The Thousand Steps

by Helen Brain

  ThE NEXT MORNING Hal arrives just after breakfast. He is like sunshine after Leonid’s long face. I feel a bit shy as I greet him at the front of the house – he must find me embarrassingly backward. But he seems so genuinely pleased to see me and interested in everything I say, that I soon feel as if I’ve known him for years.

  “There’s a river in your garden,” Hal says, “and a pool where you can swim. Have you seen it yet?”

  I shake my head.

  “Shame, this must be overwhelming. You’re probably too scared to leave the house. I keep forgetting you’ve been underground all your life.” He gestures with his hand. “Come on,” he says. “I’ll look after you. You’ll love it.”

  I’m feeling shy. He’s so gorgeous. What would Jasmine say if she could see me now? He leads me past the stableyard, and a barn with high, rounded doors. “These old buildings are creepy,” he says. “Like living in a museum. You must be looking forward to moving to one of our secure settlements.” He’s talking like it’s been decided already.

  He calls back to me as he sets off across the lawn. “The river’s this way. I’ll race you.”

  I follow, feeling the grass soft under my feet, down a path that is overshadowed by trees. It’s overwhelming to run in the open, instead of on a treadmill generating electricity. It feels like I’ve been a seed, underground all my life, and now I’m a plant, reaching upwards, getting ready to flower. Soon we’re deep in the forest, and there, at the bottom of the steep slope, is the river.

  He’s already standing barefoot in the water when I slide down the last bit of slope and land next to him in a shower of small stones and sand.

  “Isn’t this just brilliant?” he grins.

  Willows shade the water. Birds are singing and the water chuckles over the stones. A few metres downstream it widens out into a natural pool.

  “Let’s swim,” Hal calls, stripping off his robe. He runs up the side of the highest boulder. He stands there in just his undergarment, arms outstretched. I try not to look at his firm, brown body.

  “How amazing is this?” he calls, jumping off the rock and landing with a splash. “Come in, the water is gorgeous.”

  I can’t swim. And I’m not taking my clothes off in front of this boy. So I sit on the edge of a rock and dangle my feet in the water.

  He splashes me, laughing. “Come on!” he calls. “Scaredy cat.”

  Then between the trees I see Clementine and her little boy.

  “What are you staring at?” Hal asks, swimming over to where I’m sitting.

  Can’t he see her? She’s on the other side of the river, and her rust-coloured dress stands out clearly among the trees. “I thought I saw someone. Over there.” I point to the spot. The little boy is digging in the sand with a stick, and she’s talking to him while she brushes the dirt off the back of his trousers.

  “Come on,” he laughs. “You’re seeing things.”

  He’s so certain, he must be right. I’m imagining it all.

  “Hal,” I say, “have you ever heard of a goddess? A goddess who made the world?” I try to make my voice light but he looks up quickly.

  “Old wives’ tales. All superstition, as far as I’m concerned, though my brother Lucas would call it witchcraft. But nobody takes any notice of him. My father only made him a Righteous because he can’t do anything else.”

  “So nothing about a second Calamity – er, Purification?”

  “Of course not. Who’s been filling your mind with this rubbish? Is it the old woman?”

  “No, no.” I don’t want Aunty Figgy to get in trouble again. I need her to tell me about my mom. “I … I found a book. I can’t read well, though. I must have got it wrong.”

  “You can’t read?” He jumps out of the pond and shakes himself like a dog. “I’ll teach you if you like.” He’s so handsome, his big cheeky grin lighting up his face. He pulls his robe over his head and I have a moment to admire his perfect abs before his face appears again, and the folds of material fall around his body.

  “I’d like that so much,” I say as he pulls me to my feet.

  “Let’s go then,” and he races off up the path.

  I follow him up the gully. Halfway up I turn back. Clementine is still standing near the river. She looks me in the eye, and waves.

  THE NEXT DAY is Shrine Day. I’m nervous when I wake up. I won’t know anyone there, besides Hal and Mr Frye, and everyone will be looking at me, the new girl. I don’t even know how they hold shrine service up here in the settlement. What if I stand up when everyone else sits down? What if I don’t know the songs? They’ll think I’m stupid and backward.

