The Fallen and the Elect

by Jerry J. K. Rogers

  Chapter 15

  Michael wondered how he’d ended up in the backseat with Father Hernandez. Maybe it was modern day chivalry. Sister Justine did have a smaller frame, and both men had relinquished the front passenger seat of the small VW Pointer to give her more room. Protocol for the day could easily call for the Sister to be acquiescent to the Father, given that he was theoretically one level closer to the Holy Father. As Michael couldn't care less about who was higher on the spiritual totem pole anymore, and hadn’t thought about it for nearly ten years, he thought to himself that there were other reasons for being accommodating to Sister Justine, primarily to show that he still possessed a semblance of manners. However, Sister Justine didn’t care about Michael’s standoffish attitude and dismissed it as a reflection of him being ten years consumed by the world.

  Every jarring bump refocused Michael on the rough car trip to Our Lady of Hope. The road was in considerable disrepair with uneven pavement, potholes, and other roadway imperfections transmitted in each jolt by what was a lack of any working shock absorbers in the shuddering, worn-out car. The driver, Jose, was the only one not concerned with the discomfort of the ride. Michael didn't recall the trip being this rough during their previous visit. Sister Justine mentioned that it had been considerably smoother. Father Hernandez silently wanted the hour-long trip to end. The unchanging view of the empty land, semi-dry grass, and mountains protruding far in the background of the horizon didn’t take away his indifference about the uncomfortable ride. Silent praying would help to pass the time.

  Driving through town, there were a few scattered trees, their foliage sparse. The towered parapets of the church were the only visible structures larger than all the single-story homes, small shops, and two-story dwellings and apartments. These beige-toned, weathered, adobe-and-brick structures blended with the earth; it was as if many of the buildings grew from planted seeds and had sprouted straight up from the ground. The streets were deteriorating and crumbling along the edges. They were however, in somewhat better condition than the highway road.

  As they arrived at the church, children played across the street in the small semblance of a park consisting of a few aged trees, patches of grass and shrubbery, a few wooden benches, a slide, and a swing set with two of the three swing seats broken. On one of the benches, set within an alcove of overgrown hedges, a burgeoning overweight elderly man was feeding scraps of meat to a three-legged beagle who hobbled to the pieces tossed on the ground.

  The church structure now had plywood planks where once there were windows. The cracks in the small set of stairs leading to the main doors sprouted grass and weeds, the building itself was structurally sound. Jose drove around the rear of the edifice to where a wooden fence bordered what once had been the gardens, outside terrace, and patio that formed a mini-fortress around access to the rear door. They exited the car and worked their way through knee-high dry grass and brush. The rear door, like the front entrance, was the only other opening not boarded over.

  Jose pulled a clump of different-sized keys from his pocket, some brass in color, some silver, a couple copper; one of the copper keys unlocked the door. Inside was a short hallway and an odor of moldy and stagnant air. The four viewed a doorway into a kitchen area just to the right of the entrance. Sister Justine noted a small stack of dusty plates on one side of the sink. She could have sworn they were in the same position as when she and Michael had last come through.

  “Father, Sister, what you looking for?” Jose asked in hesitant English, ignoring Michael.

  “We don't quite know yet,” Father Hernandez answered.

  Penetrating deeper into the building, the three began searching for anything unique, out of the ordinary, or relevant to their investigation. Michael and Sister Justine, now having more time than in their first visit, both considered that they still might not find anything relevant. The rear areas of the kitchen, two small office areas, a storage room, and a small meeting room all showed the same signs of abandonment already encountered throughout the church. A couple of the rooms displayed evidence of someone who had been bold enough to attempt and straighten up furniture, books, and knickknacks after the site was thought cursed by God. As expected, the sanctuary pews and dusty rows of dark-stained benches displayed being unused during the last decade. They found nothing of interest. Father Hernandez was becoming frustrated in his hope of finding anything to substantiate the indicators that had led to Our Lady of Hope. At first he reasoned he was tasked just to follow up, knowing nothing else would be found of spiritual significance. This would be so that the Church hierarchy could say they did their due diligence looking into the affair. However, the strange pattern from the layout of the deceased bodies and the reported televised visitation was more interesting than he once considered. The elation of finding the two distinct earlier clues in Los Angeles had encouraged him to think something more could be found.

  The church visit turned out to be a letdown; Michael progressed to considering the trip more of a free vacation, although he did enjoy spending time again with Justine. It was Sister Justine, the most pragmatic of the three, dedicating full effort to the investigation. Pulling random hymnals and Bibles from the holders placed neatly behind the pews, blowing off dust and sneezing occasionally, she flipped through numerous pages for the doodles, scribbling, and notes written in Spanish, periodically asking Father Hernandez to ensure she translated correctly. Nothing showed any indications of an angel visit or of the fatal event in the church.

  Father Hernandez observed her skimming through a hymnal and then returning its holder. “You think there may actually be something of importance in the hymnals or Bibles, Sister?”

  Sister Justine took thought it likely that no one else had analyzed the books. “It’s possible, then again, who knows if they were scrutinized when they straightened up in here.”

  “Are you saying it’s not the same as when you both were down here last?”

