Chapter Text
June 24th 1899.
6:52AM.
Hot Pants sat on her heels against the floor, the candles on the prie-dieu dimly lit the cross above from both sides. She straightened her back, and she clasped her hands loosely on her lap. Her whispers were the only thing to echo in the room. The small prayer book sat on her lap, slightly worn from her times of using, it was a book bound with black Moroccan leather, unclasped onto a page. The edges of the pages were lined with gold. As the blue hue of the early morning shined through, she prayed:
“Deus, in adjutorium meum intende..” O God, incline unto my aid. her habit pooled around her like a dark in puddle, she felt her knees throb in a dull ache and the cold sensation of sweat wash over her. She took a deep breath to take in the morning silence and the spirit of God listening to her voice. She turned the page with careful calm. Hot Pants continued:
“Domine, ad adjuvandum me festina...” O Lord, make haste to help me. The prayer died on her lips, the usual smell of old vellum and dried roses turned metallic and sour. She opened her eyes, looking at the prie-dieu.
It stood the same. Heavy dark oak, stained almost black loomed over her. The crucifix still bolted at the center, The candles that sat on heavy brass cups still lit and casted light against her savior. Silence became hollowed. The air felt as if its squeezing around her. Hot Pants unclasped her hands and closed the prayer book. Nothing looked wrong, but something felt wrong. Hot Pants noticed her breath, She noticed the way the fire flickered against a subtle rumble in the distance. She turned her head slightly, brushing the veil of her habit to see the door from the corner of her eye.
She noticed the shake of the cup that held the candles, that familiar beeswax smell that prayed with her day and night, had turned into something that stung her nose; something that smelled bitter. She noticed the shaking of her hands, Hot Pants put them on the floor, and felt the cold vibrations of the floorboards. The smell of God was replaced by the smell of rot.
She barely processed the following events as she found herself outside, the shattering of a glass and the violent blow of a fire starting as another one of the nuns dragged her outside. Her knees buckled, weak and unstable she had been kneeling for so long she couldn’t stand.
“Sister, Sister Hope. Oh Heavens! You’re alright! We have to flee, now.” Sister Catherine, a kind woman not much older than her, held her stable. Hot Pants blinked, looking at her disheveled appearance. The dirt stains on her habit and the mix of dried tears and wet tears.
“Sister..-“ the questions hung on her tongue, Sister Catherine had her hands cupping her face. Sister Catherine was like a sister to her, doing nightly prayers together and working together during their usual mornings. She didn’t have a veil, just her curls disheveled and in ruins as if she had been running. Hot Pants fell against her, hugging her for support. She looked around at the village behind Sister Catherine
The smell of wrongness hit her nose to its full power, she watched through vision clouded by dust the once quiet cluster of wooden buildings and peaceful streets turn into a pyre of black smoke, splintering wood, and the indistinguishable smell of feces and nauseating earthy decay. Children screamed, mother cried, men shot their guns but the reanimated corpses didn’t stop. Infact, they got more aggressive with every shot, their rotting skin turning a pale green, they foamed at the mouths and attacked the people. Her numbed legs felt as if they were being pierced by needles.
“My brother. Wheres my brother?” She couldn’t breathe, looking towards the her house, She tugs at Sister Catherine’s gown.
“I need to get my brother.”
“Sister-“ Hot Pants tugged harder
“Please.”
Sister Catherine looks at her and then to where Hot Pants was looking before gasping. Hot Pants was shoved to the ground, rocky sand hits her head as pain explodes through her forehead. Something gurgles above her. She doesn’t want to look, Hot Pants mentally prayed on instinct:
“Cor Jesu, salus in te sperantium, miserere nobis.” Heart of Jesus, salvation of those who hope in thee, have mercy on us. she feels the warm streaking of tears coming down her cheeks. The gurgling fades away, she feels the presence of something non-human stumble away. With cautious, she turns her head.
Sister Catherine is gone. She shoved Hot Pants to the ground before vanishing into the chaos of violence and fear. She can feel everything at the same time. The nauseatingly sweet smell of decay, the burnt smell of wood, the screams that pierced her ears and the racing thoughts about anyone and everyone she knew and cared for. Everything at once overwhelmed every sense she had and more. The pain of her injury when she fell throbbed sharply, making her whimper. When did she start bleeding?
