Chapter 4

I was alone in the kitchen and the News was on the spectrospiel. "Hardly new," I mumbled quietly so as not to be picked up. "I'd say more a continuing narrative on the most unchanging story ever told. I'd rather read scripture."

The announcer broke in. "Overnight, there have been significant attacks on our Sovereignty. Our southern border has been shelled incessantly for eight hours. Fire was returned and peace re-established in the early hours. We suffered damage to the border wall and inner fence and sadly some loss of life, unknown figures at present. Work hard to supply our troops and prayer for all those souls living and dead."

The lady announcer broke off and then started to list boring numbers on production quotas and economic data. I tuned out as Cami came in and grabbed a bowl. She sat across from me, with her backto the spectrospiel, and mixed some oats with water.

"Do you remember that secret language we made up," I lipped at her angry face. "It was quickly stopped by mum and dad. Jeez, you'd think the world had ended."

"Tonight. You know."

In between mouth fulls, she lipped this as if chewing, with no time for reminiscing.

"Just wait. Dorin may have news."

"You come too."

"I can't," I said shielding the top of my mouth. "If they find we are both missing then the parental repercussions could be unthinkable. High level associative guilt. The Parish Witness. Who knows what else. I need to stay and look after them. Anyway, they won't take two."

But I did want to go.

"Don't make me feel any more guilty. It's not a choice I want to make. I have to, you know that. If I stay the baby will be eradicated."

My mum and dad came in and sat down. A cleric appeared on the spectrospiel and we obediently followed as he lead prayers. My mum's face was heavily lined and pale today. My dad had puffy bags under his eyes and his face seemed to hang as if strings had been attached to his cheeks pulling it downwards. I couldn't handle them this morning, so without eating, and dressing in a hurry I left the apartment. Cami must have had a similar idea because she was hot on my heels.

Dorin and Anat Levine lived across the hall from our apartment, No.15. They walked us to school each morning and back if our obligations aligned. Today outside the apartment, Dorin sat next to Anat on the top step of the stairwell that smelled of urine and rotting food that hadn't made it to the incineration chute. Next to them on the wall was a symbol Dorin was investigating. Two As head to toe in a circle. I thought this one had a disturbing satanic feel to it.

"The sign of the Atheist Annihilation that one," said Dorin. He must have heard the door. "Popping up more and more." He looked up. "How are the cherubs, Jah and Anat, this fine morning. All pious and devout as usual, I guess."

"Maybe you want stoned but I don't," I said. "I'll tell you something, if I get taken in then that graffiti is getting destroyed first. The enemy within that lot."

"Keep your voices down" said Cami. "Judases everywhere."

"Let they without sin cast the first stone. That's what I say." Dorin beamed, poster boy for the smug rebel. "Anyway, the ear is broken. We're not priority. Been like that for days now."

His 'everything is normal' act confused me. That fear that comes with paranoia was always there, even with those closest to you. Paranoia was top emotion in SoJo and it was hard to know sometimes when someone was acting for the Judases or merely trying to convince the person they're in conversation with about the facts.

Just then Mrs Zedekiah stuck her head out of her front door and looked up and down the landing. We turned and watched in what must have been an unsettling move. Having weighed up our level of threat, she sucked on a cigarette and slowly blew out the smoke in a long thin stream before her eyelids fell down in ecstasy.

"Oh," said Dorin. "Sinner are thee. If you're caught smoking."

"Only if you don't zip it. A listening device up there." She pointed with the cigarette which I thought was brave under the circumstances. No-one told her it was broken.

"And an eye along there," said Anat throwing her head in the direction of the stained far away wall.

"Can't see me here," she whispered.

"Where do you get them?" asked Dorin. "An informer is well rewarded."

"Don't sin," snapped Mrs Zedekiah. "Then no penance shall befall thee. And no Grand Witness shall come for thee." She tossed the cigarette into the hallway and said, "Watch it, Dorin Levine. Just like your family, you'll get in trouble one day. Sign up with the Retribution Kids and do something useful for once in your life."

