by Burgy, P. J.
She felt sick, hungry, and tired. Fear filled her heart and she wanted to open the door and run. If it were daylight, she could make it to the front door perhaps, she could get outside. But those things were right there, only a few feet from her. The only thing separating Kara from the Wailers was the sink door. She hurt from sitting there for so long.
She wanted her mother, her father. There was a sound, like squeaking hinges, and she knew that it was the front door, and the Wailers began to scream. And then, they were silent following a sharp, wet crack. And yet, she heard one whimpering, shuffling nearby. One of them was still alive.
A voice, female, soft, whispered, “Kara.”
Then, another sharp crack.
The sink opened, and, in the light, Renshen Bui reached in for her. He said her name. Had Kara imagined the woman's voice? Her mother had been killed. Her mother was dead when she was rescued.
She gasped for air.
How did he know my name?
She gagged on water, spitting it onto the front of her soaked white robe. Kara felt lightheaded, unable to think straight as she was forced down again, and again. After what felt like an eternity, she was allowed to fall to the floor, coughing violently, and the congregation sung and swooned and chanted. What they were saying, she couldn't tell. She couldn't hear much. Then the world went black.
The room around her spun. Kara's eyes had opened, but not on their own accord. Her left eye had been forced open by prying fingers, a flashlight shining in and nearly blinding her before she swatted at her assailant. Whoever it was retreated back just enough to become a blurry silhouette. As her vision returned, she felt her chest burning and her stomach aching. She was in a bed, in a brightly lit room, all white with candles and incense. The windows were glass, multi-colored and opaque.
Beside her, she saw Father Isaac sitting in a chair.
“Kara," he said.
She said nothing.
“I'm sorry for what I had to do today,” he told her.
She closed her eyes.
“I didn't want to,” Father Isaac said. “I didn't. You remind me of someone, and that's what made it so hard. Because you have a good heart, Kara, you do. You are good and you are righteous, but what you did violated our trust. I had to cleanse you of that sin.”
The room fell silent for many minutes before Father Isaac spoke again.
“Twenty years ago, when the plague had been ravaging this country for a decade, when communications had failed and we were all on our own, my house was attacked by the demons during the night. I was able to drive them off, with the help of my twin boys, Elijah and Simon, both only ten years old at the time. My wife, Abby, she was bitten, and fell ill with the fever.” He paused, closing his eyes and lowering his head. “Our daughter, Hannah, thirteen years old, a bright and beautiful girl, tended to her ailing mother into the next morning, to the next evening. My Abby, she seemed about to pass, the fever taking her away from us, her pulse weakening. And so, along with my boys, we went outside in the early evening and began to dig her grave. When we heard the screaming from upstairs in the house, we ran as fast as we could, but we were too late. My wife, she had become a demon, and she had killed my precious, beautiful Hannah. She had killed her, and begun to eat her.”
Kara opened her eyes and looked at him.
“I realized that day that the evil we faced was far more insidious than I could have ever imagined. Never in any psalm, in any passage of the bible, had I read anything that could have prepared me for what I saw in that room. What my boys saw. What it did to them.” He exhaled, and then continued. “I went to kill the demon, but Simon begged me to spare its life. He wept and begged me not to kill his mother. I told him that it was no longer our Abby, no longer his mother, my wife. It was a monster wearing her skin. And I killed it. We buried it outside, far from the house. After we buried Hannah, of course. Elijah, bless him, bless his strength, he helped to dig the demon's grave. Simon wanted to give it a proper burial, and so we did. My daughter, she was so good of heart. Like you. Trusting. Willing to risk her own life to care for someone who was sick. Someone who was tainted.”
Father Isaac turned to look at the mosaic glass windows.
