Cairo
October 2011
It was like watching the gathering of storm clouds. Throughout that winter and into spring, the news brought by the Companions to Call was unremittingly dark. The Watchmen feared as the Arab Spring descended into murderous chaos. They prayed for the dead and bereaved when an earthquake rocked Turkey. They wept over extremes of climate: drought and starvation in East Africa, lethal flooding in South America and Asia. They watched footage of riots in British cities, with looting and arson. Cairo could scarcely believe her eyes. She knew those places. Otto showed her a press photo of a building she recognised, not far from her old home, up in flames. The world she’d known was in deep trouble.
‘Yet still humankind dreams on,’ said Justin. ‘Oblivious.’
But in Gethsemane the skies were clear. Spring filled the valley. The most vicious frosts had passed, the larders were full, and blossom frothed in the food forest.
Dublin came home from Justin’s island a changed man. He no longer slouched. He smiled all the time; looked people in the eye. He picked spring flowers and delivered them to Beersheba in the sewing workshop. Within a week, Justin had joined the pair as Partners in the Watch. Beersheba laughed when Dublin first kissed her, startling a flock of mallards who had been snoozing on the beach.
Now that the mornings were milder, Cairo and Aden took to drinking their early-morning coffee on the steps of their porch. They huddled under a cloak and threw crumbs to the quails.
‘This is my favourite time of day,’ said Aden. ‘Cold but promising. Like you.’
She pretended to slap him. Then she told him the news she’d been hugging to herself for a fortnight.
‘Pregnant!’ he cried, pulling her to her feet and waltzing her up and down the porch.
‘Shh, you idiot,’ she hissed, giggling. ‘You’ll wake the children.’
So he waltzed her gently, as though she were made of the finest crystal.
‘I love you,’ he said. ‘You’ve brought me to life.’
•
Justin appeared at Night Call with Peter at his heels. He seemed incandescent, as if coals were glowing inside him.
‘Do you feel it?’ he asked. ‘Do you feel the Last Day coming closer?’ He was walking down the hall as he talked. The Watchmen seemed to rustle in his wake, like fallen leaves.
‘Today is the thirty-first of October 2011. Why do I mention the date? Because today the population of this planet reached seven billion. Seven billion! D’you know what the head count was when I was here in the first century? I’ll tell you: three hundred million. Three. Hundred. Million.’ He shook his head in wonder. ‘And frankly, that was more than enough. Seven billion. The earth groans under the weight of that seven billion. They exploit, they defile, they will ultimately destroy. That’s why I’m here now.’
He stopped to take Netta’s hand as she sat in her wheelchair.
‘The Messiah has returned quietly, in a backwater,’ he said. ‘Why not descend from heaven in a superhero cape, waving my cross like a wand and generally kicking arse as I save humankind? Because my cross was never a magic wand. Last time I offered to save them all. My offer was rejected. This time I can only save a few.’
Malindi’s hand was in the air.
‘Malindi!’ cried Justin cheerfully, heading in her direction. ‘What can I do for you?’
‘Justin, there are people in the Outside who give us money, aren’t there? And people who pray for us? Will they be saved?’
‘Good question,’ said Justin. ‘Yes, they’ll be saved too. All of us here will be taken up in the fiery cloud of glory—or ‘flames of devouring fire’, as it says in the book of Isaiah. But I’ll send for those friends of Gethsemane who aren’t with us on the Last Day, and they’ll join us. Okay?’
Malindi was nodding vigorously. ‘Okay.’
‘I think we should sing about the long-awaited Last Day. Dublin, how about you bring us in with a bloodcurdling drum tattoo?’
Dublin grinned and brought his drumsticks crashing down, to be joined by Washington on the trumpet. Beersheba whooped and began to dance.
Justin’s euphoria was infectious. Cairo, Aden and Suva were still bubbling as they hurried home to their cabin; even Damascus was chattering away in his father’s arms. They’d reached the porch when Liam came trotting out of the darkness.
‘Got a minute, Cairo?’
The Companion waited until the others had gone inside, then rubbed his hands together.
