Zen's War: Captivity
Chapter 26: The Sisters of Mercy

It had taken them some time to reach the convent, but they had made it there. It looked much older then it probably was. It was a solid structure amid crumbling houses in the surrounding neighborhood. When the crumbling houses were gone this fortress-like building would still remain. As they came increasingly closer to the convent the details of its architecture came into focus. It was a gray concrete color. Two spires rose majestically from the top of the convent, with ornate crosses at their pinnacles.

Thankfully they had made good time, reaching the convent just before dusk. It became increasingly difficult to see as their eyes adjusted to the decreasing light. They crossed the street and came to the sidewalk that ran alongside the convent. Pablo continued to lead them, though he no longer needed to. As they walked up the concrete pathway towards the portal of the convent, Zen noticed that there was fresh green grass to either side of the pathway. This was no longer a common sight. It takes a lot of water for healthy grass to grow, especially in the desert. Somehow the Sisters of Mercy had been able to collect or harvest a large supply of water.

They walked up the ten stairs of the staircase that led to two large wooden doors. At the top of the staircase, they could make out a large round stained-glass window above the entrance. Directly in the center of the window was a large cross, which was a cranberry colored hue. On the left side of the cross was an alpha and on the right side was an omega. Both Greek letters were a navy blue colored glass. Above the cross was a long haired figure with a flowing white robe who was probably Christ. To the left and right of this figure were a multitude of angels. They had large highly detailed wings with the same flowing white robe as the Christ figure. Above the angels heads were yellow halos, while below the cross was a red horned figure with wings, which was obviously Satan. From the mouth of Christ’s adversary protruded a long forked tongue, from behind pointed fangs. Surrounding the devil were stylized flames of red, orange, and yellow. Winged demons hovered above the flames. They as well had protruding forked tongues and sharp fangs.

Zen had never taken the Bible or any other religious book literally. To him they were books of symbolism and metaphors. Christ and Satan were symbols of good and evil. For Zen the primary topic of the Bible was the universal struggle between the forces of good and evil. It was a book of philosophy and not religion. Zen did not believe that life was as clear cut, as having just the two opposing forces of good and evil. He believed there was also a gray area, between good and evil. Things were never that simple.

The two large wooden doors loomed before them. Zen took a deep breath, then closed his eyes and knocked hard twice on the door to the right. They waited for what seemed an eternity, until someone came to the door. In the center of the door to their right, a small wooden slat slid open revealing two suspicious brown eyes.

“What do you want?” asked a gruff female voice.

Zen tried to think of a suitable response to her inquiry. “I’m sorry to bother you sister, but we’re in a desperate situation.”

“What is it? I don’t have time for mischief,” she answered.

“Trust me, we haven’t come to cause trouble. We’ve come seeking help. We were wondering if we could speak with the Abbess. It’s about my daughter, she’s gone missing. We were told by an officer in the Mexican Revolutionary Front that a couple girls were possibly brought here, after being taken from slave traders,” Zen explained, urgently.

“Let me go check with her first. We can’t just be letting anyone in here, let alone men,” she said, then abruptly slid the wooden slat closed.

Though Zen was annoyed that the nun did not jump at the chance to help them, he understood her lack of trust. To ensure your survival you could not take it for granted that people were trustworthy. It was good to have a little paranoia, when it came to self-preservation. Zen knew it was a cynical way to look at things, but it was realistic. The majority of people were not to be trusted.

After waiting for what seemed like half an hour―although it had only been about ten minutes―the wooden slat slid open, again revealing the same brown eyes. “I have spoken with the Abbess, Sister Anne, and she has decided to allow you and your little group to enter, on the condition that you don’t try anything foolish.”

“You have my solemn vow that we have not come with any malicious intent. Both myself and my wife are only trying to find our daughter, while my two sons are trying to find their sister. That is our only goal, and nothing more,” Zen said, trying desperately to gain the woman’s trust.

Without a moments delay the wooden slat slid closed, and the wooden door―which seemed around six feet tall—swung open with a loud groan. Due to the dissipating light of the day, it was difficult to see the nun standing in the doorway, amid the glowing candlelight. Eventually his eyes adjusted, and he was able to discern a cloaked figure. She was not wearing what used to be a stereotypical nuns habit. She didn’t look like an oversized penguin, like the nuns used to look like in his youth; instead, she wore a flowing white linen robe with a large hood pulled over her head. The robe was tattered and had many holes throughout it, showing evidence of her vow of poverty.

She motioned with her hand for them to enter the convent. Zen was the first to cross the threshold, while the rest followed his lead. As soon as they all stood in the vestibule, she quickly closed the door and locked it. Standing in the vestibule Zen could make out the weary faces of his company. None of them―including himself―had had much to eat or drink in the last twenty-four hours. Another human necessity that they lacked was sleep. The lack of these human necessities was common, but not without damaging effects. No matter how used to not having nourishment or sleep one became, they would still suffer.

