The Fallen and the Elect
Page 10
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“I'd like to order the free-range chicken salad with organic tomatoes and lettuce,” Sister Justine requested of the server at the counter.
“Organic?” Michael snickered. “It kills me when someone says ‘organic’. Aren't tomatoes and lettuce organic by their very nature? It's not like you're eating inorganic tomatoes or lettuce made out of Styrofoam or cardboard.”
“You know Michael, you can be a real...patootie sometimes.” Sister Justine’s scolding of Michael caught Father Hernandez off guard.
“Patootie?” Michael responded while chuckling.
“I've dedicated myself not to curse.”
“Just say that I can be a real ass. I don't think God is going come and strike you down just because of a word. Just say what you're thinking. Just because it sounds sterile doesn't mean the words you use are going to change your intent or meaning. Different word, it’s still the same meaning. Better yet, butthole would’ve been better or, hey, even asshole. But patootie, might as well say rear end or gluteus maximus. Maybe patootie is more colorful though for a nun.”
“Michael, just shut up already.” Sister Justine snapped, focusing her attention back on the deli clerk, who showed approval of her comment to Michael, astounded someone would talk to a nun in a mocking manner. Completing her order, Sister Justine grabbed her orange plastic tray with a diet Pepsi and bag of kettle chips, and found an empty table outside on the patio. After placing their orders, Michael and Father Hernandez followed.
“So you gotta tell me, is this one of the best delis you’ve ever been to?” Michael asked, quizzing his two religious companions. Both were halfway through consuming their lunch platter. All three had pretty much kept quiet during the meal.
“I must admit it's not bad at all,” Sister Justine forced herself to answer, forgiving Michael for the earlier incident.
Father Hernandez nodded in agreement, his mouth still full.
As soon as Michael was ready to take another bite, a squeaky voice caught the attention of the three. “Excuse me professor.”
Standing by the table was a petite, sandy-blonde hair college student carrying several books. Numerous flower tattoos covered her right arm. Her hair was tied in a loose bun stabbed with several pens and pencils. “Will there be a quiz this Friday?” she asked, her eyes darting rapidly between the other occupants at the table. Sister Justine sensed a brief piercing gaze when she was the focus.
“Which class are you in hun?”
“Introduction to World Religions,” the student replied, centering her attention back to Michael.
“Oh, and did I mention that there was going to be a quiz this Friday?”
“No, but it was on the syllabus.”
“And have I been following the syllabus up to this point in the class?”
“Well, yes.”
“What's your name?”
“Alicia.”
“Then there's a good chance, Alicia, that there'll be a quiz this Friday,” Michael noted in a caustic tone.
“Thank you professor,” Alicia responded, somewhat perturbed.
“By the way Alicia, what's that about anyway?” Michael asked pointing and waving his finger in a haphazard pattern at Alicia's hair bun.
“I don't understand professor?”
“Your hair? Utility or fashion statement?”
Alicia reacted to Michael's question with a quizzical look.
“The pens and pencils in your hair. Are they there as a fashion statement or are you using your hair as a pen holder?”
“Oh.” Alicia smiled. “Both.”
“Well it looks silly.”
Her smile converted to a tiny frown. Alicia turned and walked away appearing hurt. Father Hernandez thought to himself that he might not be the only target of Michael's abrasiveness. It seemed to be one of his attributes. Sister Justine didn’t remember Michael being this sardonic. She dismissed the exchange and continued eating.
“OK Mr. Saunders,” Father Hernandez began to comment before being interrupted by Michael.
“Michael, just call me Michael.”
“So Michael, let's talk about this angel situation,” Father Hernandez continued.
“Yes, let's talk about angels. Ever wonder about angels, I mean if they got wings, do you think they fly around up above spiritually pissing on us?” He questioned with a wry smile.
Father Hernandez and Sister Justine both gave Michael a piercing look. Michael knew his comments were on target. He already knew of Sister Justine's background and her sincerity and wanted to know the seriousness of Father Hernandez.
“Look Michael, we'd like to discuss this. It could help us out quite a bit.”
“You know, if that snake boss of yours hadn't stolen my notes and research documentation, I could give you quite a bit.”
“Michael,” Sister Justine interjected, “he didn't steal your notes and information.”
“So says his cheering section. Anyway, what do you want to know about these alleged visits?”
Father Hernandez began, “I do know that they started about ten years ago. According to the sighting information collected by the Vatican, the first one was in France. If I remember correctly, it was right after the worldwide disappearance.”
