La Mort et ses Merveilles
Chapter 3: Good Girls Die Young
Thomas. Amelia. Emily. Alice. Those were the names of the Bauers who had taken their own lives. I had fallen asleep at the dining table, my face sticky with tears and mucus. After downing a cup of black coffee, I searched through their belongings in the wee hours of the morning. I found out their names, I found out who they once were. It was the least I could do.
I spent the morning digging a grave in the backyard. As the sun began to rise, the faint morning light pouring through the windows, I dragged the stiff bodies down the stairs one by one. In the mother's arms, she clutched to a black book. A thick one, by the looks of it. Curious, I pried it from her cold, dead arms.
It was the Holy Bible. Without a word, I placed it aside on the sideboard.
Bringing them out to the yard, I lay them beside each other. The father, the mother, and the two little girls. Wiping the brow with my sleeve, I continued to fill the grave with dirt. The sun was out by the time I was done. I found some plywood in the shed, so I dug a little trench and plunged the board into the ground, hammering it in place.
Taking out the permanent marker from my pocket, I uncapped it and knelt in front of the plain plywood.
HERE LIES THE BAUER FAMILY
I paused for a moment. I didn't know these people, yet here I am enshrining their memories onto a headstone. The gravity of it all seemed to make the air heavier. But if I didn't do it, who would? I wrote down their names: Thomas, Amelia, Emily, Alice. Taking a step back, I observed the fresh grave. Yet still I felt something was missing. I knew almost nothing about these people.
Then I remembered the Bible Mrs Bauer had clutched against her chest in her dying moments. I wasn't particularly religious but I knelt down and wrote it down anyway.
MAY GOD GRANT THEM ETERNAL PEACE
It was probably what they would have wanted. My only regret was that I didn't get to know them better. But that was the tragic state of this world that we now lived in.
I returned to the house and began preparing breakfast. I looked through the freezer and decided to fry some bacon in a pan. Some fried eggs would've been great, but I just heated some baked beans from a can. Sure, it wasn't classic bacon and eggs but it was more than enough for me. I was busy slaving over the stove when my little sister appeared, walking down the stairs.
"The smell woke you up?" I asked, flashing a smile.
"Yeah," she replied, her expression still blank.
Maybe she was tired, I told myself. I didn't want to be disheartened again. Yet I couldn't help but felt that perhaps I was doing something wrong. As if I wasn't doing enough for her.
I brought two plates of bacon and baked beans and laid it in front of the table. I poured ourselves a glass of milk each. She didn't say anything and began to eat, so I did the same.
"I saw what you tried to do yesterday," she said out of the blue, stating it as a matter of fact.
"W-What?" I muttered, trying to feign ignorance. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"Please don't leave me," she said, looking at me with her glossy hazel eyes.
I let out a deep sigh, she knew after all. She saw me trying to take my own life. Trying to end my suffering.
"Look," I tried to explain to her. "That bite. . .I don't know how long I'm gonna last if I don't get a rabies vaccine. I just thought that you shouldn't see me suffer."
"No. . ." she mumbled. "Not you too. I don't want you to go, don't leave me all alone."
I fell silent. Looking at my little sister on the verge of tears after knowing what I tried to do, I couldn't help but feel so ashamed. I was a coward. I tried to take the easy way out. I tried to abandon the little girl who depended on me.
Even if I had only a few weeks left before the symptoms set in, I still had time. There was still hope, a little voice in my heart whispered. I couldn't just give up like that, not when I still had something ot live for –Isabella.
I had to keep on going. Even if it wasn't for me, I should do it for her. I had to.
After cleaning up and letting the laundry dry, I looked through the study for anything that could help me. Rummaging through a drawer I found a map of Hannelore and its surroundings. What more they were a list of amenities in the town. Just what I needed.
