Project Genesis

"They must have heard us," said Rene. Omar drew his pistol and cautiously stepped to one side of the doorway with his feet wide, military style, ready for a confrontation. Kara was surprised by this action.

"Is that really necessary?" she asked. Omar dismissed her question with a wave of his hand.

"Just stand to one side when the door opens," he replied as he released the safety on his weapon. A moment later the sound of a lock was heard clearing the doorframe, then the heavy timbered door cautiously opened. Right at that moment, Omar instinctively pushed Kara aside and stepped forward with his automatic outstretched in both hands, ready for action.

An old monk, with hair as white as the mountain snow, with dark commanding eyes and a wind-tossed beard, was very surprised to find a weapon in his face, as he swung the door wide. He was a big robust man with a barrel chest, dressed in a hooded monk's robe that was simply adorned with a metal Cross that hung from a chain around his massive neck. His bearded face and his powerful stoic expression reminded Rene of Auguste Rodin's classic bronze sculpture of Moses. The old monk calmly reached out with a large powerful hand and pushed Omar's gun to one side, dismissing his intentions.

"You don't need a weapon to enter this place," he said scornfully to Omar, then he stepped aside and motioned them to enter, out of the rain. The old monk looked them over as they stepped into the monastery vestibule, dripping wet, not sure of what to say, but thankful to be out of the storm.

"What brings you up here?" he asked simply.

"We were on a survey in a helicopter," answered Rene, "but when we landed on Ararat we were caught in an avalanche and we lost everything."

"When did this happen?"

"Yesterday morning," answered Omar.

"There were actually five of us," said Kara. "Our pilot and an engineer were both killed in the accident.

"I'm sorry to hear that," he replied, as he rebolted the door and turned to face them. "My name is Father Angelo, and you're welcome to share whatever I have in the monastery."

"I'm Rene Noorberg," replied Rene and they shook hands. Rene then introduced Kara and Omar. "This is Kara Ozai." The monk offered his hand and they shook. "And this is Major Omar Kadirli, he's with Special Forces in Ankara." Father Angelo appeared reluctant to shake Omar's hand, but he did.

"Sorry about the gun," said Omar, looking slightly embarrassed. "We thought there might be terrorists camping here, so I wasn't sure."

"I can understand that. The military have been here a number of times looking for terrorists," he replied, sounding very annoyed. "But they can never find them, or better still, the terrorists usually outsmart them." Omar's face registered a look of protest, but he decided not to say anything under the circumstances. Father Angelo picked up a lantern from a side table and lit a candle inside the glass-hurricane. "Let me show you where you can stay, and get cleaned up. I'm sure you must be hungry." He turned and they followed him down a long hallway, as the sound of the storm continued outside.

Sometime later, they were all seated in a large room at a long communal table that appeared to be crafted out of one thick plank and scrubbed uneven from many centuries of use. A blazing fire burned nearby, in a rustic fireplace, crafted from the local fieldstone. Opposite the table was a large window that overlooked the olive grove with a view toward the valley, which was filled with spasms of forked-lightning and the approaching echo of thunder. The far end wall featured an ancient pipe organ on a raised platform, reached by a short staircase. Above the twin-keyboards was a set of tarnished copper organ-pipes built within the ornate framework of the organ itself that reached toward the ceiling. This was obviously the source of the music heard when they first arrived. Father Angelo now ladled out four bowls of potato soup, delicately flavored with mint leaves. Then he passed a basket of flat bread around the table, followed by a platter filled with thick slices of sarma, ewe's milk cheese, along with salted black olives, before taking his place at the head of the table. When everyone was served, Father Angelo then bowed his head to indicate grace.

"May the Lord bless us and keep us, may the Lord make his face to shine upon us and be gracious unto us, and may the Lord lift up the light of his countenance upon us, and give us peace in this land. We ask for a blessing on this meal, as we welcome our friends around our communal table. May the Lord bless our hearts to hear, in the breaking of bread, the song of the universe. Amen." Father Angelo now looked up, and nodded toward the group and they eagerly proceeded to eat for the first time in many hours.

Later that evening, with the meal finished, they were drinking the last of the Trakya red wine, a semidry, full-bodied table wine which had a distinct woody bouquet and an acrid sharpness that reminded Rene of an Italian Chianti. Everyone appeared to be enjoying each others' company, all except Omar. The young officer had remained quiet and aloof, ever since they arrived at the monastery. He had also consumed a great deal of wine during the meal, and was obviously feeling the result, as he sat comfortably sprawled back in his chair, his attention drawn not to the conversation around the table but to the window and the lightning storm that raged outside. "Do you have any idea of where you landed on the mountain?" asked Father Angelo.

"This will give you some idea," answered Rene, as he placed one of the satellite photographs that Omar had salvaged from the helicopter on the table. "As far as we know we were around an elevation of 13,000 feet on a glacier ridge that appeared to be stable. The avalanche happened as soon as we landed," Rene said, as he pointed to a section of the photograph, some distance below the summit. Father Angelo looked at the satellite photo for a moment.

"Was there no way of reporting your crash location from the helicopter?" Father Angelo asked. Rene simply shook his head before answering.

"That wasn't possible. We lost all communications when the aircraft was first buried in the avalanche."

"And it all happened so quickly," added Kara. "We're just lucky to be alive." Father Angelo just shook his head, obviously moved by their story. Then he looked out the window at the rain-filled sky as lightning flashed across the olive grove. An instant later an earsplitting explosion of thunder shook the room, as rain clattered loudly against the window.