She slammed the door, muttering about evil spirits.

"Psychopath," said Dorin.

"We better go," said Anat.

"Yea," I said. "Are we still on for tonight Dorin?"

"Yea Dorin, ," said Anat. "What about tonight?"

He nodded. Anat grabbed the paint flecked railing and hoisted herself up while saying, "Let's leave these children to it. Eh, Cami?"

"Children," said Dorin in quasi offense. "You're only a year older than me and Cami's a year older than Jah."

"Mentally. Not physically. And don't be late for school again Dorin. Your penance will go up."

"Thanks, sis," he said in a baby voice.

"Just looking out for you. May God guide you."

"Hey, Cami," Dorin said and then mouthed theatrically, "Routine from now on."

She understood and smiled. With that the girls left.


Strange how Mrs Zedekiah mentioned the Retribution Kids because as we left they were busy entering the tower block next to ours. Most were about my age, a few too young to know what they were doing, and the occasional one too old to even be there. They walked far too close together, feeding from the confidence of the group and emitting the stealthy menace of a pack animal on the hunt. The high-tower they were storming was nicknamed the 'Holy Ghost.'

The tower I lived in took the nickname, 'the Father', because this sat in the middle of a trinity of blocks that made up the white clad eyesores of Celestial Towers. The block positioned on the right was given the name, 'the Son'. On the few times a gang fight erupted with other parishes, fights in which I shamefully skulked at the back, our gang would go into battle chanting the chorus, 'in the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Ghost.' We thought this to be really clever of us, until we got a steel toe capped boot in the face. And that came delivered just from the girls.

The Retribution Kids were sanctioned with dealing with the most minor of sins in the most brutal of ways. Under sixteens were handed penance or lashed, but adults, through the associative sins of their children or family members, or if they had committed a string of minor sins themselves, were dealt with by the Retribution Kids and usually with the removal of a toenail or a fingernail. A call from a parish Witness, or his lackeys, would be further down the line if those minor sins turned to major sins or you had no nails left, whichever came first.

The Retro Kids had all the clobber on today; dirty white jumpsuits that hadn't been washed from previous reprisals, tool belts bulging with pain inflicting implements, shiny red boots and tiny crimson caps on their heads. Quite intimidating really, which happened to be the point. You wouldn't want to mess with these kids even if you didn't know the awful truth. Older, frailer victims who had fallen foul of holy law were known to have died from bleeding or heart attacks, or just out of plain fear and shame.

"Mr Mailer died last week," whispered Dorin, who seemed to have been reading my thoughts. "His daughter was caught with a boy. That excuse was probably a cover to scare us. They forgive misdemeanors with minor penance. They expect them. But the big stuff, the crimes they see as social breakdown or a threat to their authority. Well that's different. They say he just dropped down dead when they came to his door." He pointed towards the kids at the Holy Ghost Tower. "But his family say he was beaten to pulp. Had two toes cut off and three fingers. Believe what you like."

He searched the sky for a flying Judas.

"Don't they take a toenail for a category B or C sin? That's what I heard."

"Sounds about right," said Dorin.

I'd noticed Cosmin and his friend Dale enter the block along with the other Retro Kids.

"I heard," I said, "that they are too eager to please their clerical masters or more likely their parents, who will get favors and blind eyes turned. You know what I mean?"

"Of course I know what you mean. And my Uncle says it goes deeper than that. They're all in league together. Helping each other out for fancy jobs and good food. Makes me sick."

"Your Uncle sure knows a lot. Is he Abraham or something?"

"Let's get out of here," Dorin said. "Don't want the moros to spot us. Too early to handle simple beasts from the wild."

We jogged in silence for a while until my legs ached. Along from the school gates we stopped, out of site of the Warden.

"Well," said Dorin. "Any luck with that device thing you found?"

