Birdmanby John W. Steele |
Part 1 appears in this issue. |
| conclusion |
One day Leonard drove his tractor up the steep incline in back of the house that lead to the woods at the top of the hill. On the other side of the mountain, he discovered a secluded open field surrounded by trees. The wind sighed through the meadow grass creating wave-like undulations on its surface.
Leonard scanned the trees surrounding the field and he knew crows were hiding all around him. Early every morning, he could hear their raucous screeching on the hilltop.
He sensed the crows watching him; waiting for him to grow complacent and drop his guard. He knew how their kind behaved, and how they attacked the virtuous in the cover of darkness.
Leonard lit up a smoke and studied the meadow. One day everyone gets cornered by something foreign and evil, something that threatens everything moral and true. He knew the hand was upon him he knotted his jaw and set his mind firm. The time to cut and run was over. And the time had come to act like a man and face the threat of this raging insanity.
The following weekend he drove down to the feed store and bought a fifty-pound sack of cracked corn. When he returned home, he mixed the corn with rat poison. He took the tainted corn to the top of the hill and spread it around in the meadow.
Leonard couldn’t sleep that night. He could hear the crows walking on the roof. They scratched at the grit on the shingles and the rasp of their talons drove him mad. They’re trying to kill me; they thrive in the shadows where the devil lurks.
The next day he drove the tractor up the hill. When Leonard saw the results of his handiwork a crooked smile formed in the corners of his mouth. A dozen crows lay dead in the killing field. Their grotesque twisted bodies were strewn in the meadow like puddles of tar. Just look at em. How anybody can look at one of those things and not see the curse is beyond me. A shiver ran through his body. Leonard stood up on his tractor, beat his chest, and cried like a wolf. He knew he’d finally found a way to defeat the demonic scourge for good.
The following weekend he placed an empty fifty-five gallon drum near the edge of the field. Every day after work, he gathered the bodies of the birds and any other creatures that died from eating the poisoned corn. He’d soak their carcasses with gasoline, put on a surgical mask, and burn them in the drum. Sometimes it bothered him a little that other animals died as well, but he killed so many crows that he stopped worrying about it.
He remembered the words he heard one time from the great statesman on the evening news. The politician gazed into the camera and smiled. His silver hair shone and his teeth sparkled. The man’s voice boomed with confidence when he spoke. ”Any man with a vision, and the courage to do the right thing, has to be prepared for collateral damage,” the man said. The concept of honor burned deep in Leonard’s mind and comforted him when he felt cowardly. He realized no one understood the threat of the crows like he did. And if he didn’t have the guts to kill them, no one else would.
It was three a.m. when Marie awakened to find Leonard standing at the window. “Why are you up, honey? You know I have to leave for Pittstown in the morning.”
“I heard them pecking on the window. I can feel them gathering on the roof.”
“Hear what on the roof, honey? I wish you would stop this nonsense and come to bed. I want to be rested for my trip. Are you sure you don’t want to go with me?”
“No. I got chores to do this weekend, babe. I need to catch up on my duties around here.”
Leonard returned to bed, and settled into his pillow. “They’re getting stronger, Marie. There’s only one thing they understand. It’s the only way.”
“Oh honey, it’s not so bad. I’ve made a few friends at work and they don’t pick on me like they used to. Leave it be.”
Early in the morning, Leonard drove Marie to the bus station. “I’ll pick you up Sunday at six, babe, okay?” He kissed Marie good-bye. “Have a great time at your mom’s. Tell her I’m sorry and I’ll see her next time.”
* * *
Leonard returned home. He closed the door and walked up to Cecil’s cage. When the bird saw him, it began to chirp and flutter. Leonard hated its spiteful cry and the malice hidden in the heart of these unholy terrorists. He was well acquainted with the evil that lurked behind the facade of innocence in their cold vacuous eyes and he saw right through the creature’s ignominious sincerity.
”Yeah, that’s what you want people to think. That’s what your kind hides behind to get away with your shenanigans. But I know what’s inside ye. And now it’s just ye and me, ye filthy disease-breeding vermin.”
He walked into the kitchen and pulled out a box of sandwich bags. When he returned to the cage, he put on a pair of latex surgical gloves. Cecil crashed into the bars of the cage and the bird’s feathers swirled in the air. Leonard reached inside and grabbed Cecil. He placed the bird in the bag and zipped it shut.
A translucent fog formed on the inside of the plastic. Leonard mouth hung open, as he watched the demon struggle for its life. He savored each moment, transfixed by the wonder of death, and the triumph of good over evil. When it was over, the bird lay lifeless behind the veil of plastic. Only its eyes remained alive. A victorious smile appeared on Leonard’s face and he flushed Cecil down the toilet.
