Kronos

50

Kronos

Jonah.

The name repeated mercilessly in her mind. Not so much because of the similarities between their names, but because of the similarities of their predicaments. Giona was far from a biblical scholar, having read only portions of the scriptures while doing a history report on the religious beliefs that fueled the Crusades. But she knew the basics about some stories from the Bible: Noah, Jonah, Moses, Jesus. Who didn’t?

She wished she could recall more from the story of Jonah. All she could remember was that he was swallowed up by a whale or a fish, or something else entirely, and was spit out onto a beach after three days.

Still, she didn’t buy it. First, she still didn’t believe in God. Second, the Almighty certainly hadn’t asked her to do anything. That kind of thing was hard to miss, right? She punched her leg, growing angry in the consuming darkness of the creature’s gut. It was impossible to think with the constant heavy heartbeat, rank fish odor, and roller-coaster floor, still undulating as though in a sprint.

“So what’s the deal then?” Giona said. “I don’t believe in you! You haven’t told me to do anything at all!”

Kronos’s steadily beating heart was the only reply.

Giona decided to play devil’s advocate with herself. She had no ideas of her own, so considering the unbelievable might be the only way to figure things out. And since she wasn’t going anywhere and had nothing better to do than stay close to the life-giving giant artery, she thought it would at least keep her mind occupied and off the subject of her impending death.

“Let’s suppose you exist,” Giona said, speaking into the darkness. “How would you communicate to people? A burning bush? An angel? That’s how you’ve done it in the past, right? So why not now?”

A thought coursed into Giona’s dialogue. A monster. “Okay, right. A monster. Let’s assume you’ve done this before, like with Jonah. You’ve got my attention. So now do something with it.”

Giona sighed. Even though she was totally isolated from anyone who might see her carrying on a mock conversation with God, she felt embarrassed for even pretending. Still, it helped her rule out the idea that some supreme being had set this nightmare in motion.

“So what’s next? A vision? I could write that off as a hallucination due to extreme conditions. A voice too. Anything odd at this point is subject to consideration by the very fact that I’ve been inside this disgusting fish for almost five days! And what’s the deal with that? I’ve been here longer than Jonah? How does he get off with only three days?”

You’re stubborn. The thought came and went, but Giona’s eyes squinted in defiance. She’d carried on mental conversations like this for the last few months. It’d become a regular practice when debating big decisions. She knew it was strange, but for her it seemed a natural thought process. Of course, she made no mention of her internal arguing to anyone for fear of being labeled schizophrenic-Giona the schizoid activist. That’d go over well next time she petitioned the New Hampshire Senate about drug use. They’d think she was more far gone than the users she wanted to help!

“How can I be stubborn if you haven’t told me to do anything? Send an angel or a burning bush or something, and I might come around.”

Or a monster?

“Whatever. The fact remains that I haven’t been told a damn thing to do by God or anyone else, so being swallowed by a sea monster and sitting it out until I come to some kind of revelation is retarded.”

Maybe you’re just not listening?

Giona grew angry with herself. The portion of her mind playing the devil’s advocate side could get really annoying.

Giona cleared her mind, focusing on the steady rise and fall of the oxygen-providing artery her head leaned against. She began putting together conclusions based on what she’d discussed with herself.

“One, God still doesn’t exist. Two, this is just some rare sea creature that could be the basis of the Jonah myth. Three, God, who doesn’t exist, hasn’t told me to do diddlysquat.”

Yes, I have.

Shut up, shut up, shut up!

She sometimes had trouble quieting her inner voice once it was unleashed into her consciousness, and just like always, it still fought to be heard.

Giona held her breath. She was really losing it, wasn’t she? While she’d had many internal arguments with herself over the past months, the voice had never referred to itself as “I.”

Maybe she really was schizophrenic? She decided to test the inner voice-find out if she was just freaking out or if she really had some kind of multiple personality disorder. “Who are you?” she asked.

Light.

“That makes no sense.” But then it did. Giona had read, just a week ago, that beyond the microscopic, beyond cells and atoms and electrons, there was light. Everything in the end was light. Energy. Power.

Giona knew she was going insane. Her inner voice now believed it was a cosmic being-believed it was God. She was certifiable. Her only hope was that the delusion would fade if she ever escaped.

But Giona’s stomach turned over as she realized the truth. With a violent heave, she leaned over and vomited, filling her mouth with the acrid flavor of fish guts and bile. She sobbed between heaves. The memories of each and every argument she’d held with herself, with her inner voice, over the past few months returned with a fury. It had asked her to do something. Over and over, but she’d resisted, fought it, denied it every time. It was just her inner monologue, her devil’s advocate, right?

No.

Giona’s thoughts came clear and quick. She’d either gone totally insane or had been receiving direction from God for the past few months and doing her best to ignore it. Though it seemed likely, Giona didn’t want to think she was insane. So she decided to believe, at least for the moment, that the voice inside her head was God.

“So, I’m supposed to trust you- that you know the future. You know the outcome, and for some reason you want me, or my father, to do what you’ve been telling me. Is that it?”

There was no reply. She already knew the answer. The voice had been fighting with her about one single subject since she’d first heard it.

“Fine. Okay? Are you happy? I’ll tell my dad I don’t want to move, but that’s not going to change anything. Especially when I’m stuck in here! The house was sold, remember? We have to move anyway. So all this,” she waved her hands around at the large body in which she was trapped, “is a little too much, a little too late.”

She huffed. “But I’ll tell him.”

Giona closed her eyes to the darkness and let out a long deep breath. She was done. She had nothing more to say to a God-voice and never wanted to hear it again. Instead, she focused on the heavy beat of the creature’s heart, allowing it to lull her toward sleep like a hypnotist’s watch. Thump-thump, thump-thump, BOOM!

Giona sat up straight, her body rigid, her mind spinning. They were under attack again. A quiver of flesh rolled past her. The beast rippled with pain, she could feel it. With a sudden twist of opinion she’d never forget, a new and unexpected emotion swept through her-compassion. She lay down flat and slapped the moist flesh beneath her with her hands. “Go, go, go!” She urged the beast as though it were a horse, and whether by coincidence or in response, the beast reacted.

The walls of the chamber closed in as unseen muscles contracted and the rapid undulations became large pulses of energy. Giona didn’t resist as her body became unable to move and the rising and falling of her chest was restricted. As before, breathing became difficult, and colored spots danced in her vision. She knew she’d pass out soon, but she also knew that this monster, her protector, would keep her safe.

Go, she willed it. Fight!