"I'll tell you later. Too busy here. You got anything on Cami?"

He tugged my sleeve which meant yes, and then into my ear, "I'll tell you later. Today do nothing out of the ordinary. Act as usual. Routine is key. Can't stress it enough. Meet you there, we all goseparately."

A tug of the sleeve. Dorin's simple answer to a life changing question. I felt like I'd been punched, roughed up, spat on and abused but strangely excited, too. Excited for change. I replied with a yes tug of my own. Your mind was forever gauging how incriminating your words were and then you had to decide in that moment on which hiding technique to use. A pulling and prodding system was good for simple answers. I nodded nervously as we walked towards the gates and a very grouchy looking Warden.


On the way to the Hanging Tree I saw the school Warden walking his dog along the river. It was a clear evening with distant clouds a fiery orange and red as the sun went down. The smog had lifted from the city burned off by the dying sun. I loved New Jerusalem when it was like this. Something hopeful colored those clouds. A sense that all paths did not necessarily lead to the same place. Time shifts, morphs and I confess I understood at that moment why people believed in a creator, a just and good creator. But understanding is not the same as agreeing, and I knew for every beautiful sunset there is a gloomy day, a harsh wind, a battering rain.

I was trying to make myself small and obsolete so the Warden wouldn't notice me. I stared distantly into the river trying to pretend I was daydreaming and had gone somewhere far off in my mind. Then he might not talk to me, embarrassed to interrupt such a soul searching moment. Dorin said he was an informer of great magnitude that shone beyond his remit as a lowly school Warden. 'Nothing but a rat,' Dorin would say. I flashed a glance to see if he'd passed yet, and I found his damn dog sniffing at my podex. My leg automatically kicked out, a gentle shooing kick that grew more forceful when the dog misunderstood the message.

"Go away, will you," I said. "Nice juicy bone for you away over there somewhere."

I said it like he understood words. Unfortunately, my big juicy podex was a bigger draw and my attempts at distraction had the opposite effect. He flung his paws up and scrambled at my thighs panting and whimpering like a long lost pup who'd found his devoted master after all theses years.

"Where are you, Lazarus?" said the Warden. "Oh, there. Leave that poor boy alone."

He started to walk over with long enthusiastic strides. He was thin as a weasel and bald as a monk. Hooked nosed and white in complexion, his long-limbed frame could be picked from a mob a hundred meters away. Lazarus, what a name, I had to laugh.

"Has he risen from the dead, Warden?" I said.

"It's you , Jah. Lord be with you," he replied. "Lazarus, here, you could say that, yes. Fell out of a window. Was hit with a boulder. Attacked by a pack of army canids and nearly drowned. Used to be called Peter. Had to rename him after his brushes with death."

I stroked the only dog with nine lives, quite warming to his plight and determination.

"He's not a canid, then?"

"Certainly not. A pedigree. Domestic, no wild cross breeding in him. Soft as sheets is Lazarus. Aren't you boy?" After patting the dog he turned more serious."Where you going, Jah? Need to ask."

"Seraphim troupe, then home, Warden."

"I am bound by my position to ask."

"And I am bound by my position as devout citizen to tell the truth. I've taken the oath, Warden."

Looking down I said, "is Lazarus trained?"

"Watch this," said the Warden. He crouched in front of the dog and placed his hand under its chin. With the other hand he tapped the top of Lazarus' head. Some taps were short and others lingered. When he'd finished the dog lay on the ground and rolled over. The Warden fished a treat from his pocket and rewarded the dog.

"See," he said. "Damn dog knows touch code."

He tried again and this time the dog begged for its treat.

"Wow," I said. "That's miraculous."

"Indeed," he said smiling, quite pleased with his trick, but I couldn't help think the dog was doing most of the work. "Come on Laz. Let Jah to it. God guide you, child."

He threw a stone from the ground and walked off with the dog sprinting out in front.