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Authors: Vasileios Kalampakas
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saw,
it’s just the grief and the pain talking right now. If he wasn’t
dead when you left, he was alive and that’s what I’m counting
on.”
“I want to believe you, I really do. But,
what can we do? I mean… Those people… Even if…”
“You said you had faith. Have faith in me,
please. Did he ever talk to you about Father Mulcahey?”
She rubbed her eyes with both hands. There
was a deep frown on her face when she said:
“The name sounds familiar. Why?”
“Those crosses. We were ten. Well, I was
twelve and Andy was ten. I’d sneaked in Father Mulcahey’s office.
I’d made a bet I could get my mates a bottle of sacramental wine.
When Father Mulcahey got wind off the missing bottle, he roused us
out of bed. He asked nicely which one of lads us did it. I was
about to accept the punishment and the Hail Mary's that went along
with it, when Andy steps out front, says he was the culprit.
Everyone else goes back to sleep, and then the father calls us both
into his office. I was thinking we were going to get a beating
either way. Instead, he opens up this little box and offers us a
set of crosses. Makes us wear them and take a vow. Next month
during the holidays, we had our initials etched. Been on me every
day since then.”
“What was the vow?”
“Never leave your brother behind. That’s what
I’m doing. I’m not leaving Andy behind.”
* * *
The voice on the small speaker sounded
worried and uneven.
“What’s wrong? Why couldn’t you wait for the
courier?”
“There’s a problem.”
The matter-of-fact voice on the microphone
was a woman’s voice. It had a bit of an accent.
“What kind? It doesn’t sound like you to talk
around things.”
“I’m not sure if it’s exactly a problem. I
might have stumbled on your brother.”
“My what?” said the man, his voice full of
disbelief and shocked surprise.
“I met a man today who posed as a journalist
by the name of Richard Owls. Long story short, he says he’s your
brother, Ethan. We were talking and I showed him your cross,
playing the widow part. Thought your death might look good on a
paper. He showed me a cross with his initials on it, E.R.W. He also
told me a story about some priest and how you got these crosses. Is
it really him? Strong, red-haired fellow. Has these piercing blue
eyes. Medium height.”
An uncomfortable silence ensued. Nicole spoke
once more into the microphone with some reservation:
“Andy?”
“That’s Ethan alright. Listen, you need to
keep him busy while I think of something to throw him off course.
He might mean well, but he can be a very single-minded idiot when
he wants to. And Nicole?”
“Tell me.”
“Strict radio silence from now on. He mustn’t
get a whiff.”
“You know me.”
“But you don’t know my brother.”
Blood-red dawn
The hills around the monastery blossomed
golden under the first rays of the sun. The cold, wet night edged
away, hiding under the jungle treetops. The bell of the monastery
started to ring, calling for the morning prayer. A few of the
sisters started to gather in the small temple, rosary in hand.
Their lips moved at a shallow, serene pace, mouthing hymns and
eulogies to their God, Lord and Savior.
Ethan had been awake since before the break
of dawn. He was watching the procession from a small, pane-less
window. The night had been short but courteous; nothing but the
distant sounds of wildlife had bothered him. Again, his sleep was
dreamless.
There was a knock on the door; the stars
above shone their last light for the night. Ludwig stepped
hesitantly inside, holding two cups of tea; it was his way of
apologizing. Ethan offered him a cigarette in kind. They sat
together in the small room. Ethan stood upright in his bed cot,
Ludwig pulled the single chair. They left their cups of tea to
slowly cool off on the window sill. Ludwig cleared his
it’s just the grief and the pain talking right now. If he wasn’t
dead when you left, he was alive and that’s what I’m counting
on.”
“I want to believe you, I really do. But,
what can we do? I mean… Those people… Even if…”
“You said you had faith. Have faith in me,
please. Did he ever talk to you about Father Mulcahey?”
She rubbed her eyes with both hands. There
was a deep frown on her face when she said:
“The name sounds familiar. Why?”
“Those crosses. We were ten. Well, I was
twelve and Andy was ten. I’d sneaked in Father Mulcahey’s office.
I’d made a bet I could get my mates a bottle of sacramental wine.
When Father Mulcahey got wind off the missing bottle, he roused us
out of bed. He asked nicely which one of lads us did it. I was
about to accept the punishment and the Hail Mary's that went along
with it, when Andy steps out front, says he was the culprit.
Everyone else goes back to sleep, and then the father calls us both
into his office. I was thinking we were going to get a beating
either way. Instead, he opens up this little box and offers us a
set of crosses. Makes us wear them and take a vow. Next month
during the holidays, we had our initials etched. Been on me every
day since then.”
“What was the vow?”
“Never leave your brother behind. That’s what
I’m doing. I’m not leaving Andy behind.”
* * *
The voice on the small speaker sounded
worried and uneven.
“What’s wrong? Why couldn’t you wait for the
courier?”
“There’s a problem.”
The matter-of-fact voice on the microphone
was a woman’s voice. It had a bit of an accent.
“What kind? It doesn’t sound like you to talk
around things.”
“I’m not sure if it’s exactly a problem. I
might have stumbled on your brother.”
“My what?” said the man, his voice full of
disbelief and shocked surprise.
“I met a man today who posed as a journalist
by the name of Richard Owls. Long story short, he says he’s your
brother, Ethan. We were talking and I showed him your cross,
playing the widow part. Thought your death might look good on a
paper. He showed me a cross with his initials on it, E.R.W. He also
told me a story about some priest and how you got these crosses. Is
it really him? Strong, red-haired fellow. Has these piercing blue
eyes. Medium height.”
An uncomfortable silence ensued. Nicole spoke
once more into the microphone with some reservation:
“Andy?”
“That’s Ethan alright. Listen, you need to
keep him busy while I think of something to throw him off course.
He might mean well, but he can be a very single-minded idiot when
he wants to. And Nicole?”
“Tell me.”
“Strict radio silence from now on. He mustn’t
get a whiff.”
“You know me.”
“But you don’t know my brother.”
Blood-red dawn
The hills around the monastery blossomed
golden under the first rays of the sun. The cold, wet night edged
away, hiding under the jungle treetops. The bell of the monastery
started to ring, calling for the morning prayer. A few of the
sisters started to gather in the small temple, rosary in hand.
Their lips moved at a shallow, serene pace, mouthing hymns and
eulogies to their God, Lord and Savior.
Ethan had been awake since before the break
of dawn. He was watching the procession from a small, pane-less
window. The night had been short but courteous; nothing but the
distant sounds of wildlife had bothered him. Again, his sleep was
dreamless.
There was a knock on the door; the stars
above shone their last light for the night. Ludwig stepped
hesitantly inside, holding two cups of tea; it was his way of
apologizing. Ethan offered him a cigarette in kind. They sat
together in the small room. Ethan stood upright in his bed cot,
Ludwig pulled the single chair. They left their cups of tea to
slowly cool off on the window sill. Ludwig cleared his
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