  Aunty Figgy is grim-faced as she makes my breakfast, and Leonid is even more surly than usual when I ask him to bring the buggy around. I stare in the wardrobe for about five minutes, trying to decide what to wear. None of these clothes are mine. Most of them are from the old world. I can hardly turn up in a flowery minidress.

  I try not to look at myself in the mirror. It’s too depressing. I’m weird, and once they see me, the citizens are going to hate me. My hair’s too red, my skin’s too white, I’m too tall, my feet are too big … The list goes on and on.

  I’m about to give up in despair when I hear the buggy coming along the driveway. The thought of Leonid’s smirk when I tell him I’m not going decides me. I grab the nearest robe and pull it over my head. I tie my hair back in a long plait and just before I leave, I take off my amulet and put it away in the dressing-table drawer. I don’t want anyone saying it’s witchcraft. But then my neck looks bare, so I scratch in the old wooden box on the dressing table and find a pendant of a dove in a silver circle. I hang it around my neck, and I’m ready to go.

  We drive along the road that runs against the base of the mountain. Everything is so dry and brown. Ruins of houses stand between khaki shrubs or in bare rocky ground. You can see where once there was a thriving city with shops and houses, but now nothing stands higher than the bushes. Even the trees are gone. Mr Dermond told us that Prospiroh began to punish the wicked years before the Great Purification. He sent floods and droughts, hurricanes and tsunamis, and other terrifying things to tell the people to repent. When that didn’t work he sent plagues and pestilences, and finally he sent the Purification and only the good survived. But why is Greenhaven green and fertile?

  We pass a group of men mending the road, their picks rising and falling in unison as they sing a song. The leader doffs his hat to me as we pass. I wave back, and immediately check to see if Leonid thinks I’m being patronising. Maybe I am. I’m a citizen now. Everything has changed.

  A while later we drive past a group of cone-shaped houses. They’re clustered together like seeds in a sunflower. “What’s that place?” I ask him.

  “Claremont village. Worship leaders live there and some of the army families. You should see the storage areas they’ve got underground. Huge. Lived off the fat of the land and kicked everyone else out of the settlement …”

  Leonid is so negative. Everything is so awful, people are so evil, everyone is out to get everyone else … I wonder how he sleeps at night.

  Other buggies join us on the road as we near the shrine. They’re so smart, compared to our ramshackle old one. We’re behind a shiny navy-blue buggy with a coat of arms on the side and two handsome black horses. It turns up through a pair of gates, and we follow it up a steep hill, through open fields where ostriches are running. A pair of goats stands on a rocky outcrop while others tear away at a small shrub. The stumps of thousands of trees show that once this was a forest. Did they blow over in a storm? Or did the radiation kill them?

  At the top of the road, the enormous shrine glitters in the morning sun. People are streaming through the arched doors, and when Leonid stops the buggy and opens the door, I pause, feeling very small.

  “Scared, miss?” he scoffs.

  “Not at all.” I put my chin in the air and jump down onto the road. I look at the crowds of people thronging through the door and wond
er if I can slip in and sit at the back, where no one will notice me. And then suddenly Hal comes through the crowd, beaming, with a beautiful girl of about my age.

  He’s got a girlfriend?

  “Ebba, so glad you’re here,” he says, kissing me on both cheeks. “How are you? You must be feeling so nervous. Don’t worry – me and Cassie will look after you.”

  “Cassie and I,” the girl says, punching him. “Not me and Cassie. Move over, you idiot,” she shoves him aside and hugs me. “I’m Cassiopeia. Everyone calls me Cassie. I’m the beauty and the brains in the family. Now don’t worry about the service today. We’ll show you what to do.”

  Relieved, I follow them up the marble steps. She’s so friendly, I feel like I’ve known her for ages.

  “Hal never stops talking about you,” she says, flashing me a brilliant white smile.

  An usher opens the door and waves of incense and noise and colours flood out.