‘Good news!’ he announced. ‘Your first recruiting trip.’
‘When?’
‘Tomorrow. A festival in Hamilton. Kyoto’s flogging his new sustainable building course.’
‘Hamilton?’ stammered Cairo, who felt ambushed by her own anxiety. ‘Isn’t that a long way?’
‘Be there and back in a day. It’s a Christian music festival. We’ve had success there in the past. Lots of Christians are starting to wonder whether the promise of the Second Coming might be wearing a bit thin. Have we got news for them!’
‘Who’s going with me?’
‘Kyoto, Sydney. Rome’s driving. He needs the practice, he’s got his test coming up. Oh—Paris. She brings ’em in. She’s pretty.’
‘So what’s my job?’
‘You know the score. Look out for anyone who needs us. Waifs and strays with nowhere to stay, anyone who could do with a rest. If they’ve got useful skills, all the better. Show them how lovely we are—but don’t scare them off with too much information.’
This wasn’t news to Cairo. Over the past year she’d seen a number of potential recruits arrive. Out of about fifteen visitors, three had stayed. Two more had come on a course and also stayed. The deepest beliefs of Gethsemane weren’t revealed at first; it was a gradual process, like landing a fish. The truth was trickled to them little by little as they became more detached from the outside world, more spiritual, more ready to believe. It wasn’t dishonesty, it was necessity. Cairo was certain there were still things she didn’t know.
‘Just one other thing,’ said Liam. ‘Keep an eye on Sydney, would you? Bali won’t be coming.’
‘An eye out for what?’
‘Negativity. You’ll know it if you see it—and I’d like to hear about it if you do. Okay?’
Cairo was surprised, but she knew better than to question a Companion. If Liam wanted her to keep an eye on Sydney, she’d do it. In fact—if she was honest—she felt just a little bit chuffed at being taken into his confidence. She was trusted.
‘Sure thing,’ she said.
He gave her a thumbs-up, and hurried off into the night.
•
The recruiting party gathered on the jetty before dawn, rugged up in cloaks and gloves and hats. They’d been joined by Lima and Colombo, an earnest couple who’d once lived in a tepee in a New Age community, but had become disheartened by infighting and moved on. They had an adorable two-year-old called Xian, who’d been left in the crèche for the day.
Rome and Kyoto were already on board Ikaroa, messing about with the motor. A bitter wind made whitecaps race across the lake. Cairo stamped around on the jetty, feeling the first twinges of morning sickness and wishing she could have stayed in her warm bed with Aden until Early Call.
‘Anyone seen Sydney?’ asked Paris.
‘I’ll go and get him,’ said Cairo, and headed down the jetty. She had to knock twice on the cabin door before Sydney answered.
‘Ready to go?’ she asked brightly.
‘No.’
‘Nearly ready?’
‘We’re not coming. Monty’s got a dose of the runs.’
‘Poor little man! But can’t Bali—’
‘No, she can’t. She’s gone back to the island. Apparently it’s an honour.’
Cairo wasn’t sure how to react to this. As she hesitated, Sydney stepped out onto the porch.
‘Don’t you ever get sick of this bullshit?’ he asked. She could smell alcohol on his breath. ‘Don’t you ever wish you could burn this place down?’
‘Sydney!’ Horrified, she glanced over her shoulder.
‘There are things you don’t know. Things they never want you to know. Try asking them what happened to Rome’s mother. Go on. Ask them where she is. And while you’re about it, ask how Justin gets about when he goes on his mysterious jaunts. He doesn’t use the van. Where does he go? And where does all the money go?’
No negativity. She covered her ears, screaming the mantra in her mind, desperate to drown out his voice. No negativity, only love, be nothing.
He grabbed at her hands. His voice was high and loud in the pre-dawn silence.
‘Cairo, open your ears! We give everything. Everything. We give our whole lives. We eat when we’re told, we sleep when we’re told. For fuck’s sake, we even screw when we’re told! But it’s never enough for him, is it? Never enough. He always wants more.’
Monty’s voice came quavering from inside the cabin. ‘Daddy? Dad?’
