Butcherbird

by Cassie Hart

  ‘Is it still cool if I head into town?’ Cade asked.

  ‘Yeah,’ Jena replied, still fixated on the building, which looked so much like the one that had burned. ‘I think that’s the best plan. I’ll make a list for you and then you can get going. Take as long as you need.’

  ‘You’re the best, babe.’ He kissed her on the cheek and dragged her past the barn and up the steps, as if he couldn’t wait to get off the property. Hell, maybe she should be going with him. It would be easier than facing the barn.

  Who needs closure anyway?

  She could barely focus as she made the list; she didn’t know if it was all they needed but Will wasn’t around and Rose was fast asleep. The whiteboard they’d kept on the fridge where they’d written up things to buy was gone, but without anyone else to think about, Rose must have had no reason to keep that around.

  ‘There, that should do it.’ She finished writing ‘chocolate’ and then passed him the list. ‘I’ll see you when I see you.’

  Jena was eager for him to be gone, now, eager to dispel the gnawing in her stomach that seemed to grow with every minute he was still here and she was still waiting to see the barn. She walked him to the front of the house, grabbing the car keys from the hook beside the door, and her credit card from her bag, before passing both to him. ‘Have fun.’

  Cade raised an eyebrow and planted his feet. ‘You’re in a hurry to get rid of me. What’s up?’

  Jena bit her lip, then sighed. ‘Fine. I’m going to go into the barn. I feel like it’s time to face it.’

  Cade frowned, glancing from the barn to the car. ‘And you don’t want me to stick around for that? Because I can.’

  ‘No.’ She shook her head. ‘I need to do this on my own. I’ve got no idea what it will be like and I just … I need to do it on my own.’

  He kept his gaze on her, as though weighing up if she were being honest with him, and then he shrugged. ‘Sure. Makes sense.’

  Jena’s shoulders relaxed, though a small part of her wished that he’d forced her to let him in on this. ‘Take it easy, mind those potholes.’ She forced a grin and then watched as he headed down the steps, got in the car and drove away.

  Jena turned her eyes to the barn, sitting there with clouds looming behind it. Taranaki was completely covered by them, but she could still feel him there, behind that thick wall.

  It wouldn’t be long before it started to rain. She should go now, or she might get drenched. She’d almost rather get drenched. No, she’d definitely rather get drenched, but she had to face this, and she had to do it now or she was going to puke. She couldn’t look at that building for any longer and not go in. It was as alluring as it was repulsive, but maybe if she went there and faced the past, she could start living her future.

  She took the first step, the second, then hit the ground at a run and crossed to the barn door. Her hand hovered over the handle, and then she heard a squawk behind her. She spun, pressing her back against the door.

  A single magpie stood in the dirt of the yard. It opened its beak and croaked at her again, the sound grating against her ears. And then another magpie dropped to the ground beside it, adding its voice to the first. She heard a whoosh, and the sky darkened but it wasn’t clouds, it was birds, blotting out the light, their wing beats loud in her ears. She spun back to the door, scrabbled with the handle, the caw of the birds getting closer, her fingers numb from fear. Finally, she managed to open it enough to squeeze through before slamming it behind her.

  Everything fell silent. Dim light filtered through the skylights in the roof. The birds were all but inaudible, their sound dampened by the bales of hay lining the walls. Rose must be letting John use it for storage, because there weren’t enough sheep on the property to need this much hay.

  It was cleaner than she remembered. There was dust, but not so thick on the ground that it got up her nose. She could swear, though, that she could smell the tang of smoke. Acrid in the air, tickling the back of her throat. It crawled against her tonsils, and scurried like spiders up her nose. She started to shake, just a little at first, and then it overtook her. She pressed her back against the door and closed her eyes, breathing deeply and slowly, despite the urge to rush straight back out the door and let the birds have her.