“There is such evil in this world, my child. Such evil that even those who mean to do good are faced with stepping into the shadow, and bloodshed begets bloodshed in the wake of righteousness. For what we see, what we know, to be for the greater good, for our own survival and for those whom we love, is not recognized by those who would be saved. I see it in your eyes, I saw it in every motion, heard it in your every word, from the moment we brought you here. We are not your enemy, Kara. I am not your enemy. It is our nature to push back against what is forced upon us, even if it is for our own good. People are strange, aren't they? I've heard many confessions over the years, and in each I heard a common lament; that God had shown them the right way and yet they had chosen their own. God had already written their story but they rejected His Word and tried to rebel against His love,” Father Isaac said, “Kara, this is not my story, nor is it yours. This is His story and we must play our parts. When we reject His plan, our stories become riddled with death and chaos. We become the harbingers of our own doom. In our wake, destruction, and on the road ahead, storms of our own making. Kara, you can choose a different fate.”
The air grew heavy in the room.
“I know that you will make the right choice tomorrow morning, Kara.” He inhaled softly and then exhaled slowly. “It is hard, surviving. Without faith, that is all we do. Survive. But, with faith, we live. It is not an easy life, but that was never promised to us.”
“No life is promised,” she mused.
He turned to regard her, his eyes soft. “You know then.”
She closed her eyes. “I know.”
“I will leave you to rest now, Kara," he said. “Dinner will be served, and you are welcome to sit at my table. All was forgiven today, and no grudges will be held. You will be as someone new and clean, that which came before gone. Tonight is your third night in Salvation, Kara, but, it is the first night of your new life. I will come by later. Please, Sleep. But, do one last thing before you close your eyes.”
“What is that?” she asked.
“Pray.”
She did not reply.
He left, locking the door behind him.
The dining hall was full, the Purgers milling about or sitting at the long tables. The smell of the cooking food wafted over to Kara as she stood in the hall watching quietly, remaining unnoticed for the time being. She'd been allowed out after a shower, and she'd changed back into regular clothes. These were her own clothes now, partially at least, the bandanna and her dark leggings that Elijah had sent to the wash for her having been returned. She'd kept her new sneakers, preferring them to the old, beaten ones she'd had when she was captured. Kara had picked out a dark green, long sleeved shirt. They'd also returned her fingerless gloves and she was playing with the cuffs, staring idly at the crowd, eyes lazily searching the faces.
She ignored Elijah as he waved to her from far off, his seat near the right corner of the room. Father Isaac sat with him, but Simon was nowhere to be seen. She disregarded Elijah's second attempt to wave her over and was relieved when he gave up and resigned himself to eating while staring at the window. Father Isaac had not tried to get her attention.
She grabbed a plate of food and ate it by herself, sitting alone at the end of a table. The others there seemed to know to leave her be, perhaps given polite guidance by Father Isaac earlier. It didn't matter. She continued to scan the faces in the room until she saw him. Simon.
He was eating alone too, sitting not too far from her. He was deeply invested in the space in front of him, but became aware of Kara's stare within seconds. Her hazel eyes met his deep, brown ones and time froze.
Not bothering to finish what little she had spooned onto her plate, Kara stood, maintaining the eye contact with Simon. She blinked at him, turned away, and left her plate on
the buffet counter with the other dirty ones. One last time, she spared a glance back at Simon, saw that he too was standing, and made her way out of the dining area and back to the hall.
She didn't have to wait for very long.
Standing in the hall, away from the citizens of Salvation as they continued their conversations over breakfast, she leaned against the wall. She was far enough away to lose sight of the people in the room and yet close enough to appreciate the look on Simon's face when he rounded the corner and stopped dead. His approach was slow, cautious, and he stopped about a foot from her. He was dressed nicely, proper, but not in his vestments yet. His eyes narrowed. “What?”
“I knew you'd come," she said, and smiled. “You were right, Simon.”
His head tilted. “About?”
“Everything.”
“I don't think I understand what you're-”
“He told me, Simon," she said, her eyes locking onto his. “Your father. He told me what happened to your mother. I'm sorry.”