‘Coming, my friend,’ croaked Sydney. He bent double for a few seconds, as though winded, then took off his glasses and wiped his eyes with the palms of his hands. ‘Cairo … oh God, this is … look, I want you to know that I’m sorry. I helped get you into the van that day. I thought we were saving you.’
‘You were. You did.’
‘No.’
‘See you tonight,’ she said. ‘Okay?’
He shook his head, and disappeared inside.
•
The Hamilton party was all aboard when she ran up the jetty.
‘No Sydney?’ asked Paris, as Rome motored into the wind.
‘He can’t come. Monty’s under the weather.’
‘Couldn’t Bali look after him?’
‘She’s gone back to Justin’s island.’
‘Has she?’ Paris turned her head to look across at the island. She sounded intrigued, even envious. ‘That’s an honour.’
‘That’s what Sydney said. But he … anyway. That’s what he said.’
She saw Paris’s eyebrows go up. Then Rome opened Ikaroa’s throttle, and they shot across the water.
•
Here she was, doing nothing more dangerous than sitting in the back of a rattling van, but she was shaking as though on her way to the gallows. Every turn of the wheels took her further from safety.
Paris slipped an arm around her shoulder. ‘You okay, lovely girl?’
‘Not really.’
‘We all feel panicky when we travel anywhere. You’ve not been out much, have you? Don’t worry. You’re safe, as long as you stick with us.’
‘Okay.’
‘Just remember to smile.’ Paris demonstrated a friendly grin. ‘See? Show how happy you are.’
For the rest of the day, Cairo concentrated on smiling and showing how happy she was. It helped to control the heart-thudding, palm-sweating sense that she was prey to some unseen predator.
Once they’d arrived at the festival, Paris and Lima went off to look for waifs and strays, leaving the rest of the Gethsemane posse to man the stall. Cairo had expected the turnout at a Christian music festival to be conservative and a bit happy-clappy, but the reality was a bewildering, diverse procession of humanity. Kyoto was evangelical about his new course, ‘Build your own Ark!’. Cairo, Rome and Colombo smiled, chatted and handed out leaflets. Nobody said a single word about Justin, the Infinite Power, or the Last Day.
During a quiet moment, Kyoto collared Cairo.
‘So,’ he said. ‘What’s the story with Sydney?’
The Gethsemane mind begged her to tell him everything—honesty is love—but she couldn’t bring herself to denounce her friend.
‘Monty’s not well.’
‘And that’s all?’
She tried to sound casual. ‘I think so.’
The carpenter looked at her shrewdly, scratching his grey curls. ‘I hope it is, because we don’t have secrets at Gethsemane.’
To her relief, a couple wandered up at that moment and asked him about ‘Build your own Ark!’. By the time they’d gone, Cairo was talking to a boy whose tent had flooded in a downpour.
‘Come and stay at Gethsemane,’ she urged, pressing a leaflet into his hands.
‘Where?’
‘Our farm. Warm beds, hot showers and there’s a stew already cooking. We’ll give you a lift, no strings attached.’
He handed back the leaflet. ‘Too fucking good to be true,’ he muttered, before disappearing into the crowd.
By the time Rome began to dismantle the stand, Cairo’s smile was slipping. Paris had had more luck, though, and arrived at the van with a couple of young women in tow, carrying backpacks and a guitar. They were horticulture students from Christchurch: friendly, interested and knowledgeable. Their tent had also flooded, so the offer of warm beds and stew had proved irresistible.
‘Sounds special,’ said one of them. ‘What you’re doing. In this cynical world, you people really seem to care.’
‘We do care,’ said Cairo. ‘And I can tell you do too.’
Their names were Melanie and Raewyn. ‘We’re a couple,’ announced Melanie stoutly, and they put their arms around each other. ‘If that’s a problem, you’d better say so now.’
‘Definitely not a problem,’ Paris assured her. ‘We don’t judge love at Gethsemane. We celebrate it.’
Cairo opened the passenger door.
