Hope and Undead Elvis

chapter Nineteen

Hope and the Hanging Grove

"Did you always want to be a nun?" Hope asked Rae as the younger girl led her around the outer wall of the convent.

"No." Rae's tears had dried up and by the time they stepped out into the afternoon light, she seemed composed. "I only joined last year."

"You were a dancer, weren't you?"

Rae's eyes widened. "How did you know?"

"I saw your tattoo and your body as you were changing. I didn't spend all those on the stage and not learn a thing or two. How'd you end up here?"

Rae dropped her voice to a whisper, quiet enough that she herself wouldn't have been able to hear it. "I wouldn't sleep with the club owner, and he beat me up. The sisters took me in and kept me safe."

Hope shook her head. She'd known many girls who'd fallen into the same trap. She'd only avoided it because her first job had been at a club where the owner treated the girls with decency and respect, something Hope had since learned was a rare quality in strip clubs. "Good for them, and better for you," she said.

"Except…" Rae's furtive glances were even making Hope a little nervous.

"Except what?"

Rae pointed to a low stone construction. Bricks had been arranged in a circle with a timber roof over them. Hope recognized that it was an old-fashioned well, but didn't understand what Rae wanted her to see.

Then she saw it.

A mound of earth lurked beyond the well, at the edge of the woods, with only a few sparse plants taking root in the recently-disturbed soil. At one end was a simple marker: two pieces of wood nailed together in a cross. "Is that a grave?"

"That's Sister Catherine," said Rae. "Sister Agatha told everyone she slipped and fell down the stairs, but she didn't know I was watching." Her hands shook and Hope squeezed them between her own. "She pushed her. Sister Agatha pushed her down the stairs. And then she went to the bottom and held a pillow over Catherine's face to make sure she was dead."

"God," said Hope. Was there nowhere safe any longer? She'd have thought a convent of all places would be harmonious.

"They'd been arguing," said Rae. "Arguing about you. Catherine said they should… they should tell the others. Agatha said it would destroy everyone. What did they mean? I don't understand." She looked away.

Hope could tell her spirit had been beaten down and the poor girl was miserable. She might only have been a year or two younger than Hope, but Hope felt decades older. She put a comforting hand on Rae's shoulder. "It's about my baby," she said.

"Are you… are you the mother of the Savior?"

Hope shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe, maybe not. Right now I'm just me." She paused. "What happened to the other sisters."

Rae swallowed. "I'm afraid that they've been committing mortal sins."

"You mean suicide?"

The young nun swayed, as if she were feeling faint. Hope steadied her. "They can't go to heaven if they kill themselves."

"Maybe that's not what's going on."

"Why else would they be disappearing and never coming back? And why else would Agatha forbid us to speak of it?"

"I don't know, Rae."

Hope heard the sound of footsteps approaching through the trees. She grabbed Rae and they shrank back into the lilac bushes along the side of the convent.

Agatha walked out of the forest, holding her habit up so she wouldn't catch the hem on any low brambles. She carried her head high, and the pewter cross around her neck swung back and forth with the rhythm of her steps. She walked right over to the well and stopped there, only a few feet from Hope and Rae. If she turned her head a little to the left, she'd see the two young women hiding in the bushes. Hope held her breath, fearing the hammering of her heart would give them both away.

But Agatha didn't turn. She raised the bucket, took the dipper from its hook, and drank it. Then she splashed the rest of the bucket over her hands, dried them on her habit, and went around the corner to the convent's entrance.

Hope blew out a lungful of air, gasping for more. Beside her, Rae quaked like a frostbite victim. "God, I thought we were busted."

Rae looked at the corner where Agatha had gone, as if she were afraid the woman would come storming back. She clutched at Hope's hand with a clammy palm.

"What do you suppose she was doing out there in the forest?"

"I don't know, and I don't want to know."

"I do. What if she's got a secret stash of food or something? Whatever it is, she's hiding it from all of you. Doesn't that make you the least bit curious?"

Rae shrugged. "I'm afraid of her. She's a m-murderer."

"You'll be safe as long as you're with me," said Hope. She wanted very much for that to be the truth.

The two young women followed the path which they'd seen Agatha take. It was a faint trail, one which couldn't be seen from the convent grounds unless one knew exactly where to look. It led through a part of the forest where the trees grew close and thick. Sticker bushes reached out, hungry to snag a careless swatch of fabric or unattended limb. Woody flowering vines crisscrossed the path like snares. Just when Hope was about to suggest they head back, she spotted the bright sunlight of a clearing ahead through the trees, and along with it she caught the sickly sweet scent of decaying flesh.

"Jesus," she whispered as they drew closer to the clearing and the stench grew unbearable. The odor made Hope's eyes stream and beside her, Rae retched and spat into the ferns along the path.

They emerged into a clearing alive with insects humming and birds singing cheerful songs as they stripped away the soft tissues from a dozen hanged nuns. The bodies swung to and fro in the gentle breeze and their habits flapped like sails. Most of the victims had their own trees, but one titan supported three dead women from its branches. Rae bent over and vomited. Hope would have, had her body not been so keen to hold onto any and all nutrients for the pregnancy. Instead, she looked at the dead women in their varying states of decay. Three of them had died recently: the two women missing from the night before and the nun who'd spoken to Hope in the dining room only an hour before. Urine and feces still dripped from beneath her habit into a puddle below her body, and her purple tongue lolled out of her mouth.

"Oh my God," whispered Hope. She smelled Rae's sour breath and that accomplished what the stench of a dozen dead bodies hadn't managed. She vomited the mouthfuls of gruel she'd taken at breakfast, and then she and Rae clutched at each other for support. "They come here to kill themselves."

"No," said Rae. "It's Agatha. Maybe they come here to die, but look. They're not hanging themselves. There's nothing to stand on. Someone has to raise them up. It's Agatha."

"She's killing them?"

"She's saving their souls." Rae gasped for breath. "Agatha's was forfeit when she killed Catherine. This way they can die saved. She's taking on the sin of murder so they can go to heaven. Dear God, what has she done? What have they done?"

"She's a monster. She's going to kill all of you in the convent. Every last one."

"It's horrible."

"She's horrible. We have to go back and tell the others."

"But what can we do?"

Hope felt her face grow tight. "Kill her."

"But… our souls…"

"Look, I don't know anything about souls, but a kind God wouldn't be very pleased with a nun killing His devoted servants just so she can eat a little longer." Hope grimaced. "I'd do it if I still had a gun. This is an awful thing she's doing."

"Maybe if we told everyone else, they'd just make her leave."

"You think you can make Agatha do anything? She's gone batshit crazy, Rae. Normal, sane people don't do this."

Rae cast her eyes downward. "No."

"It's not safe at the convent anymore. If we can't stop Agatha, we'd better just leave."

"But where would we go? The world isn't there anymore."

"Some of it is," said Hope.

Rae looked up at her, a struggle playing across her face. "I won't kill Agatha. I can't do that. And I don't want you to either. We'll tell the others and decide as a group what to do."

Hope nodded. "Okay." They hurried back down the path toward the convent.

As they left the grove behind them, it seemed less and less real to Hope, as if it were a poorly-remembered movie. But then she saw the haunted expression on Rae's face and knew she hadn't dreamed any of it. There were a dozen dead women behind them, and a dozen more dying back in the convent.

As they emerged from the forest, Agatha stepped out of the lilac bushes beside the well—the exact same spot where they'd hidden from her.

"Thought I saw the two of you sneaking around," she said. She was fuming mad underneath her habit and wimple

In her hands, she held the Shepherds' pistol, pointed at Hope.