I scoured through the long list and cross-referred to the map, looking for any place that might potentially have what I need. Doctor's offices, veterinary clinics, even pet shops. Anywhere that potentially stored a rabies vaccine. Something that could save my life. Surely it had to be somewhere. Even if I didn't make it, at least I tried. I began circling all the locations that I could check out, all of them in Hannalore. Even if the search turned out fruitless, there was always the next town. I shouldn't give up so easily. Dad would've been so disappointed in me. I've had enough of letting people down. I've had enough of letting myself down.
In one of the drawers I found a set of keys for the house. Stuffing it in my pocket, I took it. I hoped the Bauers wouldn't mind. Their house was exactly something that I had been looking for: a home where Isabella could be safe.
I took in the clothes I had hung out to dry on the clothesline: my clothes from yesterday as well as Isabella's blood stained clothes. I tried my best to get as much guck out, it was her favourite jacket. A birthday present from dad. It would be a shame to throw it away.
I told Isabella that we'd be going to town. I had a list of places I thought would be worth checking out. As much as I didn't want to leave the comfort of the Bauer residence, I had to, and Isabella understood.
The young girl helped pack for the trip, placing a few days' worth of food and water in the trunk. I placed our rucksacks in the back of the car: as much as I planned to return to the house, I always had to be prepared. What if someone else came in and took our stuff while we were gone? You couldn't be too ready. It's better to be cautious after all. I did, however, made sure to lock all the doors and windows.
We left for Hannalore just after lunch, a simple bowl of cereal and milk. Locking the gate behind us, we set off down the winding dirt path back to the main road. It was a bright and sunny day, the skies were clear. We sped past abandoned fields and patches of woodland against the backdrop of the canvas of spotless blue. It would've been the perfect day to go for a swim, or a picnic. If it wasn't, you know, the zombie apocalypse.
The main entrance to Hannalore was blocked off by a barrier made of abandoned vehicles and plywood. Strange, I thought to myself. But there didn't seem to be anyone about. Well it was no big deal, I just had to take a detour. Besides, the doctor's office was faster to get to that way.
On the way there, I drove past a group of people. Families, clustered together around an abandoned bank. I stopped the car, pressing on the brake. It was the first time I've seen so many people in one place since the whole thing started –alive that is. It was strange too, given that I haven't met another soul who was alive for the past four weeks. Most of the towns we've passed through on the way to Hannalore had all been so eerily empty, nothing but boarded up storefronts and splashes of blood on the floor and walls. Not a single living, breathing soul.
It was then when I noticed a large truck arriving from the other end of the main road. Pulling up to the front, I noticed the people beginning to congregate around it. I was suspicious at first, but eventually decided to check it out myself. At the very least, I could ask around if anyone knew someone who could help me. Sure, I roughly knew that I needed a vaccine, but that was all I knew. A doctor or someone with medical experience would be my best bet at surviving.
As I approached the congregation, I noticed two women in veils exiting the truck. Nuns. Probably from the convent nearby, just a little out of town. I had spotted it earlier while surveying the area on the map. I didn't expect such a place to still be running in a situation like this. Behind them was another car, a black sedan. Two tough looking men with guns stepped out. The people began to form a line, desperate hollow-eyed men in faded jackets and women with matted hair clutching their children. They all seemed so tired, the exhaustion written across their expressions.
Guarded by the gunmen, the nuns began to hand out supplies: cartons of water bottles, packets of flour, cans of condensed milk. Whatever it was, the nuns seemed to be well-stocked and supplied for them to be able to conduct charity like this, giving out life-saving supplies freely. If there was anyone out there who could help me, the convent was probably my best bet. Isabella and I waited in line, behind the rest of the survivors. We were the last ones in the queue.
When it came to us, the sister flashed us a warm smile, a carton of water bottles in her hand. She seemed to be the more senior of the two, maybe around her mid-forties. Her veil was black, and a pair of glasses rested on the bridge of her nose.
"Are you new?" she asked. "We've never seen you here before."
"My little sister and I just arrived," I replied.
"How old is she?" the second nun said as she walked towards us, carrying some cans of canned peaches.
She appeared to be in her either her early thirties or late twenties. Her face was gentle, her expression soft and kind. Her eyes were icy grey, but they radiated with such warmth. Crowning her head was a veil of white. Unstained. To the two of us, she flashed a sweet smile.
