La Mort et ses Merveilles
Chapter 5: Unholy Sanctuary
I couldn't see. I couldn't move. But most importantly, I couldn't breathe.
I could feel the pillow press against my face as Leslie held it down. I struggled, flailing my arms, but they were held in place with the straps. My heart racing, I feared for the worst. This was it, I was going to die. But if this psychopath things I was going to just lie here and let him suffocate me, he was wrong.
Yanking as hard as I could, I managed to get free from the restraints, the straps snapping away from the bedpost. I fumbled around in the dark, swinging my arms and kicking the air, trying to at least get him off me.
I heard him grunt as I managed to hit him. I don't know what I hit, but that seemed to loosen his grip against the pillow for a brief moment, and it was enough for me to wrestle free. Slipping away from his reach, I tried to scamper away, but he pulled me with his strong arms.
"Stop struggling you brat," he sputtered under his breath.
I managed to elbow him in the chest, to which he responded by twisting my arm. I yelled in pain. It was excruciating.
Slamming me against the back wall, he pushed his forearm against my neck. I was held against the wall, my feet lifted from the ground. I coughed and sputtered, trying to catch my breath, but he was choking me. My heart thumped hard in my chest. I tried to push him, to kick him, but he held me there, his chokehold getting stronger as he pushed harder against me.
I stared into his stormy blue eyes, the moonlight reflecting off his pale face, the blinds in the room casting shadows onto his features. He gritted his teeth, and I could hear him panting slightly. This was it. I was going to stare into his eyes as I died. He almost killed me once, and maybe he was here to finish the job.
It was then when the lights were switched on.
"Les," I heard a calm, yet firm voice pierce the heavy air. "Let go of him right now."
It was Josephine.
The young man let go of me, and I fell onto my knees with a loud thump, gasping for air. I looked up and saw Josephine standing by the entrance, Isabella behind her. She wore a blue nightgown, and her blonde hair was done up in a simple bun.
In her hand, directly pointing at Leslie, was a pistol.
"Jason," she called out to me in a calm but commanding tone, her eyes not even once leaving the young man. "Get behind me."
I scampered over to safety, standing by Isabella. Leslie walked up to us, saying nothing, his hands shoved in his pockets.
"Hands up," Josephine ordered. "Where I can see them."
He raised his hands up. I noticed the corner of his thin lips curling up into a smirk as he tilted his head. His deep set eyes looking at the three of us.
"There's nothing funny about this Les," the young woman said, the gun still aimed at him. "I told you to not try anything stupid."
The young man chuckled, before lowering his arms altogether.
"You're not going to shoot me," he said as he took a step forward.
"Do you want to see me try?" Josephine retorted, unwavering. "Leslie I swear I'll blow your head off."
The young man was silent for a while, averting his gaze. His blue eyes staring at the floor as he fidgeted.
"I'm sorry I shouldn't have done that," he muttered.
He looked to the ground, as if he was hanging his head in shame. I noticed him biting his lower lip.
How audacious, I thought to myself as I held onto Isabella. It reminded me of the time he apologised –moments after shooting my father in cold blood. What's the deal with him? Does he think that things will just magically absolve him from all responsibility? From what he did? He certainly wasn't the most stable or rational person out there, to put it frankly.
Josephine lowered her gun, letting out a deep sigh.
"Just get out of here," she said, a resigned tone in her voice. "But if you try to hurt any of them, I'll kill you."
He began to walk away, but as he passed me he stopped right in his tracks.
"Hey," he began, his meek tone a stark difference from earlier. "I-"
"Leslie, just go!" Josephine cut in. "Leave."
Biting his lip, the young man only looked at me. He was taller than me, but in that moment he seemed small. Vulnerable, almost. Perhaps it was because of his glossy eyes. Were his eyes pooling with tears?
After a few tense seconds of silence, the young finally walked out of the room. Josephine immediately slammed the door shut behind him and locked it tight. It was only the three of us left in there. I heaved out a sigh of relief.
"Are you alright?" the young woman said as she helped me back to the bed.
"Yeah," I muttered underneath my breath. "It's fine."
Josephine took a closer look at my neck. With a delicate finger she pressed lightly, checking. It hurt at some parts, but only slightly.
