Ch.16Ch.2 – No Country for Young Boys (4)

# April 5, 1929. 12:12 AM

## Outskirts of Pollard City

The motorcycle that had been racing through the alleyways turned onto the main road, then onto the outskirts. There was no light except for the moon and stars, and no buildings in sight.

The nun who had been frantically driving the motorcycle pulled over to the side of the road. The four-cylinder engine of the Indian Ace finally quieted down. After returning the Colt revolver, the nun stretched her arms and legs to loosen up.

“Satisfied? I really enjoyed it.”

I couldn’t answer, having been riding so frantically for so long. I was barely holding back the urge to vomit.

Noticing my condition, the nun opened a box attached to the side of the saddle. Inside was a glass bottle wrapped in newspaper, containing a transparent liquid that sloshed around. With a crack, she personally opened the bottle cap for me.

“Take a sip. Down it in one go. Just try spitting it out, I dare you.”

Judging by the smell of alcohol, it was clearly liquor. But I had no room to think about anything else. My throat was dry, my nerves were considerably frayed, and my stomach was upset from the wild motorcycle ride.

I cautiously took a sip. It felt a bit lukewarm at first, but then my tongue began to burn. Soon, the burning sensation spread down to the root of my tongue, up past the roof of my mouth, and into the back of my nose. Despite gagging and covering my mouth, I somehow managed to force it down. Even burning gasoline couldn’t be this hot. My esophagus and stomach protested at being subjected to such a thing.

“Wow. You handle Vladimir vodka well? It’s still incredibly difficult for Americans to drink! As I thought, my eyes and nose were correct. You’re not ordinary. Who exactly are you?”

With my tongue and throat burning, and feeling utterly dumbfounded, I couldn’t respond. The nun snatched the vodka bottle from my hand and gulped it down as if she were pouring fuel into a tank.

“Ah. This is the taste of home. Hey. What exactly are you? Are you human? Or are you a beast?

What’s that? We haven’t even properly introduced ourselves yet? Fine. Fine. My name is Avashina. I’m the Mother Superior of the southern cathedral in Pollard.

You say I’m too young to be a Mother Superior? That’s nonsense! I really am young! Anyway, you can call me Sister Avashina.”

The nun stepped boldly toward me. Her breath was close enough to touch my skin. Avashina’s silver eyes were round and clear like the white moon. But in their center was a distinct black blind spot.

Somehow, I felt as if I could see my own reflection in them. The nun gently placed both hands on my chest.

I looked down at her hands and then back into her eyes. I couldn’t understand why the nun was so surprised.

“It’s not working.”

The nun stepped back and drank the vodka like water.

“Bang bang, I shoot and you don’t faint. Even when I look at you straight like this, you don’t fall under hypnosis. How can you be ‘human’? If you were human, you would definitely be affected.”

The nun frowned, then proceeded to empty the entire bottle of vodka. The empty bottle flew into the bushes with a crash, shattering into pieces.

“Do you know why you shouldn’t bleed in ‘my’ bar?”

Though she was pretending to be calm, the nun’s tongue was slightly curled. In fact, the very effort to appear composed was already evidence of her intoxication.

“You see, my eyesight is quite poor. Had an accident, changed my taste, and my body became healthier. But I can’t see colors. The world is like a black and white silent film.

But while God did a great job creating the world, He didn’t create a lighting director, so I can hardly bear to keep my eyes open.

People all look like walking lead mannequins, and steak looks like newspaper soaked in ink. That’s why I wear an eye patch.”

The nun fidgeted with the black cloth tied around her left arm. She walked toward the motorcycle and took out another new bottle, opened it, and drank.

“But how merciful our God is! There are things I can see clearly. One is blood. Red blood appears very distinctly. I can see it from far away.

If you’ve come to Pollard Island, you must have seen the night sea at least once. Then you would have seen red torches burning on the horizon, or gas lamps covered with red glass.

That’s how blood appears to me. I can smell it too. Even the smell of that dried leather pouch in your front pocket.

If you had brought that just one day earlier, I would have gone crazy. It makes my mouth water.”

The Colt still had one bullet left. The nun’s Thompson was still stuck in the motorcycle saddle.

If I were to shoot very quickly… The nun was holding the liquor bottle in her right hand, so she wouldn’t be able to grab the Thompson quickly.

I carefully gripped the handle of the Colt.

“But there’s one more thing I can see clearly.”

Suddenly, the nun extended her left arm toward me. Click! In the nun’s left hand was a gleaming Derringer pistol.

It seemed to be normally attached to her wrist, designed to spring out with a slight manipulation.

“Monster.”

The wind blew. Clouds covered the moon again. Regrettably, only half-covered.

If it were completely covered… I might be able to roll forward or sideways to buy time to draw my gun.

“If you were human, you should have fallen under my suggestion. But you didn’t even flinch at my strongest suggestion, even after drinking alcohol.

You walk on two legs like a human, but you have a pouch of dried blood in your front pocket. And you’re looking for O’Brien.

Are you planning to eat that child next?”

“That is what you say.”

The nun’s face contorted.

“What did you just say?”

I recited another verse from the Bible.

“If I tell you, you will not believe; and if I ask you, you will not answer.”

“Are you really quoting scripture to a Catholic nun? And of all things, you’re citing Jesus’s testimony to Pilate and the other interrogators before he was crucified?”

