Children of Paradise: A Novel (33 page)

All evening the breeze holds his skin tight, the crisp air carves out Ryan’s lungs. At dawn he studies steam as it rolls from his mouth and spreads a thin translucent veil to make the sky look etched by the gray left over from the trees. He lies in some enclosure and has no idea how he came to be in there. Bread and a banana rest on a broad plate-sized leaf next to him. He tries to speak, but his swollen tongue fills his mouth.

—I want my bed, please.

He closes his eyes and inhales his surroundings, pulls the whole scene inside his rib cage, and hopes the next time he opens his eyes, none of it will be there, no trees, no vines, no thick vegetation underfoot, and no distant sky and its circus parades. He trembles and curls up around his meal, unable to eat a morsel. He thinks himself into the bed he dearly wants, back in a place he ran from and now wishes he could find.

The overseas mail of pension checks and letters from concerned relatives includes a subpoena, lodged by the relatives of three children, for a court hearing in the capital concerning the well-being of the children reputed to be held against their will by the commune. The subpoena names the preacher, and the mailman delivers it personally. It holds the preacher responsible. The reverend calls the capital and tells his lawyers he absolutely will not appear in any court, and his lawyers counsel him that he may deputize his role to another commune member. Though the subpoena names him and he should be there in person, his lawyers say he can supply an emergency medical reason with matching proof signed by a qualified doctor declaring his inability to travel to the capital.

The preacher gets his doctor to produce the diagnosis of incessant diarrhea. The lawyers say this is not a joking matter. Isn’t there some malady less liable to be viewed as a parody of the legal process? The preacher’s doctor says the preacher has lots of things wrong with him and diarrhea is the least of them. He needs more sleep or less fitful sleep that could be sleep apnea. He retains water in his feet. He suffers from recurring bouts of malaria. Palpitations and chest pain rack his body. He recently expelled a kidney stone. His nose bleeds as if it has a mind of its own. Headaches surround and assail him awake and asleep. Nightmares wait for him to surrender to sleep in order to pounce on him.

The lawyers succeed only in getting the court to postpone the date for one month, which annoys the preacher, who does not feel he should have to answer to anyone outside the community and no one in it other than God. His legal counsel warns him that too many postponements might lead to a court order for a compulsory visit of relatives to check for themselves that the children are doing okay and a warrant for his arrest for contempt. The preacher produces letters written by the children testifying to their well-being. He says the subpoena is undue harassment from forces hostile to their objectives. He mentions the countless relatives aggrieved by the fact that they lost people to the commune, but these people voluntarily sided with the commune over their earthly blood.

Is that my fault? Are the persuasive powers of the Gospel to be held against us?

Since he has no intention of answering the subpoena, the preacher calls the foreign minister to ask if he can provide warning to the commune well in advance should any delegation arrive in the capital. The foreign minister suggests to the preacher that any such visit should be an easy win for the commune, whose operations provide a model of how to live a harmonious and Christian life. He asks the preacher to consider staging a welcome to dispel the rumors among relatives. The preacher counters that he knows these people. They are out to destroy the commune, not reform it or rescue one or two people from it. That is why he lives in a remote location, for the peace of being far away from interference. Can the government stop a foreign delegation from landing on its soil with the specific intention of destroying a community that the government holds in high esteem? The minister says it can, but the negative publicity will outweigh the benefits of such a move. The best course by far is to show the international delegation that there is nothing to worry about and be rid of them once and for all. That would be the diplomatic course of action and the one that the foreign minister strongly recommends. The preacher says he will consider it. His chosen vocation is not politicking but the Bible, and politics and the Bible, like oil and water, do not mix. The minister wonders if all of it is not in fact thrown into the same pot, meaning both politics and the Bible, and everyone eats from that pot.

