House of Ashes (3 page)

The W. A. T. E. R. truck turned left down into the heart of town, travelling past the gaol, past shops, past people walking slowly in the afternoon sun, then right, then left again into Veronica
Street. It wasn’t a very long journey from the compound into town. Then Hal was giving them instructions as to what to do when they arrived at the House of Power.

‘We going straight up,’ he said. ‘Up into the chamber. Up the steps to the public gallery. Security will be armed and they will try to stop you. Shoot them. Shoot them dead.
They will shoot you if you don’t shoot them. Do not shoot anyone else. We will be taking the Prime Minister and the other cabinet ministers hostage. We will round up as many ministers of the
government as we can. Everything is in the first ten minutes. We will be taking them by surprise; people will try to run. The first thing we need to do is secure all the exits.’

And then the W. A. T. E. R. truck stopped. And Ashes could feel the air in his lungs had evaporated. Again he reached for his inhaler and pumped mist into his lungs and waited and counted and he
said a brief prayer to his God.
Tomorrow, everything will be different
, he told himself. The skies were an empty chalk blue, the House of Power a stark and lurid magenta against it. The
building was huge. There were striped-canopied windows, high arches and long balconies which made it seem like a palace of some sort. There was even a dragon on the roof, some kind of sea serpent,
arched and hissing at them. It was a weather vane and it marked the direction of the wind but Ashes didn’t like the look of it at all. It was like the serpent was vexed and cussing into the
air. On the ground floor there was a wide wrought-iron gate which barricaded the street level, and next to it there were steps which led upwards into the balcony and chamber of the House. Five
palms stood outside the gate like thin girls, showing their lewd red bunches of berries under their skirt-fronds. Ashes had never been so close to the House. He felt like he was near something very
feminine and glamorous, like his wife’s purse.

Hal jumped out and let down the back of the tray of the truck. And then it was like they were a thousand brothers and they were all running and shouting and Hal was yelling,
Go
!, and
all the men and boys were running up the steps to the public gallery to the House of Power. Some of the brothers began firing their guns into the air. Arnold was ahead of him, with his Santa hat,
strong and fierce now and he was shouting
God is great
and only God knew what else. Ashes didn’t fire his gun; he could hardly hold it upright, could barely make his legs move. He
could only just breathe and see what he was doing. All he knew was that he was in the pack, running, playing his part, and thinking of his dead brother, remembering those whispered conversations
between himself and River, in bed at night, ideas of a New Society, the stacks of Phantom comic books under their beds. Those days came with him as he ran amongst the men who were shouting
Praise be to God
, storming the House of Power. The revolution was happening.

Then he heard loud screaming and more shots coming from another direction and he saw a security guard fly down the stairs and
bam
. He saw the guard fall back against the wall, a red
spot on his chest.
Bam
, more shots, then he saw Arnold in his Santa hat. Arnold was still shooting the guard even though the man had slid to the ground and looked dead. Men were running
past him, and there was black-red blood on the ground. And there was a sound like a loud woodpecker,
rat a tat tat
. Shots fired in the air, a woodpecker rapping on the glass as bullets
ripped through the panes. Ashes saw a fat woman jump out the stately open window of the House of Power and fall crumpled to the ground, her feet bent beneath her. Her cries sounded like an animal
in pain. And then he was up in the chamber and the screaming was so loud he panicked and started to yell out the name of his brother River.

*

Ashes hadn’t expected to see women in the chamber. But they were there, three of them, youngish-looking, attractive women, dressed in jackets and skirts, actually in the
chamber. He hadn’t realised there would be women so close up in the politics of the day, so close that they could talk freely to the big men, the ministers and everyone in the House of Power.
The women began to cry out in terror and they ducked under their desks. One of the male ministers froze and stood there like a ghost of himself. He was shot instantly and then he fell. Bullets
ricocheted like grains of rice pouring into a deep metal pan. They flew everywhere in a hail and up into the air, shooting holes into the thick ornate white plaster which Ashes was also surprised
to see, fancy, like a wedding cake. It was like heaven in there, another world to the one he knew. The House of Power looked just like a shrine or a holy place, all white and gold and tall columns,
fancy
tra la la
and bows painted into the ceiling. There were high arched windows inside the chamber and a red velvet carpet. Ashes felt his insides melting. Then he flew upwards, out of
his body.

