The Flood

a story by

Adam Paimon

Preface

Crazy stories are great. Religion is full of them, there is so much to enjoy. But if you take them literally and you stop looking around for a wider view, you will be doomed. Just like the main character here, who fails to see he is part of a bigger world in which things are different.

© 2020-2023 Adam Paimon

www.adampaimon.com

No part of this publication may be copied, reproduced and/or published by means of printing, photocopying or by whatsoever means, without the prior written consent of Adam Paimon.

The Flood

“Tom, Tommy, you fool. What are you doing? Are we going, yes? No, no, not yet. What are you…. doing then? Standing, I think, but why? Where? Tommy, listen, we have to go. Come on, Tom, let’s move!”

The once white wall before him was stained and cracked. It was really close, his nose was nearly touching the cool greyish bricks. A big smear of red paint was right in front of his left eye. As the heat of the midday sun beamed down on his back, a drop of sweat ran down his nose. How long had he been here? He didn’t know. There was this voice again, cracked and hoarse. Was it his own voice? Did it actually sound or was it only in his head?

“Tommy, we go now. Yes, just turn around and put your one foot before the other and just walk! NOW, please.”

His legs trembled at the thought of walking. He was not sure he could do it. Why was he here? Where was he going? There was something he needed to do, but he forgot.

“We will go now, we’ve been here long enough.”

Oh, if only that voice could stop talking! Then he would know what to do. But if he thought that it was his own voice, why couldn’t he control it?

“It is really easy Tom and not too far. Get there and you will understand.”

With all his willpower, Tom turned away from the wall and started walking. He didn’t think, he just mechanically moved his legs, barely lifting his feet. He knew where to go. Or at least someone who was in control knew. His eyes saw the world pass by in slow motion as if he was only a passenger in his own body. Far away he heard noises of screeching tires and alarming screams and swearing. There was a road somewhere, or was he crossing it? The voice babbled on.

“Good boy, Tommy. Yes, you are doing great. Listen to me, you will be alright. Maybe we’ll have some cheese later, you like that, cheese? Yes, you do. I know that, I know all about you and I take care of you.”

Tommy stumbled on. Road after road, turn after turn. It seemed endless. He was feeling weak, but the voice encouraged him to keep moving. He had vague thoughts that slipped away before they materialized. There was a notion of familiarity when he looked around. Signs above shops, certain waste bins, cars driving around, people walking, all far away in a haze of mental clouds. At a construction yard, closed for the summer, Tommy stopped.

“Careful now, careful,” he whispered, “Get through the hole in the fence, watch that no one sees you. There you go. There might be cheese there. Or ice cream, you like that too, right?”

Tommy didn’t fancy ice cream right now, he was completely empty of any need as he pushed himself through a broken board in the wooden fence.

The construction yard was a lot completely surrounded by the wooden fence he just climbed through. A half-built building stood at its centre and stacks of building materials dotted the yard. Tommy looked at a particularly large stack of bricks to the right of him. On top of the bricks there was a light, no, it was a man that beamed like a light. Tommy’s eyes were watery and the image was unclear and everything swam before his eyes like a vision in a dream.

“Do you remember what the wall said, Thomas?” The man had spoken with a voice that drowned out all the sounds of the surrounding city and carried an authority that commanded instant respect and attention. Tommy fell to his knees, his legs seemed unable to hold his body and he closed his eyes.

“The wall. The wall, yes. No, maybe… I…,” Tommy babbled, but then his head cleared a little and he saw the stained white wall before his eyes again. There were big red letters painted on it, he remembered. He could read them from far away: BEWARE OF THE WATER. Yes, that was what it said. And then he walked closer and….

“You remember,” boomed the voice of the man. “That is good.”

Tommy opened his eyes, clearing them by rubbing his knuckles against them. The man was at a distance but he emitted so much light that Tommy still couldn’t see clearly.

“So, what do you need to do now?” the man asked. Tommy was silent and afraid. He was thinking frantically, but he couldn’t answer. You are always so slow, Tommy, the voice said in his head. Slow and stupid.

The man raised his voice as he repeated the question: “What do you need to do?!”

With a voice he barely thought of as his own Tommy said: “Be… beware… of the…. water?”

“You fool!” the voice of the man thundered. He stretched out his hand and Tommy felt his chest being crushed. He fell forward on his hands in the dirt, gasping for air.