The tribal council pulls up in two jeeps at the main gate of the compound. They say they have something to return to the leader of the commune. The guards on duty, Kevin and Eric, tell them that they cannot arrive unannounced and expect to be seen right away. They radio the main house and then inform the council that the preacher cannot see them today or tomorrow, no room in his diary for another appointment. The speaker for the council says they will wait right there at the gate until the preacher sees them. Kevin and Eric radio the main house and the preacher slams the receiver on the desk. Sid accompanies the tribal council, which helps to keep things cordial. Even so, after another spell on the radio, both Kevin and Eric stiffen toward Sid and refuse his offer of cigarettes. They apologetically inform Sid and the rest of the group that the order from above says if the tribal council insists on waiting, they are free to do so but not on commune property, which includes the last mile of the approach road to the main gate. Sid shakes his head and wishes Kevin and Eric a good day. They nod but do not reply. Sid sees that both guards have his mosquito remedy plastered on their faces, necks, and arms.

—Good to see the mosquitoes don’t bother you anymore.

Eric and Kevin nod and want to say more to the mosquito apothecary and his miracle remedy, but the instructions from the main house ban all fraternizing with outsiders. The guards confer and quickly switch back to being cordial and tell Sid they are sorry but they have their orders and they hope he understands. Sid says he knows all about orders and they should not worry about it. He adds that he can see the mosquito remedy bushes around them are running out fast. The guards ask him where they might find more of the plant. Sid says the plant likes plenty of water and there must be an underground spring for it to grow near the hut and more of it can be found by the banks of the river. Kevin and Eric thank him and say they will keep checking with the preacher about his availability if Sid comes back every couple of hours. Sid offers his cigarettes once more, and this time Kevin sheepishly takes two while Eric bullishly declines and Sid climbs back into the jeep. Eric asks Sid if his friends have enough water to endure a long wait, since they could spare a few bottles for the group. Sid thanks him and says there is water all around for his friends to find for themselves, and he appreciates the invitation to return for an update. The tribesmen turn their vehicles around and retreat about one mile from the commune’s grounds, their two jeeps raising a red dust cloud trail behind them.

The guards radio to the preacher that the tribal council really intends to wait all day for an audience. He curses and says he hopes they bake in the sun. But he calls a meeting of his managers to talk about the ramifications of having a group of indigenous Indians camped on the perimeter of the grounds. The meeting concludes that they should let the tribesmen wait for a while and then the preacher should agree to see them briefly and in the open at the gate of the compound.

The preacher decides to bring everyone back to the commune for a large meeting, and this means leaving a skeleton staff at the commune’s office in the capital. He sends a truck to the airstrip at a nearby town to pick up office staff returning from the city, and he curses the expense of flying back and forth since his ban on the
Coffee
and the inconclusive search for a replacement boat and crew. The truck drives past the two jeeps of the tribal council without stopping or waving. Sid waves anyway. Two specially hired small planes circle and land as children stand on the side of the airstrip along with a couple of grazing cows. A senior guard briefs the commune staff about the tribesmen squatting on the perimeter of the commune since the morning and orders the staff to ignore them. On the drive back from the airstrip, the loaded truck passes the two jeeps and Sid waves again. A receptionist from the office forgets the instructions about the delegation and lifts an arm automatically and a senior guard slaps it back down.

—What about that damn tribal council out there?

The reverend waves in the direction of the compound’s main gate. The head of security raises his hand, not meaning to ask permission to speak but, rather, emphatic dismissal of the idea that the tribesmen should be a cause of worry.

—To hell with them, Reverend. Let them roast.

The head of finance slaps his thighs in disgust:

—They took our money.

—Thirty pieces of silver.

The head of security smiles satisfactorily at his witty response, but the preacher remains exasperated and runs the fingers of his left hand through his Elvis-styled hair.

—Gold.

His commune suffers from too many gross humiliations of late, from dissension within the ranks to subpoenas by outside hostile forces. Now the commune faces a direct assault and effrontery with this tribal council camped on the edge of its property. The preacher speaks in an almost distracted way, not loud or reprimanding, more like a thought uttered:

—How much failure should a leader tolerate from his first line of defenders before losing hope for his community? Is God’s calling too much for us to answer?