“Yeah right,” Michael responded somewhat snidely.
“Why do I have the feeling you're gonna tell me that's not the case?”
“You’d be correct. The first supposed event was almost a week prior to the mass disappearance. It was in a small church located outside of Aguascalientes, Mexico.”
“What? Why didn’t any of the Church leadership mention this?”
“The church sent two individuals down to examine what happened but decided to keep it quiet.”
“What did happen?” Father Hernandez asked, noticing that Sister Justine continued to eat as if oblivious to the conversation.
“How many died the other day at the funeral home?” Michael continued.
“They think 98.”
“Let's just say that almost half that many died down in Mexico.”
“You mean this happened before?”
“Yep.”
“Wait a minute, who were the two who investigated what happened down in Mexico?”
Michael smirked. Sister Justine stopped eating to give the Father a look that was both stoic and sympathetic.
“You two?” Father Hernandez continued. “Why didn’t you mention this before Sister? Or the Church?”
“You're probably going to find out there's a lot she hasn't mentioned yet, and probably because our friend the bishop told her not to until the right time.”
“Sister?” Father Hernandez asked.
Sister Justine remained quiet for a minute before responding. “We thought it'd be best to wait and introduce things incrementally, to help you absorb the magnitude of what's happening.”
“Incrementally? I don't see why the Bishop couldn't have mentioned this when he came to visit me.”
“I never try to understand why he does things the way he does,” Sister Justine commented.
“Well, what else don't I know? What exactly happened down in Mexico?”
Michael sat back in his chair with his arms folded and a large grin on his face. “Go ahead Justine, tell him. Hell, I can't remember since my notes are gone.”
Sister Justine capitulated. “Well, at the parish outside of Aguascalientes, 46 were found dead inside the church after a funeral service. We went down to investigate for Rome. They didn't want anyone with too high a profile in the Church going down and making it seem like something out of the ordinary happened. We got there a couple of days after the event. The Federales wouldn't let us in the church though. We came to find out that the locals felt God put a curse on the place. They hadn't even removed the bodies. Many of the local doctors and clinics in the area had quarantined the church and town fearing a virus outbreak of some sort. Of course, no one has e
ver heard of anything killing that many that fast. Those who found the bodies weren’t infected. Didn’t seem like there was any sort of biological event. Even stranger was that they mentioned they couldn’t even smell the rotting bodies. It was as if everything in the church was masked by an extremely sweet smell. When an international team arrived and conducted their first investigation, they believed there was a viral outbreak. They felt the immediate quarantine had helped contain any further infections.”
“Was there a virus?”
“No one knows. If there was, medical staff and responders at the time were surprised at how fast and lethal it was. Through all of that, there was only one survivor who reportedly been in the church at the time of the event.”
“A survivor?”
“Yeah. He was quarantined in one of the local clinics with those who went into the church and discovered the bodies. He was even isolated and kept under watch by the local gendarme. Those in town who talked to him said he mentioned he’d seen an angel before passing out and going blind. And guess what he said the angel's name was?”
“Abriel?”
“Everyone thought he’d gone mad since he started talking about angels.”
“And he went blind? What happened?”
“Once again, no one knows. Doctors couldn't find anything wrong, the same as to the only witness to what's happened here in town, Stephen Williams.”
“Did you get a chance to talk to him?”
“We did, but our time with him was limited. He told us everything he could recall. We even got a chance to see the church where the incident occurred. Afterward, we were called back to the States and arrangements were to be made for him to come up and talk to us and others in the Church.”
“Well, what happened?”
“He was one of the ones who went missing during the worldwide mass disappearance.”
Michael got up to empty his tray into the trash can and returned to his seat as Sister Justine continued to explain the events in Mexico. He was amazed at how much she remembered. Much of it he’d tried to put out of his mind.
“And when did all of this happen again?” Father Hernandez continued with his querying.
“Over ten years ago a week before the mass disappearance.”
A thought flashed into Father Hernandez's mind. “And Bishop Grielle doesn't think it was a biological event then or now does he Sister? He thinks there's some sort of connection doesn't he?”
“We don't know. Back then, we never came to a definitive conclusion as to what happened. That's why, when Michael is done with his class today, we're going to come back and pick him up and we're going to head over and talk to the survivor. Then sometime over the next couple of days we’re gonna head over to the funeral home.”
“What?” both men responded.