Hope and Undead Elvis (15 page)

She considered. The noise in the brush wasn't repeated. Perhaps it was just an animal.

Perhaps it wasn't.

Heart pounding with fresh fear, Hope yanked her boots back on and grabbed her clothes. "Come on, Elvis, I think we need to get on the road."

"What is it?"

"I heard something in the woods."

"Might just be an animal."

"It's night time. Any animal out and about now is going to be hunting, and I'd rather not be dinner. Or worse." She pulled on her thong and skirt. The cool dampness made her shiver. She tried to look in every direction at once, her back to the driver's side door of The Way, while shrugging into the white Oxford. She didn't bother to button it, instead just tying the bottom together into a knot to hold the shirt around her waist. "Get in the car."

Fluttering black shadows rose from the trees around the lake to swirl overhead like leaves in a dust devil. Hope squealed in fear and started the car. "Elvis, get in the damn car! What are you doing?"

He was bent over the bed, tapping the fifty-five gallon drum. "It sounds awful empty, Li'l lady."

"I don't care how empty it is, we're leaving."

Hope revved the engine in impatience as Undead Elvis climbed into the passenger seat. As soon as he sat, she goosed the engine and popped the clutch. The Way squealed its tires and fishtailed as Hope fought the wheel. She looked in the rear view mirror and saw no sign of the black birds, although she knew in the darkness against the canopy of the forest she might not see them at all. Their only chance would be to outrun them.

"What are those birds doing, anyway?" she asked. Her eyes ached as she tried to see to the very edge of the headlights' glow. Trees whipped past on either side, making a repetitious
whuff
sound.

"I don't know, Li'l lady."

"Are they following us? Why do they keep turning up?"

"I don't know that either."

Hope glanced at the rear view mirror, wondering if she could spot any of the birds fluttering after them, but she couldn't see anything but darkness and the distant glow of the Righteous Flame's fireline. "Every time they come around, something bad—"

Before she could finish her sentence, a great antlered beast leaped out from the trees in front of the speeding car. Hope didn't even have time to shriek as they smashed into the noble animal.

Everything went dark for Hope.

Chapter Sixteen

Hope and Saint Mary's

Hope rose into consciousness at a measured pace, like an ascending diving bell. She had no clear memory of falling asleep, nor of the room she occupied. She lay on a soft bed with white sheets and a blue and white afghan. Pillows rested under her knees and head. She couldn't remember the last time she'd felt so comfortable.

She started to look around and learned that moving her head made her very dizzy, so she settled for moving only her eyes. The room seemed small but airy, with white walls and ceiling and solid wooden fixtures. A bas-relief of Christ on the Cross hung on the wall opposite her bed where her eyes would naturally fall upon it. She wondered where she was. Had she been dreaming? Vague, unsettling memories of the world ending and burning death lurked at the edges of her consciousness like a half-remembered dream.

Then she felt fluttering movement in her belly, and she gasped. She was pregnant! She remembered that much. Her hands flew to her stomach. Once it had been taut. Now it had a gentle swell. She marveled at the change and the feel of independent motion deep within herself.

Hope smiled, and tears rolled down her cheeks to soak her pillow. "It's alive," she whispered. "The baby's moving, Elvis."

Elvis? Why had she said that? She remembered a companion, a shadow beside her. He must have been the baby's father. But where was he? And where was she?

And why couldn't she remember?

A gasp and clatter of falling crockery startled Hope. She turned her head to look and the dizziness threatened to spill her right out of the world. A young woman in a light blue nun's habit stood in the doorway, her hands to her mouth as if holding in a shriek. An overturned tray lay at her feet where water from a fallen basin puddled.

Her senses reeling, Hope raised a hand toward the woman, who gathered up her skirt and fled. Hope could hear her calling out as she ran away, "Sister Agatha! Sister Agatha!"

That suggested to Hope that she was in a hospital of some sort, but her room was missing the traditional accessories like IV stands and electric monitors. Looking up, she also noted there weren't even any overhead lights. Maybe not a hospital.

"Oh shit," she said aloud as an idea overwhelmed her sense of decorum. "Am I in a convent?"

"Yes, child," said a voice. Hope looked over to see an old woman in a faded habit standing in the door. She had a kindly, wrinkled face but also the air of someone used to being obeyed without question. "Welcome to St. Mary's. How are you feeling?"

Hope laid back against the pillow and rested her hands across the new bulge of her belly. "Disoriented. And thirsty. And really, really hungry."

The old woman turned to the young nun who had first discovered Hope. She spoke in a loud voice with exaggerated enunciation. "Sister Rae, please bring some meal mush and water for our guest."

"Yes, Sister Agatha." The younger woman left again.

The word
mush
made Hope's appetite sharpen. She was starving, but not for that! She wanted a cheeseburger, and pasta, and she'd have gotten up and danced naked for ice cream. She'd never taken pregnancy cravings seriously until now. "What happened to me? How did I get here?" asked Hope.

"You don't remember?" Sister Agatha sat down on a stool beside Hope's bed and took her wrist with cool, strong fingers, checking her pulse.

Hope dug into the great black gap in her memory. "I remember swimming. I was swimming in the woods. And driving. Also in the woods." The fleeting memory escaped her once more and she shook her head. "That's all, and it's not very clear. The last thing I remember..." She sighed. "I'm sorry, I guess I don't remember anything really."

"What's your name, child?"

"Hope. Hope… um, just Hope, I guess."

"Hope is a lovely name. I'm sorry to tell you that you were in a car accident. A noisy one, for we heard it here during devotions."

"An accident?" Hope held her belly with both hands, afraid for her unborn child. "But… my baby."

