Four weeks passed in which we made contact with each other again. It was difficult. So many painful things had happened. So many awful words had been said. But with each day, that went by, it got easier. We even laughed light-heartedly again and exchanged gentle caresses.
“What happened in the meantime?” I asked the Father, sitting on the sofa in the living room. My head leant against his shoulder and he put an arm around me. Soft classical music played in the background. While I hated it, he loved it. So, I patiently endured it without any comment. “How were things outside? I feel like as if I know nothing at all,” I said, sighing.
Suddenly, Father Michael got up, leaving me behind on the sofa. Surprised, I looked up at him. “Take a look at it yourself,” he said and pulled me up off the sofa.
We went to the antique desk, where Father Michael turned on the computer. While it booted up, I tried to picture what he would show me. After a while the rattling of the computer stopped and the display flickered in bright colors. Determined, Father Michael opened the internet browser and chose the site of a news channel. It seemed, as if he had visited the page more than once. He clicked hither and thither very accurate and immediately found the video clips he wanted me to see. Shocked, I watched one after the other. There was utter chaos in the streets of my city. There was talk of an infinite number of mysterious deaths. Awful images of even more terrible crime scenes were shown and tons of questions were asked. While I had been lying in my bed, idly, the world hadn’t stopped to spin and I absolutely had no idea what was going on. When the last clip ended, I sighed and leant against the desk. “Well, there’s a lot to do for me,” I said, forcing a smile.
“So, the old Ada is back?” Father Michael asked.
“Partly,” I replied with mixed feelings. I didn’t need to tell him what I was meaning. We both knew very well what had changed. “It looks like the interview with the reporter Dan Meyers was useless,” I said as I remembered what I had been working on lately. “Did it come out as a newspaper article?” I asked the Father.
Suddenly, the floor of the living room seemed to be more interesting than me, as he looked down to it. “It has never been printed,” he replied softly.
“Why not?” I cried out, making Father Michael jump in his chair. He shrugged. “This means people weren’t warned. It was all for nothing,” I remarked, sighing loudly and rubbing my face. How could I have ever thought that the head of the newspaper would say yes to print such a report? No matter how many unbelievable things happened in our world, but such a fanciful story probably no one would publish.
“There was no newspaper article, but Mister Meyers still managed to bring it before the public,” the Father suddenly told me.
Amazed, I looked at him. Why had he not told me right away? “Boy! I hate it when he does that,” I thought.
“Mister Meyers called you on your mobile phone some time ago. You couldn’t answer the phone, because…,” he briefly faltered as he remembered me lying in my bedroom, half mad and half starved. Father Michael cleared his throat. “I accepted the call and he told me, that he made a video, which he just uploaded on to the internet.”
I saw him turning to the computer and again he began to enter something into the keyboard. Another website opened. After a few clicks he found the reporter’s video clip. A small black window with a white triangle could be seen. Father Michael moved the cursor and clicked on it. Immediately, the video played.
About six minutes later, the video clip was over and I stared at the monitor. My eyes met with Father Michael’s on the reflecting surface and we looked at each other.
“Wow!” was all I could say. I saw the Father nodding.
“He did his best,” he said, turning off the computer.
“And still it was no use,” I replied. “All the great trouble we….he went through wasn’t enough. No one understood the gravity of the situation!” All of a sudden, I felt exhausted and tired. Why didn’t people listen? Were they really that ignorant to understand the danger of it all?
“Mister Meyers kept his promise. He found a way to publish the story. He took a big risk.” The voice of the Padre yanked me from my gloomy thoughts. However, he sounded as if he had never expected the reporter to keep his word. Even now, his aversion, which he still carried with him, could be heard clearly.
“How is he? Do you have any idea?” I asked him, wondering whether or not he had heard anything about the other man.
“I don’t know. Since that day I haven’t spoken to him,” the Father said. He rose from his chair and stood in front of me.
“I want to visit him,” I said without a moment’s hesitation, knowing it was the right thing to do. I just had to see myself, how he was doing. Was he okay or had he become a victim of the monsters of which he had warned others? But above all, I wanted to thank him for his work.
Father Michael didn’t say anything. For a few moments, he looked me up and down thoughtfully. Disapproving, he grimaced. I saw that he fought an inner battle. He did want me to resume my job as a huntress, to protect the people of this city. But he didn’t want that to happen so quickly. In the end, he nodded. It was a strange crossing between an affirmative and a vehemently rejecting shake of the head, but I took it as consent.
“Thank you, Michael,” I said, giving him a kiss. Before he changed his mind, I better scurried out of the living room quickly.