Aurora looked the most ragged. Her green eyes showed her hopelessness and desperation. She looked as if at any moment she would give up. He wanted to say something to comfort her, but knew that there was really nothing he could say that would give her hope. Aurora’s mind would not ever be at ease until she knew Sahara’s fate. Zen felt as Aurora did; until they found Sahara or learned what happened to her, he would never know peace. He wanted to give up as well, but was determined not to. Maybe he was just fighting for the love of his daughter, or perhaps he was too stubborn to surrender.

As they followed the nun to speak with the Abbess, Zen looked at the rest of the group. His two sons looked like they still had much strength left. They were young, so they were much more resilient than he was. Zen did not consider himself old, but on the other hand he didn’t by any means consider himself to be young either. The stress of his life had definitely damaged his ability to withstand trauma. It seemed the older he got the less he was able to handle, instead of increasing his strength. If he wanted to give up, he need only look to Hector and Derek for strength.

Passing through the vestibule into the nave of the convent Zen found himself looking at the Colonel and Pablo. How had they come to accompany him and his family? Pablo spoke very little, so it was somewhat difficult to get a good feel for his personality. He seemed nice enough, although it was difficult to tell. Zen didn’t want to judge him unfairly, but he knew it was the quiet ones that you had to look out for. He would definitely keep a close watch on him.

Colonel Krakowski had an air of arrogance about him. One thing that he was never short on was words. He spoke almost exclusively about himself. If you claimed to have accomplished something chances were he had already done it. He seemed to be an expert on almost every subject. He always had an opposing opinion. In all fairness, he had undergone an extreme amount of stress throughout his life, but so had Zen. Zen himself did not want to compete, when it came to life experience. Zen had never had to kill anyone, and he could only imagine what it must be like. He had never been a soldier, but he had fought his own war. It had not been a war of soldiers and weapons. It had been a war of the mind and spirit. No one had survived the war without suffering.

As they continued through the nave, Zen studied the vaulted ceiling and the many pillars. It looked a bit like a Roman temple, because of the Corinthian and Ionic pillars. They reached the main chapel of the convent. To their left and right there were benches for the worshipers. The candlelight made it difficult to make out details, but you could see enough to get a good idea of your surroundings. Zen thought how different it would have looked under florescent lighting. At the end of the pathway was an extravagant altar. It was a kind of stage with a large throne at the far end. At the left and right corners of the altar were two large candlesticks with lit white candles. Above the throne hung a massive wooden crucifix with an ornately carved figure of Christ. Around his head was a finely carved crown of thorns. The face was highly detailed, showing a look of extreme anguish and suffering. Out of the corner of the stomach of the figure protruded a long spear which was painted gold. Zen knew this as the spear of Longinus or of destiny; thrown by a Roman soldier during the crucifixion.

When they came to the altar the nun led them to the right. Reaching the end of the stage they turned left and proceeded to a door at the wall. Along the way the nun continually glanced suspiciously at the bearded Colonel; she seemed to not trust men. Her lack of trust was due in part to the fact that she had not been in the presence of men for some time. After they had passed through the doorway, they proceeded to their right up a narrow staircase to another door. The nun whose name they still did not know knocked twice on the door.

Seconds later the sound of a key turning in the lock could be heard, and the door suddenly swung open. They entered a room that looked like a kitchen. Seated around a long table were the eleven other Sisters of Mercy. They all wore the same tattered white robe as the sister that had led them. It looked like they had been interrupted in the middle of dinner. They were all eating some gruel-like white slop from wooden bowls. All of them kept eating as if there had been no interruption, except one.

Zen guessed that she was the Abbess Anne. She was surprisingly obese in comparison to the rest. She looked at the group that had entered with a glare. She did not look happy that she had been interrupted in the middle of a meal. Her face was red and pudgy. Although she was overweight she still looked healthier than the rest. She suddenly spoke with her mouth full of gruel, “So, these are the misfits that seek my guidance.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” the Colonel asked, clearly insulted.

“Don’t pay it any mind. What is it that I can help you with?” the Abbess asked, taken aback by the Colonel’s response.

“We appreciate you allowing us inside. I know that you’re taking a great risk by letting strangers in. We could’ve been bandits or raiders. We have had quite an ordeal. All of us have had very little to eat or drink for the last couple days. This is my wife Aurora. Our daughter disappeared a few days ago. We were told by a Mexican officer that there was a standoff a couple days ago between some Revolucionarios and some slave traders. Supposedly a couple of adolescent girls were brought here. Is there any truth to this?” Zen inquired, his eyes wide with hope.

“It is true, but it wasn’t two young girls, it was only one. She is in one of the cells right now. I can have Mary here take you to her to see if she is your daughter,” the Abbess responded.

“You keep her locked up like a prisoner? What did she do to deserve that?” he asked.

“It is only for her own safety. By cell I mean room, not prison cell. Now, do you want to see her or not? If not, then be on your way,” she said flippantly.

Zen wanted to slap her, but he tried to remain calm. She seemed not to care at all that he and Aurora had lost their only daughter. How could she be so heartless?

“I thought that nuns were supposed to be sympathetic,” Zen said, under his breath.

“Forgive me. It has been quite some time since I have dealt so extensively with men, besides soldiers. Mary will take you to her,” the Abbess said, in a forced apology.

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