We live in what had once been a church. We sit on the pews, leaf through the hymn books from sheer boredom, play with the statues and altars. It had obviously been a Catholic church, for which I am grateful. More things to look at. Beautiful panes of stained glass block the view of the outside world, which is a blessing. Pictures of the Virgin Mary swathed in blue and red, her face nearly hidden behind her head covering. The colors light up brilliantly when the sun is up and grow dark and muddy as night comes. A huge figure of Jesus adorns the back wall. He hangs helplessly, eyes closed, blood dripping down his face. Dead to us, destined to rise again I suppose.
We found some food in the back. Remains of a celebratory buffet or something. We tried to save it as long as possible, but of course it is gone now. Polly and Dave go out at night, looking for food and water. It’s more dangerous at night, because it is harder to see. But it is also hard for things to see us, so it is safer. At least that’s what Polly told me. She says she goes with Dave for safety, but really I think he goes with her to feel safe. He is big, but she is smart, and that counts for more. At least that’s what I think. I also think they’re sleeping together, so maybe she’s not that smart.
Us “kids”, the ones who aren’t smart or big, don’t have a lot to do these days. We try to sleep at night and stay awake during the day, just to keep to the old rhythms. It seems healthier somehow, more familiar. But it is hard to sleep at night, worrying about Polly. And hearing those noises. All that stained glass. It is up high, above an average man’s head, but still…
We thought about holding some church services. After all, we live in a church with all the trappings. Why not take advantage? We are all different religions, or none at all. But maybe something small, basic, hopeful. Polly said it was stupid. She thinks we should spend our time doing more useful things. She doesn’t understand the boredom; she always has things to do and places to go. The rest of us want a little pageantry to kill the time. Jesus looks so sad up there on the wall, though. Disappointed. It is hard to stay hopeful under those sad eyes.
There was a lot of work in the beginning. Finding the food and figuring out how to keep it without any electricity. Cleaning up the mess the people had left behind. The pews and floor had been trashed, filled with paper, old coke bottles, remains of candles and torches. So we all pitched in and cleaned, taking stock of what we had, marking out little private spaces for ourselves. It’s important to have a little private space, even now when we need to be together.
We found the priest in the back, in the private chambers behind the wall with the giant crucifix. He was hanging from a long, gold sash, a chair kicked over next to his desk. We stood for a minute, solemnly. We had seen some bodies in the past few days, but we were still fascinated. Then he had opened his eyes. Resurrected. Polly shot him in the head. That’s the only way to be sure.
