It looked like the post-apocalyptic version of Southern Living meets Downton Abbey, Sarah thought as she looked down at the stone convent and its gardens. Wisteria and honeysuckle hung on ancient vines around the centuries old stone archway leading to the convent’s main entrance. How they found it could only be attributed to the angelic presence of Archie combined with her son’s uncanny powers of observation.
“Cor, it really does exist,” Regan said in a hushed whisper. She carried the baby and it had just fallen asleep. “Me mum used to tell me scary stories about it when I was little.”
“Scary stories?” Sarah said, leaning against the stonewall at the entrance. “About a convent?”
“Aye, sure. I don’t know how the good sisters are where you come from Sarah but in Ireland, they’re something wicked scary.”
Sophia stepped through the archway and looked back at the others. “Is it even inhabited, do we know?”
“Let’s ask him,” Johns said as a tall, broad-shouldered young man materialized in the archway. He had thick brown wavy hair and crystal blue eyes. But there was something about him that looked more confused than threatening.
“Mother Angelina says you’re to come in and welcome,” he said in a thick Irish brogue.
“Are you expecting us?” Sarah said with a smile as she walked through the archway.
“Sorry?” He didn’t wait for clarification but turned to lead them the rest of the way in.
A high wrought iron gate opened into a formal garden but it was planted with food, not flowers. Three nuns in dark habits worked in the garden. They didn’t look up as the visitors passed. At the end of the garden path was a massive wooden double door and standing in front was a nun with a white starched headdress.
“Welcome,” she called to them, her smile sincere if questioning. “Thank you, Garrett. Tell Sister Ambrose there’ll be four more for dinner.”
The man lumbered quietly away through the garden.
“Thank you so much,” Sarah said. “We’re sorry to just barge in on you like this.”
“It’s been a few years since we’ve had guests,” the nun said. “And never Americans. I imagine something’s happened in the world? Never mind, you can tell us all about it at dinner. Right now, I see you’re worn out. And a little one?” She peeked into the sling that Regan wore and beamed at the baby. “Oh, my. Hours old?” She looked up and her smile turned into concern. “You are running away?”
“I fear we are, Mother,” Sarah said. “Thank you for your sanctuary.”
The opportunity to finally and truly rest was exquisite. Sarah thought how close she came to staying at the compound instead of being here where she was safe, where she could relax, nurse her child, recharge and get strong. After a long bath, a longer nap and clean clothes, all of them met up in the grand hall for dinner. Sarah counted twenty five sisters—most of them in their sixties or older— plus Garrett the gardener and Angelina the Mother Superior. A cot had been set up next to Sarah’s chair where Siobhan slept blissfully silent.
The meal was grown from their gardens and made from their livestock. They had pigs, chickens, goats and even cows. They made their own wine, grew all their own vegetables, and wove their own linens. The convent, which had been there for over three hundred years, had never had electricity. No one had visited them in over ten years.
“Well, you are off the beaten path,” Sarah said as they ate.
“Deliberately so,” Angelina said. “We are an order of service to mothers but usually that means troubled girls.”
“Unwed,” Sophia said.
Angelina looked at her and smiled. “Yes. You are with child, Sophia?”
Regan’s eyes widened. “Wow. You’re good!” Everyone laughed.
John was leaning on his elbow as he ate and Sarah realized how exhausting his job had been the last twenty-four hours. She wasn’t even sure he’d slept since the night Archie was killed.
“Go on, John,” Sarah said. “Go to bed. We’re safe now. Thanks to you.”
“I think I might,” John said with an apologetic smile.
The gardener stood too. “I’ll show him where.”
“Thank you, Garrett,” Angelina said.
John went to his mother and gave her a quick kiss. He nodded at Angelina. “Thank you.”
“You are welcome.”
After the two left the room, Sarah turned to the Mother Superior.
“Garret seems a very sweet young man,” she said.
“He’s like a son to us.”
“So he lives with you?”
“He was born here. A girl in trouble, many years ago. We were prepared to adopt him out—or even help the lass keep him if that was her wish—but Garrett was born special and she’d have none of him.” The Mother Superior looked in the direction that Garrett had gone. “It was God’s greatest gift to this house when she turned away from him.”
*********
A single sparrow hawk flew in deliberate circles overhead. It was hunting voles and mice in the hedges that lined the pasture where Mike and Gavin sat, resting. Mike watched the raptor, watched it pick its moment, select its victim.
It was one of the hardest things he’d ever had to do—let Jaz and the rest of them drive back to Ameriland without him. He was so desperate to see Sarah again, to see for himself that she was well—and the baby. Surely it had been born by now. When he reflected on how quickly things could turn to shite, he was amazed he’d been so stupid as to leave her. And for what? Was he any closer to finding Fiona and the others?
“You okay, Da?”
They’d already walked a full day and slept in the woods. Not at any point did they hear dogs or vehicles on the roads. Was it possible the wankers wouldn’t even bother coming out to recapture them? Would they just move on to the next village and fill up their trucks?
“Short of starving, I’m grand,” he said, trying to smile for Gavin’s sake. The lad must be every bit as concerned about Sophia and yet he’d not made a peep about it.
“Just ready to be home.”
“And me. Are we any where near the horses?”
“Not far.”
“I still can’t believe we made it out. I was worried there for a bit.”
“No faith in your old man, then?” but the joke fell flat even to Mike’s ears. Too many people had died, too many people had suffered. As long as he lived he’d never forget the sight of Father Ryan as a human torch, flaming out in the brief moments of darkness of the solar eclipse. He’d been wrong about him. And it hurt that he hadn’t gotten the chance to tell him.
They walked several hours more, passing at one point a stand of horse chestnut trees with a large sign nailed to the tallest one: Plague Quarantine Keep Out
“What do you think that’s all about?” Gavin asked.
“I don’t know. But let’s give it a wide berth.”
“There looks to be a village up ahead. Can we beg some grub, d’ye think?”
“We can try,” Mike said.
The village had half a dozen shops with shattered display windows. There were two cars on the street but nobody to be seen within or without the buildings.
“Creepy,” Gavin said. “I think I remember this town from before. It had a great little pub in it.”
“Aye. Because it was so close to the turn off for the A8. I remember it too.”
“Not doing too well now though.”
They found the pub at the end of the street. Remembering only too well their last encounter at a pub, Mike double checked the bullets in their one handgun and they went inside.
A man stood behind the bar with his back to them.
“Afternoon,” Mike said pleasantly, his eyes scanned the interior. Two men sat together at a table, two glasses in front of them. They nodded at him. “Is there a possibility we might work for the price of a lunch?”
The bartender turned at the sound of Mike’s voice and dropped the glass he was polishing.
It was Declan.