Merry Sister Mary and the One and Only Killer

30: Sister Mary Takes Flight

By the time the household had realized Michael had gone, I was already on the front porch watching him drive away, the gun raised, but unable to pull the trigger. He was passed the gate, his car tail lights shrinking into the night.

"Shoot," I cursed. "I'm too late."

The rain had begun to pour, splashing the edge of the porch. I stood there terrified with each droplet of water that bounced in my direction. My umbrella was poised under my arm. My feet firmly planted on the dry wood.

"God, why did you have to make it a rainy night."

The lights in and around the house began to flicker back to life. A loud stampering of feet came up behind me.

"Sister Mary, Sister Mary!" cried Pearl. "Michael is missing."

"Yes, I know. He just left."

"In a car! He drove away! Where is he going?"

"To tie up loose ends," I responded.

"And you are just gonna let him go?"

"It's raining," I said.

"So that's it. The strong smart Sister Mary that I have come to know is going to be stopped by a little rain? What happened to bringing justice or saving the innocent?"

"We can only pray."

"That's not the Sister Mary I know. You broke into a library, stole a car, slapped a boy who had been harassing me. I mean for god sakes. You have a gun in your hands. A part of you wants to run out there and save that little girl. Why is it the weaker part of you?"

"Pearl, I can't. My body won't let me."

"I don't want to do this, but it's for your own good."

Before I could understand what Pearl was referring to, I felt a pair of hands push me forward into the rain. For a moment I flew. The words of Sister Bertrille filled my mind. 'When lift plus thrust is greater than load plus drag, anything can fly.' And boy did I fly.

The rain tickled my cheeks as I soared over the grass. My robe flapped in the wind, lifting me higher and higher. I could feel the straining arms of angels guiding me through the air. I was enraptured by God. A holy fire of strength and determination burst through my limbs. My skin busted through branches brushing across leaves. I was gliding, flying, until I realized I was actually falling. I fell no more than two feet off the porch right into a wet set of bushes.

"Holy wet damn!" I screamed flopping around like a drunken fish. "Ahhhh!" And with that I was off running. I grabbed Michael's bicycle and switched on its little lights. With Doubting Thomas under my arm and a gun in my bra, I zoomed down the path after Michael's car screaming bloody murder.