Somersault (91 page)

“They’re putting everything they have into the job. Since it’ll be a public demonstration, a continuation of last night’s Fireflies procession, I’ll make sure they do a great job.”

A beat or two of silence ensued. Then Ikuo turned his back to the bright window. For the first time in quite a while his expression was gentle, even bashful, as he said, “How about a shower? I’m all sweaty from last night and I’d like to take one myself. Let’s take the afternoon off, in preparation for tomorrow. Pretty soon we’re not going to have much to do with them anymore, so let’s skip the party at the Farm tonight and leave everything up to the Technicians and the Quiet Women.”

32: For Patron

1

On Sunday morning the green leaves of the trees and the summer grasses sparkled in the strong fresh sunlight, and clouds reflected whitely on the surface of the lake. Ogi was out with some young workmen sent over by a local company that had contracted to build additional temporary toilets, trying to decide where to locate them. From their experiences on Friday, the night of the Fireflies procession, it was clear that the portable toilets provided by Mr. Soda weren’t enough. So they set out to dig out holes in six spots around the grounds that would then have a wooden framework built around them—knowing they had to finish in time for tonight’s meeting.

They selected a relatively flat spot, on the mountain side of the path through the grandstands that circled the lake, and set to work. Once the conference was over they’d wait until the ground at the bottom of the holes had absorbed all the liquid before filling them in. The holes the motorized shovels scooped out were deeper than Ogi had imagined. Once they’d decided on the locations and work had begun, Ogi was left with little to do. As the shovels continued their loud clang, he walked down the path from east to north, to the point closest to the island with the giant cypress in the middle of the lake.

The branches of the giant cypress had been trimmed back to a height of about twenty feet. The lopped-off larger branches and the smaller ones with green still on them were piled up on a two-tiered wooden frame surrounding the trunk—the middle of both the upper and lower tiers left empty for the dolls to be added—and leaned up against the lower tier. Along with the stack of firewood in the island meadow, this was enough to make a spectacular firestorm.

The entire structure was like some sturdy square building. Even if kerosene was poured on and lighted, it wouldn’t collapse to one side but would end up a huge bonfire, safe for all spectators to enjoy.

Another wooden frame was set up apart from the one around the cypress but of the same height, made up of two or three logs with speakers set on top. Beside it lay a sturdy bamboo ladder, the kind used by lumberjacks, to be used later to place the dolls that were going to be burned on top of the wooden frame.

Sensing someone behind him, Ogi turned around to find Gii, his suntanned face looking much older now, leaning against the tiny light-green leaves of a maple and watching him. Gii said, unhurriedly, “Yonah’s going around this morning, talking to everyone to make sure everything’s set for the evening meeting. He’d like you to go with him; he’s already settled the matter with Dancer.”

“Right this moment?” Ogi asked.

“My truck is in the little park beyond the parking lot.”

They turned back to the east shore, greeting the young workmen they passed, and walked down the aisle, a little shoddily laid out, below the chapel and the monastery. Unconcerned about all the trampled-down spots on the path’s shoulders, Gii strode on.

“Where did he say we’re going to talk?” Ogi asked.

“We’ll be meeting the first group, representatives of the Quiet Women, in the hills. After the party last night, some of their friends stayed at the monastery, and we can’t very well make them leave so early in the morning. The women will drive over in Yonah’s car.”

“You drove over here, right? So I’ll drive from here. The prefectural police haven’t shown up yet, have they?”

“They don’t view the church as dangerous enough to warrant sending the riot police here this early.”

As Gii had said, there weren’t any other cars at the little park. Despite Ogi’s insistence, though, he didn’t make any move to hand over the keys. Ogi caught a glimpse of a doll wrapped in cloth bags in the loaded truck bed.

“I’d heard about these dolls, but the ones used in the Spirit Procession are really big, aren’t they?” Ogi asked.

“The one in back was made to Patron’s special order; Mayumi had to stay up all night to do it. It’s the Spirit of Guide. She said it wasn’t so hard since she’d already made one, though the larger size did cause her a little trouble.”

