“How many times have I told you to not push back when the family starts shouting? How many now, Sister Lucia? Tell me! I have lost count.”

  The last of the daylight drained from the sky, painting the glass of the derelict transportation terminal in a dim, bruised blue. Sister Teresa’s face was etched in fury, her wrinkles casting familiar shadows. She was mid-rant when a deep cough overtook her, just as a gust of sandy wind swept violently past the terminal.

  “Here,” Sister Lucia held out a damp biodegradable towel. It was pretty much the only thing keeping anyone in this part of the world alive through the hot, sandy winds of the day. It was also the only climate protection she had packed, thinking they were just doing a routine prayer session with the Barker family. The damp towels were enough for the day. For the night, however, no cold control attire, nothing for the wind chill creeping in as the terminal bus delayed further.

  Sister Teresa slapped the towel away.

  “Huh?” Sister Lucia couldn’t help but feel revolted.

  “Please, the last thing I need is a cold towel to quicken my freeze to death tonight.”

  “Well, it’s all I have. Let’s pray the bus makes it on time for once.”

  Teresa grunted, shifting in her seat.

  “You should have brought the thermal coverings.”

  “You know well enough we don’t do night services anymore since the temps started dropping below threshold. Today was a one off—For Spirits’ sake, you are the Supreme head nun of the convent, shouldn’t you know this already?”

  Sister Lucia nudged the old nun gently, just enough to annoy.

  “Don’t you tell me what I should and should not be knowing, you little rascal. You caused enough trouble today already.”

  Lucia couldn’t help but crack a smile. The words ‘little rascal’ was Sister Teresa’s way of hinting she had forgiven Sister Lucia already. Those words were rare these days. Once she said it all the time, back when she was an assistant nun and Lucia, just a child. Now their roles had shifted. Lucia was a newly appointed assistant nun herself, and Teresa, the Supreme head nun of the convent.

  Another gust ripped the flimsy terminal door open, slicing cold through their robes, stealing the little warmth left.

  “Maybe I should press the emergency alert,” Sister Lucia swung her satchel around. But Sister Teresa only stopped her.

  “Give it a few more minutes.” Teresa said, pointing ahead. A speck of white light floated in the distance. The bus.

  “You know,” Sister Teresa said, her voice suddenly soft, “this entire place used to be filled with trees.”

  The shift in tone made Lucia quiet. Her eyes drifted to the open desert. For as long as she could remember, this place had been desolate. She’d heard the rumors. The area had once been cleared for development by the government, then abandoned during the collapse, left for the ever-growing sandstorms to engulf.

  Now it was just them, and the scattered elderly clinging to their government-sponsored senior homes. The area held little to no value anymore.

  “Trees, you say?”

  “Yes, trees, big giant trees, with leaves. They were so green, so delicate, so friendly. And there were flowers and bees and birds and…you know…right?”

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  Sister Lucia’s silence was deafening. Though she understood the words, she had never experienced trees or flowers or birds or bees, individually nor together. All she remembered growing up were buildings, sewage, and the sharp stench of alcohol. And with that came the smell of rusted iron. The image of sticky red liquid pooled on a cracked floor.

  Again? She shook her head, trying to dispel the thought. It was the second time today the same image had flashed in her mind, a rather rare occurrence these days.

  “I suppose you can tell my age then, Sister Lucia. Who remembers trees and flowers and birds and bees these days, huh?”

  Sister Lucia let out a snort. “Ah yes, that would give it away indeed. But I didn’t know your perceived age was such a big deal to you, Sister Teresa?”

  Sister Teresa whipped her head around at once. “Oh please, I have an image to maintain, dear. The brothers of the denomination at the West End still think I’m a cool fifty. They always tease me for being so young. I suppose it’s my supple skin.”

  The two nuns giggled. “The brothers are so oblivious,” Sister Lucia commented.

  “Ah yes, men, they are all the same. Quite oblivious…” Sister Teresa pointed the bus drawing closer, prompting the two nuns to stand. “...Speaking of the brothers, I hear you are in charge of welcoming them next week for the new recruits' grand ceremony.”

  “Yes, Sister Cathy and I will be taking care of our recruits and will have them ready for the joint ceremony at the end of next week. We’ll also be coordinating with the Brothers in charge of their recruits.”

  “Excellent. And I take it that you have the list of your six given to you?”

  “The names, yes. But they will be arriving tomorrow just before the ceremony. They’ll be the last batch to come from the South.”

  “Perfect. And boy, am I glad we are not the ones visiting the Brothers’ monastery this year. Last year was a disaster.”

  “I heard the beds were bad.”

  “The beds were the least of our worries. The maintenance of the front yards were piss poor. The rooms were rat-infested and all the bloody men ran away at the sight of one.”

  Sister Lucia laughed, picturing the chaos. Despite the sour description, she knew it was a good time from the young nuns that visited last year. It was the only time in the year they got to interact with anyone outside their convent. The yearly recruitment initiation ceremony was practically their only glimpse of the outside world.

  “This damn bus!” Sister Teresa blurted out. The bus had gotten stuck in a sudden loop ten feet from the terminal. It circled an imaginary roundabout, floating just a foot above the sand, before finally slowing to a stop and jerking its fidgety door open.

  “For Spirits’ sake!”

  Sister Teresa signalled Sister Lucia to follow as she pushed the terminal door open, bracing herself against the cold wind sweeping past. Sister Lucia could not stop her. The head nun was already halfway to the bus.

  The cold wind shoved Sister Lucia as soon as she left the terminal. Her hand shot up, catching the deep red veil pinned to her head. Strands of dark hair trapped themselves between her lashes.

  “Sister Teresa—” she called out, almost as a call for help rather than an inquiry.

  Her eyes watered as she struggled to clear her vision. Suddenly, a hand grabbed her forearm, pulling her into warmth.

  The bus doors sealed with a mechanical hiss. The wind dropped to near zero.

  “To be as young as you, but be as weak as I should be—must be a difficult life, mustn't it, Sister Lucia?”

  The head nun’s voice echoed in her mind. Lucia found herself gripping the railing tightly, coughing harder than she remembered she ever could. She felt Sister Teresa brushing the sand off her thick deep-red tunic, the one worn over their usual shirt-and-pants attire, the more modern uniform of their analog-centric faith.

  “Sister Lucia—”

  A gentle slap to her cheeks snapped her eyes open. Rather than a frustrated look, the head nun only bore a concerned one.

  “Wha–what is it?” she managed to ask. But Sister Teresa only kept patting her face.

  “Your lips, dear, are blue. Are you alright?”

  Suddenly Sister Lucia's vision blurred. Darkness began creeping in from the edges. All that aching in her chest stopped at once.

  Her mind floated, detached, drifting into a strange calm. But that only lasted a second before that familiar pool of blood began emerging from the distance, drawing closer to her. She was back in that room. Derelict walls, cracked tiled floor with dirt collecting at the edges. The stench of alcohol mixed with the smell of blood struck her in waves.

  Then she heard it. That voice from another lifetime, clawing for breath, whispering for attention, “Rahi…my sweet, Rahi…”