"There's some bruising but you should be fine," the woman said, a forced smile on her lips.
There was a heavy, pregnant silence.
"Thanks for stepping in," I finally said.
"I am so, so sorry," Josephine blurted out, as if she was just waiting for me to say something so she could just get it out. "
She looked distressed, and she just paced the area in front of us.
"I didn't know he was going to do something like that," the young woman said. "But of course he would. He wouldn't want the mother superior to know what he's done."
My eyes widened, staring at her.
"You knew what happened?" I asked, raising my voice.
Sister Josephine came up to me and sat beside me. Holding my hand between both her palms she looked at me with sad grey eyes.
"Jason," she began softly. "I am so, so sorry about your father."
"How did you-"
"Please hear me out," she said, exhaling. "He told me. When he left the infirmary I went to ask him what was wrong, and he told me what he did. I should've known that he wanted to try something like this, you're the only ones who knew what happened out there and he'd rather die than let his mother find out.
"I'm really sorry," she continued. "For everything. If I had stopped him maybe your father might've still been alive."
"What do you mean?" I asked, slightly confused.
The nun paused for a moment.
"I think I've said too much," she replied. "I just hope the both of you will keep this to yourselves. We already have enough problems with everything and with Leslie as it is but knowing what he did out there, Mother Agnes won't be able to take it."
"I won't tell anyone," I assured her. "I promise."
"Well then," she said as she stood up from the bed. "You should get some sleep then. I'll be here, you don't have to worry about Leslie."
"Thank you," I muttered.
"It's the least I could do," the nun responded.
Josephine walked up to Isabella, who was seated on her bed. I watched as the nun gave her a hug, before tucking her back into bed.
I didn't know what to feel. There was certainly something else that Josephine knew, and I was dying to know what it was. Yet at the same time this was the woman who saved my life, who took me in when she didn't have to. It was certainly something that was difficult for her to talk about, and I didn't want to push her too far. At least for the next few weeks. I needed her. And I needed to stay in this convent. At the very least Isabella would have hard walls to protect her, and a more conducive environment, comfortable enough for a child.
As I lay there, no restraints this time, I watched as sister Josephine sank into an armchair. She had the gun next to her, on the bedside table. I could only hope that she didn't need to use it for the night.
***
The following day Josephine kept us with her at all times. By her belt was her handgun, hidden underneath her black robes. We sat with her during breakfast in the dining hall, stood by her side as she prayed during service, and she even locked us in her room when she had to run an urgent matter for Mother Agnes. She was taking no chances.
We passed Leslie once, when we were on the way from the dining hall to the infirmary. He didn't say anything, but I couldn't help but notice in the corner of my eye Josephine's hand was hovering over the spot where she kept her gun.
Other than tending to the infirmary wing of the convent, Josephine also had other duties. Her timetable for the day included tending to the garden and storekeeping. Isabella and I followed her around like lambs to a shepherd.
As we did that, I took the opportunity to soak in my surroundings, observing everything. In part it was also because I was on the lookout for Leslie. Sometimes I felt like I could see that tall silhouette around the corners of the cloister, but of course he wasn't there. Then again, save for the brief moment we passed him while walking, I didn't even see that man all morning. I didn't even see him in church or at breakfast. Then again, I don't see someone like him even stepping into a church. Yet here he was, under the roof of a sacred compound.
The main building led out to a cloister in the back, with a gazebo as the centrepiece. There was a small paved garden in the middle, with four large plots in the cardinal directions. It was probably an ornamental garden before, but it seemed to have been converted into a small vegetable farm. On the right were rows of vegetables: peppers, cucumbers and tomatoes amongst other things. The other end of the garden were filled with fruit plants: strawberry vines, blueberry bushes and pomegranate shrubs. A few dozen nuns as well as ordinary folk tended the plants, pulling out weeds and adding fertilizer.
"It used to be a garden filled with decorative plants," Josephine said as we helped her pull out some weeds from a few pomegranate shrubs on the plot that she was responsible for. "But we took them out and decided to grow food instead since there were more people joining us."
"So you do take people in?" I asked as I wiped the sweat from my brow.
"We're always looking to expand our little community," she responded. "You see those fields surrounding the convent? We're planning to turn those into fields."
