Blackbird

by Jessica MacIntyre

  “Robert?”

  “This is Robert Cole.”

  “Robert, this is Chelle.”

  “Chelle,” she heard the smile in his voice. Hopefully it would still be there when she was finished telling him what was happening. “I hope you’re not calling in sick on your first day. That’s no way to make an impression.”

  She took a deep breath. “Listen, I’m sorry, but I need your help.” It was taking everything she had not to choke on the words. She never asked for help. Ever.

  The playfulness in his tone was indeed gone. “Chelle? What’s wrong?”

  “I didn’t know who else to call.” She heard the tears in her voice and quashed them down, intending to go on but stopping short.

  “It’s ok. Tell me what’s happened.”

  “I’m at the police station. I’ve been arrested.”

  “I’m coming.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  It occurred to Robert as he made his way downtown that he hadn’t even bothered to ask Chelle what she’d been arrested for. It could have been anything. He barely knew this woman and could have been heading to the police station to bail a murderer out of jail. She certainly didn’t seem the type, but then again, neither had Ted Bundy. He shook the thoughts out of his mind as he drove trying to focus on the road. Simply darting from his office had been short sighted. It was the middle of winter and he hadn’t even grabbed his coat. He was freezing.

  He parked at the station and locked his car, shivering as he bounded up the stairs as fast as he could. With the exception of his mother yesterday he couldn’t remember a time when he’d felt such an intense need to rescue someone. Her phone call had pushed everyone and everything else in his mind directly to the back burner, and he would be happy to let them stay there until he could get to her and straighten this out. Whatever was wrong, no matter what it was, he had already decided he was going to fix it.

  Behind a sort of Plexiglas cage an officer sat, the soft tippity tap of keys coming from inside. Robert stood there for a moment but the portly little man didn’t even look up. “I’m here for Chelle Carrey,” he said.

  “Have a seat.”

  Have a seat? How could he possibly have a seat when he felt like he was going to crawl right out of his skin? He needed to see her…now. He did attempt to sit, but only for a moment before he stood again, beginning to pace. Five minutes passed. She was back there somewhere waiting for him, he could feel it. He wanted her to know he was here. That he had come for her and he rubbed his hand against his throat, stifling the need to yell out and tell her so. He was about to ask the officer at the desk, who was still typing, how much longer it would be, or if they had let her know he was here at all. Just then another officer came through a set of double doors and into the waiting area.

  “Excuse me,” he said, physically stopping him from passing straight on through by standing directly in front of him. “I’m here for Chelle Carrey.”

  “Oh, the squatter. Friend of yours?”

  “Yes, she is. Can I see her?”

  “If you want to pay her bail.”

  “Yes,” he was practically shouting. “I very much want to pay her bail.”

  The officer stopped for a moment, giving him a queer look. Robert realized he may have been acting just a little too overenthusiastic. “Ok, buddy. We’ll get you fixed up. Just have a seat and we’ll get everything together.”

  Robert once again sat down, and once again jumped right back up. He paced. He ran his hands through his hair and rubbed his arms in a fit of anxiety. Squatter they had said. Somehow between the time he’d dropped her off and today she’d been caught. Guilt flooded his system and he cursed at himself. He hoped he hadn’t been the cause. She was most definitely guilty of it, but from what he had seen, really wasn’t a criminal at all. The Gwoks had plenty of things she could have taken, but the house had been in order. Nothing touched. When she said she didn’t use or take things that didn’t belong to her unless she had to, he believed her.

  The officer made a phone call and Robert decided to make a phone call of his own. Two hours passed before paperwork was filled out, money changed hands and then they brought her to him. She looked tired, disheveled and worse, dejected. The officer turned to her and said, “See you in court Miss. Carrey. The doctor said for you to get checked out in a couple of days too or go back if you feel dizzy or black out.” She nodded without a verbal response and then looked to Robert, looking away almost immediately.

  He could see she was embarrassed. For someone who had lived on her own for so long she probably wasn’t used to humbling herself and asking for help. All he wanted to do was hug her, but he forced himself to stop. “Chelle. What happened?”

  He took her over to the row of chairs he had paced in front of earlier and sat her down. With glassy downturned eyes she spoke slowly and calmly, almost too calmly for the situation at hand. “The Gwoks came home. He woke me up. Hit me with the crowbar.” She touched the top of her head with her hand and winced.

