A month had now passed and Cheryl had returned from one of her regular forages.
“I managed to find some wild strawberries after all.”
She suddenly stopped and gazed at the kitchen table.
“Oh sorry. You two are bonking so I’ll just take these into the lounge.”
She strode past and waited until they joined her.
“How many did you find?”
“Quite a lot. We could use these for jam.”
“It certainly will improve the bread ration.”
Cheryl gave her a rather strange look.
“Does he perform to your satisfaction?”
Mandy smiled.
“He doesn’t seem to know the word stop.”
Cheryl smiled.
“It’s my turn later remember.”
Mandy was about to answer when there was a polite knock at the door.
”Wonder who that is?” Cheryl said grabbing the hunting rifle.
When she opened the door, a tall but well dressed man stood there smiling.
“Hello.”
The gent bowed and introduced himself.
“I’m Nefonza, part of the emergency committee.”
“I didn’t know we had one.”
He smiled.
“It is my job to check out the local farms and that is why I am here.”
“You better come in then.”
As they reached the lounge, she pointed out her friends.
“This is Mandy and the young lad is Conchello.”
“You are American?”
“We both are,” Mandy said. “Is that a problem?”
The gent shook his head.
“Not in these strange times.”
“You spoke about an emergency committee,” the cop reminded him.
The gent sat and outlined the plan for Cuba.
“We estimate that sixty percent of the populace perished here so at present we are shunting survivors to the north of the island.”
“You intend to feed them there?” Mandy asked.
“It would save a lot of travelling,” the official replied.
“How can we help?” Cheryl asked politely.
The gent smiled and visibly relaxed.
“Farms like yours must help to keep them alive. Any excess produce will be collected by truck and taken to Havana for distribution.”
Mandy suddenly looked worried.
“We hardly produce enough for ourselves.”
“May I have a look around?”
“She is the farmer here,” Cheryl said. “Mandy can do that for you.”
Stepping out into the rear yard Mandy pointed to the chicken coop.
“We get quite a few eggs from those.”
The official smiled and jotted the info down.
She pointed out the pigsty with the four happy animals, before taking him to the small upper field.
“We don’t have that many animals you see.”
After taking notes, he mulled it over.
“You must produce excess wool, eggs and milk here. This is what we will do then. How about supplying two milk churns, and say fifty eggs a week? As for the sheep. We could use the wool.”
Mandy smiled.
“That would be great. One snag though. I did own my farm but never sheared.”
The official grinned.
“We can send shearers for you. Now is there anything you would like?”
The answer was a simple one.
“We only have a hunting rifle and three boxes of ammo.”
The official understood and made a note.
“I’ll send up another two rifles with a hundred rounds by nightfall. We need to protect people like yourselves. Our very future depends upon it.”
Mandy had a question for him.
“Who’s in charge now?”
The official smiled.
“Maria Castro, his first cousin.”
The name rang a bell.
“Wasn’t she taught in New York?”
“Yes she was. Your education system was always far superior. Now she helps to put Cuba back on its feet.”
“How many government types are there?”
“Not too many. The virus thinned them out. Our committee is twenty strong, and Maria heads it of course.”
Mandy nodded and took him back to the lounge.
“Everything settled then?” Cheryl asked.
“Done and dusted shall we say,” Mandy replied.
The official thanked them before leaving for his next destination.
“We should get more arms tonight,” Mandy said.
“What will they take?” Cheryl asked.
When Mandy recounted the deal, the cop was pleased.
“Sounds as though these fellows have their heads screwed on.”
“At least they are trying to pick up the pieces.”
“One thing worries me though,” the cop said.
“What’s that?”
“By bringing everyone to the north end, surely another outbreak will prove devastating.”
Mandy nodded.
“That is the obvious downside but what else can they do?”
Cheryl tapped Conchello’s shoulder.
“It’s time to service me my lad.”
Mandy watched as they headed upstairs, quietly wondering what the next day would bring.
The official was as good as his word. Just before sunset, a small vehicle arrived and two more hunting rifles with plenty of ammo were handed over.