They drove down the Shikoku highway bypass, down to where the older district road leveled out, and crossed the bridge over the Kame River, the water sparkling below.

“We’re going to drive up to a piece of worthless meadow my mother inherited,” Gii explained, “at the intersection of two logging roads. One road goes up past the entrance to the Farm; the one we’re going to climb goes past the junior high.”

As the truck turned the corner and entered the glen, a woman teacher from the junior high, out sweeping the decorative shrubbery in front of the school, looked up in surprise at Gii, driving without a license. For his part, Gii remained totally cool and collected.

He parked the truck at the base of a red pine tree, branches trimmed back to quite high up, the greenery near the top shining in the brilliant sky. A red Ford Mustang was parked in front of a clearing leading to another logging road. As Ogi stepped down the narrow path down the short slope, clutching at branches to steady himself, Gii said to him, “Better not touch the wax trees. He Who Destroys planted wax trees from here up to the ridge to use as raw material for the Fireflies’ candles. Do you suppose he really planted them so he could pour hot oil over his enemies?”

At an unexpectedly steep slope where they could look down at the villages and the river in the bottom of the valley, there was a square meadow jutting out like a stage. Ikuo was standing there, talking with three of the Quiet Women.

To the left below them was a sparse stand of red pines, a path cutting through it that went down to where they could see—through a large bamboo grove just before the path went uphill again—half of the lake in the Hollow and the Plexiglas skylights on the roof of the chapel reflecting the sunlight. In the midst of this wonderfully placid scenery, the bypass to the cross-Shikoku highway cut through a mountain one hill over. The whole scene was so bucolic it made Ogi want to tell Gii that he understood the feelings of the Fireflies, ready to fight to defend the legends of their land.

Before he could say anything, though, Ikuo saw the two of them approach and abruptly waved Gii off.

“Go guard the car,” he told him abruptly. “The key’s in it, so if a truck comes and wants to pass, move it so he can!”

Ikuo led Ogi and the three women over to an old tree in the west corner of the meadow, bursting with dark green berries hanging down on long stems. There was a place constructed out of thick logs where they could sit.

Ogi found Mrs. Shigeno and Ms. Takada, whom he hadn’t seen in a while, full of the same sense of incongruity he’d felt yesterday morning in Ms. Oyama, who rounded out the threesome. Their skin was equally pale and lusterless, but what was even more noticeable was the clumsy, amateurish way the Quiet Women had done up their hair. The hair behind their ears and at
the napes of their necks was newly shorn. What’s more, a dark, solemn shadow had fallen over their expressions.

As the three sat side by side on the log seat, with the river on their right, Mrs. Shigeno, at the end, looked up at the small orange-red berries on the branch above her and said, “Whenever I see this many berries it always makes me think of when the Chinese matrimony-vine wine we used to make was ready to drink. But that doesn’t move me anymore. My interest in trees and plants is entirely practical.”

Ogi was the only one who responded to this by gazing up at the thin stalks of the matrimony vine and its bell-like berries. He realized that her statement was merely a prelude leading up to the main theme of their talk.

“Ogi is helping Professor Kizu write a history of Patron’s church, and I want him to witness all the decisions that are made and the events that take place,” Ikuo said, as if making sure the Quiet Women understood. “I’ll be talking with the Technicians next, and he’ll be accompanying me there as well.… Ogi, I’d like you to remember that the Quiet Women were followers of Patron years before we first came across him. As junior members, then, you and I have to do whatever we can to help them, no matter what they ask of us. They’re not looking for our input, and it would be out of line to object to anything they say. Okay, this being said, we’d like to hear what sort of program the Quiet Women propose.”

“Do you understand, Ogi-kun?” Ms. Oyama said. “Ikuo’s told us you’re the church’s chronicler, but
we’re
the ones responsible for the events you’ll chronicle. Before Patron’s sermon, after seven
P.M
., we’d like to have the whole chapel set aside for us to use. At yesterday’s press conference there were people who said that was unfair, but I’d like you to give your word one more time that you won’t say anything. In terms of time, this should overlap with part two of the Spirit Procession.

