Dark Water: The Chronicles of Mercy

by G. P. Moss

  Holly grabs the keys, unlocking us as I gingerly get up off the cold concrete cell floor, using my left arm as leverage. Stepping outside, the man introduces himself.

  “I’m Will,” he says, going to shake my hand then thinking better of it.

  “I guessed. Your aunt told us you were here - Sister Theresa.”

  Before Will says anything else, Holly asks if he knows where Michael is.

  “Down there,” he says, pointing along a narrow passageway. “It might be too late - they already fetched the dark water. I was next.”

  We hurry along the dark, barren corridor, bare rock walls adding to the sense of impending doom.

  After a further hundred yards, I see a middle-aged man pacing up and down another cell, identical to the one I just left. Holly’s mouth still drips blood as she approaches cautiously. As he realises that we’re looking at him, Michael stops pacing and starts to walk towards us.

  “Dad?” Holly asks, her voice quiet and cracked.

  As I search for a key to fit, he lengthens his last stride, pulling back his arm to smash his outstretched palm through the bars towards us. I jump back as Holly just stands there, confused as he shouts at us, asking who we are. Will speaks to me from the side of his mouth.

  “They’ve already started him on the dark water.”

  “I know,” I say. Turning to Holly, I ask if the man is her father. She nods, a single tear heading to her bleeding, swollen lips.

  “It looks like him, just much thinner and he’s lost a lot of hair. But yes, even after all this time, I know it’s Dad.”

  She looks so sad I want to hold her, comfort her.

  “He’ll turn fully,” Will says, “unless we get him to the convent.”

  “We can’t,” I reply. “Look at him, he’s too angry - I’ll do it here.”

  Taking the flask of special water given by Sister Maria, I pour a little into an empty flask. Placing it on the floor through the bars, away from his immediate reach, I step back and wait. Seeing it, he rushes over, grabs it and stares with unfocussed eyes starting to turn a dirty pink.

  For a moment, I think he’ll throw it in anger but he puts it to his cracked lips, drinking the holy water greedily before throwing the empty flask hard at the bar. As it bounces, Will quickly reaches through, dragging it back towards him. Michael resumes his pacing.

  Refilling the flask, a little more this time, I place it back on the cell floor. Seeing it, he rushes for it, almost knocking it over in his haste. A little of the clean water drips onto his stubbly chin as he gulps it down. I pray it’s not too late, waiting for the crash of the flask against the bars.

  This time he places it on the floor instead, moving away to the far end, curling up on the floor. Shaking the bottle containing the most special blessed liquid, I figure there’s half of it left. Keeping the lid on, I slide it through the bars, hoping that when he comes to, the healing will have begun.

  As he sleeps, Holly and I pray for his recovery as Will heads back to check that there’s no chance Donny Ray’s men can bother us again. My prayer finishing, from the corner of my eye I notice his broad upper back and shoulders as he slowly disappears from my view.

  It must be half an hour before there’s movement in the cell. Standing unsteadily, Michael walks to the middle, stopping as he sees us waiting. The pinkness in his tired looking eyes is already fading, giving me hope. His voice is solid and clear as he asks if we’re here to let him out. He looks at my friend for a long while, recognition slowly forming in his brain as the poison starts to dissolve.

  “Dad,” Holly says, in little more than a whisper.

  Confusion briefly clouds Michael’s eyes before the unlikely reality of his situation begins to take shape. A tear runs quickly down his dirt streaked face as he calls her name.

  “Holly!” he cries, this time with joy as his lined face creases in a huge smile. I reluctantly break their spell, addressing her father urgently.

  “You’ve been given dark water – we need to get you to the convent, quickly.”

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  We stay away from the shadows, navigating the dark streets, Will taking the lead. Anne almost collides with us as she’s making her way back to the courthouse. Looking at us with undisguised relief, she tells me Sister Theresa is operating on Alex - a bullet has lodged in his shoulder. The fact that the older Sister appears to be proficient in surgery doesn’t surprise me at all - none of the healers I’ve met have been shrinking violets, much to my delight.