The frantic banging woke them up with a horrible shock. The party dashed to the door and grabbing the rifles opened it slowly.
A short woman dressed in gypsy clothes stood there frantically trying to explain something in Spanish.
“Slow down,” Cheryl said ushering her inside.
“What the damn does she want?”
“No idea Mandy. That phrase book won’t help either.”
The woman sat down and broke down completely. Conchello knelt in front and took her shaking hands. They exchanged words and a worried look came over his youthful features.
“What is it?” Mandy asked.
The youth stroked his face and tried sign language instead. They watched his fingers drawing a steeple first of all.
“That’s a church,” Cheryl said.
Then he appeared to stab himself.
“Someone has been murdered in a church?” Mandy asked.
Conchello thought quickly. He showed three fingers and then repeated the stabbing motion before raising one finger.
“I think that I’ve got it,” the cop muttered. “He means three will kill one other.”
She held his hand.
“Where? Eh show us.”
Conchello took the distraught woman back to the door and picked up the rifle. The women followed suit and followed them outside. After a longish walk to the country road, they saw a small car waiting for them.
The woman climbed inside and gunned the engine as the passengers joined her.
She drove them south along the coastal road until they entered the quaint town of Moron. She pulled right at a Spanish heritage sign and they were soon deep within the wilds once more.
After crossing a small bridge, she stopped and pointed. At the top of the hill stood a small fortress with ecclesiastic undertones. A large crucifix stood upon the bell tower, and the battlements looked quite intact despite the passage of three centuries.
“Looks like a monastery to me,” Mandy said.
“Strange place for a forthcoming murder but we should check it out.”
The woman walked frantically toward it as they tried to keep up. As the incline levelled off, she rushed at the wrought wooden door. Her fists banged repeatedly until a slot appeared and dark eyes gazed back. They exchanged words until Cheryl decided to intervene.
“Does anyone speak English here?”
She was surprised when the hidden male replied, “A few of us do.”
“This woman came to us for help sir bringing a rather cryptic message. Do you know why she’s so upset?”
The male said slowly but firmly, “She is quite mad since the disease struck.”
“Then why did she bring us here?” Mandy demanded.
“Who knows?”
Conchello watched this before resorting to sign language again. He used his palm to indicate a child before repeating the stabbing motion.
“He seems to think a child will be murdered here,” the cop commented.
“Just stay where you are and I will summon the abbot.”
They waited for ten minutes until the door was unlocked and a pleasant voice said, “Please enter the house of Our Lady.”
The woman burst inside but two heavyset monks quickly restrained her. When the party entered, the abbot closed it again before pointing to the rifles.
“You will not need those here I assure you.”
The woman struggled as the monks dragged her away.
The abbot looked on sadly and said, “You can clearly see that her mind is gone.”
“Where are you taking her?” Mandy asked.
“Just to one of our chambers. She will not be hurt. Please follow me.”
They crossed a small stone courtyard and entered the building itself. The first room was sparsely furnished with just a central table and a few chairs dotted around it.
The walls looked old and thick as the abbot asked, “Would you like some refreshment?”
“I could do with a wine,” Cheryl admitted.
The abbot clapped his hands and when a monk entered issued a short instruction. Moments later the monk appeared carrying a large carafe covered in animal hide and three glasses.
“This dates back to the seventeenth century,” the abbot explained.
When the wine was poured, the abbot explained.
“None of us partake of course. Our Lady demands obedience. We have water, bread, and cake only.”
“Sounds like a rum diet,” Mandy said taking a sip.
“Prayer keeps us going you know.”
Conchello drank a mouthful and said something to the monk.
“No one is being killed here my friend,” he said in English. This woman has been here before you see. I believe she lost a son during the plague.”
“How many did you lose?” Cheryl asked.
“Only three succumbed here. We were lucky.”
“You certainly were,” Mandy commented.
They took another mouthful as the abbot continued to speak.
“We tend to keep ourselves cut off from mainstream society. It is not so important to us. As a matter of fact you are our first real visitors.”
