Page 13 of Pierre (Voodoo Guardians #40)

There was never an end to the crowds on the streets. People selling food. People begging for food. People sleeping on the street. People selling themselves on the streets. Men and Women.

It didn’t go without notice that gang members walked around with automatic weapons – Russian, Chinese, and American-made. Someone was selling weapons to the gangs, but that was an issue that Pierre and the team couldn’t solve today. Or this month, or this year, for that matter.

“Jesus, this is awful,” said Marjorie.

Butch was holding tight to her hand, and she was grateful. If someone grabbed her, there would be nothing anyone could do about it with this many people.

Pierre stopped in front of an older woman selling plates of food. He offered to buy it all if she would tell him where St. Francis Assisi was located. Almost all of them spoke French, but the French spoken by the Haitians was an entirely different variety.

“Why are you seeking the church?” asked the old woman.

“We would just like to speak with them,” said Pierre. “I assure you, we mean no harm.”

“Are you stealing our children?” she asked.

“No,” said Marjorie, stepping closer to the woman. “No. I promise we are not. I’m a nurse, as is my friend over there. We want to help the children and get them home safely.”

The woman gave a chuff of disgust and shook her head, clucking her tongue at them.

“Safe? Look around you. There is no place safe here for a child any longer. They will use them for work, war, or something worse. Safe is not an option.”

“Can you at least let us try?” asked Ambry. The old woman looked at them, then back at Pierre.

“You are one of us.”

“I used to be. I was adopted. Legally, by my parents. I’ve had a wonderful life and would like to make sure these children have the same option.”

“The church is down this road, turn left at the green house and then left at the small garden. So you know, just because it’s a church doesn’t mean it’s a good place.”

They stared at one another, wanting to ask for more information, but the woman was suddenly very busy with men asking for their lunch.

“What do you suppose she meant by that?” asked Marjorie.

“I’m not sure,” said Pierre. “We’ve had some experiences where the church was guilty of some pretty horrendous crimes. We’re not blind to that, but no one has given any indication that’s the case here. She might just be bitter about something. Let’s find this place.”

Tucker and Fish took the lead with Butch, Marjorie, Pierre, and Ambry in the middle, Conn and Winslow at the rear. The women might not be aware of it, but the men were ready for anything, weapons hidden on their bodies, tucked inside their clothing.

They turned left at the green house, then left again when they saw the lovely little gardens. They were pathetically out of place in the disaster and poverty-stricken streets.

“Someone loves to garden,” said Marjorie. “Some of it is food, some are herbs, and others are just flowers.”

“Strange,” frowned Ambry. “It’s very out of place here.”

Suddenly, the men stilled, pulling the women back behind them. The cocking of a rifle had their ultimate attention.

“Ma’am, there’s no need for the weapon,” said Butch. “We’re here to help.”

“Help what? I don’t need any help, and I don’t need you raiding my gardens.”

“I’m sorry, are you Sister Josephina?” asked Pierre.

“Yes. Common knowledge,” she said bitterly.

“Ma’am, we really are trying to help,” said Ambry, stepping closer. “I’m a nurse, and so is my friend over there. These men all work on the hospital ship with us. We’re just worried about the children.”

The woman stared at them, then lowered the weapon and let out a long sigh. Stepping into the light of the day, they realized she wasn’t an old woman at all. She was maybe mid-forties, heavyset, and wearing coveralls with a Led Zeppelin t-shirt.

“You’re Sister Josephina?” frowned Butch.

“Yes. And no. We all go by her name so that no one knows exactly who she is. She’s got a lot of enemies,” said the woman. “I’m just a helper. Come in.”

They followed her into the rundown brick building and were surprised to find it in relatively good condition on the inside. There was a beautifully carved altar with a massive crucifix hanging from the wall. The stained-glass windows, long since removed and replaced with whatever was available.

“Have a seat,” she said, pointing to the pews. “I don’t have anything to offer you to drink or eat.”

“It’s alright,” said Winslow. “We’re not here for that. We understand that the children come here at night for sanctuary. About how many do you get every evening?”

“It differs. Sometimes only ten or twenty, sometimes a hundred.”

“Only ten or twenty? That’s still a lot of kids,” frowned Fish. She nodded at him, raising a brow.

“Yes, that’s a lot of kids. But as I said, we get as many as a hundred some nights.”

“Do you keep track of names?” asked Pierre.

“No. If I did, they wouldn’t come. They’re afraid someone will make them return to wherever they came from. In fact, most think they’re protecting us by not giving a name. That way, if someone asks, we’re not guilty.”

“Geez,” muttered Conn. “When they leave in the morning, where do they go?”

“I wish I knew,” she said, shaking her head.

“I have a few regulars that I see all the time. The kids are smart enough to travel together, knowing there is strength in numbers. Whoever hunts them down knows that as well. I think they try to separate the kids and force them to veer off from the crowds.”

“Is there any distinction in who they take?” asked Pierre.

“More boys than girls, for sure. But the girls haven’t been immune,” she said, looking around the church.

“The priest left here two months ago. Said he didn’t sign up for this.

That left me and no one else to run the place.

And no, as you’ve guessed, I’m not a nun.

I came as a missionary worker. Feed the hungry and poor, give some hugs, maybe hand out some books or pamphlets, and head home. That was three years ago.”

“I’m sorry,” said Butch.

“Don’t be. It’s the only job I’ve ever loved. These kids have no one. Most don’t have parents, and if they do, they’re involved in drugs or crime, maybe in a gang. This is the place they can remain safe at night.”

“They don’t come during the day?” asked Conn.

“No. They know that they have to be seen by the gangs, or they’ll think the kids sold them out.

It doesn’t make sense to me, but it’s what the kids believe.

And before you ask, I have no idea who’s taking these children.

All I know is that we hide them, feed them, try to give them some hope, but as you’ve seen, this is a pretty hopeless place. ”

“It is that,” said Pierre, standing to leave. “Where are the other two churches? We really need to get some information. Preferably from Sister Josephina.”

“Well, St. Mary’s is on the other side of the island.

You’ll need a car and good hiking boots to get there.

Sacred Heart is about ten miles from here.

You can walk it, but it’s a long walk. Lots of gangs to dodge going through the streets.

I’d suggest the ladies stay at home tomorrow,” said the woman.

“Where are we most likely to find Sister Josephina?” asked Pierre.

“Your guess is as good as mine,” she said, shaking her head.

“She communicates via text messages or messengers on foot. I haven’t spoken to her in weeks, and I’ve begged for help with the children or at least some direction as to what I’m supposed to do.

She said she’d contacted the diocese, but as you can imagine, we’ve had no communication from them.

“Sister Josephina always says that she’s out there doing God’s work, and that she’ll let us know what to do about the children. I have to tell you, I haven’t seen anything resembling God’s work here.”

“We appreciate your time,” said Butch, standing to leave the church.

“I’d be grateful if you all went out through the gardens again,” she said. “I don’t need for everyone to see that I’ve had strangers in here. It would scare the children.”

“Yes, ma’am,” said Pierre. They left through the gardens as requested, circled the block, and headed back toward the docks and the ship.

“What now?” asked Ambry.

“Now we eat, sleep, and kiss you goodbye in the morning while we find those other two churches.”

“Pierre,” she started.

“No. No arguments. The ship needs you and Marjorie. We need to find the churches and Sister Josephina.”