Paradise Lost (cont.)
September 7th, 2015
The banging of the zombie at the door was rather evident that morning. The survivors all sat silently in the pews, horrified it might get in.
"I've killed a couple of them before. I think I can get rid of this one too."
Magdalene did not face Franklin, only lowered her head in a strict calmness. "Mother Wolfe said not to bother it."
"But it could attract more of them!"
Magdalene raised herself from her pew and walked away, only reminding Franklin, "By staying here, you agreed to listen to Mother Wolfe. Don't forget that." When she reached the hallway, she rubbed one of her eyes, wanting to go back and apologize; but the monastery could not handle any more chaos. She doubted she herself could either.
September 8th, 2015
"I don't think Mother Wolfe is grasping the danger of the situation," Sister Conner whispered, lantern in hand as she patrolled the halls.
"Don't say that." These words were as blunt as they were bitter coming from Magdalene's mouth.
"You agree with me, don't you?"
As true as Sister Conner's words were, Magdalene took it as a punch to the ribs. She halted their walk, turned, and said, "I-." She was interrupted by the shattering of the window next to them. Luckily, the wooden planks that boarded up the inside of the window prevented anything from coming in. Bang! Bang! The zombie had begun to pound on the planks themselves now. The nuns backed away and bore their masks of fierceness, as they had done for the past week. Though, it did little to hide the trembling in their hands.
Sister Conner raised her lantern and gulped at the sight: the nuns could see, through the crack of the planks, a blood-shot eye and an empty eye socket next to it.
"We should wake Mother Wolfe," Magdalene mumbled, awestruck by the zombie's missing eye.
"I doubt it will do any good."
September 11th, 2015
Magdalene awoke in the early morning, though not necessarily eager to start the day. As usual, she navigated the halls toward the Parish, with the sound of banging and moaning overshadowing the echoes of her footsteps. She was quite startled, though, at the sound of a loud and meticulous banging coming from around one of the corners, as if whatever was producing the noise was inside the monastery. Sweat trickled down her nose as she reached into her robe, her fingers fiddling with the handle of the kitchen knife she'd stolen. She placed her other hand on the wall as she tiptoed toward the corner. The rest of her body was still - Magdalene didn't even realize she was holding her breath. The only thing on her mind was the moment she dreaded: she would have to kill one of them. Then, she bent her head forward and peeked to see it...
Instead, Magdalene was met with the sight of one of the nuns banging on a door. "Sister Aspin?"
Sister Aspin, the youngest nun of the monastery, jumped, "Oh! Sister Seuss, I didn't even see you there!"
Magdalene let go of the knife in her robe and came fully around the corner. "What're you doing?" Her face told the story of someone very irritated.
"It's sister Donald. She won't come out of her room."
Magdalene stepped forward, forcing Sister Aspin out of the way. She tapped her knuckles against the door. Tap! Tap! Tap! Then, with a matter-of-a-fact tone, said, "Sister Donald, you have to come out. The survivors are depending on us to care for them."
Sister Donald's voice rang out from behind the wooden door. "They won't depend on us when those things get in!”
"Have faith."
"FAITH!? Corpses are walking around eating people! God is-!"
Placing her ears on the door, Magdalene made out Sister Donald's quiet sobs. She backed away and advised Sister Aspin, "Let her be."
Later, in the parish, many of the survivors had just awoken. The nuns, save for Sister Donald and Mother Wolfe, were scattered about and handing out food. Most of the food came from a national guard crate that a couple of survivors had brought with them. That crate had also contained weapons, though, Mother Wolfe had them disposed of them.The survivors who'd brought the crate objected of course, but they'd decided the safety of the monastery was more important than the guns. Now, they were regretting it. More so because the crate as well as the monastery's kitchen were running low, forcing the nuns to ration what they had left.
"Sister Seuss, I don't understand," Franklin whimpered, just an apple and two small bread rolls in hand.
"We have to make our food last. You know that."
"Last until what? Until we're in the stomachs of a corpse?" He began to tear up, much to Magdalene's dismay. "How can I feed my family with just this?"
The nun tried to stare him down, but his tears made it impossible. She subtly handed him another apple and bread roll, warning, "Don't tell anyone."
"Thank you, sister." He took his bounty and started for his daughters. Magdalene paid a glance toward Sister Conner at the other end of the room: she was also giving extra food. To everyone.
September 13th, 2015
Mother Wolfe slammed her fists against the door, the nuns standing around her. "Sister Donald, It's been two days! Please, come out!" Silence. Mother Wolfe backed away from the door and gave Sister Schroeder a nod. Sister Schroeder, a middle aged woman and ex-convict, stepped forward, bent down, and started to play with the door's lock using a bobby pin. Click! She stepped back and let Mother Wolfe take the lead, with the other nuns right behind her.
There she was: Sister Donald, with her body hanging from the ceiling and a thick rope coiled around her neck. Her face was cold and bloated, though, the smell wasn't quite noticeable. Most of the nuns bowed their heads in grief and pain, but Magdalene and Sister Conner both clenched their fists, outraged this had happened. Even so, they kept silent. The nuns all formed a cross on their chests, left the room, and closed the door. Nothing else was done about it.