  She stood there like that for a full minute, sinking into the dull quiet of the barn, letting the peace wash over her. She was safe. Nothing could hurt her here. The past wasn’t about to become the present. She was alone, she was safe from the birds and this was all okay.

  Jena opened her eyes, letting them adjust to the light in the space, keeping her breathing deep and even.

  She was okay.

  She could do this.

  She pushed off from the door and took a few steps towards the centre of the barn. There were stalls along each side, though no farm equipment any more, besides a lone quad bike. She’d never driven one, but had always loved the feel of the wind through her hair when her father had driven her across the farm.

  Her father.

  Those memories – dreams – of the night everything had gone wrong had always played like a movie, making her think that she might have been at fault. Even if it was just guilt for being the only one who’d lived – that bit at least was her fault. But the rest wasn’t her. Rose had said. And Jena believed that. Whether it was because she wanted to or whether it was the truth didn’t really matter.

  If it wasn’t her, it had to be someone else.

  The earth jolted beneath her and Jena stumbled, falling against a hay bale. The feel of the straw beneath her fingers took her back to that night, the way it had scratched against her bare legs.

  She could remember ….

  Her dad carries her, though she’s getting too big for that now. Her feet knock against his knees and her head rests on his shoulder. His arms are thick and warm. He’s so strong. So strong that she knows he can protect her from anything, though maybe not from himself. He’s been getting so angry lately, yelling at them all and not saying he was sorry.

  He sets her down on a bale of hay, tugs the blanket around her.

  ‘Dad, what are we doing here?’ She rubs her eyes, freeing little specks of sleep.

  ‘Nothing, Sweetie. Just lie down and go to sleep.’

  ‘But I’m awake now. Where’s everyone else?’ She looks around, but then she sees her mother on the ground, she looks so still, with a red scarf around her neck, spreading out on the ground. Joel is there too, on the other side of her mother. Her father notices her gaze and turns her head away.

  ‘Let your mother rest now, Sweetie. I’m going to go and get your baby sister, and then we’ll all be together. All of us, always.’

  ‘Okay, Dad,’ she says with a yawn, rolling over and tucking back into the blanket. She hears him leave, the barn door bangs closed behind him. And then she feels the pressure in her bladder. Now that she’s awake she needs to pee. She really needs to pee. Like, right now. If she’s quick she can get to a bush nearby and back before her father returns. She doesn’t want to make him angry, not when he wants them all to be together, not when everyone else is sleeping and it might wake them.

  She leaves the blanket on the bale and heads for the door, glancing outside to make sure the coast is clear, and then she runs, bare feet against the cold gravel, ignoring the pain of the stones digging into her feet as she heads for the bush. The branches rustle as she squats and pees as fast as she can, quickly shaking off and then wiping her hands in the dew-damp grass. Still, it feels like it took too long. She can hear her father calling but she doesn’t want to call back. She bites her lip, holding her breath, not wanting to feel the heat of his anger.

  No, she has to go. Has to face him. He is yelling again, but she can’t make out the words.

  She pushes past the branches of the bush; a chill breeze makes her shiver and she hugs herself, trying to warm her bare arms. She looks at the barn, her sleep-weary eyes attempting to make sense of what she can see.

  There
is light coming from the side of it. No, not light. Fire. The barn wall is on fire; flames are leaping up the building, clawing against the windows. Her heart stops beating and then she runs, ignoring the rocks and prickles that bite into her feet.

  ‘Mama, Dad!’ she cries out, but the wind steals her voice. She is getting closer to the barn, scanning for something she can do; water, a bucket. There has to be something.

  There’s a squawk from the sky and then a bird lands on her shoulder, pecking her head, its talons biting into her arm. Something else hits her. Another bird?

  They fill the air, the sound of their wings, their caws, covering up the sound of the flames, blocking the barn from her view. She falls to her knees, arms over her head. She tries to protect herself as what feels like a whole flock of magpies sets upon her, pushing her to the ground, stopping her from reaching the barn.