  Michael and Sister Justine glanced at each other. Michael commented first. “Come to think of it, we didn’t get a chance to fully look at everything the first time. I do remember that when they did allow us in, it wasn’t as organized as we see it now. A lot more dust now though. Personal effects are gone and, you know what, some of the hymnals were out. Probably used for the funeral service that was going on at the time.”

  All three attacked the hymnals and Bibles, skimming the pages, hoping to find something relevant. After an hour, nothing; both Father Hernandez and Sister Justine were disappointed, the Father feeling like he’d been punched in the stomach. Michael couldn’t care less.

  “So where do we go from here?” Father Hernandez asked disheartened, as he and Sister Justine huddled in one of the middle pews.

  All three heard a small thudding knock at the main entrance of the sanctuary.

  “Could that be Jose outside?” Sister Justine asked, quizzing her two companions.

  Jose, walking in from the rear offices into the sanctuary asked, “Could be Jose, how?” After spending a couple of hours just sitting around in the back bored, he hoped the three were ready to leave.

  Another small thud came from the front door. All four rushed to the front entrance of the church with Jose fumbling to grab the keys in his pocket. When he swung the door open, a small rubber ball bounced through the opening, almost hitting Jose in the chest. Outside the opened door, two small boys looking to be 8 or 9 years old, stood frozen with their mouths wide open. Startled to see the door open as they were bouncing a ball against it, they were horrified to see four figures emerging from the darkened doorway. Running away from the church down the street, the boys frantically yelled “espíritus malignos, espíritus malignos” in soprano voices.

  “What the hell are they yelling about?” Michael asked wanting to verify he fully comprehended what the boys were saying.

  “I think ‘evil spirits,’” Father Hernandez answered.

  �
��Sí, that’s what they say,” Jose added.

  “Great,” Michael commented. “This ought to be fun. I thought that’s what they were saying.”

  It was Sister Justine who gathered the attention of the three men and focused on a middle-aged Hispanic woman who was now sitting on the bench previously occupied by the man and his pet beagle. The woman adjusted the shawl on her silver-streaked coal-colored hair and waved for the four to come over.

  “Jose, go ahead and lock up the church. I think we’ve done enough looking today. And please bring the car around,” Father Hernandez politely directed, keeping his eyes on the woman in the park.

  “Sí, Padre,” Jose responded.

  Michael, as he walked across the street, wasn’t sure why the woman appeared out of place. She was dressed in clothing similar to other residents in the town but the dress and shawl appeared to have been intentionally “distressed” to look shabby and weatherworn. Getting a closer look at her features, she appeared middle aged with a tanned olive complexion, and a small mole residing her right eye.

  “Podemos ayudarle señora?” Father Hernandez asked, wondering if the woman needed help.

  She responded in near-flawless English sprinkled with a mild accent: “As usual, my father was right. It’s been ten years and he knew those who came before to investigate what happened in the church would return.”

  “Excuse me, but do we know you?” Sister Justine asked.

  “My name is Ashere, and no, you do not know me; nevertheless, my father knows you. He watched the two of you when you were last down here.”

  “Well, may we meet your father?” Father Hernandez asked.

  “Oh, my father left here quite a while ago. He did want me to pass on to you that, even though you won’t find what you’re looking for here in town, you should not give up. You’ll find what you’re looking for not long from now.”

  “And just what in the hell are we looking for?” Michael asked.

  Ashere smiled, “Why, the angels and why what has happened here also happened in Los Angeles.”

  “What do you know about the angels?” Father Hernandez asked with a firm force the other two hadn’t noticed from him except during previous tauntings by Michael.

  “Only what my father has told me.”

  “And who is your father?”

  “The most religious are the most blind,” Ashere responded, then snapped her head to the right. Michael, Sister Justine, and Father Hernandez reflexively followed suit, turning to see the two boys who were earlier playing and scared away from the church now at the far edge of the park dragging two adult males by their hands. Both men appeared reluctant to be towed along. The three could hear the boys, still frantic, speaking fast, and pointing to Father Hernandez, Sister Justine, and Michael saying repeatedly in essence: See, there they are! The evil spirits, they’re over there!

  Sister Justine focused her attention away from the boys back to the park bench but it was empty. “Where’d she go?”

  The other two turned back, astonished to see the empty bench.

  “Where the hell is she?” Michael asked.

  They scanned the fractured, cracked, and pitted sidewalks of the park but Ashere was nowhere in view.

  Father Hernandez went to engage the two men dragged by the boys. After seeing the Father’s Roman collar, listening to his explanation for being in the deserted church, and then gently scolding the children, both men seemed satisfied. Father Hernandez took the opportunity to ask if they’d seen or knew of a woman with Ashere’s description. One of the men said he didn’t recall a woman with that name or even such a female living in the town. He then explained, seeming excited that he had someone new to talk to, that the little community was close. In the past, social life centered on the church, but since the deaths over ten years ago, many of the town’s residents moved away. During the last five to six years, the small town was coming back to life, due in part to the reopening of a reputed clinic and small research lab in the nearby badlands. The church remained closed, still considered cursed.

  The men returned to their previous endeavors, and it was at this time the three observed Jose’s deteriorating vehicle pulling up next to the park. They decided to head back to Aguascalientes.