He was on the ceiling then, watching everything: people were cowering under chairs, he could see their ankles, the heels of their shoes, their haunches not quite tucked under them enough. He saw
two men dragged out from underneath a desk. One big man seemed to be protecting the other; he was covering this other man with his body; this was some kind of bodyguard and the brothers told him to
Step aside or be shot
. Hal kicked the man he was protecting hard in the face. Hal cussed at him, saying that
Everything is over, Prime Minister, we are removing you
. Then Hal
struck this man, the Prime Minister, again hard in the face with the butt of his rifle and he groaned and fell unconscious. Hal and two other brothers hogtied the Prime Minister, yanking his arms
behind his back, securing his wrists, and then they pulled down his suit pants so his white underwear was visible and his brown buttocks showed. Some of the brothers were shouting out names of
ministers of the government: ‘Where is Jayso? Where de IMF man? Where Cranleyson?’ They kicked over chairs, pulling these men out, shouting
God is with us
, saying they’d
caused pain and suffering to the poor man and now they were going to pay for it. Yelling came from down the corridors of power, the sound of gunshots, screams echoing and reverberating so Ashes had
to put his hands to his ears. People who’d come to sit in the public gallery cowered. One man dressed up real smart in a suit and tie had urinated on himself. He blubbered and cried for mercy
and one of the brothers swore at him and said, ‘Fucking big man like you bawling like a cow,’ and jabbed the man hard in the ribs with his rifle. Ashes didn’t like the way the
brothers were behaving at all; it was alarming to see such bad manners and foul language.

Government men and House employees were escaping everywhere, running down the corridors and out onto the balcony; men were jumping down to the ground, out of the windows. Brothers with guns were
chasing after them; two or three escaping people were shot in the back and fell down dead. In the tearoom next to the chamber, the tea ladies screamed as bullets zinged past them; there was a man
amongst them undressing and pleading with them for help. They said, ‘Yes, yes, quick,’ and hid him in a cupboard. Policemen who’d been standing on guard were escaping from the
chamber, running through the corridors away from what was happening; some were also shedding their clothes. The brothers didn’t shoot them. They let them go free. There was a woman under a
table in another room across the hall from the tearoom; she’d been shot and lay wounded and groaning and Ashes knew she was calling out the name of her son. Black-red blood was seeping from
her stomach. No one but Ashes up on the ceiling had seen her. She’d crawled to a safer spot, but she wasn’t going to live long.

Throughout, brother Arnold was jabbering and wild, shooting upwards and menacing anyone who looked like they might leave the chamber. His Santa hat had slipped sideways on his head. His skin
shone and his hard muscles bulged and the whites of his eyes gleamed, and he looked like an escapee from the madhouse not too far way. Maybe, even, he was. That thought occurred to Ashes as he
watched the chaos from the ceiling. The young brother called Breeze seemed well conditioned, very active and in step with what was happening. He was keeping close to Hal, going along with
everything like he was a natural.

In the chamber Hal began to shout orders. The members of the public would be set free; they could go immediately.

‘Go
oooonnn
,’ he shouted. The brothers prodded them and these people began to leave very quickly, down the stairs and out into the draining evening light. They ran across
the forecourt of the House of Power, out onto Veronica Street. The tea ladies were allowed to go and they fled, three of them in their aprons, muttering prayers. One of the parliamentarian women
was allowed to go free too; she was a minister in the opposition party. Another man was told to go, a man Hal knew, a notable man in the labour movement. And then Hal weeded out all the men who
were no longer high up in the government, those in a small group who’d split from the Prime Minister. He had them lie flat on the floor behind the speaker’s chair; it was like they were
a separate group of prisoners. The Prime Minister, already hogtied, he lashed to another minister, leg to leg, and he laid them flat on the floor in the centre of the chamber like the big prize.
And then the other members of his cabinet, including the two women, were also tied with their hands behind their backs with tight plastic bands, face down, in the centre of the chamber; they were
trussed up like blue crabs in the market. It was all happening so fast, like the plan was working. Ashes had a fluttering feeling inside, like the feeling of hummingbird wings, the feeling of God
being present with them there, in their actions. Something important was happening and God was helping them. Ashes was impressed; Hal had been trained and it showed. Hal knew what he was doing,
like he was a man of action.