"What do you plan to grow there?" I asked, curious.
"Maybe corn," she replied. "Something that could feed more people."
After I was finished weeding the shrubs, Sister Josephine handed me a basket, and told me to help her pick the raspberries. Don't use too much force, she said. Carefully, I plucked the small red berries from their stems and placed them in the basket. There were a few bushes to go through, and by the time I was done with them, I had filled perhaps a couple of baskets.
"How many people are here actually?" I asked as I looked up from the bushes.
"About nearing a hundred?" she said, guessing. "There's plenty of room though, and some of the folks prefer to live in their caravans and tens parked there to the right of the compound."
"Is there enough food to go around?" I asked.
"Well we have more greenhouses at the back, and some of the folks have their own plots out there too," she said. "Besides, before all this our convent was all about being self-sustaining, so we've always been growing our own food and we've always had more than enough. We already have the equipment and supplies, so all we need to do is just expand it a bit. It was a pity, the garden was really pretty, but we do what we have to do."
After our gardening duties were over, Isabella and I headed over to the laundry area, in the yard right outside the infirmary. There was a water pump there, and my sister and I got on our knees and helped scrub out some clothes, after Josephine rinsed them with water. The nun told Isabella that she could just sit and wait for us, but she was adamant on doing some chores. A few other women were there too. Josephine talked to some of them, they seemed to be having a friendly chat.
Just beyond the laundry area was the eastern limit of the convent, bounded by a stone wall. There was an iron gate, wide open leading into what I could see into a large yard. There seemed to be a couple of caravans and tents set up. I suppose that was where most of the ordinary folk lived.
"How did this whole place come to being anyway?" I asked, hanging the laundry on the line.
"Well there were the walls," Josephine said. "And like I said we were already self-sufficient to begin with. We know people from the surrounding towns through the charity programs we used to have, and that's how we got them to come here."
"What were you doing in the town?" I questioned.
"We were giving out supplies to the folk that felt like they were better off in town and in their old homes," she responded.
"And how did you get all those supplies huh?" I asked, my tone sharp, barely containing my anger. "You got Leslie to go out there?"
It had to be them. It was something that had been bothering me ever since that morning and I was just dying to get it out. To confront her. Maybe Josephine wasn't responsible but she sure seemed to be complicit in it. In hindsight, it was probably a stupid thing to do. After all, she did save my life.
The young woman only looked at me with a tense smile.
"Look," she said, walking up to me. "Things aren't as simple as they seem to be."
It was then when I spotted a familiar figure coming towards us. He stopped when I spotted him, looking at us from afar. Josephine looked up and noticed him. Awkwardly, he did a small wave.
"You wait here," she told me. "And don't get yourselves in trouble."
I watched as the nun walked off with the deranged young man around the corner.
"I won't be gone too long," I told Isabella.
Following them, I found myself making my way down the periphery of the infirmary and past the greenhouses in the back. They eventually settled to talk behind the tool shed in the far corner of the compound. As quietly as I could, I inched myself as close as possible to the corner. I wanted to listen in onto everything that they had to say.
"I was trying to get you the whole time but you won't even look at me," Leslie started.
"Well now I am," came the nun's response. "What is it Les."
"I just wanted to say that I'm really sorry," the young man said.
"Why are you apologising to me?" Josephine retorted. "I'm not the one you're supposed to be apologising to. And even if you did it's not going to change anything."
"Why are you being so nice to them when you don't even have to?" I heard the young man ask. "Do you owe them something?"
"Well," the young woman began. "In a world like this it doesn't hurt to be a little kind does it?"
"Are you sure it's from the kindness of your heart?" Leslie asked, a tinge of cynicism in his voice. "Or you're doing this as some form of. . . compensation, for what you've done?"
"We are not talking about this," came Josephine's answer. "You're just trying to skirt away from the fact that you killed the father of these kids and that now they're here you're too scared to face what you've done."
"You're telling me I don't think about it every day? That I don't think about it?" the young man retorted. "And what about you? You've finally come to terms with what you've done?"
"I'm just saying that maybe you could try to take some responsibility for once," the nun responded. "God gave us a clear opportunity to right our wrongs here, and I just wish you could see that."
