Chapter 237
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: 8uhl
Chapter: 237
Chapter Title: Stay of Execution (9)
-----------------------------------------------------------------
#Stay of Execution (9)
It was a night plagued by too much insomnia. There were those exhausted from repeatedly waking to recurring nightmares, and others who couldn't calm down from the joy of finally being safe. As a result, the bonfires under the night sky kept growing in number. No matter how comfortable the beds were, they were better than being alone in the dark. Some even said they'd grown so accustomed to rough bedding that the soft blankets felt uncomfortable.
Late at night, the priest and the nun came looking for Winter.
"Let us help. There will be children of God who need the Lord."
Winter, who had been awake for safety reasons, readily accepted their request.
"Go ahead. It might be dangerous, so I'll accompany you."
The priest might be fine, but the nun was at risk. To the confused soldiers, only gender would matter.
A fair number of soldiers gathered. The priest prayed for them.
"Almighty and eternal Lord, You are the creator of all things and the foundation of peace. Just as You watched over Abraham's journey after he left his homeland and kept his family safe, protect Your children who see You as their refuge in every adversity. Grant them courage in battle, comfort in sorrow, and safe return to their loved ones. The heroes who have already passed will be free from a second death through You. Lead them from darkness to light. We ask in the name of Christ. Amen."
But not everyone gathered here had pure intentions. While the devout closed their eyes and clasped their hands, the contemptuous shot cold glances. Some fingered rosaries, spinning them around. They must have some faith if they carried such things.
What to do? Should he stop it now? Winter hesitated but decided to stay put upon seeing a soldier sobbing in the priest's arms. As long as Winter watched, no major problems would arise.
The priest and nun earnestly tried to comfort each person one by one.
Thus, awkward questions were inevitable. The asker was the soldier spinning the rosary. He gripped it tightly, the other hand in his pocket, and grumbled.
"Hey, Father. I've got a question. Why the hell did God make that fucked-up plague?"
"……."
"I was taught and confessed that God is infinitely good and all His works are good. Even with all the dirty, annoying bastards in the world, even with wars every damn day, even when my buddy scammed me and ran off—I thought it was all part of the Lord's holy will. But this? This ain't right. I resented Him the whole time I was running. Tell me. How do you keep your faith, Father? What would you say to a guy like me?"
It reminded him of the death row inmate's shout from underground. Are those fucking zombies part of the Lord's providence too? Many facing the apocalypse doubted the absolute one's goodness.
One question spoke for many furious ones. The priest's face twisted in pain.
"May I say a few words?"
It was the nun.
"I understand your sorrow, brother. I've wrestled with the same doubts. But this anguish isn't new. As you said, as you've experienced, there was much evil in this world even before the great plague."
She paused briefly. Time for acceptance, a way to soften hostility.
"You may have seen it already, but the stained glass in this cathedral has this phrase: Lord, praise our sister Water. It's from the Canticle of the Sun. St. Francis, who composed it, called heaven and earth, moon and stars, wind and clouds, fire and water—even death—our brothers and sisters. As Matthew 23:8 says, 'You are all brothers.' St. Francis taught that not just people, but all creation is one in the Lord's will."
Winter understood. That's what it meant. Just then, radio chatter came in about a new preventive scalping team from another area arriving—he quietly replied to send them here. He should go greet them, but this gathering worried him too.
The nun continued.
"So that horrific plague is also within the Lord's will. After long prayer and tears, I concluded that the Lord makes people righteous through suffering."
"Fuck. What kind of bullshit……."
"Please hear me out a bit more, brother. Do you know Helen Keller? She was blind, deaf, and mute her whole life. She said: The world is full of suffering, but it is also full of the overcoming of it."
"……."
"Romans says the same: 'Where sin increased, grace increased all the more.' If you've kept the faith so far, you've read Job. Job lost his wealth, his sons and daughters, and suffered an incurable disease. His friends blamed him, saying the Lord's judgment is always just, so Job must have sinned. But as you know, Job was blameless."
"……."
"It was a trial. The Lord stripped Job of everything, yet Job held to his faith. Thus, his faith became more righteous than any other—because he overcame suffering. The Lord allows evil, but evil itself is not the purpose."
"Fuck……."
"The Lord laid suffering even on His Son. Jesus on the cross cried, 'My God, my God, why have You forsaken me?' I feel the world's people are like that now. This is the time to protect, forgive, and comfort each other……. Without threats, there's nothing to protect; without sin, nothing to forgive; without sorrow, nothing to comfort. People's nobility shines clearest in facing suffering."
She ended with a sigh.
"Under the Lord's grace, we are the overcomers."
Whether this aligned with Catholic doctrine, Winter didn't know. But the eloquent, heartfelt words suggested more than a day or two of reflection. With the world as it was, the faithful had no choice but to grapple with their own doubts.
To Winter, who had lived in a world of those who couldn't overcome, it was simply beautiful.
'The outside world seems godless…….'
He had told Schultz: I want to believe, but I don't. People out there, quick to despise and defile each other—like spectators—could hardly be expected to overcome now. A dystopia of the unempathetic. Without a miracle, they couldn't be happy.
A thought Winter had before. Was there some past fork? A point where rampant hatred and contempt crossed an irreversible threshold.