The pooling warmth only had occurred to her now, and now that she noticed it, the dull pain sharpened significantly. Too much is happening, with so little she could do, all she wanted to do was curl up into a ball and cry. But, the urge to collapse was a sin she couldn’t afford. Hot Pants pushed herself up and seized the nearest thing she could hold onto that wasn’t on fire or stained. She felt her legs slowly regaining their blood. But, she still tripped like a drunkard.
her house was down the road, past the bank and 2 shops, the farm where they get their eggs was behind it, All she had to do was get to her house from behind and get in from the back unnoticed. She knew that there were two gardens the other nuns watered and cared behind the other local shops that were there. She touches her face, blood trickled from the middle of her forehead to her lip. She wipes it sharply with her hand. The wound stung sharply in retaliation. Hot Pants looked towards her house , pushing herself off of the wooden street lamp. She hiked up her skirt to grab her spray from the covered holster on her.
Hot Pants quickly navigated her way towards the ammunition hardware shop that was infront of the church. The right side of Steeling was dominated by shops entirely. She sprayed her forehead, the flesh latching itself onto her wound, the blood was still there but atleast it stopped. These peaceful streets was where she walked about through in early mornings and bonded with the store owners when her mother was too sick to leave the house. Hot Pants slipped off her veil. She had her hair—which had grown past her shoulders—in a low bun that rested on her nape, bangs brushed to one side as they fell on her forehead.
She reached the front of the bank, when one of those monsters had tried to latch onto her. With the bottom side of her spray, she smashed into its temple, swiftly kicking it down and smashing its jaw. She pushed the corpse into the small gap between the bank and the shop next to it. The reanimated corpse stilled as its now broken jaw leaked with a discolored greenish-black liquid, which she assumed was its blood. Hot Pants hiked up her skirt with her hands as to avoid staining her precious habit. She ran as fast as she could in her heels.
Those ghouls came at her from every direction, she hadn’t realized how many there really were. When she reached the small gap between the Saloon and the General store, one of them came at her from behind. She quickly hooked its shoulder, forcefully propelling and body-slamming it back-first onto the ground. The zombie grabbed her ankle, baring its teeth to bite. Hot Pants struggled to shake it off. The corpse had only gotten a drip of its saliva on her before getting its head smashed in by her thick heel. It was close, so close.
She continued running, delivering lethal force to any of the corpses that tried to attack. When a zombie came at her, She striked its head with her heel. The corpse grabbed her ankle, baring its teeth. Hot Pants pulled her leg away but it was no use, the zombie kept attempting to bite. She had no choice but to attempt something suicidal.
She jumped, using her strength to continue the kick. She turned her body around in a circle, slamming it head first into the rocky sand ground, her heel, due to the weight shift, landed on the corpse’s neck, effectively crushing it under her heel. It seemed the head is the most vital area of these monsters’ bodies.
Hot Pants finally got to the house. She mounted up the chipping board fences, jumping down and sprinting towards the back door.
She hadn’t been home since she devoted herself to God, her brother only saw her at school some days and she’d visit her mother rarely due to her tight schedule. She missed it being here.
In the hall, she was promptly greeted by one of those ghouls. Hot Pants hooked her hand, vertically aiming for the corpse’s chin, punching it and slamming it against the corridor wall. Another zombie came at her, She used the end of her spray to punch and push it off. Her religious habit was disheveled and she would probably be wearing this for the next few days or weeks if she couldn’t find any clothes here. Their chambers were right up the stairs.
Her brother—though she never cared for anyone—meant too much to her. On days when she’d come back from the church, She taught him self-defense. It was their little secret and something that no one else could know about. Their mother taught her self-defense, despite their father’s snarky comments and unsupportive interjections. Even when he left, she believed it was important to be able to defend yourself incase of danger coming your way. Their mother taught her, and she was currently teaching her brother and her brother meant more to her than anything.