  “Come on,” Cassie says, taking my hand. “You’re going to love it.”

  Everyone turns to look at me. I try to make myself look smaller, but the aisle is endless, and it appears that our seats are in the front row. I’m cringing by the time we reach them, and my face is bright red. Against the tanned skins of the congregation, I must look like a ghost. I glance sideways and meet the piercing blue eyes of General de Groot at the end of the adjacent row. He’s standing with a pretty woman and three children, and they all smile and nod at me. You wouldn’t believe he was the same man who helped the High Priest select us for the sacrifice.

  “Sit here,” Cassie whispers, pointing at a comfortable chair. Down in the colony we sat on wooden benches in a grey rock meeting hall. This shrine is painted in rich reds and golds. Banners hang from the roof, and at the front is a marble stage. A voice announces, “All rise,” and the band begins to play. The sound pulses through the shrine, rising right up to the very top of each peak in the ceiling. I’m suddenly too excited to be self-conscious.

  A trumpet plays a fanfare, the doors open, and in comes a procession of four men dressed in white, with golden circles embroidered on their robes. They’re carrying a throne on their shoulders, and seated on the throne is the High Priest. He is beaming at the congregation, and has opened his arms as though he wants to hug us. He looks so powerful, so grand – so warm, as though he’s our father and we’re all his children. They place his throne down, bow, and step back. The music stops. There is a pause. I try to make sense of it all. Why did he lie to us? Why did they tell us it wasn’t safe? I don’t understand it.

  The High Priest rises from the chair, steps slowly to the edge of the stage, looks over the congregation, and booms, “Welcome! Welcome to you all, my dearest family.” His smile is warm and friendly, and I see where Hal got his cheeky grin from. The High Priest never smiled when he visited the colony, but now he seems to be greeting each of us personally. His eye catches mine where I’m seated in the front row, and instead of the hatred I felt from him before, I feel a ray of warmth drawing me in. My mistrust is melting away as his love and acceptance fills me. I begin to feel some of the joy I can see on the faces of the people around me.

  “We are here to celebrate and to worship the One True God, Prospiroh,” he says. “Let us start with a song of praise to Him who chose us to be His elite, His lantern in this dark, dark world.”

  The band strikes up and the congregation begins to sing. I know this song. We used to sing it in the colony, but there it was a grey, lifeless number. Here, it is throbbing with life and energy, sung by a thousand voices in celebration.

  You, oh Prospiroh, are the source of all our joy.

  Look with favour upon us,

  As you did on the Day of Purification,

  When the waters covered the earth,

  And you saved us.

  You have given us land, shelter, food and water.

  Your people prosper.

  We praise and thank you, Prospiroh, for your protection.

  Then another man steps forward. He is tall and thin and much younger than the High Priest. He’d be good-looking if he didn’t look so anxious as wrings his hands, looking over the congregation as if he’s expecting them to attack him any moment. I feel sorry for him.

  Hal whispers, “That’s Lucas, my half-brother,” and I realise this is the Lucas who thinks Aunty Figgy’s stories are witchcraft.

  “Great God Prospiroh, you have given us so much,” he prays. His voice is melodious and gentle, at odds with his agitated manner. “It is right that we should give back to you. Help us give sacrificially of the wealth you have given us, so that your ministry here may flourish and grow.”

  The High Priest takes a step forward, his arms outstretched. “If the mighty Prospiroh has blessed you, shout ‘Amen!’”

  “Amen!” roars the congregation.

  “If you feel called to give back to the Lord Prospiroh, shout ‘Amen, Prospiroh, Amen!’”

  Again the congregation roars, “Amen, Prospiroh, Amen!”

  Then a strange thing happens. Someone in the choir begins to sing. It starts off with “You, oh Prospiroh are the source of all our joy,” but her voice begins to rise, and turn into a chant. One by one the other choir members join in. The High Priest walks in front of them, waving his arms slowly in the air.

  “Praise Prospiroh,” he sings. “I feel his presence here with us. Raise your voices. Praise our mighty God, Prospiroh.”

