Sister Mary Ellen’s Black Umbrella
by Mary Brunini McArdle
conclusion
“Callista.” Mort tapped her on the shoulder. “We have an audience.”
Becky had quietly opened the living room door and stood looking at the couple. “Miss Callista, what’s that funny noise?”
“Oh, honey-”
“It’s okay, Becky,” Mort said. “But I’m thinking the four of us might want to leave.”
“Leave? How?” Callista looked puzzled.
“We’ll have to walk.”
“With two little kids?”
“Callista, I don’t think we have a choice. Look at that crack in your ceiling, it’s getting bigger. I think ‘you know what’s’ possibly in the attic. Let’s go in the kitchen and pack a couple of bags of food and water. And why don’t you get everybody’s heavy sweaters.”
“Food first,” Callista said. “Come on in the kitchen. Here’s a couple of quart bottles for water and there’s some nutrition bars and stuff in the pantry.”
“What should we put the food in?”
“I’ll get a couple of totes from the living room closet. The sweaters are hanging there too. Mort — wait a minute — where’s Roman? He was right here when you got to the house.”
“Roman! Roman!” Mort started calling.
Callista looked at Becky who had a slightly guilty expression on her face.
“Becky, do you know where Roman is?”
“He... he went out the back door. I think he was upset about not going to see Daddy.”
“He needs to come in right now.” Callista opened the back door. It was dark outside, dark like the prelude to a storm. Her heart thudded when she didn’t see Roman in the yard.
“Roman, come in this minute!”
“He’s not here, Callista,” Mort said behind her. “I’m going to his father’s to find him. Be back as soon as I can. You two lock the doors behind me and finish packing.”
“Mort, be careful. I need to get dressed,” Callista said. “Becky, finish your breakfast.”
Please hurry, Mort, she whispered as she went to her room to change. There were two tiny cracks in her ceiling now and a feeling of pressure in her ears.
Callista pulled on jeans, socks, and walking shoes, then decided on a sleeveless tank with a lightweight sweater over it. “Layers,” she muttered.
“Becky, come in here and let me check your clothes. You need your best tennis shoes, okay? And only one Barbie.”
“Aw, Miss Callista...”
“One Barbie, Becky. No arguments.”
* * *
No one else was on the street when Mort left Callista and Becky. He debated knocking on doors, gathering some of the other people together, but decided he had all he could handle for the moment. A few of the flying things fluttered down; Mort ignored them. Dan Walker’s trailer was a quarter mile from the school; Mort headed there first.
He was horrified at what he found. The trailer was on its side, the front door hanging open. Walker’s body was half in and half out, his face covered with swollen lumps.
“Roman? Are you here?” Mort stepped over Walker and looked briefly around. He heard nothing but an angry hum coming from the walls.
The school! Mort thought. Roman’s hiding in the school. He’s probably in shock, afraid to walk the rest of the way home alone.
More of the things came down, thumping against Mort’s head. He shook them off, wincing at the pain of a few stings, and ran across the schoolyard.
Roman was under the third grade teacher’s desk, crying. Mort reached down and pulled the little boy into his arms. Roman clutched Mort’s neck.
“Roman, did you see... did you go to the trailer?”
“Daddy! Daddy! He’s killed!”
“Oh, Roman, I’m so sorry. But we need to get out of here, and then we’re getting out of Leland... with Callista and Becky.”
“Where?”
“Don’t worry about that right now, Roman. First we go to Callista’s.”
But when Mort and Roman reached the front door of the schoolhouse, many more of the flying “things” had come down.
I don’t want us to share Walker’s fate, Mort thought.
He looked around and saw an old umbrella stand in the hall by the door. Two huge black umbrellas, left by Sister Mary Ellen years ago? Of course.
Mort grabbed one and carrying Roman, dashed outside. A couple of the “bees” thumped the umbrella and then... nothing.
Damn! Mort thought. They don’t like this umbrella for some reason. They aren’t coming near it!
“Hold on a second, Roman. We’ve got to go back inside.”
“Noooo!” Roman wailed.
“Just for a second.”
Mort grabbed the other umbrella and tucked it under his arm. For Callista and Becky, he thought.
“Okay, Roman, here we go!”
* * *
“Roman! Mort! Oh, darling!” Callista looked at Mort, her eyes questioning.
“It’s bad, Callista. Walker’s dead. We’ve got to get out of here. Do you hear that? That angry buzzing? Those things are in your walls.”
Callista paled. “I thought you two would never get here. Mort, how do we get out? If the swarm is attacking people—”
“I discovered a defense. A very odd defense. Two of Sister Mary Ellen’s black umbrellas were still in the school foyer. Those things are scared of them for some reason.”
“Are they holy? Blessed?”
“I honestly don’t know. It could be they’re made of some material that repels.”
“So what now?”
“Everything packed?”
“Yes.”
“Then we start walking, Callista.”
“All the way to Jasper?” Callista gasped.
“I’m hoping when we get to the highway we can hitch a ride. There’s not much traffic, but eventually somebody will see us.”