She turned the corner up the stairs, throwing down the hallway dresser to stop any other of those ghouls from getting up on her way, and opened the door to his room, it was a mess of his thrown blanket, destroyed pillows and shattered lamp that broke her heart. Her brother wasn’t here. Hot Pants turned back around, being immediately greeted by a zombie who lunged at her. She quickly dodged and kicked it to the floor, crushing its neck under her heel.
She needed to find her brother, or else she’d never forgive herself.
She checked her mother’s room next. Nothing was found in there other than the room also being a complete mess. The door had been destroyed and clawed at. Her mother’s things were either shattered or thrown on the ground. She was losing hope for her brother’s safety. Hot Pants rushed over to her room. The door had already been kicked open.
Her room was a mess. Her usually neat room that she came to when she visited was destroyed and in ruins. The usually folded brass lace bed was messed up and rumpled with the blankets. Her dressing table was knocked over, perfumes shattered and her brush was stained with that same blood. A zombie was in the corner, facing something. It looked like her mother. Instinctively, she grabbed a big shard and pushed through the ruined room to the zombie in the corner. Hot Pants held the shard carefully with her mouth, using her veil to choke the corpse. Putting both ends of her veil into one hand, she grabbed the shard from her mouth and stabbed the temple of the corpse. It fell to the floor with a loud thud. She confirmed her worst fear; it was her mother. She had been sicker than ever this week and had lost tons of weight. she looked at what her mother’s corpse had been looking at.
Her brother, he was crying, reaching out for her. She immediately hugged him tightly, getting him up and checking for any injuries. He seemed fine. When she checked his shoulder thats when she saw it.
A bite mark, it looked infected. Her brother cried:
“It hurts. It really hurts.” He sobbed through tears that broke her heart into pieces, she hugged him, soothing him with affirmative words and rubbing his back. She wrapped her veil around him and soothed him.
“Its okay, Its okay, you’re okay.” She hugged him tightly, She lifted him up into a baby cradle carry. He was a little small for his age, 5 years old, but she carried him with overall ease, he wrapped his shoulders in her veil.
She carried her to their mother’s room, it was the least dangerous out of the three. she grabbed her spray from the holster under her habit skirt. Hot Pants placed her brother down on the bed. She was as gentle as she could be.
“Let me see your shoulder.” She spoke softly, her brother nodded, tears still spilling. She slowly took off the veil, the bite mark looked as if it had been there for about half an hour or so. She shook her spray.
“I got you, its okay. This won’t hurt.” She smiled, spraying it onto his shoulder. The flesh bubbled, turning a pale green and disintegrating in the matter of a minute. Her brother looked up at her, his chubby cheeks red and his bottom lip out as his face scrunched up to cry again. She blinked at his shoulder then him, trying to cover up her confusion and continued to whisper soothing words to him,
“Its okay, thats going to make it go away.” She rubbed his other shoulder. Hot Pants looked around the room. They might have to flee from their town to elsewhere. They’d have to pack to prepare.
She opened her mother’s wardrobe, her mother was a very neat woman, she hated when something was messed up, and always cleaned and folded things so things were never messy around the house, not even their chambers. The house always smelled of lavender and starch, which she associated with her mother, but the smell now made her chest feel heavy with the knowledge that she wont ever be able to come home to her mother’s hug again. Hot Pants grabbed the luggage tucked in the back and shoved some of her tunics in it. She needed a mix of her size and her brother’s size. She looked back at her brother, then the open suitcase containing the shoved clothes.
She wasn’t worried about anything, but the question crossed her mind. What now? How would she tell this to her brother? God forbid he gets hurt or killed, she’d never be able to forgive herself for such a sin. She looked back at her brother and slowly walked over, kneeling before him. She looked at him, her mouth opening and closing as she tried to find the right words. All she knew was that they had to leave this home. They had to leave as soon as possible.
“I want you to bring your favorite attires here and put them in mom’s luggage.” She whispered, her brother nodded and got off the bed, she kept her hand on his upper back until he went to his room. She looked at him reaching for his dresses, skirted tunics, and knee pants that he loved. She walked into her own room, looking towards the messed up dresser.
