The Bells of Saint Mercy

Chapter 2

Jack caught her wrist and pulled her back before she could rescue her cup of coffee going colder every minute.

"What was that?" he asked. "We had a plan."

Their parents had barely made it out the front door, tires still crunching down the driveway. The house was quiet again, heavy with the kind of silence that belonged only to teenagers left unchaperoned during summer.

Sam turned to face him.

Sunlight caught in his hair from the kitchen window. He still looked so young.

Her hand reached out and brushed her fingers across his cheek, where a scar from climbing through a broken window of a*****e would go. Her thumb stroked under his eyes, which weren't sunken in from starvation anymore. Untouched by future horrors.

He leaned into her hand, watching her worriedly.

That look alone nearly broke her.

She didn't answer his question.

She pulled him to her and kissed him.

Not the shy, secret kisses of their youth.

Wrapping her arms tightly around him, she kissed him until his lips parted for her.

And then she kissed him, kissed him with the ten years of loving him.

Deepening the kiss enough to make up for the ruined houses they had camped in and freezing winters.

Every time, he would split an apple and give her the bigger half.

This was for every goodbye kiss she would never get.

Jack moaned against her mouth as his arms slipped around her.

When she finally pulled back, he looked completely wrecked.

"Okay," he said, breathless. "So apparently the plan is still on."

His hands settled at her waist.

"I stay. We tell them we're together now. Today. We scandalize the neighborhood. Very dramatic."

Sam wanted to laugh.

Instead, her throat burned, and her face fell.

"No, J."

The words felt like breaking her own ribs.

"You have to go."

His smile faded.

"Go where?"

"Military school. The acceptance letter. You have to go."

Now he was staring blankly at her as if she had slapped him.

"Did I do something, sis?"

And there it was.

The question that hurt most.

Sam looked at him, at the boy she had already loved through the end of the world.

At the man who had walked out to meet death with her.

At the person she had reached for in her sleep before she even opened her eyes.

Tears burned behind her eyes.

She swallowed hard.

"We're not really brother and sister," she said, sliding her arms away from him.

"We've only been step-siblings for a few years."

His expression shifted to a youthful defiance she had missed seeing for years.

"Would your brother do this?"

He leaned down and kissed the tip of her nose.

The same stupid kiss.

The same one he gave before they walked out the gate and, in his overly confident way, said:

"We got this."

Her fingers clenched in his shirt.

And suddenly she was crying.

"You left me."

The words came out small.

Broken.

Terrible.

Jack's whole face changed.

"Hey," he said softly.

He pulled her into him, arms tight around her.

"Hey. I'm right here."

She buried her face in his chest and hated how much his arms still felt like home.

"I'm not leaving you," he murmured into her hair as his hand rubbed slowly over her back.

"Yes," she whispered. "You have to."

He pulled back enough to look at her.

"Sam... what happened?"

She couldn't say zombies.

Couldn't say, feeders.

Couldn't say I watched the world end and buried everyone I loved.

So she said:

"There's going to be a pandemic."

He frowned.

She told him about emergency supplies.

Water purification.

Evacuation routes.

Medical kits.

Food storage.

Backup generators.

The words poured out faster and faster until even she sounded unhinged.

Jack just stared at her.

Concern is slowly replacing confusion.

She talked as if she had said enough practical things; he might miss the madness underneath.

Jack listened to words that made no sense to a teenager.

And when she finally ran out of words, he just held her tighter.

"I'm sorry about the nightmare," he said quietly.

His mouth brushed her temple.

"Tonight I'll sneak into your room so you don't have to dream alone."

His words hit her; she had no idea how to save someone who still believed the world was safe.

"Come to Robert's pool party with me. Let me introduce you as my girlfriend."

Sam stepped out of his arms and shook her head.

"No, J, we can't do that."

Jack's face flickered between hurt and anger as he gestures between them. "You act like you want to jump my bones and then go ice cold."

Even when he turns away and begins to walk away, she can hear the hurt she has caused. "Make up your mind."

The front door slammed.

Sam stood alone in the kitchen for a long moment before reaching for the mug of cold coffee.

She sighs as the precious liquid slides past her tongue. The last time she had gone to the party.

They had gotten caught kissing, and Robert's parents had called their parents.

It had pushed her stepfather over his limits, and he had almost dragged Jack to the airport that minute.

She had begged her stepfather to let him stay, promising it had been just a silly dare.

That night was the first time her stepfather came into her room after everyone was asleep.

The coffee suddenly tasted very bitter, and she set it down. She stared at the dark swirl inside the mug as nausea rolled through her stomach. This time, Matt Kirk would never touch her again.

A few hours later, Sam stood at the entrance of Saint Mercy's.

