Runaway Nun by Caesar Voghan

Author:Caesar Voghan [Voghan, Caesar]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Publisher: Geppetto Industries
Published: 2014-01-02T08:00:00+00:00

5

The bell tolled three times. For a few moments, the chimes drowned out the dull murmur of the ocean waves blasting the hull of the carrier. Awaken from their slumbers, a pack of seagulls circled the bundle of antennas cluttered around the bell tower, then flew back to their roosting sanctuary under the cover of a satellite dish. Once the tolls’ echo finally died, the birds folded their wings, huddled against each other, and went back to sleep.

Hauling off the bale-stacked dolly, the team of friars rushed past the main entrance of the abbey and disappeared around the corner on their way to the back depository. A second later, the door cracked open and, concealed by the slumping hood of a robe, a woman’s face shone briefly in the moonlight. She looked over to her left then her right, glancing across the deserted flight deck, then she stepped out. She nudged the door back in its place, and, holding the hem of her nun’s robe above her ankles, she raced toward the Chinook helicopter’s double-hunched silhouette looming in the dark.

The nun dashed underneath the propeller’s limp blades, climbed the short flight of stairs leading to the chopper’s cabin, and knocked on its door. It opened immediately, the squeal of its hinges causing her to cast a worried glance over her shoulder. A novice monk, skittish and no older than twenty with a freckled face and fidgety hands, peeked through the doorway. He wore the black cassock of the Jesuit order, the cloth hugging his body tightly, held in place with a tincture knotted around his waist.

“Hey, handsome,” the nun whispered, and cracked a hurried smile.

The novice monk panned his jittery eyes from the ringlets of blond hair wandering out of the slumping hood, to her lips, blood red in the light that drizzled from the cockpit’s emergency box. The nun glanced back one last time at the abbey from where the muffled voices of friars and nuns reciting their communal prayers were echoing through the night—words in Latin about contrite hearts and the demons of the flesh and God’s relentless grace abounding toward sinners.

The monk grabbed her by a shoulder and pulled her in.

“Easy now, handsome—”

The door slammed closed behind her; the lock clanged shut.

Once inside the cockpit, he removed her hood and took her head in his hands. His eyes collected every single detail of her face, like going twice through a checklist.

“God in Heaven,” he mumbled, and swallowed hard.

She arched her lips again, but stopped halfway into a frozen simper. There was no need to try and seduce the man before her. She just looked at him, the unfinished smile creasing her face, her eyes bathed in pity, her hands crawling on his chest. He was young, but already like all the others—weak, drenched in his own lust, helpless, and ready to sell his soul—but his soul was of no use to her.

The novice monk caressed her hair and gently put the rebel hair locks back in line with the curls that wrapped around her face like a cursed halo.

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