  Once we’re inside, Sister Agnes tells Michael he must rest now, with regular drinks of the purest water - he doesn’t complain. I don’t disturb the Sisters looking after Alex - I need to get back out there and assess or eliminate any remaining threat. Hopefully, the main guard of Ray’s empire are all dead - any pretenders need to know I’m not messing around. I’m focussed.

  Will and Sister Evie volunteer to come with me. He reckons it’ll take us up to two hours to cover the whole perimeter - if all is well, we’ll clean up the mess we made, in the morning. I give Will Alex’s rifle - he still has the old pistol which I exchange for a ten-round Glock for his pocket - if there’s trouble, I don’t want any misfires or jamming of weapons.

  Heading straight around the back of the convent, we start with the eastern edge before reaching the river marking the start of the north-east boundary. There are less people tending the fires now. Some stare at us but none are hostile while others nod and smile, soft eyes portraying their thanks. We occasionally pass residents who look away, almost shamefaced. This is not the time for accusations or witch hunts for collaborators. When the dust settles over the next days and weeks, there’ll be much work for the Sisters to do, to unite this town and begin the long process of healing.

  For now, it’s important to keep the fires burning. There’s no way of knowing how many of Donny Ray’s Subs are still out there, along with others who may have wandered into the area. Hellhounds will still be a problem for a time and extra vigilance will be needed until they’re eradicated. My heart beats steady as I breathe deeply and evenly - it’s not that I’m relaxed, rather that I’m learning to live with the devils inside. I’m already conquering them and I’m grateful. I am.

  I feel for the town. With all the heartache that the mess brought, the deaths of loved ones at the hand of nature was enough without the added trauma of poisoned people and killer-creatures. What Donny Ray and his team of vicious thugs brought was the worst of human behaviour, magnified to monstrous proportions and bringing an already crushed population to its knees.

  We complete the boundary tour without incident. Before returning to the convent, Will asks if we can stop by Ray’s house. I’m surprised to see the woman still in the front room. She’s so scared that she can barely move. I hand my rifle to Sister Evie. As I put my arm out slowly to touch her arm, she finally breaks down in a torrent of tears, her chest heaving as she cries. After a few minutes, she turns to look at me.

  “Thank you,” is all she says.

  It’s enough. It’s time for the healing to begin, one broken person at a time.

  “I forgot to thank you,” Will says as we walk back to join the Sisters at the convent.

  I look at him briefly as I want to take a good, long look at his face but here is not the place.

  “Any time,” I say, casually. “Well, not any time, I mean don’t make a habit of it, will you?”

  He laughs, a joy filling my heart – the first time I heard anyone in this town do that. Sister Evie gives me a knowing look and a smile to match. I’m enjoying his company – I never met a man of a similar age to me before. I like it. I do. He’s still smiling as I look at him again, a light stubble covering his strong, angular jaw. With a little less stress and a little more food, I reckon his face will soften. It’s a nice face. It is.

  As we enter the convent, Sister Theresa embraces her nephew, giving me a wide smile that fills my whole being with happiness. Letting Will go at last, she ushers Sister Evie and
me into the sanctum – Anne and Holly are still with Alex and Michael as they rest in a quiet room at the back.

  As I enter the room that welcomed us so unexpectedly, I put my sack on the floor and for the first time in days, allow myself to feel tired. I won’t sleep yet, however. One thing I’ve learnt recently is the senior Sisters like to talk. Inspirational speeches from natural leaders demand attention and I have a feeling this will be another.

  Before my attention is required, I see the hatch open as the young Sister and Rags join us. Despite the wound on his head, he’s looking better and happy to see me. I let him lick my face. Once.

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Sister Theresa’s eyes shine bright as she takes me to one side of the sanctum.

