La Mort et ses Merveilles
Chapter 4: Pillow Talk
The convent was situated roughly thirty minutes out of Hannelore, surrounded by meadows to the south and east, while forested hills lay to its north and west. The compound was rather large, comprised of the main building, which was built in a neoclassical style as well as a few side buildings. Some of them were linked to the central structure, others were standalone. There was a bell tower attached to the southwest corner of the main convent, towering over the compound. The façade of the main building was adorned with engravings and columns. The glass windows directly above the imposing oak door were crowned with rams head pediments. Surrounding the whole complex were white washed stone walls, keeping the convent safe from the wilds out there.
Josephine parked the car in the small courtyard and led us all out. I held Isabella's hand as we followed the woman with the white veil and black dress into the building. The foyer consisted of a small open area and a large staircase leading to the second storey. The floors were a shiny, laminated wood while the walls were adorned with a deep red wallpaper.
She lead us to the mother superior's office, a comfortable room down the second floor corridor. In it was a mahogany desk, while a portrait of the blessed Virgin hung on the wall behind it. Josephine invited us to take a seat on a leather sofa.
"The mother superior is probably busy somewhere," the woman said. "Now if you'll excuse me."
With that, she took out a walkie talkie from her bag, before walking out of the room. The cross on her rosary dangling from her belt swayed with every small movement. Closing the door behind her, she left the both of us in the eerie silence.
I looked at my little sister seated beside me. She seemed unfazed, unamused. Perhaps she was just exhausted. It had been a long day of travelling, from the farmhouse to Hannelore, and now to the convent.
It was then Josephine returned to the office. Looking at us, she flashed us a smile.
"Well, they're all in the chapel," she said. "They might take a while. Why don't we head over to the infirmary? The mother superior can meet you afterwards."
Josephine led the two of us downstairs, through the labyrinth of corridors and past a central courtyard. The infirmary building seemed to be in a wing of its own, linked to the main convent by a covered walkway.
It seemed pretty big when we got inside. It seemed to me more like a ward than a simple infirmary, what with the five beds lining the room. Some of the beds even seemed to have life support machines. They were pretty well equipped for sure.
I waited on one of the beds while the nun went to gather what she needed. Isabella reclined into the armchair by my bed. As I sat there, I took in my surroundings. IV drips, oxygen machines and heart rate monitors lay beside some of the beds. I wondered why a convent would have such things.
"Sorry for the wait," the woman said after she returned. "They were way in the back of the store, nearly missed them."
She held a syringe in her gloved hands before placing it away on a tray.
"May I?" she said as her delicate fingers hovered over my bandaged wound.
I only grunted in reply.
She unwrapped my forearm and placed the bloodied bandage aside, revealing the bite. It had stopped bleeding, and the puncture wounds were beginning to be covered by black scabs.
"It certainly isn't a zombie bite for sure," she replied. "But I don't know how well the other nuns would like to believe that."
"What do you mean?" I asked. "It's clearly an animal bite isn't it?"
"I don't blame them though," Josephine said as she grabbed the syringe. "You can't be too careful in a world like this. So how did you get bitten by this fox exactly?"
"I heard Isabella scream and I found her being cornered by it," I replied. "I just had to rush in to protect her."
"You're a really good older brother," she responded.
I winced as I felt the sharp needle pierce my skin. She held it there for a while, injecting the clear fluid into my system.
"It's obviously an animal bite by the shape of it," the woman remarked. "You can tell by the four canine marks. But to put the other nuns at ease I'm sorry but I might have to restrain you to the bed."
"Wh-What for?" I muttered, getting nervous. "I'm not infected."
The young woman only gave me a disappointed smile.
"I know," she answered. "We both know that. But like I told you, the other nuns are suspicious and will probably want to wait and see before making any decision. But in the end it's up to the mother superior to decide though."
It was then when the door opened, the creak of the wood piercing the silence. I looked up, and my heart nearly stopped.
There he was. With his deep set eyes and scruffy chin. He wore a denim shirt to match his eyes, and a pair of grey jeans. His brown hair was tussled, slightly messy. Those blue of eyes of his widened, as if he was just as shocked to see me.
My heart jumped in my chest. It took me every fibre of my being to hold myself back from just lunging at him. But I couldn't. I had to bide my time. Isabella needed me alive. I needed to stay here to get my shots –I can't just throw it all away like that. Staring at him dead in the eyes, I could only bite my tongue.
Pacing awkwardly towards us, the young man averted his gaze. Josephine turned to look at him.
"Oh you're finally here," the young woman said as she stood up. "What's wrong with you? You don't look so good."
"I-It's nothing," the man said, stealing a glance at me. "Nothing."
"Since your mother was busy I thought I'd call you down instead," she replied. "Just wanted to tell you that he needs medical attention. Found him and his sister back in Hannalore."
