Word Fulfilled, The by Bruce Judisch

disappeared in the dust swirls that erased any sign they had been there. The land to the right remained barren and parched. The land to the left had become the same. Everything was the same, the same, the same. Except his joints. They got worse. Ankles, knees, hip. They’d never recover from this ordeal, if, indeed, he ever completed it. The thought of going lame halfway to Nineveh popped into his mind. What would he do then? Just lie down in the dust and shrivel up? That would hardly be fair. How irritating .
    Whatever possessed him to think he could walk the entire distance to Nineveh? Well, how was he supposed to know how far it was? He’d never traveled outside Israel before, save his short jaunt aboard the Ba’al Hayam —and he needed no reminder as to how well that turned out. Once, when he probed Akhyeshah how much further beyond Tadmor that Nineveh lay, all he got was a grunt. A grunt! That was it. How irritating.
    Perhaps Adonai thought His prophet might have enough sense to procure a camel, or a donkey, or something to ease the road before he set off. Jonah stared ahead and grumbled to himself. It wasn’t his fault. How was he to know? He could picture the angel’s face looking down, sighing, shaking his head. The next time the voice decided to speak—if ever again—it would probably chastise him for not thinking ahead. Were prophets supposed to think ahead? Wasn’t it the job of their angels-in-charge to tell them what was ahead? Of course it was. It was the angel’s fault. Jonah gritted his teeth. Great, I got a defective angel. How irritating.
    And this heat! It wasn’t just hot; it was sweltering. Even his trusty travel cloak—a cloak that worked just fine back in Israel, thank you very much—turned against him. He yanked at his collar and sucked in a deep breath of hot, dusty, gritty, filthy, stifling, Assyrian air. He gagged. How irrit —
    Jonah slammed into Akhyeshah and staggered back. The giant had stopped in the middle of the road and was surveying the sky from horizon to horizon. Finally, he turned, looked at Jonah, and sniffed.
    Jonah bristled. “What?”
    “We stop here. If we cannot find shelter, we build it.” Akhyeshah pivoted and strode off the path.
    Jonah hurried to catch up. “Already? It’s only midday.”
    “We stop here.”
    “But there’s plenty of daylight left. We could get much closer to Tadmor if we keep—”
    Akhyeshah swept his hand from left to right. “There are ridges in the earth not far. We find shelter.”
    “But—”
    “No ‘but.’ Follow me.”
    With that, the big man set off at a pace that forced Jonah to a trot.
    They had only traveled a short time when they came upon a cleft in the terrain. It caught Jonah by surprise. The ground that appeared so flat from the road suddenly dropped off into a series of crevices similar to that in which he’d encountered the scorpion the day before. But these breaks in the earth were much deeper. Just beyond the crevices, more low rocky ridges jutted from the ground. He hadn’t seen them through the waves of heat that shimmered from the desert floor.
    Jonah came to the lip of the first crevice and began to loosen his travel pouch from his belt.
    “Not here. Keep going.” Akhyeshah plunged down the slope. He crossed the narrow floor and began to scale the other side.
    Jonah creased his brow. “This should be fine. We slept in one the other—”
    “Keep going,” Akhyeshah barked over his shoulder.
    Jonah heaved a sigh of frustration and stumbled down the side of the ravine. He scrambled up the far slope, the loose soil and rocks shifting so quickly beneath his feet that he had to pump his legs to make headway. When he finally topped the incline, Akhyeshah was already fifty paces ahead.
    “Wait!” Jonah yelled after the big man as he disappeared over the edge of the next rift.
    He jogged to the crevice and peeked over the edge. The gully was deeper than the last, its slopes steeper. Jonah scanned the bottom.