La Mort et ses Merveilles
Chapter 24: Web of Lies, Tears of Deceit
The store room at the back of the infirmary was full of junk. Well, junk like life support machines and other things that you needed for a hospice to function. Sure, some of them may still be working, but I doubt we needed all of them. Besides, all the old people were gone. Josephine made clear of that.
Well, she never mentioned it, but I didn't make it clear to her that I knew. I never said anything about it. Maybe she thought Leslie told me. That was probably the case.
I guess she was keeping one or two, just in case. But most injuries we had could just be treated with basic first aid or at the most a cast. We've never had anything dramatic. But I'm pretty sure even in those circumstances, we wouldn't need all those machines. They used a lot of electricity, and that was something we were trying to conserve. Especially for the winter, just in case there wasn't enough firewood.
Besides tons of breathing machines and other apparatus, there was also old office junk, like old photocopying machines. We certainly didn't really need those anymore. I was getting bored looking at all the old junk, seeing that I couldn't do anything with them really. If I had my way I'd thrown them all out. All they were doing was cluttering up space and collecting dust. But Leslie however, seemed to be having a field day.
He had brought his toolbox with him, and was busy tinkering away at one of the old photocopying machines. He really was a natural at this, popping open screws and bolts, just like he was good at popping my zipper.
As I stood there, flashlight in hand, shining the light for Leslie, I couldn't help but think about what I'd just offered him. A shadow of doubt began to creep its way to my heart. Did I really want to do it? Well yeah, eventually I do, but was this the appropriate place? In the middle of the dusty storeroom? Call me sentimental but I'd rather do it in the comfort of our beds, but any nun walking by would most definitely heard the noises we'd make. And judging by the last time I made out with Leslie on the back of his pickup, he was certainly very capable of making some extremely hot, albeit loud, moans.
But then again, to have my first time with him in this dingy, abandoned storeroom. . . It just doesn't feel right. There was absolutely nothing romantic about it at all. Making love in this kind of circumstance isn't love. It's just plain, rough, animalistic sex.
It'd be nice if we could do it on a soft bed, maybe right after a nice dinner. Maybe some wine so it wouldn't hurt as much. There was wine in the cellar, the nuns made their own wines from the grapes we had growing in the yard. Maybe if I could sneak one of those homemade brews up, Leslie and I could share it.
Maybe we'd dim the lights, and he'd hold me in his arms. I'd tell him how much I loved him and he'd tell me the same. I'd hold him in my arms, laying there for a while as he'd whisper how pretty my lashes were, how my freckles drove him wild. I wanted him to tell me how I meant the world to him, before his manly palms start making its way down.
Silly Jason, still clinging on to the sentimentalities of a lost age. People were dying out there, we all had to fight for survival beyond the safe convent walls, yet here I am, worrying about my first time with him. Fantasising about what he'd do to me. Sweet and romantic, just as I liked it.
"You like what you see?" Leslie said, his voice breaking the silence, shaking me out of my thoughts.
I could immediately feel the blood rush to my cheeks. I almost felt like he could see me fantasising about what'd he do to me with those rough, manly palms of his. That was embarrassing, that was embarrassing.
"Yeah," I said, nodding his head at the parts of the machine that he had disassembled. "It looks pretty cool."
The young man chuckled.
"I wasn't talking about the machine," he said, giving me a suggestive look.
He knew. It was almost as if he could read my mind. Well, there was no use denying it now.
"Yeah," I muttered, feeling the blood rush to my cheeks. "You're pretty hot, okay?"
The young man only tilted his head to the back, a smirk on his lips. He always loved to get cocky when his ego was inflated.
"You know what," Leslie said as he threw down the pliers that he held in his hand. "This can wait."
With that, he nearly lunged at me, taking me in his arms. I knew where this was headed, and as much as I wanted it, I knew I'd regret it. Doing it in some dingy storeroom, trying to hide from others. . . it wasn't something I wanted. Yet his hands slipping under my shirt made it difficult.
I managed to spit it out anyway, mustering every fibre of strength I have left within me.
"Leslie," I called out. "Stop."
He didn't listen. Nuzzling against my neck, he planted a kiss on my skin. Maybe he didn't think I was serious.
"That's enough," I said firmly. "Let go."
As if there was some kind of reluctance, Leslie finally stepped back from me. His eyebrows were furrowed.
"Didn't you just say that we're going to have sex?" he asked, a hint of irritation in his voice.
A part of me wanted to just bend over and let him vent out his frustration on me, but I knew it was something that I wouldn't enjoy.
"Yeah, about that," I muttered underneath my breath, almost ashamed of saying those words. "I changed my mind. I don't think I'm ready for this yet. Not now."
"But you said you were earlier," the young man protested.