His mother? Wait, so this guy who murdered my dad was the son of the mother superior? I just couldn't believe it.
"Oh," the young man replied, batting his eyelids rapidly. "I see. W-Well I have to go now."
He was about to walk away, but Josephine shot him a glare. It stopped him in his tracks. I could notice his arms trembling slightly, his stormy blue eyes wandered around room restlessly.
"Well, guys," the nun said as she turned to look at us. "This is Leslie. If you ever need anything you could always come and find him. He's like the second-in-charge around this place."
The young man bit his lower lip. Hard.
"Hi," he mumbled, raising his hand slightly. His eyes weren't even looking at me.
With that, he abruptly turned away and walked off. I could hear the young woman heave a sigh, before following him out. I turned to look at Isabella without a word. My heart thumped in my chest. I wanted to jump out and claw at him but I couldn't. Not now.
My little sister's eyes were wide, her sad, sad eyes looking directly into mine. She was scared, terrified. After all, he was the man that had caused us so much pain. So much suffering.
"Just stay calm," I tried to reassure her. "Everything is going to be alright."
She only nodded.
Josephine returned shortly. Her face slightly tense, yet she still flashed us a warm smile.
"You have to excuse him," the young woman replied. "He's a bit. . . jumpy."
That explains why he was so unstable back at the motel I suppose. He did it come off as a bit. . . unhinged.
"Has he always been like this?" I asked.
"Well," she said, rather hesitant. "Now that you mention it, he's been more on edge recently, maybe for the past few weeks. I asked him if something happened out there, but he wouldn't tell me. I guess it's nothing. He's actually very nice if you get to know him."
I nearly spat out a laugh, but I kept my mouth shut. Oh yes, I'm pretty sure Leslie's a nice, decent person. After all, he did say 'sorry' to us after shooting my dad in cold blood. Of course. What a nice guy.
After a while, a middle aged woman in a black habit and robes appeared through the open doorway. Clasping her hands in front of her, she walked up gracefully to the bed where I was seated. Her face, despite its age felt radiant, the calm gaze of her blue eyes soothing. Her lips curled up into a smile. A smile so warm I nearly forgot about the man whom I just met minutes before. In her hands she held a tray. It was two bowls of warm soup, the white steam still wafting up into the air. With a gentle voice, she introduced herself as Mother Agnes.
I only smiled as a courtesy, thanking her for the meal. She gave us a warm welcome to the convent and told us we could stay as long as we liked. Sister Josephine explained to her superior that she needed to give about a couple of shots over the next couple of weeks. Great, I thought, I was going to be here for at least two weeks and I'll have to see Leslie every day.
She was explaining to me about life in the convent and other pleasantries, but I wasn't really listening. Something about how the convent was a safe refuge, something else about the message of peace and endurance in spite of the zombie apocalypse. Faith, in face of adversity, she said –good faith. I made sure to thank her for the hospitality the convent had shown to the two of us, but deep inside, my mind was somewhere else. All I could think about was how to give Leslie what he deserved. I wanted to watch his blue eyes beg me as he feared for his life. I wanted to watch him bleed out of his mouth and die.
Noticing that I had left the bowl of soup untouched, the older woman gestured at the side table.
"When I heard that Josephine here had brought back two young kids I went down to the kitchen myself and heated up some soup," she said, with that firm but gentle voice of hers. "The both of you certainly must be hungry.
The sight of the man that killed my father really threw of my desire to eat, but not wanting to offend her by rejecting the hospitality after the help they've given me, I reached out and grabbed the spoon, while Josephine wheeled the bedside table, and helped adjust its height. Isabella dragged her chair and sat herself on the other end of the small table.
It was potato and leek soup. The warm soup was thick, creamy and comforting. As we ate, Mother Agnes excused herself, leaving just the two of us under the watch of Sister Josephine.
"How's the soup?" the young woman asked us.
"Well it's great," I replied, treading around my words, careful trying not to offend or step on any toes.
"What about you?" Josephine turned to ask my little sister.
She only nodded her head.
"Well that's good to hear," she said with a slight laugh. "Mother Agnes heated up yesterday's leftovers and guess who happened to be on kitchen duties yesterday?"
"Oh," I muttered, taking another spoonful of creamy soup. "It's delicious."
"I found the recipe in some old cookbook," she continued. "Decided to give it a shot."
I could only smile in return. Sister Josephine seemed nice enough. After all, she did save my life.
I was done with my soup when Mother Agnes returned. Her face was serious, but the moment our eyes met her lips broke out into a smile. Those sort of comforting smiles that you give someone when you happen to be the bringer of bad news.
"I'm sorry my child, but with all the infection going around, we've never really known what causes the dead to come back to life," the mother superior began. "Don't take it personally but we do have to take precautions. I've discussed with some of the other sisters about your situation and they feel it's best if we restrained you, at least just for the night. In case you turned in your sleep."