Ashes felt sick and dizzy, but he was also proud of his friends. He was beginning to come down off the ceiling; maybe he could even walk around. Armed brothers were still running everywhere, but
the shooting had quietened down. It had all been so quick. Everybody was either dead, dying or tied up and face down on the red velvet carpet. Ashes was surprised to find himself standing in a
corner of the chamber, next to a wide open window which opened to a view of a samaan tree which spread itself like the green cloud of an atom bomb. He was holding his gun upright, his shirt was
damp through and stinking of his own sweat. His spectacles had fogged up. He had been weeping. His entire face was wet with tears. He was still shaking, but he was standing upright. No one noticed
him there or seemed bothered with him at all. It was like he had become invisible.

*

One hour had passed. It was 7 p.m. Everything was different now in Sans Amen. One of the ministers tried to talk to Hal. ‘Hey, Hal,’ he said. ‘I remember you
from school. Maths class. Remember me?’ Hal laughed and said, ‘Yes. I remember you. But we weren’t friends. Now shut up.’ This was a small place, everyone knew each other.
Ashes suddenly felt embarrassed that one of the ministers might know him, or worse, that they might know his wife.

In the corner of the chamber there was a television mounted on a bracket on the wall. Ashes made his way over to watch the seven o’ clock news with the other men. They all gathered round.
There was Justin Samaroo, the usual newsreader, looking very tense and serious. Next to him sat the Leader, dressed in his grey robes.

The brothers all stared at him, up there on national television. He had captured the country. No one said a word. It was like they were held captive too; so few of them had known of his master
plot. Now they watched, some with loving pride, others with a new self-regard for what they had been part of. One feller raised his fist in a salute of solidarity like he’d all along been on
the inside. All the brothers were glued to the screen, as if the Leader, there, dressed in grey, was indeed righteous, an avenging angel. He’d seized power, just like he said he would only
hours before. Some of the men clapped. Ashes stared upwards and he felt grateful he’d survived.

A dark woollen cap clung to the Leader’s head. The Leader was always very well dressed and presentable, as was befitting of a man who was going to change everything around in the country.
Now there, on television, was a man of the people, a man born to serve, a warrior and a man of God. The Leader, it was known, had many talents. It was said he could actually bake a cake and he did
so now and then on important family occasions. The Leader had three wives, nine children and a hundred fostered sons in the commune. The Leader was loved. He was just and fair.
Do not
underestimate the complexity of this great man,
thought Ashes, as he watched the screen that evening. Ashes felt himself regain his strength and sense of purpose just at the sight of him. Now
he was relieved he’d been included in the plan, that he’d said ‘yes’, for River and for a New Society. The Leader was reading from a script of some sort:

‘At 6 p.m. today, the government of Sans Amen was overthrown. The Prime Minister and members of the cabinet are under arrest. We are asking everybody to remain calm. The revolutionary
forces are commanded to control the streets.’

Sitting there in the newsroom, the Leader looked calm and handsome. It was like a miracle. The revolution had happened. It had happened in an hour. Here they were, the brothers were now in
charge, and there was the Leader, announcing the news. A few boys, a few guns – and a New Society could begin. It was so simple and so easy to overthrow a bad government in the middle of
governing. Justin Samaroo didn’t look so good, though. He looked frozen, like something had only just started. He looked like he might faint any minute.

Some of the brothers clapped and whooped. Hal, he could see, was visibly relieved. Ashes uttered words of thanks and said aloud, ‘Praise be to God.’ There had been some bloodshed,
and yes, there had been some fatalities, but not too many. Ashes had understood this might be part of the proceedings. If words and prayers didn’t work, it was appropriate to take action. The
Leader had marched for justice along with the labour leaders, petitioned for the poor; he had asked, pleaded, prayed for a new order – even made direct threats of seizing power. And now
he’d taken the last option: force. Ashes wanted to ring his wife Jade to tell her the news; how proud she would be of him, that he had been part of such a thing. He wanted to apologise for
his small lie, say that it had only been to conceal a larger surprise. He wanted to say,
Kiss Arich and Arkab goodnight, my love. I made history today
. One day I will tell them about their
Uncle River and the great Fat Clay of Cuba, the other asthmatic revolutionary. Ashes felt for his inhaler and took it out and released two jets of mist into his lungs just for the hell of it, in
celebration of this marvellous occasion.