There was a brief silence. There was nothing to be heard save for the rustling of the leaves in the cool summer breeze.
"Oh," the young man scoffed aloud. "Well just because you put on a veil and a pretty dress, you can come to me and tell me how to conduct myself? How I should feel bad as if I weren't already? What do you want to tell me, get on my knees and repent? Is that what you want me to do?"
"Leslie-"
"What about you, huh?" Leslie continued, his voice raised in agitation. "You just sent all those old people to die, Clara!"
"That's. . ." the young woman responded. "That's different. It's not the same."
"You killed them!" he blurted out loud. "I mean just because you said, oh, we're much better off if we cleared the hospice and used the facilities for people who actually had a life to live doesn't make it any different. Yeah, I killed people. I robbed them together with Bradley and the guys. But at least I didn't pretend I did it out of the goodness of my heart."
"Well what did you want me to do then!" Josephine, or Clara according to Leslie, shouted back. "Let them turn into zombies in our sleep and kill us in our sleep? Sister Mary died because of one of them!"
"And it doesn't change the fact that you packed a truck full of old people and murdered them," Leslie said, his tone bitter. "You telling me that you did it for the good of everyone doesn't change anything. You left those poor old people in the middle of the woods with nothing. They were going to be eaten alive and you know it."
"Oh," the young woman answered. "Poor? Suddenly when it comes to me you can empathise with the people we killed? That's amazing Les. How about the people you robbed, huh? How about Jason and Isabella's father? You have blood on your hands."
"Would you look at that," Leslie said. "If my hands are bloodied then you would know better eh? Your pretty white gloves are bloody soaked aren't they?"
There was nothing but silence for a moment. Then a slight sniff.
"You know Leslie," the young woman said, her voice hoarse. "At the very least I'm trying my best to make amends in whatever way I can. I don't know if I can say the same for you."
"Clara I-" the young man stuttered. "I-I'm sorry I didn't mean it. You know that. . . right?"
I heard the young woman let out a sigh.
"You don't mean anything Leslie," came her reply, her voice softer now. "You never meant anything."
"Clara-"
With that I heard a door slam shut. Clara seemed to have gone into the shack.
I was about to sneak away when Leslie appeared in front of me. My heart leapt into my throat. With my right hand, I groped around for something behind me, anything I could use to defend myself. I gulped as I came up with nothing.
Leslie just stood there in his shirt and sweatpants, his sunken eyes sad and dejected. His tussled hair fluttering in the slight breeze.
"You should leave before Clara sees you," he said to me, his gaze on the ground. "I'm pretty sure she didn't want you to hear any of that."
"Clara?" I muttered aloud, feigning ignorance.
"Josephine," he shrugged. "Whatever. I guess that's the name the sisters call her now."
"Okay then," I said awkwardly. "I'll be off now."
I was walking away, intent on getting back to my little sister as fast as I could. I didn't want to be around this man for any longer. Who knew what he could do? My legs were trembling with every step.
It was then when he called out to me.
"It's Jason, right?"
I stopped to look at him. His right hand was tapping his pocket, while his lips underneath the scruff curled up into a wry, awkward smile. His eyelids fluttered nervously as he looked at me. Was he even capable of feeling nervous? Who knew.
"Just stay away from my sister," I told him bluntly. "And stay away from me."
"If that's how you want it then," he said, raising both palms in front of him. "I'm sorry."
"Would you stop saying that?" I snapped back.
The young man seemed slightly taken aback, staring at me. He blinked his glossy eyes.
I just took off. I didn't care about how he felt. I mean, he didn't care about how we felt when he killed my father and shoved a gun in my face. Did he really have to? But with everything that I just heard there was just so much to take in. I was confused, scared and lost. Even Josephine, who had seemed so motherly and caring, turned out to have her own share of complicit in this evil. Who knew such things could happen on sacred ground?
As I was about to turn the corner past the greenhouses, I, for some reason turned to look around again.
There in the far corner, I could see him. Leslie, who once seemed so tall and intimidating buried his face into his knees as he sat there, leaning against the wooden shed. I could see his shoulders shiver even from that far away. I could almost hear his whimpers, carried by the wind.
And in that moment, I almost felt bad for him.
Almost.