I noticed his shoulders drop as he heaved out a disappointed sigh. I felt slightly bad, knowing that he had wanted this for quite some time now, but what worth was it if I were only to feel bad and regret it after?
"Look," I said, grabbing onto his sleeve. "I'm sorry, okay?"
"Well," the young man said. "What's wrong with me?"
He pointed to himself, moving his palm downwards in front of him, gesturing towards his body.
"Did I do something wrong?" Leslie continued. "Did I say something to put you off?"
"N-No," I replied. "It's not you."
"Then what's wrong?" the young man asked. "You okay?"
"It's just that I don't feel like doing it," I muttered. "It just doesn't feel. . . right."
The young man bit his lower lip, his hands on his hips. But before he could respond, the door at the far end of the room opened. I could hear two voices, one male and one female.
Instinctively, I switched off the flashlight and ducked behind a desk cluttered with junk. Leslie did the same, laying low right beside me, our shoulders rubbing. Who could possibly walk into this storeroom? It couldn't be Josephine. And whoever who did certainly must be involved in some shady business.
The lights were switched on, but only on the other end of the room. Leslie and I were safely kept in the shadow of darkness.
Peeking from the side of the large photocopying machine, I caught sight of the both of them. To the left was a calm nun, appearing youthful despite her age. No doubt being no other than Rosanne. She was talking to a tall, much younger man. His hair was brown, the same colour as his hollow eyes. He wore a letterman jacket and a pair of blue jeans.
I had never seen him before.
"You got what I want?" he asked, in a low and hushed voice.
That voice. It felt familiar.
"Just take a look for yourself," she told him. "It's not that much but it's what we can afford."
I watched as the young man looked through the paper bag. He was nearly hunched over, rustling through its contents.
It suddenly dawned upon me where I heard that voice. Back at the motel. It was the voice that offered to go check the room we were in. Leslie mentioned that if it weren't for him stopping whoever that was, my sister and I would be dead.
Then it clicked. It had to be Bradley, the one that Josephine had mentioned before. Rosanne's nephew. The one who was involved in some shady raiding and looting business. The one who involved Leslie in this whole mess.
Sure, I'd forgiven Leslie, but I didn't have the same feeling towards this Bradley. It was his fault that got us into that situation after all. He was the one who went about looting and stealing. He was the one who killed my father, not Leslie.
"That's Bradley," Leslie whispered in my ear.
"I know," came my hushed reply.
"He's the one who-"
I raised my hand slightly, cutting him off. My eyes were fixated on the young man in front of me.
"Vicodin?" he said aloud. "Well whatever, it's still something."
"I'm afraid that's the last of those that we could spare," Rosanne said. "We need the rest."
There was a short pause, as Bradley put the paper bag away.
"I guess this will have to do for the boys," he said. "But they're getting pretty restless. Been coming up to me and saying why'd we have to go further and further away on our runs to supply when the convent is right over here."
"You know what the Mother Superior's position on this," Rosanne said. "As far as she's concerned, your men are like the other townsfolk to her. You're welcome to stay if you like."
"Yeah," Bradley replied. "The issue is that the boys aren't really a big fan of sharing."
"We'll work something out," the nun said. "Think about it. You won't gain anything from attacking this place. Sure, you may gain in the short term, but in the long run? Not so much. We have food, we have materials, we have some manpower. We even have a trained nurse, can't find a lot of them nowadays.
"It's in our best interests if we kept to the current arrangements."
I could notice Bradley nodding his head, but he didn't seem too convinced. As far as the convent was concerned, from what I knew, he was a trusty ally. Providing the settlement with guns and protection. But now, there seemed to be some rifts in the agreement.
"And why don't you bring your people to stay for the winter?" Rosanne suggested. "There's more than enough for everyone."
"That isn't half-bad. . ." the young man replied.
"And it'll be much easier for you when you want to make a move," she continued. "And it's not like anyone would stop you. Mother Agnes may be in charge, but she's not really the one running the place. If it was up to her, the whole convent would probably be dead by now. We told her the hospice was a ticking time bomb and she didn't listen. Insisted that it was wrong to kick them out."
"You don't have to remind me aunt Ros," Bradley said with a chuckle. "It was quite clever of you and that nurse girl to tell her that you were transferring them to somewhere safer. I still remember it quite clearly – easy pickings, those poor old people. We had quite a field day picking off their zombie corpses, you know? Some of them were still alive, but we figured, eh - you wouldn't want anyone from the convent to know."
"And it's best if it stays that way," she said. "It's not good for morale if people find out. They're motivated by the aura of this place, like it's the only good place left in the world, like some kind of moral sanctuary."
"The secret's safe with us," Bradley replied. "But I doubt the boys are gonna complain much. Not since you offered to just let us waltz into this place."
"I'm glad we could work together," the woman said. "I promise you it'll be well worth it."
