Chapter 2
The days seemed endless, melting one into another, the heat growing more oppressive. By evening, the effort to sanitize the windowless hut between each patient was becoming way too much to handle. She found herself cutting corners, not wiping everything down, not replacing the coverings if she knew no one hat touched them, not caring...
When she first arrived, Novas spent Sundays - the small amount of free time allowed her between chores, meals, and morning and evening mass – wandering through the neighborhood outside of the mission.
The entrance fronted a small town, now beyond bursting with refugees, and faced the hospital about a half mile away, as improbably named as was her dentist office. Novas did not ever attempt to leave through the front gate alone. Too many kidnappings and missing persons.
However, she found a small back gate, nestled in the 12 foot wall, and from the outside hidden behind one of the actual groups of tall living trees still providing a small amount of afternoon shade to the mission.
The gate provided freedom and a touch of clandestine operations as she snuck through it when everyone else was in Sunday afternoon prayer. The well-spaced dwellings were populated with locals, who were not caught up in the terror and profit from those pouring in from across the border.
But now the Sunday excursions turned into the Sunday afternoon naps, as fatigue forced Novas to conserve her strength, and to attempt to slip away from her life, drifting in and out of a hot, hazy stupor, interrupted only by the dinner bell.
Until she was caught.
“Sister Mary Sarah!”
Who else would be outside her door?
“Yes, Father.”
“May I enter?”
At least he asked. Novas napped fully dressed and only had to open the door and step aside to let her tormentor into her tiny room.
“Why are you not in prayer?”
“Sunday afternoon is our only free time. Prayer is optional. You have said so.”
“And so it was when you were sneaking out. At least then you were getting proper exercise and seeing God’s creation.”
If dried up vegetation and dead and dying animals were God’s creation, so she was seeing it. The spring rains had long since been forgotten.
“I’m worn out, Father. I need rest.”
“You have worn out more than yourself here, with your laziness and impertinence. Do you remember why you were sent here?”
“I was sent here to shut me up. And to allow a molesting Father more freedom than I have.”
“It was never substantiated that he was molesting you, only that you attacked him and stabbed him with a pencil.”
“A pencil I was writing with on my bed in my room.”
“That was never substantiated.”
“Substantiated that I stabbed him in his testicle with a pencil, but not that I only used the pencil in my room and that he was on top of me.”
“He lost his testicle.”
“He is a priest. He is celebrate. What does he need a testicle for?”
“And you were naked.”
“I was naked on my bed in my room. Are you ever naked?”
“Enough, any more disrespect and I will…”
“You will what? Send me somewhere worse? And where would that be?”
“You could be excommunicated for your insolence against God. You were warned of that.”
They were almost nose-to-nose. Novas realized just how short the Father stood, as his nose was barely above hers.
“So what?”
“You will die and spend eternity in hell.”
“I would consider hell an upgrade to my current life situation.”
“Sister Mary Sarah, you will kneel and recite ‘Hail Mary’ 200 times for speaking such.”
Novas spun away, snapped out, “Hail Mary 200 times,” and flung herself on the bed. She could feel the sobs coming and held her breath, hoping the Father would leave before she lost it. Instead, she heard a sound very much out of place for Sunday, the sound of a caravan of vehicles approaching the mission.
Both forgetting themselves, they shared the view of the courtyard below out of the small circular window, providing the only light to the room. A battered pickup appeared, followed by four equally battered cars. The pickup spun around and backed just inside the mission entrance. Two men jumped out, let down the tailgate, and dropped something to the ground. A body.
When she first arrived, Novas spent Sundays - the small amount of free time allowed her between chores, meals, and morning and evening mass – wandering through the neighborhood outside of the mission.
The entrance fronted a small town, now beyond bursting with refugees, and faced the hospital about a half mile away, as improbably named as was her dentist office. Novas did not ever attempt to leave through the front gate alone. Too many kidnappings and missing persons.
However, she found a small back gate, nestled in the 12 foot wall, and from the outside hidden behind one of the actual groups of tall living trees still providing a small amount of afternoon shade to the mission.
The gate provided freedom and a touch of clandestine operations as she snuck through it when everyone else was in Sunday afternoon prayer. The well-spaced dwellings were populated with locals, who were not caught up in the terror and profit from those pouring in from across the border.
But now the Sunday excursions turned into the Sunday afternoon naps, as fatigue forced Novas to conserve her strength, and to attempt to slip away from her life, drifting in and out of a hot, hazy stupor, interrupted only by the dinner bell.
Until she was caught.
“Sister Mary Sarah!”
Who else would be outside her door?
“Yes, Father.”
“May I enter?”
At least he asked. Novas napped fully dressed and only had to open the door and step aside to let her tormentor into her tiny room.
“Why are you not in prayer?”
“Sunday afternoon is our only free time. Prayer is optional. You have said so.”
“And so it was when you were sneaking out. At least then you were getting proper exercise and seeing God’s creation.”
If dried up vegetation and dead and dying animals were God’s creation, so she was seeing it. The spring rains had long since been forgotten.
“I’m worn out, Father. I need rest.”
“You have worn out more than yourself here, with your laziness and impertinence. Do you remember why you were sent here?”
“I was sent here to shut me up. And to allow a molesting Father more freedom than I have.”
“It was never substantiated that he was molesting you, only that you attacked him and stabbed him with a pencil.”
“A pencil I was writing with on my bed in my room.”
“That was never substantiated.”
“Substantiated that I stabbed him in his testicle with a pencil, but not that I only used the pencil in my room and that he was on top of me.”
“He lost his testicle.”
“He is a priest. He is celebrate. What does he need a testicle for?”
“And you were naked.”
“I was naked on my bed in my room. Are you ever naked?”
“Enough, any more disrespect and I will…”
“You will what? Send me somewhere worse? And where would that be?”
“You could be excommunicated for your insolence against God. You were warned of that.”
They were almost nose-to-nose. Novas realized just how short the Father stood, as his nose was barely above hers.
“So what?”
“You will die and spend eternity in hell.”
“I would consider hell an upgrade to my current life situation.”
“Sister Mary Sarah, you will kneel and recite ‘Hail Mary’ 200 times for speaking such.”
Novas spun away, snapped out, “Hail Mary 200 times,” and flung herself on the bed. She could feel the sobs coming and held her breath, hoping the Father would leave before she lost it. Instead, she heard a sound very much out of place for Sunday, the sound of a caravan of vehicles approaching the mission.
Both forgetting themselves, they shared the view of the courtyard below out of the small circular window, providing the only light to the room. A battered pickup appeared, followed by four equally battered cars. The pickup spun around and backed just inside the mission entrance. Two men jumped out, let down the tailgate, and dropped something to the ground. A body.
posted by John | 7:49 PM
1 Comments:
He showed up and is happily laying on the ground at the entrance, looking like a body.
Post a Comment
<< Home