  The congregation begin to join in, singing in harmony. I don’t have a clue what the words can mean. They’re some language I’ve never heard.

  “Oh, Tanamasante,” the High Priest sings. “Release your songs from these people, oh Prospiroh.” He is coming down the marble stairs, towards us. My heart is full of feelings, and I’m burning to sing too, but I’m too shy.

  All around me, people are swaying to the chant, their arms waving and ecstasy on their faces. Hal’s eyes are shut and he’s radiant with light.

  The High Priest walks slowly down the stairs, chanting all the while. When he is right in front of me, he looks straight into my eyes, places one hand on my head, and a jolt runs through me. I feel myself toppling over backwards. A man catches me and lowers me gently to the floor. I can hear the singing going on around me, but I can’t move, can’t think, can’t escape from this cocoon.

  “Prospiroh, Prospiroh, Prospiroh,” sings the congregation.

  I look up. The High Priest is standing over me, his hands lifted to heaven.

  “Praise you for your daughter,” he prays. “Praise you for this young woman upon whom you have poured your blessings.” He leans over me and lays his hand on my neck.

  I go cold inside. Is he trying to feel my breasts? Is this some sick initiation? But his fingers lift the pendant around my neck for a second and then it drops back on my chest.

  “Rise up, Ebba,” he says, holding his hand out to me. I look into his eyes. They’re warm and friendly, so I take his hand and the paralysis leaves me. He helps me to my feet. Glancing around to see how many people are laughing at me, I realise most are still rapt in prayer, eyes closed, singing. Those who make eye contact with me are smiling warmly, as though I’ve done something remarkable. As though I’m special. A glow of pleasure moves through me.

  He must have touched my neck by accident.

  Through the long sermon that follows, I ponder it. I just fell to the floor when he touched me. Why couldn’t I move?

  The service ends with a final hymn. While the band and choir are belting it out, the congregation is opening their bags and wallets. Stewards pass baskets along the rows and people throw in gold coins. I haven’t got anything to put in, and I blush as I have to pass the basket along. I glance up, shamefaced, and the High Priest is looking right at me. He smiles. It’s alright, he seems to say.

  Then the service is over. Cassie turns to me with shining eyes. “Wasn’t that just fabulous? You were touched in a special way today.”

  The service ends and the citizens greet each other. I’ve never seen
so many hugs and kisses in my life. It feels like hundreds of people want to embrace me. “Welcome home,” they say. “Welcome to Table Island.”

  “But they don’t know me,” I whisper to Hal.

  “It’s because Prospiroh has blessed you so mightily,” Hal explains, as one of the High Priest’s five wives releases me from her huge arms.

  She’s a large blonde woman in an orange-and-purple robe, and like everyone else up here she looks shiny with good living. “Indeed it is, Hal,” she exclaims. “Ebba, you were lost and now you’ve been found. We are so glad to welcome you home.”

  They invite me to lunch. I feel bad for Leonid, sitting outside the shrine with nothing to eat and nothing to do, but I don’t know how to say no to the High Priest’s wives. And anyway, I want to go. They’re a huge family – five wives and about twenty children, and I want to sit around a table and share a meal with friendly, happy, non-crazy people who like me just because I’m me.

  Hal introduces me to his mother, Evelyn. She’s the third wife, and the prettiest. She’s dressed in a soft pink robe, and when she links her arm in mine and takes me out of the side door of the shrine, through a courtyard and into the compound where they all live, I feel warm inside and welcomed.

  The only sour note is Lucas. He takes one look at me as I go into the lounge and says, “I won’t be here for lunch. I’m going to walk in the mountain.”

  Why does he hate me? Does he think I’m a witch because I’ve got red hair?

  “Don’t mind him,” Cassie says. “He’s not normal. Can’t handle people.”

  “He’s an idiot,” Hal says with a sneer.

  But I suddenly want to go home. What if he comes back and starts shouting that I’m evil? “I … I think I should go,” I say.

  “Rubbish,” Hal cries. He grabs my hand and pulls me onto the sofa. “Come on, sit down. We want you here. Don’t we, Cassie?”