The head of security shakes his head and wonders if his guards cannot shoot the entire group of tribesmen and feed them to those pigs they are complaining about. Everyone laughs. But the head of security says he is serious, and they all laugh again, and he says no, really, and they laugh a little less vigorously, and he admits he is joking, and they laugh loudly again, and he says actually, he is serious, and no one laughs. The preacher hugs the head of security. The head of security smiles and wipes away tears. He breaks the preacher’s embrace and struts out of the meeting room. A pause ensues among the managers, assistants, and guards. The assistants and managers look with stern disapproval at the guards, clearly placing the blame on them for the present crisis and making them feel responsible for finding a solution. The guards do not know where to place their gaze. Their heads swivel from side to side and their eyes settle on each other and a collective responsibility gathers in the looks they exchange, looks pooled in this way until they become emboldened to act.

—What do we do with their jeeps?

—Strip them for parts for our vehicles, then burn or bury the rest.

The guards form a circle, raise arms and touch hands, and shout together:

—For the commune!

They break formation and grab their rifles and file out of the house to see their head of security standing by the truck.

—What took you all so long?

Commune members at various tasks around the compound stop and look to see what the commotion is all about. Joyce and Trina hear nothing of the guards shouting and see nothing of the pairs of guards piling their rifles onto the truck bed and climbing up into it before offering helping hands to those who wait to board. Stationed at the pig farm, Joyce and Trina pretend to work as they count the exact number of steps from the sty down to the river. They count with their eyes closed, as if in the dark. Adam shakes his cage and jumps on the spot and hoots at the guards. The truck peels away from the center of the compound and races to the main gate and digs up a red dust cloud, which drifts and paints the grass and trees. Stationed at the main gate, Kevin and Eric see the truck approach at high speed, and they work fast to pull the log from the road just as the truck speeds past and speckles red on the two guards, who turn their heads and shield their eyes.

T
he captain, helped by his first mate, renames the boat and registers it with the port authority, using a proxy at huge expense, to carry freight, not passengers, and they declare a bauxite-mining town far upriver as their base. They feel out of reach of the port authority, two days downstream in the capital, and far from the commune, one day away. The
Coffee
, renamed
Many Waters
, immediately gets nicknamed
Muddy Waters
, not after the American bluesman but due to the nation’s seawater. It sports new paint in natural bright colors, as if a piece of the vegetation, detached from the surrounding flora, is being carried by the river. Parrots passing over the boat might be forgiven for mistaking it for a floating flock. In fact, many houses in the countryside bear the same bright palette, and many commercial passenger minivans in the city try to distinguish themselves by sporting outlandish and brash primary colors.

The city is carved out of the landscape. The rainbows that begin as bright buses and houses and boats become features of the moist air and make the city new all over again. Through this land, stained with mineral wealth rising to the surface—minerals that stir and provoke a response from the land that the land refuses to surrender—a truck full of armed commune guards races to add another gradation of red to the green world beneath sunsets and dawns. But the red of the truck not seen in the dust is a color born of violence and necessary conviction. The red intent of the guards signals a compulsory sacrifice to restore their pride and prove their loyalty to their reverend leader. They cross their fingers that what they are about to do will be hidden by the miles of dense forest, the lack of a city for many more miles, and the concealing penchant of the jungle. If they fail to win back the approval of the preacher, their own paltry lives will be worth even less than the little it takes to make them feel they are worth anything at all. Their future, and that of the commune, which the preacher fights to secure, will not be theirs if the guards disappoint the reverend by failing to solve this problem of a tribal council demonstrating on the steps of the commune, and by failing to prove themselves worthy of the inheritance he fights for on their behalf. Succeed in ridding the preacher of this tribal problem, the guards believe, and they will win back his confidence. This small thing that they must do will serve them better than anything they ever did for their spiritual leader. They promise not to ask any questions when they reach the place. They take oaths to fire and keep firing until the job is done and after that to clean up the evidence. Each swears to empty his rifle into a target, and they all say not one of them will leave without firing a weapon into an enemy of the commune. The tribal group displeased the preacher and, in so doing, fashioned itself into an enemy of the commune.