Hot Pants was someone who didn’t use her strength that much other than for fighting, though by hooking her hands under the first row of drawers and lifting it back into place with decent struggle, she was able to assess the damage.
the drawers were smashed in, but some of the contents—like her old jewelry box—stayed intact. She pulled the box out of the damaged drawer and onto the top, and opened it. She wore jewelry in her teenage years, and she still kept them even after converting. They held meaning.
Lots of Barettes, some decorative she wore outside, others made of sterling sliver and rolled gold when she just needed to get her bangs out of the way, some celluloids, her mother’s Chatelaine she gifted to her, and a heart pendant that stood out amongst the other many necklaces. Hot Pants cracked it open slowly.
It held a picture of the three of them, just the three of them. She unclipped the golden latch, wrapping it around her neck and fumbling until the necklace stayed put. Hot Pants hadn’t worn proper jewelry in years, her fingers fiddled with the heart shape as she closed it and grabbed the box. Along the way, she grabbed some of her old tunics and corsets.
They had spent maybe an hour or two packing, after she zipped up the suitcase, she turned to the door—
“Heavens,” Hot Pants find her brother at the door, just staring. She put her hands on her chest, smiling. Her brother just stared vaguely at the ground.
“Are you okay?” She kept her tone soft, but he didn’t answer. Now that she looked, his eyes seemed glazed over and his body was stiff. His skin wasn’t the almond tone it was before but rather he looked like he had gotten lighter, and greener. Hot Pants walked over and crouched down. He wasn’t looking at her, or even answering. He was just staring right through her as if she was a ghost. She shook his shoulder with one hand, but his body felt like a ragdoll nailed to the floor. Her hand went to cup his cheek.
His now greenish pale skin felt frigid, like damp parchment and his breathing sounded like a death rattle. The scent of lavender, starch, and fruit was overpowered by that familiar death stench she smelled with the other corpses. She let go of her brother, who began to scream like a toddler having a tantrum. Hot Pants stumbled back onto their mother’s bed. He bared his teeth in a similar way as the corpses and stumbled towards her. she caught a glimpse of his shoulder; that bite that was oozing with crimson blood now had decayed and turned that blackish-green she saw from those other ghouls earlier. She grabbed the suitcase, dodging his bites and fled down the stairs as fast as she could with the luggage in one hand. He lunged after, screaming and making noises of the devil. She stumbled over the dresser she had thrown down earlier, her brother intelligently followed in pursuit.
She found herself in their dilapidated back yard against her possessed younger brother pointing their father’s old shotgun she found near the back door towards him. Her hands shook. This was it. Her brother screeched louder, it almost sounded like cries. She took a step back. She doesn’t know what, but some sort of demonic locust had possessed her brother. She took a breath.
“Dont make me do this.” She didn’t even have a finger on the trigger. She took a shaky breath, shaking the shotgun towards him in hopes he would just snap out of it and flinch. Do to something.
“Im serious, stop playing around.” Her voice cracked. A lump formed in her throat she couldn’t properly swallow. The shotgun shook, her breath became shallow as her brother didn’t snap out of it, instead he gagged and screamed disgustingly, the decaying blood pooling from his mouth. He ran. Towards her he ran. She had to choose between her life and his.
The sharp crack of the shotgun boomed in the air, the splatter of dark green flew backwards and the smell hit her like a train. the sun began to smile over the town as she wiped her face. She heard the hysteria of the town on the main street. She sucked in air into her lungs, but she couldn’t seem to get enough. She couldn’t process what she had done but she sees it. She sees it clearly.
Hot Pants couldn’t look down at the tall grass, she couldn’t without vomiting. She dropped the shotgun as if it burned her. She hiccuped a gasp, and she felt her face crumbled. The knot that formed in her stomach began to pull itself tighter.
That wasn’t her. She didn’t do that. Did she? Hot Pants sucked in air that didn’t seem to reach her lungs, she felt as if she was choking on her own breath the more she tried to catch it. She took a shaky step, stumbling back into the house, away from the scene, but the damage was already done.
Her brother was gone, soon she’ll also be. She just needed a way to get out.