“You listen carefully, you mortal. Mankind will be punished and all will die. The water will cleanse the earth, but before that, you will build me a boat to save your sorry ass. No other humans can be saved, only your pathetic specimen.”

Groaning, Tommy lay in the dirt. The voice was tearing his head apart, if it only just could stop….

“Don’t ask questions. Build the boat, do as I say, and you will live. When the waters come, you will be granted immortality.”

The voice disappeared. The man didn’t just stop talking, the voice was gone as if it never had been there. Panting, Tommy rolled on his back in the mud, trying to see where the man had gone. His eyes only saw a deserted construction yard in the afternoon shades of the day. Sounds of the surrounding city reached his ears.

“Build a boat, yes building. Now. He says so. Yes, Tommy. You have to. Fast fast now, get up, get up.”

Tommy pushed himself up on his hands and slowly got to his feet. He looked down to his dirty and torn jeans and his white shirt that already had been dirty before he fell down. With his muddy hand he slowly went through his filthy grey hair that was pointing in all directions as usual. His eyes went left and right in a nervous movement. His hands trembled uncontrollably.

“Yes Tommy, you do what the man said. You have to. You build a boat, a real boat now. Yes, ‘cause you can’t swim and with all the water you will surely drown….”

Talking and muttering to himself, Tommy found his way back to the street. People were looking at him and frowned, but Tom was used to that. They always looked. At his torn clothes, the smudges on his face, his unfocussed eyes or his wild hair. He stopped minding that a long time ago. Stumbling, with feet that were unsure where they were going, Tommy headed for his little home.

It was not far, he now remembered where he was. Just a few blocks and then down the hill from the road. He passed stores and lights and buildings, turning corners and avoiding people on the sidewalks. He reached the place where the ground went downhill across the road. No buildings on that side of the road, just a valley with low trees and bushes littered with thrown away bottles and plastic wrappings and whatnot. After crossing the street, Tom followed a dirt path through the bushes, always going down the hill. He went past abandoned structures and further down there was something like concrete pavement running from above, far away to his left, down the valley far away to his right, with crumbling blocks that might have been barriers or houses. It was his little valley, with small plants, dry shrubs and small bushes, some trash, car tyres, waste and pieces of iron.

There was a small stream at the bottom of the valley, with dirty water that didn’t taste too bad if you were really thirsty. Tommy crossed the stream with a wide step and found his little home in a group of bushes close by. He built it himself from pieces of trash and wood, which he had found here and there in the valley. His home was small, with a plastic sheet as a roof and walls made from planks, boards, plastic bags, stones and other materials he had found on his expeditions. There was one opening, big enough for him to crawl through and also to let in some light. Inside the hut Tommy had made a bed with some leaves and pieces of cloth he had found somewhere.

For a moment, Tommy lay down on his bed and closed his eyes, but his mind was racing. No sleep or rest, just a head full of thoughts. He sat up with his arms hugging his knees and slowly rocked back and forth.

“A boat he says and I survive and I will be immortal. Water everywhere, but I can’t swim. Never learned. Wet, wet water and a boat. Get to it, get to it now.”

Talking to himself Tommy looked around. He had built a hut, but a boat, that was not so easy. If he just could find stuff that could float. Tommy crawled out of his hut, got to his feet and started to walk aimlessly around his little house and then further through the small valley, his eyes to the ground, looking for suitable materials. He hesitated to go much further upstream, although there could be usable things there.

“Up the stream, but not too far, no. Not too close to the big wall. There are people there who don’t like Tommy, careful now. Maybe we find useful things, yes, good things to use.”

Carefully stalking from bush to bush, Tommy climbed further upstream, while scanning the valley that rose up before him. He found some wood, some rope and other things he thought he could use. And then he found the jackpot.

“Oil drums, oil drums! They float, they can carry Tom.”

He was startled by his own shrill voice. Was that his? But he had found something to build his ship. With big effort, he rolled the two drums back to his hut, while carrying the other things he found in his arms. He piled everything up before his house and started to think. Tommy was not smart like people who went to school, but he could work with his hands. It was something he knew, even if his head was usually quite fuzzy, and soon he had a rudimentary plan for a boat.

During his work he croaked a song with his broken voice, but he only remembered the first line so he repeated it again and again.