I silently looked at the nun. I raised my empty hand. The nun readjusted her grip on the Derringer. The clouds quickly swallowed the moon. Eventually, the nun lowered her hand.

“Hand over that pouch.”

I gave her the pouch from the undertaker. The nun opened it wide and deeply savored the smell.

Under the moon that reappeared, the nun looked like a connoisseur appreciating aged wine or well-ripened cheese.

I told the nun where I had obtained the item and where the location was.

“You. Beast in human form. I’ll give you one last chance. Please try to convince me. Why are you trying to save O’Brien?”

Because I was hired to. That was my reason.

But that wasn’t all. When I couldn’t find him even at the edges of the entertainment district, what I felt was relief.

If the boy had been found in such a place, that would have been truly sad.

Wherever he was, I thought it would be better than being among corrupted humans.

When I answered like that, the nun’s face softened.

“So you’re not a monster that eats people. Or perhaps you’ve been pretending to be human for so long that you’re confused whether you’re a monster or a person. Anyway.”

I asked if she really saw me as a monster, why did she save me? And why hadn’t she shot me yet?

“What else? Because of procedure. You know what? I feel like I’m going crazy. I don’t know what to write in my report.

You have no idea how meticulous the Vatican is. The Roman Catholic Church is such a bureaucratic institution that it dispatches priests even to remote rural villages around the world.

If those priests send just one letter a week to Rome, His Holiness the Pope gets world information updated on a weekly basis.

I’m going to report about you too. It will be submitted under the name of Sister Avashina of the ‘Black and White Rose Order,’ directly under the Vatican. But……”

The nun elegantly extended her leg and mounted the Indian’s saddle.

“Let’s find O’Brien first and think about it later. You. Be grateful to that child. I was also looking for him, but I got stuck at a critical point.

But with you, I think we can go. Why, you ask? Because you’re not human, you’re a beast. It’s a path humans can’t take.”

Vroom, vroom! The four-cylinder engine roared loudly.

“Get on, Mr. Beast.”

It wasn’t just because of the title that I didn’t get on. I was simply curious. What is your reason for worrying about O’Brien when you look like a real monster to me? Why are you trying to find him?

“Get on and I’ll tell you.”

I climbed onto the Indian’s saddle and placed my hands around the nun’s waist. For some reason, the nun’s body shifted slightly, but she soon revved up the engine with a roar. Before departing, the nun whispered.

“Because that child is the heart.”

The motorcycle sped off powerfully.

* * * * *

# April 5, 1929. 12:43 AM

## Southern Cemetery of Pollard

As we entered the cemetery, the nun turned off the headlight. She completely shut down the engine as well. Then she rummaged through the saddle and gave me a sawed-off shotgun with a few rounds. The nun replaced the drum magazine of her Thompson.

“Let’s push it.”

Creak… creak. Since the road was bone dry, pushing wasn’t difficult. On the way to the cemetery entrance, the nun stopped walking.

After securing the motorcycle, she sniffed around, turning her head this way and that. Then she walked to a place with broken flagstones.

“It’s here. That blood smell is coming from here.”

I couldn’t see anything. I should have brought a lighter or matches. While I was pondering, the nun gathered soil and stones between the flagstones to create a small dam. It looked like a child’s game.

After dusting off her hands, she carefully poured vodka into it.

“You know what? On a rainy day, imagine the filthiest puddle you can think of. A puddle where something disgusting might be floating, emitting a stench that would engrave itself on your soul. But even such a puddle.”

The nun pulled my arm. I followed her, stepping back little by little. One step, then another. Eventually, the moon was reflected in the filthy puddle.

Not just the moon. The stars that would have been watching all tragedies from around the moon. And the silence of darkness that spoke more than light was contained there as well.

“It knows how to contain the world.”

The nun recited a prayer in a low voice. I couldn’t tell what language it was. Judging by the strong accent, it seemed like Russian or perhaps German.

Whatever it was, as the prayer intensified, the moon in the puddle burned more brightly.

“Beast. You lead the way.”

I looked at the nun.

“That puddle is a secret door that ‘can be walked down.’ Remember the bar I ran? Think of it like walking down stairs through a secret door.

But I can’t walk there alone. Not because my eyesight is poor… but because I can’t distinguish shadows at all, so it makes me dizzy.”

This made no sense. How could one not just step on a puddle, but ‘walk down’ into it? I politely disagreed. The nun downed the remaining vodka.

“Alright. Let’s do it this way. I have legs but no eyes. You have all your limbs intact but only good eyes. So.”

The nun suddenly threw herself into my arms. A faint scent of lily of the valley wafted from her. The nun, who had wrapped her arms around my back, showed no intention of letting go.

“You tell me the direction. I’ll walk backward. You just walk with me. We’re not tied together, but let’s call it a three-legged race. How about it?”

I said forward. The nun took one step backward. I said right, then added that I meant from her perspective.

“You’re a kind monster.”

The nun smiled.

One step.

If I could have, I would have closed my eyes. The puddle swallowed the feet of the nun and myself. As if the ground were some giant hologram.

Another step. The nun and I walked down another stair.

“Oh.”

The nun’s body tilted backward. I caught her. Inadvertently, I ended up embracing her tightly.

“Beast.”

The nun, with her nose buried in my chest, whispered.

The effects of the alcohol were finally kicking in.