otherwise, these names meant nothing to him. This place, Sussex, these towns, their names came out of the screen so solidly, so real, he felt he could hold them inside his heart.
He then entered: Caibourne.
Caibourne! He held the name, said it aloud to himself, then repeated it. ‘Caibourne!’ At this moment, it was the sweetest sound in the world.
He zoomed in, until he could see the aerial views of a small cluster of houses. One of these houses belonged to John and Naomi Klaesson. He typed in their postcode, and instantly zoomed in closer still.
The Disciple punched the air in excitement. Then his face flushed with guilt. This was a bad thing, to let himself get carried away by his feelings like this. He had to restrain himself. For now, all emotions were forbidden. Joy would come later.
Those who sow in tears will reap with songs of joy. Psalm 126.
But a small amount of pleasure, that could not be a sin, surely? And here, in this studio apartment God had found for him, in the low-rise building inhabited mostly by elderly people who kept to themselves, in this quiet suburban backwater of the town of Rochester in New York State, this is what Timon Cort was feeling now.
God’s pleasure.
It had been a long time since he had come down from the mountain in Colorado, into the sewer of the valleys below and the plains beyond. Two and a half years since he had first gone to that internet cafe in Boulder, Colorado, to download the instructions that awaited him. The names of the first couple and their spawn he was to kill, and where he was to go to collect his next instructions.
Now there was just one more act of the Great Rite to be carried out. And then he would become a true Disciple, and God would give him the beautiful, loving Lara, who had waited patiently for two and a half long years for him, and would continue to wait for however much longer was needed, as a reward. And then they would live for the rest of their lives in Paradise in the right hand of God.
Time had passed since then, but time had also stood still. He continued to wear his hair shaven to a light fuzz. He was dressed in the same simple uniform that all Disciples wore. A loose white T-shirt, grey chinos and plastic sandals. He passed his days in prayer, reading the Bible, eating frugal meals, biding his time, repeating each of the Forty Tracts he had learned by heart.
He possessed a business suit, a shirt, a tie and black loafers for when he needed to blend in with people, but other than his clothes and his Bible, his one possession was his sturdy laptop, through which he maintained contact with his Master. And through which he was kept informed of progress in the Great Mission of Salvation.
All the technology inside the computer gave him power. God’s hand was in this machine. God understood that man needed weapons to fight Satan.
I will send destroyers against you, each man with his weapons and they will cut up your fine cedar beams and throw them into the fire. Jeremiah 22: 7.
England was where Naomi Klaesson came from. England was where the Infidels had begun their life together. Now the Infidels would end it there!
In the county of Sussex. In the village of Caibourne.
In the house he was staring down at.
Timon Cort knelt and closed his hands in front of his face in supplication. His eyes ran with tears of joy.
‘Thank you, God, for showing me where they live.’
He brings princes to naught and reduces the rulers of this world to nothing. No sooner are they planted, no sooner are they sown, no sooner do they take root in the ground, than he
blows on them and they wither, and a whirlwind sweeps them away like chaff. Isaiah 40: 23, 24.
68
John, his empty camera case slung from his neck, stood in the middle. Luke, in a fleecy anorak, was on his left, Phoebe, in a duffel coat, on his right. Behind them two gibbons leapt around their cage, shrieking.
John held Luke and Phoebe’s tiny, gloved hands tightly. They were both wrapped up warm against the biting November wind. Flecks of sleet blew around them, like ash. There was a sour reek of dung and animal feed and straw in the air, tinged with the odours of frying onions and burgers.
Naomi, holding the camera, wisps of hair flapping beneath her bobble hat, called out, ‘OK! Smile! Luke, Phoebe, everyone say c-h-e-e-e-e-e-s-e!’
She watched them through the viewfinder. John grinned; Luke and Phoebe, hesitant for a moment, both mouthed something back at her and then, to her absolute joy, grinned as well. She pressed the shutter. After some moments she lowered the camera, and looked at it, puzzled. ‘I’m not sure if it took,’ she said. ‘It didn’t make the right sound.’
‘Try another, hon.’
‘OK. Everyone, once again, ready?’
Despite the cold, and the fact that the sight of animals incarcerated in zoos always made her a little uncomfortable, Naomi felt happy this afternoon. The children were actually smiling at the camera! This was promising to be the first picture ever with them smiling!
She framed them again, adjusted the zoom, called out to them to get them to look at the camera. ‘Great!’ she said, and handed it back to John.
He pressed the display button and then showed the image to Luke and Phoebe. ‘See those two little folk?’ he said. ‘Who are they?’
Luke studied the image for a moment. Phoebe turned around, more interested in the monkeys.
‘Can you see?’ John said.
Luke looked up at him with wide, baleful eyes and gave him a look that seemed to say, Yes, fine, I can see, it’s a picture, what’s the big deal?
‘You stand with them now, hon, I’ll take one of the three of you.’
‘Let’s find a different background,’ she said.
‘OK.’
Luke and Phoebe prised their hands free of his and walked back to the gibbons’ cage.
‘Don’t get too close, darlings,’ Naomi said, worried, hurrying after them. She put a protective arm around each of them. Luke and Phoebe stood giggling at their antics, then said something to each other that Naomi couldn’t catch. It sounded like their usual code.
After a couple of minutes she could tell their attention was wandering. ‘What would you like to see next?’
‘How about owls?’ John said. ‘You want to see an owl? We hear them at night sometimes. Would you like to see what an owl looks like?’
Almost in synch, each of them gave him a nod. He caught Naomi’s eye and they grinned at each other.
John gripped Luke’s tiny hand, so frail, so warm, in one hand, and Phoebe’s in the other. Naomi held her other hand. The wind gusted bitterly, but John barely felt it, he felt such a warm glow of happiness inside him. At long, long last he was starting to feel a connection with his children. They were reacting to this place, enjoying a day out at the zoo; seeming to be emerging from whatever strange space they had been in.
They headed towards the owl house. As they passed the meerkats, Luke and Phoebe tugged excitedly, pulling him over towards the cage. They all stopped and stared at the creatures, which looked tiny and cuddly. Naomi peered closely at the sign on the cage and read from it aloud.
‘While the rest of the family are digging, sunbathing or playing, one meerkat will always be on guard.’ She turned to their children. ‘See that one looking at us, Luke? Phoebe? She’s the one that’s on guard!’
Luke giggled. Phoebe pointed, giggling too, and said, ‘Maccat!’
‘ Meerkat!’ Naomi corrected her.
‘Maccat!’ she repeated.
‘Maccat!’ Luke shrieked.
They saw the owls, then spent a long time watching a sloth, upside down, asleep.