“Hey Jude…… hey. Hey Jude, don’t make it bad…. Hey Jude, don’t make it bad…. Hey Jude, don’t make it baaaad…”

Tommy grinned. No, he was not making a bad boat. It was going to be great!

Earlier, there had been men, right here at his little house. Maybe weeks ago, maybe a few days ago, Tom didn’t remember, he was always struggling with dates, times and durations. They were men in uniforms, official men. They told him he had to leave, but Tom didn't want to. No, he would stay. They said there would be danger and he would not be safe here. But Tom had seen no danger and he had refused to leave. In the end the men had left, shaking their heads.

And now he knew of danger, the water was coming, but he was safe as long as he built his boat. The light-man, the angel, perhaps God himself had said so. Build that boat and you will not only survive, no, Tom will be immortal! Those official men didn't believe he was safe, but then today he had heard the light-man and now Tom knew. Those were bad people who didn’t believe like Tom did and they would all die when the water came.

“Serves them right! They should listen to Him, he is always right, always telling Tom what to do. When Tom is too stupid to understand, He comes in my head and helps me. What have other people ever done for me? Let them all drown. And I have my boat!”

The boat was simple, but Tom was still very proud when he saw the final result. The oil drums were tied together with some string and there was a wooden platform on top of it to sit, made from wooden planks and boards. He couldn’t find new boards and planks, so he had taken some from his house. But there was no need for a house anyway if the world would be flooded.

That night Tom shivered in his broken house of which only a few parts were still standing. A cold wind blew right over his sleeping place. But each time he began to feel sorry for himself, he looked at the dark outline of his boat, which was standing in the dirt before his house, and he felt proud.

Early in the morning the rain started. Tom woke from a light slumber when the thick droplets started to make the dry valley around him wet. It was cold and there was barely a place for shelter left in his broken house, but Tom knew what was coming and he felt full of joy.

“The rain starts, all this rain. The waters will rise, people will flee and there is no place on my boat for them!”

From the corner of his eye, Tom saw a blinding light approaching high above him. He turned and before him a ball of light descended from the dark clouds and hovered some 20 meters in front of him. A deep voice emerged from the light.

“You have built a boat, that is good,” the voice said. “Now prove yourself worthy of saving by bringing me praise. Bring me an offering and I will spare you.” And the light was gone. Tommy was confused. Difficult words, praise, offering. But he remembered something out of that old book he had to read when he was a small child. God had asked something and someone had killed a goat or lamb and God was happy. He had liked that story very much.

“A goat, where to find a goat. Or a lamb, what is that anyway? It is an animal for sure. Tom goes looking for an animal and he will be saved.”

He felt in the pocket of his ragged trousers. His hands found a long, pointy shard of glass he used for protection. That would do for the killing.

He climbed out of the muddy valley onto the road on the hill. There were houses and cars and people. A car from the left, a car from the right, people on the sidewalks, two talking, one talking on a phone and it went on and on. All this movement hurt Tom’s eyes and ears, but he kept looking because he needed to find an animal. A worthy animal. He started walking in a random direction along the sidewalk. People noticed him and avoided coming too close. Tom mumbled and stumbled, his greasy hair wet and muddy and his hands full of dirt.

There were so many people, so many moving legs and arms and umbrellas. Tom saw some dogs, but they were too far away, too big and it was too busy in the street to grab one. Tom stood still in the rain not knowing what to do. He aimlessly chose a direction and resumed his walk.

After a while Tom walked past a narrow alley on his left from which a soft clanging sounded. In the dark between the buildings he noticed a small filthy dog rummaging in a trash can. Tom felt happy, that would be his offering! He stumbled towards the dog, but the dog didn’t trust him and ran away, further into the alley. Tom kneeled and called the dog. “Come here, you doggy. Come to Tom now.” The dog hesitated and came a bit closer. Tom patted on the ground with his hand and folded his hand in a fist, like he had something in it. The dog was curious and got closer and closer. Until he was too close.

Tom jumped on the dog and a short fight broke out. Growling and gnawing, the dog and Tom wrestled until Tom was on top of the dog and a loud barking and squeaking began. Tom panicked, he would never get back safely to his boat, past all those people, with a struggling and squeaking dog in his arms. Still pressing the dog down, his hand found a brick and hit the dog on his head until it went silent. Tom relaxed a bit, still panting and holding down the dog. It was not dead, just unconscious or in shock. Tom didn’t reflect on what he had done, but quickly rolled the dog in his dirty sweater and ran off to his boat.