Mandy yawned and said, “Thanks for allowing us inside.”
“You seem tired today,” the abbot muttered as his guests yawned together.
“Either the wine is strong or we have had too many late nights,” the cop muttered as her vision blurred.
The abbot smiled.
“We do make it ourselves. You probably are not used to it.”
Conchello muttered something before collapsing onto the stone floor.
“Something is horribly wrong,” Mandy muttered.
She tried to stand but severe giddiness caused her legs to buckle beneath her. Cheryl tried to focus on the abbot’s pleasant features before she too blacked out.
...
The abbot entered the cold stone chamber and saw the naked woman tied to a wooden post.
“You were warned about returning here.”
“I want my son back.”
He shook his head.
“That is not the will of Our Lady.”
“You call yourselves monks? Nothing of the sort!”
The abbot nodded and a monk took the leather strap from the wall.
“Teach her a lesson that will never be forgotten.”
He watched as the monk raised his arm and struck hard. The woman screamed as a red weal appeared across her shoulders. The second stroke struck across her buttocks, whilst the third slashed the legs.
The abbot raised his arm a moment.
“We could stop here.”
The crying woman shook her head defiantly.
The abbot nodded and the strap struck the buttocks twice more actually drawing blood. The woman screamed but the thick walls kept her agony from the outside world.
The slash struck the shoulder blades once more and the victim blacked out.
“Toss water over her before resuming.”
“How many abbot?”
He thought for a moment.
“Six more shall suffice. Then leave her for a time. I need to check upon our guests.”
...
Cheryl came too suddenly and saw Mandy and Conchello staring at her.
“We are in some kind of dungeon,” Mandy said as she sat up.
“So that woman was right all along and we have walked into a trap.”
“Seems like it,” Mandy said helping her up.
Conchello went to the thick door and thumped hard and loud.
“That looks too thick my friend,” Cheryl said looking around.
“What do you think is really going on?”
Cheryl gazed at her.
“If you join the dots that woman’s son is being held here and for some reason is due to be killed shortly.”
“Like a sacrifice?” Mandy asked.
“Perhaps. Though for what purpose I really don’t know.”
A slot was drawn back, and the abbot’s voice drifted in.
“I see that you are awake now.”
“Let us out!” Mandy demanded.
“I cannot do that you see. We must protect ourselves at all costs.”
“Where is the woman?” the cop demanded.
“Being punished for bringing you here.”
“Her son is not quite dead is he?” Cheryl asked.
“He is still with us until dawn.”
The women glanced at each other.
“What are you scumbags up to?” Mandy asked.
“Our Lady kept us safe during the recent tribulation. We are simply thanking her.”
“By killing a child?”
“Sacrifice is an ancient duty sadly neglected these days. We took a decision to carry out only one.”
“You’ll have to silence us to get away with it,” Cheryl reminded him.
“We will keep you alive and after chastisement you may come around to our way of thinking.”
“I very much doubt that.” Mandy hissed.
The slot was closed, and they heard retreating footsteps.
“We have to get out of here now,” Cheryl suggested.
“I don’t think that will be easy,” Mandy said. “This place was built to last.”
Cheryl shook her head and started examining the thick but ancient walls.
“This is no time to admire the brickwork!”
“As beautiful as it is I’m really not doing that. Now put your ear against that door and listen for him returning.”
Mandy rolled her eyes and did as asked. When Conchello muttered something, she just nodded.
“I don’t know either mate.”
The woman was awake once more as the abbot returned.
“Our guests are settling in nicely.”
He saw the deep cut marks upon her body as he stepped forward.
“A simple submission will end all this.”
“Go to blazes. My god is stronger than yours.”
The abbot did not understand this line of argument of course. As far as he was concerned, they were both on the same side.
“You would choose this to freedom?”
“Only if freedom meant seeing my son again.”
The abbot mulled this over. Turning to the monk, he said something. The abbot was soon left alone with the prisoner.
“You should be honoured that he has been chosen.”
“Honoured? How dare you!”
“We must thank Our Lady for the deliverance.”