"She's ten," I muttered.
"Well," the first nun said. "Here are some provisions to help you get through the week. We'll be here next Saturday. Same time."
It was Saturday? I didn't know. I had lost track of time.
As she held out her arms with the food and water, I raised my hands up. My sleeves fell, revealing my bandaged arm. The nuns expression quickly turned grim, looking at me with solemn eyes.
"I-I came here because I wanted to ask you if there was anyone who could help me," I stuttered. "I was bit."
"Lord Almighty," the first sister muttered under her breath as she turned to look at her companion. "I'm sorry child, but I don't think there's anything we can do."
"No, no" I blurted out, the desperation in my voice. "I wasn't bitten by one of the dead, I swear. It was a rabid fox. I just need to know if you know any doctors around."
"I'm sorry child," the older nun said again with a sigh. "If it amounts to anything for you, we could read some prayers over your body and take the little girl in."
"Please," I begged. "It's not a zombie bite."
The younger nun took a step towards me and placed her palm on my forehead, before moving it down, feeling my cheeks and the underside of my chin. She looked at me with her grey eyes, observing me. There was an analytical edge in the way her eyes gazed over me.
"When were you bit?" she asked me.
"Yesterday afternoon," I told her. "I was trying to protect my little sister from the rabid fox and it managed to bite me."
"Yesterday afternoon," the woman repeated my words after me, pondering over them. "There doesn't seem to be a fever."
"We can't take any risks Josephine," the older nun said. "We don't even know how long he has left before he turns."
Josephine. So that was her name.
"I don't think he's lying, sister," Josephine replied. "Even if he was, he would've had a raging fever by now and if it's indeed rabies we should get him back to the convent. We just got a shipment of rabies vaccines the other day, and he needs it now."
The older nun, was silent for a while. She stood there, thinking before she finally relented.
"Well," she said. "We could try."
Josephine turned to look at my sister and I. Intent on not making myself look like such a liability to complete strangers who had agreed to help me, I spoke up.
"W-we have a car," I told her. "We could drive and meet you there if you'd like."
"In that case," the older nun said. "Why don't you go with them? I still have some more supplies left to distribute."
With that, they parted ways. I led Josephine and my little sister back to where our car was parked.
"I'll drive," the nun offered.
I handed her the keys. I sat in the passenger seat while Isabella sat behind. Driving through the dilapidated streets, Josephine manoeuvred past the barriers blockading Hannalore. Soon we were back on the road again.
I was glad I didn't end my life that night. Hope still existed I guess, in the form of godsends. In the form of a little girl. In the form of women of the cloth. To my right, we passed a field of lavenders, the blooming stalks swaying in the wind. There were purple flowers as far as the eye could see, almost like a gentle, low lying mist against the backdrop of a bright blue sky.
"You can call me Josephine," the nun introduced herself. "I'm the nurse at the Convent of Saint Elizabeth."
She took a brief moment to turn away from the road and look at me. She had a sweet smile on her lips.
"How about you?" she asked, her grey eyes back on the road. "What's your name?"
"It's Jason," I muttered. "That's Isabella. She's my little sister."
"How old are you kids?" she asked again.
"I'm eighteen," I replied. "She's ten."
"It's just the both of you alone huh?" she remarked. "It must be hard."
I could only grunt in reply.
"The convent's a pretty nice place you know?" she said, shifting the topic. "We have quite a number of people there. Hot water, hot meals. There's a little farm by the edge of the compound. We even make our own wine! Well. . .it's not like the either of you are of drinking age yet."
I only smiled. In the rear view mirror I could see my little sister looking outside, her eyes staring at the endless fields of flowers. For a brief moment I could almost see a sparkle in her eye. Eyes that were used to being so gloomy and sad.
As our little car pulled through the Nebraska countryside, I couldn't help but feel like perhaps things are looking up after all. It had to be.
I wanted it to be, for Isabella's sake.