* * *
Ten in the morning: Callista was amazed only a couple of hours had passed with all that had happened. Still daylight, thank goodness, she thought. But we need to start out now.
“No point locking the door,” Mort said. “Let’s go.”
The couple and the two children headed down the street for the road that connected to the two-lane highway; Callista and Becky sharing one umbrella, Mort and Roman the other.
Becky started crying at the sight of the swarm in the sky and the things that flew at them, but Mort pointed out that they didn’t come within two feet. “We’re okay, Becky, we’re okay.”
The four trudged along, their pace slowed by the little ones. The light was odd, altered by the swarm overhead. A slight wind blew constantly.
It took three hours to reach the cut-off. Mort called a halt and handed out nutrition bars and lukewarm Gatorade. Then he insisted they start again, this time south toward Jasper. As they walked they left the strange swarm farther and farther behind. They caught up with two other people, older folks, their faces swollen.
“Miss Lucy, is that you? Look, Mr. Mort, it’s Miss Lucy from the Post Office. And Mr. Sweeney from down the street.” Becky sounded proud of herself for being the first to recognize their neighbors.
“Oh, Callista!” Miss Lucy wailed. “I met Mr. Sweeney on the way. But my... my husband...” She gulped, unable to finish.
Callista hugged her, knowing her husband was in a wheelchair. “He wanted you to go, didn’t he?”
“Yes. He’s in the cellar with the doors locked.”
“Then he’ll be all right,” Callista reassured her. “You’re fortunate you left when you did, or you’d have more stings.”
“I don’t know how much farther I can walk.”
“First ride we find is for you,” Callista said.
Thirty minutes later, Miss Lucy gave up. “I... can’t... I’ve got to sit down.”
‘Mr. Sweeney, let’s get you and Lucy over to that log. Stay with her and we’ll send back someone for you,” Mort said.
* * *
The quartet was lucky: another forty-five minutes and Mort hailed a van going south. It was headed to Jasper and the driver agreed to drop the four off at the Sheriff’s office.
“He needs to know what happened in Leland,” Mort explained. “I’d tell you about it but it’s pretty unbelievable.”
“We’re grateful for the ride,” Callista added. “The children are tired.”
Sheriff Owens was in his office. “What in the world are you all doing here? You look exhausted.”
“There may not be anyone left alive in Leland.” Mort decided to jump in without a prelude. “You’ll need the National Guard’s help with this investigation, if it is still as dangerous there as it was. And someone needs to go back toward the side road connection and pick up two old folks sitting on a log. Survivors; they need medical attention.”
Sheriff Owens stared for a moment, then his law enforcement training kicked in. “Going to make some calls,” he said.
Callista watched the Sheriff’s retreating back, then turned to Mort and said, “Now what?”
“We find hotel rooms.”
“And then what?”
“We wait until we know more, then we decide. I don’t think we’ll be able to go back to Leland. There may not be anything there.”
“Oh, my God!” Callista moaned. “Then what?”
“Then we find an apartment or a house to rent, get married, and make plans to start over. The four of us. Becky and Roman have no relatives left; there’s just you and me. We can always substitute-teach for a while. When it’s safe, we’ll go back and get some of our furniture and clothes. Oh, wait a minute.”
“Huh?”
Mort, taking the steps with giant strides, ran into the Sheriff’s office with one of the black umbrellas. “Think you might be glad to have this,” Mort said.
“Why?”
Mort put his hands on the Sheriff’s shoulders and stared solemnly into his eyes. “How do you think Callista and I and the two kids got out of Leland? This is the best protection you’re going to get. Just take my word for it.”
* * *
Mort and Callista never returned to Leland. Miss Lucy and Mr. Sweeney were rescued, but they reported they had heard a horrific howling and the wind almost blew them into the road. Whatever the wind was, it had the effects of tornado activity; there were no survivors in the town, and every structure was demolished. There was no sign of the mysterious swarm.
Unable to retrieve any of their things, Mort and Callista were married in a simple ceremony with Becky and Roman attending and Sheriff Owens and Mr. Sweeney as witnesses.
Becky and Roman were formally adopted by the new couple who made do by substitute teaching and other temporary jobs. After Christmas, teaching positions opened in Tupelo, Mississippi, and the new family settled there, buying a small house and accumulating what they needed a little at a time.
The media lost interest quickly, determining weather was responsible for the destruction of Leland. There was gossip and speculation, of course, but after all, there were only six witnesses, two of them young children. By the time the authorities reached the town there was no one left.
“I’m still afraid, Mort,” Callista confided, the day they moved in their house. “I don’t know if I’ll ever get over it.”
“The incidents were few and years apart, though, Callista. It probably won’t ever happen again.”
“But it could, Mort. There’s no way we can know. We don’t even know what it was.”
“Oh, baby. Try to be happy. We’re a family now.”
“Just promise me one thing.”
“What?”
“We keep that old black umbrella forever. Wherever we go, it goes.”
“We have two. Sheriff Owens returned the other one. It’s in the trunk of the car.”
“Thank God.” Callista clasped her hands and whispered, “And thank you, Sister Mary Ellen.”
Copyright © 2008 by Mary Brunini McArdle