  ‘No,’ she sobs, hands gripping her hair, but she doesn’t know if she’s saying no to the birds or to what she knows is happening to her family. In the barn. Where the fire is.

  All that hay.

  All that hay.

  And then the birds are gone and her grandmother is there, cradling her in her arms and rocking her.

  ‘It’s okay. It’s okay, little bird. It’s over now. You’re safe. You’re safe.’

  Jena clings to her grandmother, still sobbing. ‘They were all in there.’

  ‘I know. I know. But we can’t do anything about it, it’s too dry and the hay ….’

  Jena rocks back on her heels, finally daring to look at the spectacle of the burning barn.

  She can hear the wail of sirens in the distance. The haze of the fire is so big that it seems to light the whole sky. It’s huge and kind of pretty, or it would be if her family wasn’t in there.

  She imagines their skin wrinkling and falling off their bodies, the same way marshmallows do when you roast them over the fire for too long. She can’t breathe, thinking about it.

  Her father, her mother. Joel and baby Mandy too. All of them are gone. Leaving her here. She gets to her feet and runs towards the barn. They are all meant to be together. Forever. But her grandmother catches her, holds her firm as she screams and sobs until the fire engine pulls into the driveway.

  CHAPTER FOURTHEEN

  WILL

  Will had heard her come into the barn but didn’t want to reveal that he was here – or have her discover his gear – until the smell of blood floated up from below and smoke filled the air. He didn’t know what was happening, but his equipment was beeping and Jena was making some ungodly sound, like a cat being blended alive.

  He was frozen for a moment, torn. He wanted to help her, but he also wanted to know what was going on, and if he pulled her out, would that do her more harm?

  He finally had proof. Proof that there was more to this than just a tragic accident, but that vindication was tainted by the knowledge that some weird shit was going down right now, and he was here in the middle of it.

  And that he had no idea what to do.

  He pulled himself out of his shock and stood, deciding that Jena being okay was more important than his quest for answers, running for the stairs and taking them two at a time to get to the ground floor. He ran towards her, gripping her arms and shaking her. Her eyes had rolled back in her head, revealing their whites, and she was still making strange sounds; now it was a low groan that sounded like it was coming from her very core.

  ‘Jena, Jena, come on, snap out of it. You’re freaking me out. I don’t know what’s happening but it’s time to come back now. Come on.’ He shook her again but she didn’t respond.

  There was a thud on the roof, and the dim light in the barn grew even dimmer. Will glanced up, seeing dark shadows landing on the clear-lite. The thuds came harder and faster as birds flung themselves against the plastic until it shattered into tiny pieces, raining down on them. Will pulled Jena down, covering their heads with his arms as best he could.

  Feathers fell with the plastic and the smell of blood was stronger now. Birds streamed into the space around them, pushing him back from Jena as they surrounded her. Will wanted to do something, but there was such a barrier of birds – their small, feathered, black-and-white bodies swarming Jena – that there was nothing he could do but watch in horror.

  And then they were gone. Back up through the hole in the roof. He watched till the last one flew away, so surprised by their behaviour that he couldn’t move. And then he remembered.

  Jena.

  He crawled across the floor to where she lay silently on the ground, her body prone, her eyes closed and her breathing even. Whatever had been happening before was over now, and he thought … he thought maybe the birds had been trying to help her, because whatever they had done snapped her out of it and brought her back to the here and now.

  He leaned over her, relieved to find her breathing was strong. He pushed the hair back from her face, dislodging a feather from the corner of her mouth.

  ‘Hey, Jena. Wake up,’ he said gently. ‘Come on, wake up. I don’t know what’s going on but you need to get up.’

  She groaned, bringing her hands to her head as she sat. She spat out a mouthful of feathers, her eyes going wide as she caught them in her hands, black and wet. She opened her mouth as if to scream but then she noticed him, her eyes locking on his.

  ‘What happened?’

  ‘I don’t … I don’t quite know. But the birds – they brought you back.’

