The Final Ark - Page 2
Dreamt and Written By Ray Hall

So, one by one, each of us steps up and places our hands into the print. Instead of feeling cool or damp, it tingles like a static charge flowing through us. It isn't unpleasant, just weird. At the moment the last person places their hand in the strange print on the wall, a loud sound surrounds all of us and I am filled with a sudden weakness.

By this time we have all exchanged our names and what we do for a living. The tall dark man I met at the lake shore is Mark, a teacher from Ohio.

As the weakness hits him, he starts to fall and his hand should have hit against the wall with the handprint, but instead, it passes through the wall like it was made of water instead of rock.

"What in the hell do we have here boys and girls?" Mark growls.

He starts to push his arms through the so called wall.

"Hold on their bud. Let's take it slow, okay?" I say.

"It's cool. Don't ask me why I know, but somehow I know," he replies.

He passes his hand, then an arm, then his whole body through the barrier.

Each of us stands in line for our turn to - for lack of a better word - cross over. Some members pray and others giggle. It is decided that if anyone doesn't want to go through the wall, they don't have to. As for me, I've come this far so there is no turning back now. As I pass through (let's call it a Jell-O door because that is what it feels like) I feel it against my skin, but it doesn't stick to me. It slides over me and as it covers my mouth and nose, I don't stress from smothering because I can breathe the air right through this mass of goop. I closed my eyes before I did the Jell-O goop thing.

As I feel the pressure release from me, the sound around me changes. I open my eyes and I am no longer in a cave, but in a hallway that could be in any office building.

When the last of the group enters the hallway, we just stand around and look around. The walls are ten to twelve feet tall and smooth as glass or polished steel, but there is no heat or cold in the walls. The floors are made of the same material as the walls. The hallway is about seven feet wide and twists to the right and left as we make our way down the bright passageway.  The hallway ends at a tall door with a handprint like we found in the cave.

"Well, here we go again," someone says, and like before, we place our hands in the print.

The difference is that the cave print was the right hand and this time it's the left hand. When the last of us has placed our hand on the print, the door shimmers a second or two then vanishes.

We enter a huge room filled with smaller rooms that are the size of a doctor's examining room. On each of the doors is a symbol of the zodiac. (You would think by now that we would all just be freaking out, but to us, it not only felt right doing what we were doing, but I felt the pressure to move even faster in the direction that we were going and to do what we were doing.) We each find the room door that matches our zodiac sign. My Scorpion symbol is a bright shiny blue. I touch it and the door opens.

I enter the room and move to the center of it. The door closes behind me in an instant. At once I can feel a breeze, but there are no windows or vents, the breeze is just there. Along one wall is a platform shaped like a small bed with thousands of small holes in it. As I sit on it, I can feel tiny silent streams of air supporting me as I lay down on it to rest.

I have always dreamt when I've slept, but not this time. I have no way of knowing how long I've slept - I just awaken and know it is time to get up. As I walk to the door, it opens all by itself, and as I step into the hall between the resting rooms,, we are all there.

As we start walking away from the tiny rooms, the air is filled with the most wonderful smell like we'd walked into a huge buffet. We follow our noses until we walk into an area filled with tables covered with all kinds of food. Like a pack of hungry wolves, we attack the tables of goodies. There are plates of baked chicken, ham and roast beef. There are all kinds of veggies, potatoes, and breads. And, of course, the weird part, is that there is a plate of hot chicken right next to a bottle of ice cold soda that nearly freezes my hand by just touching it.

We eat until we can't eat anymore. We sit and talk about all that has happened to us and what might be next. As Mark and I are talking, my friend from the rock pile comes over and sits next to us. I learned her name is Helen. She is in her late forties and a nurse from Austin, Texas. She works in the ER at a major hospital.

"Well, if they are going to eat us, we just fattened ourselves up a few more pounds," Helen says with a small giggle.

"Yeah, and with all that weight around your belly there, Ray, you could fee their whole planet for a year or two," Mark whispers to me.

"Hey, Helen, you're a nurse, right? Are there more carbohydrates in black people or white people?" I ask out loud.