“You have sold your souls for thirty pieces of silver!” she spat.
“Sad that your faith is not as strong as my own. If we were doing wrong, my brethren would have stopped your punishment.”
“They are too much in your sway abbot,”
He shook his head as a fifteen-year-old boy was brought into the cell.
“Mamma!”
“Let him go.”
The boy ran to the punishment post as his mother wept.
“We should leave them together for a little while. Dawn is approaching and we must make ready.”
The fatal sunrise was indeed only two hours off, and the abbot led the way back to the central courtyard.
“Bring byre and rope and arrange it into a stack.”
The monk nodded and left hurriedly as the abbot smiled.
“Our Lord has always appreciated burnt offerings.”
...
Within the dungeon Cheryl was scraping at the time worn soft mortar and had made quite an impact.
“It shouldn’t be long now. If I can just remove these four bricks.”
“What good will that do?” Mandy asked. “This place is bound to be underground.”
“I’m banking on it being at ground level my dear. Otherwise we are stuffed.”
She carefully removed the bricks and saw a wall of loose earth.
“Told you so!”
Cheryl shook her head and began digging frantically, as a soft breeze was felt upon her cheek.
“Nearly there.”
As the last of the dirt was pulled down, she saw the exterior twilight.
“It’s damn near dawn,” Cheryl muttered. “Let’s make a break for it.”
She crawled out as her friends followed. Once outside they stood against the wall glancing around.
“No one about,” Mandy whispered.
“I wonder if our guns are still by the front exit. Now move!”
They dashed over and were relieved to see the hunting rifles waiting for them.
“We can’t just leave her,” Mandy muttered.
“You should know me better than that,” Cheryl said leading the way back.
When they burst through the abbot's door, he was a little shocked to say the least.
“On your feet!” the cop demanded.
“That will do you no good,” he said calmly.
“We saw the stack mate,” Mandy hissed. “There will be no burning at dawn here!”
Cheryl shoved him toward the door.
“Now take us to her!”
As they entered the front hall, a monk suddenly appeared from a corridor. Many gunned him down as the abbot protested.
“Shut it!” Cheryl warned. “Now which way?”
He led them into a corridor and down a short staircase, before reaching the cell. When the women saw the state of her Mandy slapped the abbot hard.
The child was still there, clinging onto the body of his late parent.
“You murdering swine!” Cheryl hissed as Mandy checked out the manacles.
“I can loosen these. Just watch the door.”
As Cheryl went on guard duty, Mandy loosened the wrist bolts and the corpse fell to the ground. As the son wept, Conchello led him to the door.
A curious monk appeared, and a well-placed chest shot took him down.
“Hurry up will you!” Cheryl hissed.
“What do you want doing with him?”
Cheryl turned to the abbot and pushed him forward at gunpoint.
“Manacle him up and then we shall clear house.”
Once he was secure, Mandy tore his cowl and handed Conchello the strap. Raising ten fingers, she indicated twenty strokes.
The abbot screamed as the strokes struck home. By the fourth blood started to flow and by the ninth he was out cold. Conchello continued until it was done, not bothering to see if the abbot was still breathing when he left.
Within the corridor, a group of monks appeared to block their exit.
Cheryl raised the muzzle and prepared to open fire. As they fled, the party rushed to the outside world. The car was still waiting with the keys and they tossed the young lad into the rear before making an escape.
“Leaving them there was a mistake,” Mandy said bitterly. “They will simply do this again.”
“We’ll take the lad into Havana, and allow him to explain what happened to the emergency committee. I’m sure they will do the appropriate thing.”
After a four-hour drive, they dropped the child off at the central police station before swinging the car around and heading back toward the country road where it had been parked.
They decided to leave it there before making their way on foot toward the waiting farm.
“We all need a good sleep after this lot,” Cheryl muttered.
“Separate rooms then?”
Cheryl smiled.
“Why not?”
After closing the curtains, the cop stripped and lay beneath the light sheets as the world twittered beyond the window. She yawned loudly and closed her eyes, surrendering herself to a rather unusual dream...To be continued...