She had cast out all the silly nonsense of teen style that morning and was now in a pair of thick jeans she had been horrified to be seen in when she was 18, and the black t-shirt that had made it through most of the apocalypse.

The old massive convent rose above the hill in weathered red brick and tall arched windows, its bell tower felt unreal against the summer sky.

For over a hundred years, Saint Mercy's had watched the town grow around it.

Most people now just call it too expensive to save.

She was there with her college-ruled notebook and pen, taking notes for her summer internship at the local library. She had been tasked with creating a web post about it to get the word out.

"I am Sister Agnes." The older woman approached with a ring of old brass keys hanging from her waist, held out her hand, offered it warmly, assessed Sam's style choice, and seemed pleased at the lack of skin showing.

"I am surprised you showed up. Most teens would be out having fun with friends instead of trying to save this beautiful building."

Sam tried to hide a cough of laughter at exactly what she had done last time.

Sister Agnes moved fast for an old lady, but Sam followed her up the huge stone steps and into the large double doors.

"This is the vestibule," the older lady said, looking over her shoulder with a twinkle in her eye as she saw Sam trying to figure out how to spell that. "It just means it's the entrance area. A place to sit and wait or a place to hang a coat."

Sam gave a grateful smile. Zombie hunting didn't give much time to expanding her vocabulary.

The next door opened to a huge space of Gothic arches and grand architecture. The pride was obvious in every word of sister Agnes. "This is the chapel, the private school used it as their eating hall, well, until the heating bills got too much, and they gave the whole thing to the city."

Sam stared at the lined paper in her arms, not looking up, as the memories of her and Jack sorting through charred remains in this very room for anything that they could trade for some food made her feel three shades of sick.

Sister Agnes moved off to a side door and opened it. Sam gratefully rushed through, trying to get away from the memory of roasted human flesh.

"This hall goes to the kitchen. We sisters used to make huge batches of food in there and would ring the bell to let those in need know there was food here."

The old hand rested on the door reverently as Sam looked at it, thinking that it would have been amazing during the zombie uprising. Agnes pushed the door open and led her inside. The kitchen was a mix of antiquated wood stoves, rusty new models, and even a huge fireplace that still held roasting equipment from who knew how long ago.

"I know to a young'un like you this might not be interesting, but this kitchen in my day could put out a thousand portions every meal."

The sight of the old nun's hand lovingly touching the giant work table in the middle caused a small shiver of devotion down her spine.

Sister Agnes opened the next door only long enough for Sam to glimpse steep stairs descending into the basement below.

"That goes down to the basement, where the old cold room for storage has been converted to classrooms."

Sam looked up, "What is a cold room?"

Sister Agnes laughed as her fingers brushed over the chain holding her keys. "Oh my dear, you do know how to make a nun feel old. A cold room is where we would store all the food. It's giant fridges that didn't need power." She turned and went back to the hall.

Sam sputtered and slipped trying to keep up. "It kept food cold without power?"

The smile was full of wrinkles, but the warmth was there when she saw the light of awe in Sam's eyes. "Yes, this building was built before there was electricity. Let me show you."

Over the next hour, Sister Agnes and Sam explored the old convent like two old friends searching for a lost treasure. Sister Agnes was delighted to show off the old wooden pocket shutters that went over every window to keep the cold out. She showed off the ingenious hot-water tanks built into the wood stoves and how the fireplaces worked with drying bars for clothes during the winter. Sam's notes weren't about how the building had old-world charm for an article; it was a list.

Cold food storage

Medical herb garden

Sniper perch

Lookout point

Refugee dorms

Winter survival

When they arrived in the greenhouse, Sam turned slowly.

Winter food.

Sam turned slowly beneath the greenhouse glass.

Fresh produce in February.

Medicine.

Seeds.

Sustainability.

The thought hit so hard she nearly stopped breathing.

This place could survive.

That nagging feeling from the kitchen had grown into something much larger.

"Sister Agnes... how much is the city selling it for?"

Sister Agnes wrapped her arms around Sam. "I knew it! You love this place as much as me."

Sam blinked down at the tiny nun in surprise.

"So how much?"

She was released from the hug and greeted with a warm sisterly smile, "Nothing. I mean, they are giving it away. The council already refused a casino proposal and voted down turning it into a homeless shelter." Her fingers were walking over the grow boxes. "Now, if this article could find a nice college or university that could swoop in, that would be perfect. They could afford the 12 million dollars needed to get it up and going again."

Sam felt her heart drop. The hopeful list just looked like wishes, and she shut the spiral notebook and tucked her pen into the metal swirls.

"Thanks for showing me, Sister Agnes."

"If you ever want another tour, I'll show you the old laundry room next time."

Sam walked away with the terrible feeling she had just seen humanity's best chance to survive... and already lost it.