"Of course," the young man said. "I'm sure the boys will be glad they don't have to travel around a lot just to survive."
"We'll talk about this more when winter approaches," Rosanne said to her nephew. "And don't really phrase it as a takeover per se, more of a shift in leadership. But it's not like people will care, as long as you keep Mother Agnes as a figurehead."
"I'll have a talk with the boys," he said. "I'm sure you'll find them agreeable. Some of them are a bit rowdy, but I'll make sure they behave."
Seeing that they were done with their business, the two of them left, leaving Leslie and I in the room.
"So you're just gonna let Bradley waltz in and take over everything?" I asked as I turned to look at Leslie.
The young man shrugged.
"You heard them," he said. "It's not like they're gonna come in and kill everyone."
"Yeah, but still," I said. "You do realise who these people are, right? He was there. He was so close to killing Isabella and I."
The young man only sighed.
"Look," he said. "I get it. But things are complicated okay?"
"Whatever," I said, getting up. "I just hope you have enough morals to know what's right and wrong."
"I've changed, okay?" Leslie shot back, defending himself. "And you're so naive, thinking that right and wrong still exists in a world like this. You're just like my mom. You don't understand that sometimes you have to do bad things-"
"Oh," I cut him short. "So shooting my dad three times in the chest was okay?"
"I thought we were over that!" Leslie countered, raising his voice. "How many times must I apologise to you?"
I only rolled my eyes.
"The least you could do was not associate with these people anymore," I told him.
"I'll try, okay?" he said. "I want to be a better person."
"I hope you do."
We walked out, making sure nobody was around. Heading over into the main infirmary, I found Bradley talking to Josephine. The two of them looked up, noticing us walk in.
"When did the two of you get here?" the young woman asked. "Bradley and I were just talking about. . . Things."
"Oh," I blurted out, trying to think of a quick response. "We entered from the back."
The young man with the hollow eyes approached us, a crooked smile on his lips. Meanwhile, Josephine excused herself and went inside her office. It was if she didn't want to spend another second in Bradley's presence.
"Les!" he exclaimed, as he drew my boyfriend into a bear hug. "It's been so long since I've seen you, brother."
"Yeah," Leslie said awkwardly, a sheepish grin on his lips.
The corners of his eyes were looking at me, almost as if he was asking for approval. I didn't say anything, looking at the poster at the far end of the room instead.
"I've never seen you around before," Bradley said, obviously referring to me.
I turned to look at him, and relaxed myself. Flashing him a sweet smile, I shook his hand.
"Bradley Scott," he said, introducing himself.
"Jason Rosendale," I replied, trying to sound as calm as I could.
"I see you know Leslie," he remarked.
"Yeah," Leslie interjected. "We're friends."
"You know," Bradley snapped, shooting my boyfriend a rather irritated glare. "I wasn't talking to you. So maybe just, sit there and keep quiet like a good boy, capiche?"
The young man immediately looked away. I could only smile at Bradley, despite there being nothing likeable about him. Sure, I was pretty mad at Leslie too, but I didn't like it when others disrespected him like that.
"Leslie and I are friends," I reiterated.
"Funny how the apocalypse brought the two of you together," he said. "You seem like a nice and decent kid. Wouldn't expect you to hang around someone like my man over here under normal circumstances."
He laughed as he tapped Leslie's shoulder, but I noticed how Leslie only bit his lips. It was almost as if he shrunk into his shell when it came to Bradley. A part of me wondered where that boisterous, loud and obnoxious part of him went.
"Anyway," Bradley said as he stepped away from us, shoving his hands in his pockets. "I'm staying over for a few days, but on Saturday, we're going out for another run, if you want to come along."
"We'd love to," Leslie blurted out, before I could even say anything.
I only shot him a glare.
"We?" the young man in the letterman jacket said, raising an eyebrow. "Oh, right. Yeah, you should come along too Jason. It'll be fun. Scouted a nice place with lots of stuff and I'm sure we'll need all the hands we can get."
"Sure," I replied, forcing a smile on my lips, all the while glaring at Leslie.
"We'd love to."
As Bradley closed the infirmary door behind him, I kept my eyes on Leslie. He averted his eyes and gulped. He could tell that I was mad. Of course I would be. Didn't he just say that he'd try to distance himself from Bradley and the rest of those guys? Yet he agreed at the first opportunity to go out on a 'run'. As if the both of us don't know what it entails.
Heaving out a heavy sigh, I walked off, slamming the door behind me. I heard his footsteps as he ran to try to catch up to me, but I just ignored him and walked faster.
My mind was a mess. How was I supposed to deal with this situation?
As he matched his pace with mine, I noticed his lips quivering, as if he wanted to speak. To explain himself maybe. But I had enough for the day.
What has this dumb boy gotten us into now?