  “We prayed for you and you came. Thank you. Almost two decades of hiding behind the fires from monsters often created by our own people. Wells that promised cheap fuel and energy, driven deeper and deeper until the earth could not take it any longer. None of it was your fault, Mercy. It was our generation and the one before that. Greed, unkindness, and the blinkered pursuit of profit over sustainability destroyed possibly hundreds of years of technological advancement. We could have stopped it. We could have said no. Instead we sat back and let a new world elite playing by their own rules walk all over us by accepting the occasional sweetener and spurious scientific evidence, produced by their own people accepting their own sweeteners. We let them ruin us, ruin this beautiful planet. But you came. You came when you did not have to. You risked your life for those of us who should have stopped it in the first place. Mercy, your mother would be very proud of you. As we are.”

  I’m humbled by her kind words. I know the stories. I know the reasons. It’s up to everyone now to forge a future worth having. I need to sleep. We all have important decisions to make about where we go from here. Alex won’t be going anywhere for a while - I’ll bet Anne won’t be either. Tomorrow we’ll talk. Decide where we’ll go, or whether we’ll stay. As Sister Agnes shows me to a small, simple room, I pass Will on my way. He’s still laughing. I want to hear more of that but I’m too tired. I lay back on the plain but amazingly comfortable bed, and dream.

  *

  My daughter is spun around gently in the air, held by strong arms, muscles twitching and flexing with each lift. Her face gives me a freeze frame of joy at each turn, laughter provided deep and high in equal measure as the tall, tanned, bearded visitor indulges his princess at every request. A younger man stands near me on the wooden porch, its floorboards freshly painted an eggshell blue. As I sip my tea I marvel at its journey by sailing boat from a land far away, brought here to bring me pleasure on clear, balmy days while pasts or futures are not considered when the present is as perfect as this.

  I wonder how my father’s boat knows when to pick the calm moments with barely enough breeze to guide him here and how the weather always takes a turn for the worse for just long enough so he ‘has to’ stay a couple of days. My husband turns to smile at me, the softening curves of his face making me tingle with happiness as I smooth down my dress with unnecessary shyness.

  “I saw it again,” I say. “Down by the river this morning. Bright blue and orange. It’s beautiful.”

  “I think he likes it here,” my man replies.

  *

  We all do. It’s what I dreamed of, many times, in many places. I wake to see Holly resting on the floor. Looking up at me, she tells me how she told her dad about her mum.

  “He’s embarrassed that he let me see him cry so much. I told him it wasn’t his fault. He said he wanted us to leave, to find somewhere new. Sister Theresa wants him to stay. Wants us to stay. She said she needs strong, capable people. We’re thinking about it.”

  I nod, wanting my dream back.

  I rise, achy but otherwise refreshed in a town just given a new start. Will has come to see me.

  “Would you stay here with us? Help us rebuild?”

  “I have some things to do. I need to return to the valley first, let Johnny know what’s happening out here and see if he’ll organise things there now that we know more about the Subs. There’s something else I must do, too. I’ll be travelling to the north-east, for a friend. Also, Alex thinks Dad may still be alive. I know, it’s longer than a long shot but, you know, where there’s hope.”

  He nods, trying his best not to look too disappointed.

  “Well, if you get time, after all that, please come back?”

  He’s holding my gaze for far too long but I don’t break it. I like it. I do.

  “I’ll see,” I say so casually that it sounds like I couldn’t care less. I do care. Looking at him again, it’s me that holds the look this time.

  “If I can, then I’ll come.” I say it gently this time.

  He takes my slim hand in his, leans forward and kisses me on my lips. He doesn’t linger but it’s enough. I like it. I really do. Taking his head quickly in my hands, I kiss his forehead, tasting smoke from the boundary fires on his skin. I move away from him, my heart beating so fast - this time I let it beat out its rhythm as I make my escape from the only man that’s ever kissed me. I head to the back room to let Alex know I’ll be heading off soon. Michael has already left his bed - he’s out walking with Holly. The sight of Anne holding Alex’s hand doesn’t surprise me at all - I would’ve been surprised if she hadn’t.

  I nod towards his injured shoulder.

  “You’ve been walking around with a target attached to that,” I say, laughing.

  Grinning, he replies, “yes, I’m an old man now, can’t seem to keep up anymore. I’ll be here a while, at least until it’s started to heal.”