  She tucked her chin into her chest, bringing her knees up and wrapping her arms around them. She stayed like that, rocking ever so slightly – back and forward, back and forward – before she finally let go.

  ‘Nothing happened here,’ she said, her voice firm and steady. She looked at him pointedly. ‘Nothing. Do you understand? I don’t know what you think you saw, but it was nothing.’

  Will looked around them at the clear-lite on the floor, at the bodies of the magpies who had killed themselves getting in here. Finally, he looked at Jena, who looked so much like that little girl on the news report after the fire that it took his breath away.

  ‘Do you want me to help you back to the house?’ he asked, choosing his words carefully.

  ‘No. No, I’m okay.’ She got up and brushed herself off, though there was nothing she could do about the rips in her clothing, the scrapes on her face. ‘I’m cooking dinner tonight, right?’

  Her question was so normal that it took him a moment to grasp it.

  ‘Huh? Oh, yeah,’ he said. ‘But I can do it.’

  ‘No, no, it’s fine. I’ll catch you later.’ And with that she was gone, out the door, leaving him alone in the barn wondering what the fuck had just happened.

  Will looked around. The floor was littered with a mess from … from that. He had no way of knowing what had been happening to Jena, because she didn’t seem ready to talk about it, but he’d bet money on the fact that his gear had picked something up. Once he was sure she wasn’t coming back, he scrambled up the stairs to check.

  They all had levels of activity on them – the magnetic readings were way higher than any other time since his arrival, and there was definitely a recording on the EVP – but the one he was most interested in was his camera. It was set to start recording when there was any activity in the barn. He pulled it off its stand and took it to the table, hitting the button to skip back through the video.

  And there it was. Evidence.

  Jena was standing in the middle of the barn. Her eyes were open, the pupils rolled back to show the whites as she fell to her knees. Thick black smoke seemed to fill the room – the fact that it was on the recording stunned him. He’d thought it was only in his head. Mere seconds passed before he showed up on the screen, shaking Jena. Birds streaming down from the room above them. And then the camera shut off.

  Will let out the breath he was holding, carefully placing the video camera on the table, his hand shaking. He leaned back in his chair, unsure of what to do. His first thought was to tell Rose, or Jena, b
ut then he’d have to come clean about the real reason he was here. He could tell his friend Josh, from the hospital, or even Rebecca. Would she take him back if she saw that it was real? That he wasn’t just ghost obsessed?

  But he wasn’t ready to share it with anyone. Jena had looked so vulnerable, and all it would do was make others ask more questions.

  He didn’t know her very well, but he didn’t want to expose her like that, not to someone who might not be sensitive. Now that he was here and had talked to her a little, seen some of what she was dealing with, he realised that his hunger for information about what happened was a little insensitive. He’d never meant to hurt anyone with his querying; it was really only a means to make sense of what

  had happened to him – to his mother. To try and prove that she hadn’t really killed herself and that there were things at work in the world that couldn’t be explained by science.

  He just wanted to know more.

  And he realised now that maybe he was hoping he’d never really know. He’d been keeping alive the hope that his mother’s death wasn’t suicide, that it somehow wasn’t his fault for being an awful son. Convincing himself that it was something else, something darker and scarier, was the far easier option.

  The fact that it all might be real – that his mother had been taken over by something evil, something that wanted to cause him pain; that Jena had suffered from some otherworldly event as well – was almost too much to get his head around.

  The idea of it being true was more exciting – no, more palatable – than the reality.

  He pulled his computer out of the desk drawer and booted it up, manually transferring the video file from the camera and storing it in the cloud in a secure location under multiple decoy folders, alongside a bunch of videos of proven fake paranormal activities that he’d saved. That way, if anyone did find it, they would assume this one was a fake too.

  Will put his computer away and held the camera in his hands for another moment, trying to decide what to do with it. He had the evidence that he’d craved; did he need to see more?