People were barely noticing him as he ran by. Just some tramp, they thought, filthy as hell. Some may have seen a dog tail hanging down from his arms, but no one really cared.

Back in the valley the rain started pouring down relentlessly. Lighting crashed through the sky and thunder rolled with ear-splitting booms through the valley. Panting and with a sting in his side, Tom reached his house. The heavy rain had crushed the last remains of Tom’s house and he wrapped the plastic from the roof around him against the downpour. He dropped the softly squeaking dog on the ground.

The small stream next to where his hut had been was swollen and instead of the small meandering stream it used to be, it was now a fast flowing river. Tom was mesmerised by it and stared at the stream with big amazed eyes.

“Thomas, it is nearly time. Are you ready?” Suddenly the voice boomed in his head and he nearly fell down.

“Y… yes, I built a boat, I… I have…” His voice wavered in the wind and rain.

“Bring me your sacrifice if you want to live!”

With trembling hands Tom took the large shard of glass from his pocket and walked to the wounded, panting dog that lay next to the boat. Heavy lightning and thunder crashed nearby when Tom raised the shard of glass and brought it down hard in the side of the dog. It tried to raise himself with a yelp of pain, but Tom pressed down hard. Blood gulped over his hands as the body of the dog started to shake. With closed eyes, Tom held on to the dog until the shaking became less and less. The body went limp and Tom opened his eyes. It wasn’t for nothing. It was the dog or Tom. It was necessary. Tom kept repeating these words in his head until he felt calmer again. Now he had done all he needed to do, everything was ready. Tom stood up with slightly trembling legs, half-expecting to hear the voice again or see the light to give him a sign of approval. But the voice remained silent and the rain and thunder kept going on around him. Tom hesitated, not sure what to do next.

Then there was a rumbling sound from the distance, from the direction of the great wall at the back of the valley. Tom first thought it was the thunder, but the sound continued and mixed with gurgling and splashing sounds. There was no change in the small river next to his house, but when Tom looked upstream, a large body of water started pouring towards him from the full breath of the valley. It was everywhere and it came towards him fast. Tom grabbed his boat, tried to climb on the wooden platform, but he was immediately swept away by the engulfing water. With all his strength he grabbed the ropes that held the oil drums together and he tumbled down the valley with this boat in the mass of water that surrounded him.

It seemed to take forever and Tom’s hands hurt from holding the rope, his body was cold and numb in the icy waters. He wrestled to keep his head out of the water, but he was pulled down multiple times. Water beat his body in all directions and objects, wood, iron, trees, bushes, cans hit his body from all sides. He was washed through the valley at great speed and Tom lost all sense of direction.

At last the waters seemed to calm down a bit and with a last effort Tom managed to climb on his boat. He threw himself on the boards and lay panting for a while. Around him the waters calmed to a steady billow. The rain had stopped and a bleak sun peered through the clouds.

Tommy floated on his boat on a wide area of water surrounded by hills and small mountains. There was no one in sight and the deep water around him softly splashed against the oil drums. Tom sat up and looked. He had survived. He was the only one left.

He felt full of triumph as he stood up and stretched himself in the cold wind. The oil drums bobbed in the water and the string creaked under his weight. He had lost a few boards in the flooding, but there still was enough place to stand.

“Immortality, immortality”, he babbled. “He said so, I did it all and I live. Now I am immortal, I will live forever. Yes Tommy, yes!”

Tommy jumped in the water. As he couldn’t swim he sank below the surface, but he was not worried, because he was immortal. When his chest started to hurt and he wanted to breathe, he still was not worried. Even when the water started to fill his lungs he was not worried. And then he drowned and he was never worried again.

****

People from the local electricity company found a body floating in the reservoir below the dam the next day. They had opened the dam the day before for scheduled maintenance. The body they found was of a man in a filthy white t-shirt and torn jeans. His grey hair clung to his face. One of the men present recognized the body as being one of the local bums of the city. “Crazy as a door, this one was,” he said.

“At least he died happy,” one of his colleagues said, pointing at Tom’s face which was carrying a big smile.