All The Pretty Dead Girls. John Manning
Читать онлайн книгу.
of her was in her early fifties, wearing a red and black checked flannel shirt over jeans and fuzzy blue house slippers. Her short dark hair was shot through with gray, and reading glasses were perched on the end of her nose. Her eyes widened in surprise.
“Sue?” Her eyes grew wide. “What on earth are you doing here?”
She pulled the younger woman into a hug.
“But thank God you’re all right! I’ve been worried sick about you.”
Sue couldn’t say anything. All of her weariness suddenly seemed to overcome her. She just clung onto Dr. Marshall.
The older woman stepped back and looked at her. “Are you okay, Sue? You look terrible! What’s wrong? Why are you here?”
“Just really tired, Dr. Marshall.” Sue gave her a weak smile. Her legs felt like they might buckle at any moment. “I had to come. I had to see you.”
Dr. Marshall stepped aside and Sue brushed by her into the house. “Ever since I got that e-mail from you, I half expected this,” the older woman said. “Sue, are you sure you’re okay?”
“I don’t know if I’ll ever be okay again.” Once inside Dr. Marshall’s house, Sue began to tremble. “I need your help. And I’m so tired—so very tired.”
“Well, yes, of course I’ll do whatever I can. Come on in.” Dr. Marshall gestured into the living room. “Have a seat here. Can I get you anything? You must be hungry.” She followed the younger woman into the room, standing over Sue as she nearly collapsed on the sofa. “I haven’t been to the grocery store—but I’m sure I can make you a sandwich or something.” She stared down at Sue, pushing her glasses up her nose. “Sue, you look terrible. Are you sure you’re all right?”
Sue laughed bitterly. “I’m alive, aren’t I?”
The room was warm, comfortable. The furniture didn’t match, and there was a thin layer of dust on the tables. A fire blazed in the fireplace. Books were piled everywhere, and overflowed from bookshelves on the walls. A frayed Oriental rug covered the hardwood floor in the sitting area.
“Has anyone—” Sue’s words stuttered as she looked up at Dr. Marshall. “Has anyone been looking for me?”
“The college called here last night, wondering if I’d heard from you.” Dr. Marshall looked at her intently. “Would you like some tea? Coffee? A soda?”
Sue sat upright. “What did you tell them?”
“Well, you told me in your e-mail not to say anything to anyone.” Dr. Marshall shrugged. “Sue, what’s going on? What kind of trouble are you in? Apparently, your grandparents are frantic.” She leaned forward. “Don’t you want to call them?”
“No.” Sue replied definitively.
I didn’t tell anyone I was coming here—but they suspected I might come here. How could they have known? I got rid of the cell phone, and the phone I bought was untraceable…
Then it hit her.
They must have hacked into my e-mail account.
She fought back a sob. I’m not safe here, I’m not safe anywhere, they’ll find me wherever I run to…
“Let me get you that tea and sandwich, then we’ll talk.” Dr. Marshall headed out of the room, and Sue’s body slumped with fatigue and defeat against the back of the sofa.
Maybe Dr. Marshall won’t be able to help me, but at least I’m here. They might be able to trace me here, but I won’t be here that long. If they know I’m coming here, they’re probably already on their way. I could be putting her in danger. But if I tell her before I go, I might be safer. And once someone else knows, if anything happens to me…
She didn’t finish the thought. She didn’t want to think about that.
She reached down, opened her backpack, and pulled a manila envelope out of it. The envelope was full of printouts, two separate groups rubber-banded together, which she placed on the coffee table. She could hear Dr. Marshall in the kitchen. She had everything in that envelope memorized, but she started reading the printout on top again.
VIRGIN SIGHTING IN MONTERREY
(from the Mexico City Sentinel)
LOS ZAPATOS—Thousands of the faithful have come to this tiny town in the desert of Monterrey to watch and pray for the Virgin Mary’s intercession.
Three young girls, all aged thirteen, went to their village priest just over a week ago to tell him of their miraculous vision. They were looking for a lost goat when, on a hilltop, the three girls heard a voice and looked up. According to the priest, Father Fernando Ortiz, the girls claimed that the “sun turned into a silver disk and moved across the sky until it was directly over their heads, where it began to spin, growing smaller and smaller until it winked out and darkness fell over the hills. Then, a small light appeared, and grew until it took the form of the Holy Mother, who then spoke to the girls. The Holy Mother asked them to pray for the repentance of mankind, and also spoke to them of other things, about which she swore them to secrecy.”
While the girls have steadily refused to tell anyone what the Virgin Mary told them, they have returned to the hillside every day, where they claim she reappears to them and gives them other messages, again swearing them to secrecy.
The news of the visions spread throughout the province, and now every day when the girls return to the hillside, they are joined by thousands of faithful Catholics, who maintain a distance from them while the girls are experiencing their visions of the Virgin Mary.
A spokesperson for the Archdiocese of Mexico City refused to comment on the sightings, saying only that the Church is taking these visions very seriously and is planning on conducting its own investigation into the sightings.
Sue paged through the clippings for the thousandth time. They were culled from newspapers and press services all over the world, and each one of them told a similar story—all within days of each other.
A young Catholic girl in a small rural village in Vietnam was marked with stigmata. There was another vision of the Virgin Mary in a remote village in the Philippines. In each case, the children were given a message and sworn to secrecy by the Holy Mother. In Poland, in Canada, in sub-Saharan Africa, in India. Stigmata, visions of the Virgin Mary—or if she appeared to non-Christian children, she was described in terms of their own religion. “A holy lady.” “The goddess of the sky.” One Chinese girl claimed a visit from Quan Yin, the female manifestation of the Buddha. The tabloids were having a field day. ARE THESE THE END TIMES? one headline screamed.
Sue’s hands shook as she paged through the clippings. All of the articles and stories in the first grouping were from twenty years ago. The second pile was from the last two months. They all consisted of the same type of thing: occurrences of stigmata and sightings of the Virgin.
Sue ran her hands through her unwashed hair. Maybe I have lost my mind. None of this will make any sense to anyone. All I have to go on is the word of two women, and both of them could be completely insane.
But if they’re insane, that doesn’t explain—
She choked back another sob.
Dr. Marshall came back into the living room, carrying a tray with a teakettle and two cups. There was also a sandwich on brown bread. Placing the tray down on top of several magazines on the coffee table, she poured a cup of tea for Sue and passed it over to her. She smiled apologetically.
“I’m sorry, dear, all I had was peanut butter. I hope that’s okay. Maybe we could order a pizza or something?”
Sue picked up the sandwich. “No, this is fine for now.” She wanted to add, but didn’t: I don’t have a lot of time.
Dr. Marshall poured herself a cup of the tea, then picked up the pile of papers. She frowned as she paged through them all. “Sue—what are you doing with all of this?”