“I’m sure there’ll still be people who want to come see Professor Kizu’s triptych or who’ll want to take refuge inside the chapel to listen to Patron’s sermon without all the bugs flying around them. Our old friends might insist on coming inside. Despite this, just before seven
P.M
. the Quiet Women will enter the chapel and barricade it from inside. The Technicians will be outside, standing guard.”

Before Ogi could say a thing, Ms. Takada, who ever since moving to this area no longer seemed bothered by having only one eye, and who was in charge of business affairs for the Quiet Women, spoke in a calm, composed voice.

“At that time, blessed by Patron’s sermon, we will ascend to heaven. In the sacred ground of the church, listening to Morio’s music, the Quiet Women will pass away.”

Aghast, Ogi turned around to look at Ikuo. His rough-hewn, brawny face stared straight ahead, his expression unchanged. Only Ogi’s heart was pounding, his face flushed. The blood pounding in his ears drowned out the cicadas screeching all around them. Mrs. Shigeno tried to explain things further.

“After Guide passed away, Patron announced that he would be returning to his religious activities. At that point we took this to mean that he was laying the preparations for ascending to heaven. That’s why we had our children sing ‘Hallelujah!’—to praise Patron’s decision. We were so happy he allowed us to move here right away, thinking he was giving us the go-ahead sign. After moving here and getting to know Ms. Tachibana and Morio better, our resolve is firmer than ever.

“As it turned out, though, we were leaping to conclusions. The confrontation two days ago between Patron and Ikuo convinced us of this. Patron was afraid that more than a thousand people would be burned to death. He was going to make an announcement over the speakers to tell everyone to flee, but Ikuo stopped him. It was like he was insane. We think he was merely afraid.

“When we heard this news, we thought
Hallelujah!
as a scene flashed through our minds of seven hundred believers all passing up to heaven along with Patron in this glorious holy place. But Patron was afraid. He lost consciousness and had to be comforted by someone of limited intelligence. When we heard this, we decided we’d have to do things
our
way.

“The Passion in this holy land that seven hundred couldn’t realize
we’ve
decided to carry out with
twenty-five
. Wasn’t the illusion Patron had—that the Fireflies were about to burn to death a thousand people, curious onlookers included—something that bubbled up out of his dread, out of the depths of his very being? If Guide were alive I know he’d correct Patron’s mistake. But the only way
we
can correct him—and educate him—is by
taking action
.”

Mrs. Shigeno’s confident tone quickly drew Ogi’s imagination away from the three women seated in front of him to a place, some ten hours later, where he was dealing with the dead bodies of all the Quiet Women. Strangely enough, this made him picture, quite intimately, the face of Mrs. Tsugane, her features, perhaps because of her age, sharply outlined, as she arranged a tryst between them deep in the woods of this very same north slope. Ogi sought refuge in the scent of her living body, so very different from the smell of death.

As he thought all this, Mrs. Takada, totally indifferent to the smooth skin covering the spot where her right eye should be, said, “I’ve had this for quite a long time.” She pulled out a thick glass bottle, four inches high, from a paper bag. “They told me it’s enough cyanide to kill fifty people. I’ll divide it into twenty-five portions. Dr. Koga would help me, don’t you think?”

Ogi flinched from the proffered bag, but Ikuo stretched out a long manly arm and snatched it up.

Ogi, feeling helpless and alone, couldn’t stay quiet any longer. “People call me an innocent youth, and I’m not sure but what you’re pulling my leg here, but why do all of you have to
pass away
? Can you imagine the impact it’s going to have if all the Quiet Women commit mass suicide right when Patron’s about to launch his new church?”

Ikuo and the three Quiet Women all looked disgusted. Even so, Mrs. Shigeno tried to respond.

“I’m getting on in years and I want to settle things while I’m still in my right mind, while my body still is able to function. I’m not speaking for all the Quiet Women, though.… To put it in a more general way, don’t you feel that the world is fast falling apart? In twenty years it will be even worse, and everyone then will have to consider the problems I’m thinking about
now
. When you picture this, you realize that the coming end time will be just like Patron used to preach about before the Somersault. What we’re going to do is revive the message of Patron’s old sermons and pass away first.