With that, the younger nun pulled out a pair of Velcro restraints. As much as I didn't want to, I relented, and let both my wrists be tied down to the bed.
Isabella turned to look at me, her eyes fearful. I only shot her a reassuring smile. Josephine told me to try to move my arms. I gave it a few tugs, it held in place to the side of the bed. But I was pretty sure if I forced it hard enough it could just snap. After testing the straps, Josephine released me, and I sat back up.
"We're sorry that we have to put you through this," Mother Agnes said, her tone apologetic. "But we just can't afford the risk."
"It's nothing," I replied, trying to muster a smile. "After what you've done for me here I can't thank you enough."
The woman smiled, but I couldn't help but feel the fear growling deep in the pit of my stomach, a bad feeling lingering at the back of my throat. I knew what Leslie was capable of, yet here I was, restrained. What if he came for me? Like Josephine said he was second-in-charge around here. With the little speech she gave earlier I was starting to really doubt the values the convent preaches actually even got to his head. Well, from what I gathered Mother Agnes, with her kind demeanour and gentle grace did seem sincere, at the very least. I could only hope she didn't know what her son did.
"We have a spare bedroom for your little sister," the older woman said again. "She could sleep there."
Isabella only nodded nervously, without saying a word.
"Thanks," I interjected. "But she's staying with me."
The mother superior gave Josephine a knowing look, before bidding us goodbye.
"Well," the young woman said to my sister once the Mother Agnes was gone. "I guess you could sleep at the next bed. But if you ever change your mind my room is down the hall, you can just come and knock."
That night, Isabella slept in the bed beside me. I watched as Sister Josephine tucked the blanket over her fragile body with such gentle hands. A loving smile on her sweet lips, she lay a delicate palm on Isabella's small shoulder. For a brief moment, I thought she was about to bend down and plant a kiss on my sister's cheek. She seemed pretty motherly for someone so young.
As I lay there in bed, she restrained my wrists to the bedposts.
"I'm sorry for doing this," she apologised as the strap of the velcro ripped through the silent air. "I really didn't want to do this, I hope you understand."
"It's nothing," I replied. "After all that you've done for me, this isn't a big deal."
"Well goodnight then Jason," she said as she pulled the sheets up to my chest. "I'll come wake you tomorrow for breakfast. Have a good rest."
"You too sister," I replied.
The young woman only smiled, before turning around to leave the room. She switched off the lamp beside me, yet the room wasn't pitch black –the blinds were open, letting crystal clear moonlight filter through the windows.
I tried to get as comfortable as I could, shifting my body slightly. Closing my eyes, I tried to sleep, letting the sweet abyss cradle me off. Yet as much as I tried to relax, to forget about everything, I couldn't.
I couldn't help but see his sunken blue eyes, the scruff on his chin, his teeth biting into his lip. Those eyes that seemed so blue, yet so empty and void. He killed my father in cold blood, yet at the same time after watching him stutter and trying to avoid me, I couldn't help but think about the last words he muttered as he left my sister and I in that motel room.
That he was sorry.
Could he truly be? How could someone just say something like that after doing something so evil? I could feel the anger boil deep in the pits of my stomach, rising up to my chest. He could say anything he wanted, it wasn't going to bring my father back. The blood will always be on his hands. He could wash it off with all the holy water in this convent yet they would still be stained red. Yet, as I watched him earlier, I couldn't help but feel that there was something human to him, that maybe he wasn't just the monster I made him out to be.
Nonsense, I told myself, trying to shake that thought out of my head. He killed my father, and that was the end of it. The rage returned to me, shaking me with hatred. I was going to kill him, a little voice from within me whispered. I was going to make him pay for what he did. Make him suffer. I lay there in bed for about what seemed like forever, my thoughts running wild in my head.
It was then when my eyes fluttered open, and there they were: a pair of stormy blue eyes.
Leslie was standing right there, the moonlight illuminating his pale face. I felt my hear thump in my chest. What was he doing here? How did I not hear him enter? All the hatred and anger that was in me earlier scurried away, replaced with the sickening, gagging sensation of fear.
"I'm sorry," he muttered, his lips quivering, his voice shaking.
I took my gaze off from his sunken glossy eyes and the realisation slowly came to me. This was it. He was going to kill me. In his trembling arms he held a plump pillow.
Quickly I turned to look at Isabella on the bed beside me. She wasn't asleep. She just lay there frozen in fear, staring at me.
"Run!" I managed to say out loud, mustering every bit of my strength paralysed by fear.
Isabella seemed to have sprung into action, tossing the blanket aside, scampering away from the side of the bed. I watched her trip and fall on the wooden floor as she tried to make her way to the door.
It was the last thing I saw before Leslie pressed the pillow down.