Simon's eyes widened and then he blinked at her, lips pulled back across his teeth. He raised his hands and adjusted his collar. He licked his lips, tone sharp. “I still don't understand.”
“You begged for her life, didn't you?” she asked.
“She wasn't my mother anymore," he said.
“But you loved her, Simon. You begged for her life.”
“If you think you're going to get me to help you-”
“You're the only one who can,” she told him.
“What do you mean?”
She took in a breath before speaking, “Eli doesn't understand like you do, Simon. He's, he's full of faith, yes, he is. But he's naive, Simon. I see that now. I made a huge mistake, thinking that thing down there was a person worth sacrificing myself for, but I know it's just another monster. A demon. I, I wanted to believe it was a man, a friend. But I was so stupid. And what I did... You see things for what they really are, Simon. You also loved someone, and you lost them. I was a fool.”
She waited a moment.
“You saw me as that fool, and I hated you for it. I wanted to love Eli for believing in me. I wanted to trust your father, but I couldn't. You were right though. The whole time,” Kara said, her eyes growing shiny and wet as they darted across his face, holding his gaze. She brought her hands to her collar bones, forced her eyes shut as tears ran down her cheeks. “I... I'm sorry. I just wanted to apologize. I should go.”
She turned away, taking a few steps down the hall as if to go to her room.
“No. Wait.”
She paused, head tilted, facing away from him. When her eyes opened, they were distant, no trace of grief. Her jaw tightened expectantly.
“If, if you want to confess to me, I know you've been cleansed but, if there's more, I will listen. If, that is what you want,” Simon asked. “Is it...?”
Her face twisted and she slowly pivoted to look at him, fresh tears on her cheeks, her brows knit.
“I want to confess to you, Simon. I want you to bring me into the flock," she said.
“Not Elijah?”
“Eli doesn't understand, I told you.” She cleared her throat. “He knows his faith, but he doesn't know pain. Not like you do. He doesn't know what that pain does. How it makes you feel. But, you do, don't you? You understand.”
“I do. Yes,” he replied.
“Your father told me that I had until tomorrow morning to decide. I know now though. I want to join you,” she went on. “Can you help me, Simon?”
“Ah, now, no,” he whispered, and then closed the distance between them. He reached up to her face, touched her cheek, his dark eyes tracing her features. His lips moved wordlessly before he found his voice again. “But, later, yes. Later. Together, we should go to my father. But, first, with me, you should, should-”
“Confess to you?” she asked.
“Yes. Confess to me.” He licked his lips.
“In the church?”
“Ah, it should be somewhere more, more private, I think,” he stammered.
“Alone?”
“Alone.”
“Where?” she asked.
“My, my room, I think,” he answered. “It's in the west wing. The second left hall. Five rooms down on the right. I can meet you there. Later.”
“When?”
“After father's sermon, but before we go out. There's plenty of time. Plenty of time for us to talk, and for you to, to talk to me.” He took a step back. “Yes, that is what we will do. After the sermon, meet me at my door, yes? Right after.”
“I will, Simon.” She smiled.
“Yes.” He began to back away. “I will see you then.”
He walked off quickly, looking back at her before disappearing into the dining hall.
Her smile faded away again, leaving only a cold shadow in its place.
There was an hour to go before Father Isaac would deliver his evening sermon and Kara stood in the empty chapel, staring up at the mosaic glass and the imagery on the walls. She hadn't noticed until now how intricate the designs were or how well the seams of metal were welded together to hold the ceiling up. It was impressive. Candles burned in foggy glasses on the floor, their positions random. A sound from behind her caused her to tilt her head. She peered back, saw the shape of a man nearing her, and exhaled.
“Kara,” Elijah said. “I didn't think I'd find you here.”
“No?”
“I wanted to talk to you.” He stepped up beside her.
“There's nothing to talk about, Eli," she said.
“There is. I want to talk about this morning.” He was watching her, his hands folded in front of him, his lips moving wordlessly for a few moments. “I want to apologize to you.”