Later in the afternoon, Leonard got out his varmint rifle and a bottle of bourbon. He went out on the deck and sat at the picnic table. He knew the crows gathered at the edge of the woods near the horizon at sundown and he scanned the tree line on the hill looking for scouts. He sipped the whiskey and listened to the crows caw to each other near the top of the ridge. He’d studied the sounds in their voices for a long time and had broken the secret code hidden in their calls. Something wasn’t right and he could tell by the passion in their cry they were preparing for a showdown.
The sun was sinking behind the mountain; Leonard strained his eyes and glared up at the ridge. The crows snuck down from the killing field, flying low and close to the clover. He took a few pot shots at them, and cursed them for their furtive antics and stealthy nature.
The darker it got, the more Leonard sensed the power of the diabolical force mobilizing in the cool night air. He knew it was going to be a long ordeal and the infernal hour of complete darkness would soon be upon him.
He raised the bottle and took the last swallow, then hurled it into the field. At the top of his lungs he screamed, “Scumbags!” Leonard fired a few warning shots into the field and entered the house. He closed and locked the sliding glass door behind him and staggered upstairs to bed.
* * *
Leonard awakened with a start. He heard a tapping sound at the window. He looked at the alarm clock and it was two a.m. He approached the window, and squinted into the darkness. A gentle whooshing sighed just outside the window and phantom-like winged images pulsed before his eyes. His bowels quivered and he recoiled in horror. A dozen large crows hovered outside like buoys rolling on a sea of darkness. Their demonic eyes glowed and their wings hissed in the air. The crows charged the window and hurled their bodies into the heavy pane of the old storm glass.
Hundreds of crows swarmed in the meadow and the light of a golden moon illuminated the silhouettes of their atrocious bodies. A battle to the death had arrived and the fated moment of truth was now upon him. In a loud voice Leonard cried, “I always knew it was going to come to this! Let’s get’r done.”
Filled with righteous rage, Leonard ran down the stairs and unlocked his gun safe. He pulled out his semi-automatic shotgun and two full ammo belts.
Leonard blessed himself, then kicked open the front door and charged into the yard. His shotgun blazed, sending plumes of fire into the sky. At the top of his lungs, he bellowed, “You asked for it you ungodly sons a’ bitches. Now I’m gonna give it to ye. Die bastards die!” Bam... bam... bam...
The black demons dropped out of the sky by the dozens. Leonard didn’t need a reason to hate them. He had always hated them. He had hated the first one he ever saw.
On the other side of the yard stood the pole barn. Leonard ducked his head and ran for the safety of the tilted rustic structure. He’d never run so fast and his feet flew across the ground. The birds attacked in swarms like giant locusts and crashed down on his head and shoulders. He dove through the air and rolled beneath the canopy of the barn, then stood up and placed his back against the wall. Hot blood oozed from the wounds in his scalp and trickled down his face. The blood streamed in his eyes and burned like acid.
The lights flicked on in the house across the road and Leonard cursed beneath his breath. Fat lot of good that bloody bastard will do. No good bird lover. He’s next.
The fury grew stronger and the maniacal cackle of the crows reverberated in Leonard’s head. The crows poured down on him in a steady barrage and tried to rip out his throat and peck out his eyes. Leonard fired at anything that moved and the battle raged on. In time, his ammunition ran low and he grew weary.
His prayers were answered when two state police cruisers pulled up in front of his house. The light bars flashed like synchronized red beacons slicing through the night. The Lord has heard my supplication. Holy are the prayers of the righteous. Three officers covered in matted black armor plate approached Leonard with their guns drawn.
“Thank God you’re here. I don’t think I could have held them off alone much longer.”
“It’s alright Mr. Rover. I’m Sergeant Kaminski. Put the gun down,” the big-framed trooper said.
“Put the gun down? Are you crazy? They’ll eat us alive!”
Kaminski’s voice boomed deep and bass in the darkness. “Calm down, Mr. Rover. Everything is going to be alright. We can talk about this, but first you have to put the gun down: that’s an order.”
Leonard’s face was pale with fear and his neck was coursed with inflated blue veins that looked as if they were about to explode. “What the hell’s the matter with you, officer? Are you some kind of idiot? Don’t you understand these things breed disease and peck out babies’ eyes? Don’t you read the paper? West Nile Virus is everywhere. They’re going to kill us all. Why can’t you see it?”
“Mr. Rover, try to relax. We’re not sure what you see, but we don’t see anything.”
“You don’t see anything? What’s the matter with your eyes, man? Are ye blind? The sky is alive with em.”