Sister Agatha's eyes wrinkled as she smiled. "As far as we can tell, your baby is fine. We've been much more worried about you."

"Me? Am I hurt bad?"

"Not now," said Agatha. "But you were." Sister Rae returned to the room with a bowl of porridge and a clay mug of water on a tray. She set it across Hope's lap and brushed her fingers across the back of Hope's hand, as if to verify she was real.

"But I don't feel hurt…" Hope clutched at Agatha's hand in fear. "How long have I been here?"

"Three months, child."

Hope gasped. Three months! Memories flooded in upon her as her brain unlocked moment after moment. The world ended. Gabrial. Asher. Mercy. The car crashing into the deer and the world tumbling around and around and pain everywhere. And through it all had been…

"Was… was there anyone with me? In the car, I mean."

"No, child. We didn't find anyone else. We were lucky to even get you out, for your car was on its roof and half collapsed. Fortunately, Sister Rae was able to cut your seat belt and pull you free." Agatha lowered her voice. "Were you alone?"

Hope swallowed. She couldn't tell this woman the truth. "Y-yes. I must have been. I don't remember anyone else." Just the same, she knew she had to find out for herself. Undead Elvis was already dead; he couldn't have died in a stupid car accident, could he? Not after everything they'd already been through.

Maybe he went on to Graceland without her.

Tears threatened to start again at the idea of being abandoned, but the baby moved and Hope's sense of desperation transformed into inspiration. She hadn't been abandoned; she still had her baby—the closest companion she could ever want. She picked up her spoon with a shaky hand unused to activity after three months and took a careful mouthful of porridge.

"We're happy you've awakened," said Sister Agatha. "It pleases me to know that in this time of great trouble, God still works miracles."

Hope finished her porridge. It tasted familiar. She suspected it was what she'd been fed while comatose. "Maybe so," she said. She felt a familiar pressure in her bladder. "Um, where's the bathroom?"

"I fear we're rather primitive here," said Sister Agatha. "No electricity, no running water. Sister Rae will show you the outhouse and well. Is there anything else you need at this time?" The tone of finality in her voice suggested that the only suitable answer would be negative.

"No," said Hope.

"You may stay as long as you like. We don't have much here, but you're welcome to share with us. After you've attended to yourself, I'd be pleased to have you visit me in my office. I have some questions for you. Sister Rae can bring you." Sister Agatha left the room at a brisk pace, as if she had other, far more important duties to tend to.

Sister Rae smiled at Hope. Her general demeanor was one of nervous concern as she held out a simple robe. "I'll wait outside while you change."

"That's not necessary." Hope slipped her legs out from under the covers. She noticed the length of her leg hair and clicked her tongue. She'd been fired for less at some clubs. "You don't have a razor, do you? I feel like a fu—a gorilla here."

"I'm sorry," said Rae. "What? You have to speak clearly. I can read lips but my hearing aid batteries died a month ago."

"Oh. I'm sorry, I didn't know."

Rae smiled with a genuine honesty Hope hadn't see in Agatha. "It's all right. It doesn't mean I can't still do The Lord's work."

"Well, right now, I think the Lord really wants me to go visit your outhouse."

"This way. Take my arm if you feel unsteady."

Hope slipped her arm into Rae's. The nun felt bony and thin beneath her habit. Hope noticed how sunken the young woman's cheeks were, and the way her skin had drawn tight around her lips and eyes. "Rae," she said in a soft voice, head turned so the nun could see it. "How long has it been since you've eaten?"

"We eat every day." Rae cast her eyes downward. "There just isn't very much. Two of the Sisters took the station wagon with our jellies and crafts to town, like they do every month, and would come back with groceries. Only this time, they didn't."

Hope shivered, imagining the Sisters running across the Righteous Flame. She sniffed the air as they left the convent for the nearby outhouse, but couldn't detect any hint of smoke on the chill breeze. "It's colder," she said. "It was still summer when I… you know."

"Winter's coming, and I don't know what we're going to do." Rae squeezed Hope's hand. "We're twenty miles from town and we don't have a car or a phone. The sheriff used to check on us once a week, but we haven't seen him in months. I don't know what we're going to do. Sister Agatha has a cell phone for emergencies, but we're out of batteries."

Rae sniffled a little and Hope's heart went out to her. She hugged the young nun, careful of her new, swollen belly. Perhaps her mothering instincts had grown as well during the three months she'd slept. "I'll do what I can to help," she said. "But if I don't use your outhouse right now, I'm going to pee myself right here."

Rae nodded and released Hope, who dashed into the outhouse and let it all go. She batted at the fall flies buzzing around in the tiny shack and sighed with contentment as she scratched at her scalp. Her hair had grown during her coma and completed the transformation from merely unkempt to full-on mop top. Once finished, she used a single square of toilet paper, because she didn't want to take any more than that away from the women who'd shown her such kindness.

"I feel better," she said to Rae upon emerging from the outhouse. "I'd always heard being pregnant makes you have to go more, but I had no idea."

The young nun gave her a brave smile. "Do you know if you're having a boy or girl?"

"I don't. Maybe someday I'll find an ultrasound technician, but until then, it's a mystery."

"Sister Agatha says God loves mysteries, and we shouldn't ask about them."

"You don't think it's a good idea to ask questions?"

Rae shook her head. "No. What if the answers aren't what they should be?"

"What do you mean? Answers are answers."

"Not all answers are right in God's eyes." Rae cast her eyes downward. "Sister Agatha says the world is full of dishonesty and lies, and answers can be the words of the Devil, couched in a veneer of credibility."

"That's a pretty grim way of looking at things."

Rae led Hope back into the convent. "If you don't ask questions, you can't ever be disappointed, or… or
frightened
by the answers."