“For what?”
“You know what," he said.
She nodded. “You wanted to be the one to drown me. I understand.”
“That isn't what I wanted.”
“But you did, didn't you?” she asked.
“I didn't want you to get hurt any worse than you had to. If I was doing it, I knew I wouldn't allow you to suffer as long as if anyone else did it,” he explained.
“Oh, so you did me a favor? Thank you.”
He reached up and pinched the bridge of his nose, eyes shut tight as he shook his head. “Kara, that isn't what I meant either.”
“It doesn't matter what you meant, Eli.” She studied him and then met his gaze when he looked to her again. “It doesn't matter what happened either. Before this morning, I was someone else. I am not that person any more. You don't owe me any apologies, or anything. I saw you, saw what you all are. What you really are. I changed. I’ve moved on.”
“Have you?” he asked.
“I have,” she told him. “I'm going to go now, Eli. I am sorry too, just so it's said. I am.”
“Wait.”
Kara shook her head and walked away, leaving him alone in the chapel.
She waited for the sermon to end, hearing the sound of the people rising. Kara watched as they filed out of the chapel, and, quickly, she made her way down the hall. Following his directions, she found the wing and the room he had told her to go to. Then, she waited. Not too long after, she saw Simon turn down the corridor. When he saw her, his eyes widened.
The water was running, the pressure weak but constant, and Kara heard him in the shower on the other side of the door. She stood, zipping the fly of her pants, buttoning them up right after. She hooked her sports bra in the front. Her socks were on the bed. Sliding her belt through the loops, she looked to the floor to find her shirt. His pants were nearby, near the dresser with his shirt and undershirt.
There was a belt hung over the back of the chair at the desk. Simon's vestments hung on a hook on the wall beside the desk and she eyed them, adjusting her shirt, fixing her hair.
Simon opened the bathroom door, holding the towel he had loosely wrapped around his hips, his prominent pelvic bones sharp, his body lean and muscular. Hair still damp, slicked back, h
e paused as he reached the bed.
“Of course, don't mention this to father,” he said. “Obviously.”
“Obviously,” she echoed.
“I had good intentions. I did.” He cleared his throat and stared at the tousled bed sheets. “Not that what we did was bad. No. Not what I intended, but, Ah well. I suppose it was bound to happen after such a heightened emotional state, yes? For both of us. I'm glad it happened. Before I go out tonight, please, come let my father, my brother, bear witness to your choice. Your choice to join us. Your choice to go through me.”
“I will be there," she said. “But I should clean up.”
“Yes, yes. You should.” He nodded.
“Simon.” She went to him, placing her hand on his bare chest. She felt the scars under her fingertips and studied the old wounds on his flesh. She hadn't noticed them until now, when he was in the light. She brought her eyes back to his face. “Thank you.”
He smiled, the expression warm and surprisingly genuine. “You're welcome.”
She leaned up, kissing him. His returned kiss was awkward, inexperienced.
After she left his room, she rushed to her own.
The Purgers had gathered near the lobby, suiting up, arming themselves. They were checking their weapons, making sure that the batteries in the tasers worked or that their swords were clean and sharp. Kara watched from a short distance, knowing that she had been noticed. She sat at one of the tables, arms at her sides. The Purgers were testing the red lights on their plague doctor masks, flicking them on and off from a button on the side, near the left temple. Father Isaac was there, as were his two sons, and Father Isaac walked over to her where she sat, his mask held near his hip, his hat in his other hand. He'd yet to put his hood up.
She stood, meeting him halfway, and bowed her head to him.
“You've come to see us off?” Father Isaac asked her.
“Yes.” She glanced behind him, catching Simon's eyes. She waited for Simon to join them before continuing to speak. “I've also come to tell you that I've made my choice, Father.”
“Have you now?” Father Isaac tilted his head.
“I've chosen to join you,” she told him and then nodded to Simon.