. I should patrol every deck every day.”
    “I can patrol,” says Shem.
    “Right,” says Ham. “Put us in charge of things. You can’t be in charge of everything, Father.”
    “I have to. The responsibility was given to me. I’ll patrol.” The old man rubs his fingers as though they hurt.