The red beam of the laser on Kaminski’s pistol quivered on Leonard’s chest. “Mr. Rover, this is your last warning. Put the gun down, now!”
* * *
From the nescient chambers of Leonard’s psyche, a dark epiphany emerged and exploded inside his head like the rays of sunshine after a cloudburst. How could I have been so stupid? They’re in on it... it’s nothing but a bloody cabal. The whole damn charade is one gigantic conspiracy. Leonard’s fingers tensed on the gunstock and his voice trembled when he spoke.
“We got a saying out here, pig; Better dead than red. If I drop the gun, what are ye going to do, feed me to the bastards?”
Leonard peered through the darkness and saw the naked truth etched like a dire omen in the recesses of his mind. Kaminski’s head was covered with black feathers and a hideous orange colored beak protruded from the center of his face. The sergeant’s eyes flashed neon green and he marched towards Leonard strutting like an eagle.
The patrol officers spread their hideous black wings and followed behind, their heads bobbed side to side and they cawed hysterically.
A bolt of fear surged down Leonard’s spine, his bladder gave out, and his finger tensed on the trigger. “You think you’ve beaten me scum... do you?” Leonard clenched his jaw and with his last ounce of courage, he raised his shotgun and opened fire on the birdmen.
The troopers did their job.
Smoke poured from a dozen bullet holes in Leonard’s chest. A fine red mist sprayed from below his heart and he lay gasping on the ground. Blood bubbled from his mouth and his lungs wheezed like a punctured bellows.
Sergeant Kaminski walked over to Leonard. The dying man raised his arm and motioned to the officer. In a frail voice Leonard whispered “I’ll always haaa...” His head fell to the side and the final breath rattled from his lungs.
Trooper Scott McCarthy approached the body in the grass. “What the hell was he shooting at, Sergeant? There’s nothing here but darkness and the cackle of those chickens across the road.”
“I don’t know, Scott? You better go radio the paramedics.”
* * *
Far overhead, a winged creature sailed gracefully in the freedom of the infinite black sky. It gazed down at the flashing lights below and marveled at the lifeless body lying like a sculpture in the grass. Now released from the envelope of flesh the birdman stretched its bat-like wings and soared on the thermal drifts that flowed like a field of ethereal energy through the heavens. The creature had never known liberation such as this, it had been forever in a cage but now it floated sylphlike in the night.
The creature set its course for a fine translucent line that formed a surreal horizon and soared over the hillside until it reached a large crater in the forest. The birdman felt a strange attraction for this place and circled the area high overhead. The ghost admired the soft contours of the radiant meadow and marveled at the velvet moonlight reflected from the ground like a blanket of violet phosphorus.
The birdman remembered this place and the glory that once existed here. A feeling of satisfaction swept through the birdman and it wanted to sail above the little island as a symbol of honor forever.
From the corner of the field, an incandescent dust devil began to twirl on the ground. It grew until it was as big as a tornado and the meadow began to spin like a giant whirlpool. Faster and faster it twirled until the meadow gave away to a terrible abyss. The birdman grew horrified and tried to fly away but the wind drew the creature into the maw of the cavern.
Down, down, down, the birdman fell deep into the abyss until it collided with a floor of rock dotted with craters like the surface of the moon.
The birdman tried to stand but its legs were broken. It tried to fly but its wings were crushed. Pain surged through the nerves in its body and it lay chirping dolefully on the cindered floor of the chasm.
Near the shallow red horizon lines began to form. Millions of lines became thousands of shapes and the shapes revealed birds of every description. Sparrows, owls, pigeons, woodpeckers, and crows; all marching like mindless robots across the desolate landscape. Giant beautiful birds were they, their feathers shining resplendent in the cerulean haze of the alien world. The birds looked familiar to the birdman and he felt he had a bond with each one of them, a special bond that would endure for eternity.
One by one, the avian army closed in and formed a circle around the birdman. They stood like mighty warriors, their eyes on fire and their razor-sharp beaks grating like shears. A crow much larger than the rest let out a raucous caw and the birds attacked.
The avian demons dismembered the birdman joint by joint the way a gang of robins mangle the body of a juicy, squirming worm. They ripped off the birdman’s wings and gouged hunks of flesh from his face. The birds ripped open the creature’s abdomen and devoured his guts until there was nothing left but a few black downy feathers scattered on the floor of basalt.
When the carnage was over, a flaming wind with deep orange pins of bright heat whistled from the rock face at the horizon. The feathers burned to ash and the birds waited patiently. From the dead gray ashes a phoenix arose and the birdman was reborn, and mutilated, and reborn...
Copyright © 2008 by John W. Steele