Click. The soldier with the rosary bowed his head.
"Damn it, I want to believe, but I can't."
The priest said,
"Just live faithfully. Cherish your comrades, love your family, protect yourself—and someday, the Lord will answer in the form of this world, as its outcome."
Then he looked at Winter.
"It was the same here. Those trapped underground lost hope. They tried to do things no human should. I begged them to wait for rescue just until tonight, but even that was faltering. Right then, Han Gyeowol knocked on the door. At the very moment they were about to kill each other."
The newly joined soldiers heard about the underground shelter for the first time. Gazes turned to Winter. I don't believe in God. Winter stayed silent. If wind, clouds, fire, and water are God's will, faith's presence hardly mattered.
"If the Lord meant only to bring suffering, He wouldn't have sent someone like Han Gyeowol. I believe the Lord is a just judge."
A nearby captain murmured quietly.
"I caught the latter half, but it's quite an interesting story."
Winter greeted them.
"You both arrived safely. Han Gyeowol."
"Someone who doesn't know? Tanner Long, Alpha Team."
Alpha Team referred to the Army Special Forces (Green Berets) combat unit. The lieutenant beside him saluted.
"George Palmer, from the Ranger Regiment Recon Company."
Though on the same op, their vibes differed vastly. Hard to chalk it up to rank alone. The Alpha team leader, with his thick beard, was somewhat intimidating—not on purpose, but as if built that way. Palmer the lieutenant felt more restrained.
Reflecting their mission types, perhaps.
"Ranger—do you know anything about Captain Emmett?"
"Captain Emmett? He's a Ranger too?"
"Yes. Delta Company commander in 2nd Battalion, and lately tracking Humpbacks, I heard."
"Ah, that…… Sorry. Our bases were different from the start. I heard the major and our regiment had some overlap, but seems you had to ask separately."
The lieutenant gave a faint smile. Beyond inescapable fatigue, favor and pride peeked through.
"Ahem. No standing around—let's sit and talk. Whiskey over there, perfect. Major, mind if I treat the kids? If okay, we'll join in. To celebrate the hunt's end."
A voice like sand wind hitting rock. Long the captain pointed to a crate with remaining whiskey.
"Sure. Everyone's worked hard up to today."
Not the one to ask about casualties. They'd speak if they wanted.
"You look tamer than the rumors, Major. Wondered if the real thing matched."
Rough. But a Green Beret captain might not be impressed by Winter. No matter the record, accepting a superior with under a year of service was tough.
Not outright rude, though. The head knows what the heart can't help. More like grievance or self-loathing. Winter silently shook a bottle. The captain grudgingly held out his glass. Glug glug glug. Bonfire light danced in the amber liquid.
After filling Palmer's too, the captain gestured. Hand over the bottle.
"Have a glass yourself, Major."
"Don't like alcohol."
"Huh, a man dodging at a time like this? An officer who doesn't drink life ain't an officer."
Winter raised his glass with a half-formed smile. The captain filled it to the brim.
This'll mess with combat readiness. Thinking that, but the glass was already in hand.
"To absent friends."
The captain toasted on his own and downed it. Looking at Winter, who tilted his head slightly and emptied his in one go. Huh. To the surprised captain, Winter held up the empty glass.
"I'm an officer too."
This should do.
Long the captain huh-ed again and grabbed the bottle.
"Second round's a pass. I'm in charge till return."
Vision already slightly distorted. The reproduced buzz didn't paralyze Winter's thinking, but it naturally affected Insight, Discernment, other sensory corrections, and fine motor control.
Exemplary. The Green Beret commander and Ranger traded shots.
The Green Beret, about to ask op details, spotted a kid peering intently from a nearby window. Even weary soldiers were curiosities to young eyes.
"Hey! Little miss! What's that bear doll's name?"
The rough man's shout made the girl step back, hesitate, then retort primly.
"It's just a doll—what name? I'm not a kid!"
She turned and ran. Her dash appeared panoramic through the corridor's successive windows. The Green Beret smacked his lips.
"Damn. Not just my daughter being bratty. Girls."
Palmer the lieutenant burst out laughing.
============================ Author's Note ============================
#Q&A
Q. Angel Country: Just gathered mid-mission, right? Issue's logistics. Wonder how they'll handle supplies. And does the puppy have a name? Feels like it does.
A. Puppy name... hmm. Hot Dog?
Q. Kaioga: @To eat a million a day, need carbon-to-diamond compression? lol
A. The black hole in everyone's stomach suffices.
Q. Breaking Thunder: @If Winter goes to Russia, does a pretty blonde sis attach as interpreter?
A. In Russia, all communication's via vodka—no interpreter needed.
Q. KTH: 1 micron is 10^(-6), one millionth. Eng major tackle lol
A. Funny part: I wrote it thinking minus six powers of ten. Minus six. Six digits. One, ten, hundred, thousand, ten thousand, hundred thousand...
Everyone! This is the reality of a liberal arts major who gave up math!
Q. contrabassist: Long time no see, binged and gone. Saw vols 1-2 at bookstore, bought 'em—remembered. Question: You use commas a ton. Habit or intent? Way too many in odd spots. Feels like it hurts readability.
A. On purpose. Will review.