‘Hop in! We’ll turn the heating up high. That’ll soon dry you out. We’ve got a thermos of tea with honey.’
And she smiled, and smiled, and smiled. Then she slid the door shut behind them.
•
The visitors spent a happy evening in the cabin Paris shared with two other single women, being plied with smoked fish and plum wine. They were celebrities at Night Call—Melanie played her guitar—and decided to stay for a few days.
Cairo was dead on her feet by the time Call was over. Aden began Vigil duty while Suva went to Paris’s cabin to talk to the new girls. Cairo headed home alone, with Damascus asleep in his cloth on her back. She was yawning when two figures loomed out of the dark: one sharp and upright, one rolling and round. Gaza and Liam.
‘Good trip?’ asked Gaza.
‘I think so. We brought back those girls.’
The pair fell into step, flanking her. Escorting her.
‘Melanie and Raewyn,’ said Liam. ‘Fantastic. Know much about them?’
‘They’re horticulture students—really impressed by your methods, Gaza. They used to go to an evangelical church but people tried to tell them they were sinners.’
‘Always helps,’ said Liam. ‘Nothing like a bit of bigotry to drive them away.’
Suddenly Gaza halted, grabbing Cairo’s wrist. ‘Now. What about Sydney?’
‘Monty was ill, and—’
‘Be careful, Cairo.’ Gaza’s grip was like a vice. It was beginning to hurt. ‘Be very careful. I don’t like being lied to.’
They know. Cairo felt like a rat in a maze: wanting to run, but with no idea which way was out.
‘We’re asking for honesty here.’ Liam’s tone was genial enough, but he was standing much too close for comfort. ‘Negativity’s best out in the open. Otherwise it spreads. Rotten apples and barrels. Justin’s worried about Sydney. He can actually see his negativity, hanging over their cabin in a dark cloud. That’s why Bali went back to the island.’
‘We need honesty and love,’ said Gaza. ‘Not lies and hatred. If you hide negativity, you’re colluding in it.’
There was no escape. They knew everything. They knew she’d listened to Sydney’s bitter ranting and failed to report back. She was in terrible trouble.
‘Cairo, we think you’re very special,’ said Liam. ‘We even see you and Aden as Companions in the future.’
‘Really?’
‘Yes. Yes, we do. As long as you don’t disappoint us.’
They were offering her a gift: the chance not only to redeem herself, but even to climb another rung on the Gethsemane ladder.
‘You wouldn’t want to hold Aden back, would you?’ asked Gaza, who was still grasping her wrist.
Somewhere in the depths of her mind, Old Cassy was banging on the walls of a padded cell. Keep your trap shut! Who cares what these tin-pot tyrants think? But Old Cassy had no say in the matter. She was fading into history. Soon she’d disappear altogether.
The night was moonless and intensely cold. The hills were frozen shadows. Somehow it seemed easier to betray Sydney to people whose faces she couldn’t see.
‘He’s in a hell of a mess,’ she said. ‘I think he needs help.’
‘Tell us all about it,’ said Gaza.
•
Aden arrived home from Vigil with half an hour to spare before Early Call. She heard him stomping across the porch and knew from his footsteps that he wasn’t happy.
‘Trouble last night,’ he said, pouring coffee before falling into the window seat. ‘Poor old Sydney.’
Her heart missed several beats.
‘What’s happened?’ she asked.
‘Seems he’d let negativity take over. The Companions finally called him in, and it was worse than any of us realised. He’s been secretly using the internet at the library in Rotorua! He’s been in touch with his family. They’ve flooded his mind with doubts. Families always do that if they get the chance. We spent all night trying to get him back.’
‘Could you help him?’
‘I think he’s lost his faith. Quoting statistics at us—did we realise the world has never been safer, less disease, longer life spans? He even mocked Justin’s divinity! He’s no more Jesus Christ than I am.’
‘No!’ Cairo was shocked by the blasphemy. ‘Was Justin furious?’
‘He wasn’t there. Sydney asked to talk to him, but Gaza said he wasn’t coming because Sydney no longer believed. Then he panicked and started trying to apologise, but it was too late. In the end he was curled up on the floor, crying, asking to see Bali and Monty. It was pretty rough. Poor guy.’