  Anne looks at me, smiling.

  “We’ll be returning to Eastsea, afterwards,” she says. I nod.

  “Yes, I thought you would - the hotel.”

  “I will be going there, but to ask Sister Maria if I can be released from my obligations to her. And to bless us.”

  I want to clap.

  “I’m so happy for you both - I wouldn’t have made it this far without either of you.”

  I don’t mention Dad - I don’t need to. Alex knows by now that if I need help I’ll ask for it, and in the future, who knows - perhaps I will. I kiss them both lightly on the cheek, leaving before they see a tear balance precariously in my eye before it falls to the floor. It’s weird. Mum knew what she was doing when she insisted I must try to find Alex. I thought that if I found him, perhaps he’d be my guide through life, a replacement for Mum.

  I looked for Alex Nowak and found myself.

  I’m no longer the orphan girl from the valley who needs guidance to find a role in life - my role is clear to me now - to organise and then to delegate. This world needs a new beginning, with kindness, gratitude, and cooperation. I need a new beginning too. My dreams are no longer just the pleasant subconscious distractions from everyday trouble and unwelcome challenges - they’re the building blocks of goals, of my future. I see it. I do.

  As I prepare to leave, Holly and her dad return from their walk. Michael holds out his hand, which I take, formal as it is.

  “Holly told me the whole story. What you did, for Holly, for me, for all these people,” he says, gesturing with a wide sweep of his arm. “It’s just incredible - thank you. We believed them. I believed them. That it was too dangerous to try and leave the fires. They controlled the food, the water – everything. I wasted all those years.”

  I don’t interrupt him. I don’t comment on what happened here – there’s no point.

  “Holly was a rock throughout all of this with us,” I say. “She not only held it together when the personal stakes for her were at the highest - she was as important as the rest of us in this mission.”

  I hug her tighter than I’d planned but she hugs me back as her father beams with pride. As I check my sack for the last time, I feel a tap on my shoulder. Sister Evie is dressed to go as she adjusts the straps on her bag.

  “Are you heading back to Eastsea now?” I ask.

/>   “No, I’m coming with you and Rags,” she says brightly. “If you’ll have me, that is.”

  “What about Sister Maria and the hotel?” I ask, hoping my reminder doesn’t change her mind.

  “Oh, I’ll tell her I took the long route - anyway, it’s still too dangerous yet to be out there alone. She’ll understand.”

  I can feel my eyes opening wide, lighting up with joy at the suggestion. With a jaunty wave to the bemused but smiling, healing Sisters of Longton, we enter the sanctum to set off on our journey. As Sister Theresa lifts the hatch to the long, winding corridor, she hooks a flask of water on each of us.

  “Don’t be strangers,” she says – “au revoir.”

  The hatch closes with a soft click as an unknown chapter opens in front of us, beckoning two warriors as we walk under the boundary fires, and into the future.

  Chapter Forty

  I decide to take in some of the coastal route rather than travel straight across country – Sister Evie enjoys the fresh breeze as much as me and it’s good for Rags as he continues his recovery. Looking out to sea, there seems to be a change from my outward journey. Where large, dark patches drew my eye at my first sight of such vast amounts of water, it’s now the different hues of ocean blue that make me grateful for some influence, however small, on this magnificent planet.

  I’m sure the black areas are still there, to be healed with time and kindness but I believe it’s the change in me that perceives the real colours, that positive thoughts and actions far outweigh the unwanted direction our fickle minds often want us to follow. The Sister is a great companion – witty, watchful, resourceful, and full of kindness – and a wonderful teacher too.

  As we travel, we heal, finally giving the source of life the respect and gratitude it so richly deserves. At times, we know we’re not alone and I’ve fired several bolts into Hounds poised for attack. I’m not afraid anymore and the signals I’m giving off are having, at least some of the time, an unexpected effect as they quickly lose interest as I advance on them, instead of screaming in chaotic retreat. The memory of almost losing Rags gives me a steely determination to rid the country of these horrors.