It seemed likely since the church was still sanctified. On the one hand Louise was overjoyed to find someone else alive; on the other, it was a crushing disappointment to realize the girl had been staying here all this time but had found no one else.
Or had she?
Jo returned with a cup of water, and Louise took it and swallowed the aspirins without hesitating; everything below her wrists was nothing short of twitching agony. Like her hands, her knee was swollen and stiff, but her jeans had kept the wounds from being as deep and Louise thought it would heal fairly fast. Besides the cup, Jo had brought a small pair of scissors to cut away the edges of the torn fabric.
"Hey!" Louise protested.
"I'll get you another pair tomorrow," Jo soothed. She swabbed at the bruised knee, then carefully applied the Mercurochrome.
"So," Louise said, "you live here by yourself?"
"No," Jo answered immediately. Louise's hopes rose, then fell again with Jo's next quote. “’For he hath said, I will never leave thee, nor forsake thee.' Hebrews, chapter thirteen, verse five." Jo sat back. “All finished."
"Is there . . ." Louise found it difficult to push the words from her mouth. "Is there anyone else? Anyone at all?"
"Of course." Louise gaped and Jo tilted her head. "Did you really think God would let His children be exterminated?"
"I–I didn't know," Louise whispered. It was impossible for her to comprehend this girl's faith, and for a terrible instant she wondered if Jo might simply be slightly . . . daft .
"There are quite a few other people." Jo rose and gathered the remnants of gauze and tape, then put the bowl of blood-tinted water aside; tomorrow she would pour the water down a storm drain outside. "Mostly downtown, where it's easier to find food and there are bigger places in which to hide." She glanced at Louise. "That's what you were looking for, wasn't it?"
Louise nodded.
"I've seen people now and then, though they've never seen me. There's a group in Water Tower Place on Michigan Avenue, another in the Civic Opera Building. I'm surprised no one has explored St. Peter's." She looked wistful. "I really thought I'd have company before now."
"Then why haven't you spoken to them?" Louise asked in amazement. "Wouldn't you be safer?"
Jo shrugged. "They've built little communities, and while they have strength in numbers, that can be a weakness, too. I'm quite safe here and besides, I have other things to do. And there're more."
" More? " Louise was grinning now; she couldn't help it.
"There're a lot in the Building of the Damned." Jo's face lost its youth for a moment, her voice suddenly sounding very old and troubled.
"The what?" Louise asked in confusion. She felt like someone had stuck a pin in her party balloon. "Building of the Damned? Where—?"
"It's a bad place," Jo said simply. She turned away, then swung back, her hair spilling over one arm like a silvery waterfall. Louise again had the eerie impression she was talking with some kind of angel. "Have you eaten?"
Louise shook her head and started to ask about Jo's strange statement, but Jo cut her off. "Come with me. I'll fix you and Beau something quick, then we'll rest. Sunlight is too precious to sleep through.
"Besides, dawn comes earlier for me."
Louise rose unsteadily and followed Jo into the recesses at the back of the church. What had she just said?
Dawn comes earlier?
19
REVELATION 9:8
And they had hair as the hair of women,
and their teeth were as the teeth of lions.
REVELATION 17:6
And I saw the woman drunken
with the blood of the saints,
and with the blood of the martyrs.
~ * ~
"You disgusting maggot, you're not even fit for food!"
Rita ached to split the man from throat to crotch, but Siebold had retreated four or five doors away to what he believed was a safe distance. The snail would live to see another of his precious sunrises; she couldn't risk Anyelet's anger by killing him. Anyelet, who watched impassively from the stairwell,
Or had she?
Jo returned with a cup of water, and Louise took it and swallowed the aspirins without hesitating; everything below her wrists was nothing short of twitching agony. Like her hands, her knee was swollen and stiff, but her jeans had kept the wounds from being as deep and Louise thought it would heal fairly fast. Besides the cup, Jo had brought a small pair of scissors to cut away the edges of the torn fabric.
"Hey!" Louise protested.
"I'll get you another pair tomorrow," Jo soothed. She swabbed at the bruised knee, then carefully applied the Mercurochrome.
"So," Louise said, "you live here by yourself?"
"No," Jo answered immediately. Louise's hopes rose, then fell again with Jo's next quote. “’For he hath said, I will never leave thee, nor forsake thee.' Hebrews, chapter thirteen, verse five." Jo sat back. “All finished."
"Is there . . ." Louise found it difficult to push the words from her mouth. "Is there anyone else? Anyone at all?"
"Of course." Louise gaped and Jo tilted her head. "Did you really think God would let His children be exterminated?"
"I–I didn't know," Louise whispered. It was impossible for her to comprehend this girl's faith, and for a terrible instant she wondered if Jo might simply be slightly . . . daft .
"There are quite a few other people." Jo rose and gathered the remnants of gauze and tape, then put the bowl of blood-tinted water aside; tomorrow she would pour the water down a storm drain outside. "Mostly downtown, where it's easier to find food and there are bigger places in which to hide." She glanced at Louise. "That's what you were looking for, wasn't it?"
Louise nodded.
"I've seen people now and then, though they've never seen me. There's a group in Water Tower Place on Michigan Avenue, another in the Civic Opera Building. I'm surprised no one has explored St. Peter's." She looked wistful. "I really thought I'd have company before now."
"Then why haven't you spoken to them?" Louise asked in amazement. "Wouldn't you be safer?"
Jo shrugged. "They've built little communities, and while they have strength in numbers, that can be a weakness, too. I'm quite safe here and besides, I have other things to do. And there're more."
" More? " Louise was grinning now; she couldn't help it.
"There're a lot in the Building of the Damned." Jo's face lost its youth for a moment, her voice suddenly sounding very old and troubled.
"The what?" Louise asked in confusion. She felt like someone had stuck a pin in her party balloon. "Building of the Damned? Where—?"
"It's a bad place," Jo said simply. She turned away, then swung back, her hair spilling over one arm like a silvery waterfall. Louise again had the eerie impression she was talking with some kind of angel. "Have you eaten?"
Louise shook her head and started to ask about Jo's strange statement, but Jo cut her off. "Come with me. I'll fix you and Beau something quick, then we'll rest. Sunlight is too precious to sleep through.
"Besides, dawn comes earlier for me."
Louise rose unsteadily and followed Jo into the recesses at the back of the church. What had she just said?
Dawn comes earlier?
19
REVELATION 9:8
And they had hair as the hair of women,
and their teeth were as the teeth of lions.
REVELATION 17:6
And I saw the woman drunken
with the blood of the saints,
and with the blood of the martyrs.
~ * ~
"You disgusting maggot, you're not even fit for food!"
Rita ached to split the man from throat to crotch, but Siebold had retreated four or five doors away to what he believed was a safe distance. The snail would live to see another of his precious sunrises; she couldn't risk Anyelet's anger by killing him. Anyelet, who watched impassively from the stairwell,
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