‘Where is he now?’
Aden dipped his head to his mug, not meeting her eyes.
‘Gone.’
‘Gone where?’
‘You didn’t hear Ikaroa leaving? They’ll take him as far as the bus station. He’ll be given a hundred dollars. His family’s in South Africa, I’m sure they’ll help.’
‘I don’t believe it.’ Cairo was staring out at the jetty. ‘They can’t just chuck him out—they can’t do that. We’re his family! What about Bali?’
‘She’s said goodbye.’
‘And Monty?’
Aden grimaced. ‘It’s sad for him.’
‘Sydney will go to court, he’ll try to get custody of Monty. He won’t just leave quietly.’
‘He will.’
‘But he loves that little boy.’
Aden seemed completely spent. He lay down, stretching his length along the window seat. ‘He does love Monty. He really does. But he won’t make any trouble. Gethsemane has been through this before, Cairo. Kerala gave up Suva. People who leave Gethsemane are fighting demons already—they don’t have the strength or the money to fight us too. And they know—in their hearts, they know—that if they take their children away they’re condemning them to death at the Last Day. Sydney knows Monty is only safe if he’s here. He’ll give him up. They all do.’
She imagined Sydney sitting alone on a bus, leaving his wife and child and everything he loved behind. He must be terrified, she thought. He must be heartbroken.
‘I shopped him to Gaza and Liam,’ she said miserably.
‘Look, this wasn’t your fault. They already knew. The truth is, he never really belonged here. He stayed because he loved Bali and Monty, not because he loved Justin. He was never really a Watchman.’
Cairo held the coffee pot between her hands, wondering how to frame her next question.
‘The last time I spoke to him, he said something about Rome’s mother. Tripoli.’
‘Mm?’
‘He said I should ask where she is now. But she’s dead, isn’t she?’
‘Yes, she’s dead.’
Aden held out his arms, inviting her, so she slid behind the table to lie beside him. There was barely room on the narrow seat, but they managed. She heard goats bleating, and the murmur of human voices as the milking team arrived.
‘Tell me,’ she said, her face close to his.
‘There’s nothing to tell.’
‘Tell me what happened.’
He closed his eyes. She felt his chest rise and fall.
‘Tripoli went swimming. At night, alone, in winter. The lake had ice in it.’
‘Why on earth would she do that?’
‘Nobody knows why. Rome was a few weeks old. She left him with Monika, walked out of the cabin and never came back. Justin was beside himself. He had us searching … the whole community was out in the hills, in the bush, on the lake. Took us two days to find her.’ He drew a long breath, before adding, ‘Actually, I found her.’
‘Where?’
‘Further down the shoreline. She’d drifted.’
‘That must have been …’
‘Yes,’ he said. ‘It was.’
A female voice yelled, Stand still, Marigold! You’ll kick it over! The milking team was having a bad day. The bell began to toll. Suva had got up and was moving around in her bedroom. Drawers opening and shutting.
‘It’s forgotten now,’ said Aden. ‘We don’t talk about it. And I’ve been awake all night—’ he broke off, yawning ‘—and I’ve got to patch up the roof on the tractor shed before the next storm comes through.’
Minutes later, the family left for the wharenui. Damascus snuggled into his cloth on Cairo’s back with just his smiling face showing. Suva was in a good mood, holding on to her father’s arm and bouncing every few steps. When they were halfway up the hill, Melanie and Raewyn came dashing over, already under Gethsemane’s spell.
‘Why would you ever leave?’ exulted Melanie. ‘This place is paradise!’
Cairo put an arm around each of the girls as though they were her best friends. The three of them walked in step, savouring the exquisite purity of the air. The bell sounded mysterious in the half-light. Watchmen were gathering, smiling, embracing; making ready to begin another day.
But on the porch of the wharenui, Cairo turned to look out at the gunmetal expanse of the lake. She wondered what a new mother must have felt in her last moments, as the ice took her breath away.