  “Let me see.” He took her head in his hands and gently rolled her head to her chest, inspecting the bump. “That’s pretty nasty.”

  “Robert, whatever you had to do to get me out of here I’ll pay you back. I’ll work it off. How much was it?”

  It was five thousand dollars, but he had no intention of letting her know that, at least not right now. “Don’t worry about that right now. We just need to make sure you’re ok.”

  She turned her head away, her shoulders shaking as she did. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

  He pulled her back toward him and put his arm around her shoulders and she burrowed her head in his neck. As upset as she was he felt a warmth from this he’d never experienced before. He wanted to put both arms around her and pull her even closer than she already was, but didn’t. “Don’t be sorry, Chelle. I’m glad you called me.”

  “I’m so embarrassed.”

  “Don’t be. We all fall on hard times. You’re just going through a hard time right now.” He stood her up, and then grabbed the backpack they’d given back to her, swinging it up over his shoulder. “Come on. We have an appointment, and then I’m taking you home.”

  “What? An appointment? With who?”

  “A friend of mine, he’s a lawyer and a pretty good one at that.”

  “They said if I couldn’t afford a lawyer they’d get me one. Robert, really you’ve done enough. And I can’t afford your friend anyway. He probably costs an arm and a leg.”

  “That’s not for you to worry about right now. You don’t want one of those legal aid people. You’ll get screwed.”

  “I was caught red handed in their house. I think I’m already screwed.”

  “No way. People have done much worse. Don’t think like that. And when we’re done with Rich I’m taking you back to my place. I have a spare room and it’s all yours until you can get a place of your own. A proper place not someone else’s.” She began to protest but he cut her off. “I insist.”

  Chelle simply put her head down and followed him out to the car. She sat in the passenger seat, eyes staring straight ahead and vacant. She was lost. He started the engine and pulled out, pointing his car toward the harbour. “Where are we going?”

  “Rich is in Dartmouth. He’s meeting us at his office. Same building as the Holiday Inn.”

  Rounding the corner to the ramp they were greeting by an unexpected flashing of lights. Some sort of pandemonium was occurring on the bridge as it periodically did. It was after five o’clock now, the middle of rush hour, and a wait to get on to the Angus L. MacDonald bridge was not unusual, but a complete stop of traffic was. “Shit. Looks like there’s an accident,” he said.

  “Look,” she said with a squint. “Up there. It’s not an accident at all.”

  Robert had to focus hard to see what she was looking at. He was in severe need of glasses, but was also in severe denial about it. His father and two of his brothers had them so it only made sense, but still he refused. All he
could see were two specs, both of them moving around furiously. “What is it?”

  “That guy, he’s arguing with a cop. He seems pretty upset.”

  Robert strained even harder, but still could barely make out what Chelle was looking at. He turned his head to look directly at her. She wasn’t having any problem at all. “He’s trying to climb over the rail. Why don’t they try to grab him?” He heard the panic in her voice as she watched, frozen.

  “It’s ok. They put up that suicide barrier. He can’t get over the edge.”

  “I don’t know, Robert. He seems pretty agile. Jesus! He got his foot over the side. Why aren’t they trying to grab him?”

  Robert turned back again, desperate to see what she was seeing. Not that he wanted to watch someone jump from the bridge to their death, but human nature being what it is he couldn’t help it. “Seriously?”

  “He’s gonna go over. What the fuck? Why aren’t they trying to grab him?”

  “I’m sure they know what they’re doing, Chelle.” Robert stared up ahead for a few moments. Then out of nowhere, he shivered. Even with a lack of a coat he shouldn’t be as cold as he was in his own car with the heat cranked. He looked back to Chelle but instead of seeing her there all he found was an empty seat, the door wide open.

  His eyes darted around furiously trying to spot her. When he finally did he was horrified. Chelle had climbed over two cars and through the green mass of steel that made the ramp entrance and was on the bridge’s walkway. Now she was running.

  ***

  The suicide barrier was going to be no trouble for this guy, Chelle could see it. Unfortunately it didn’t seem as though the cop who was arguing with him had seen it because as easily as he could have reached out to grab him and haul him back, he didn’t. He simply stood talking, trying to reason with someone who had one foot over the edge and one foot on the tip of the curved rail. He was almost over.

  Chelle pumped her legs as hard as she could, harder and harder until she was about five feet from the police officer. He noticed her then and held his hands up to her, signaling for her to stay back. Reason and common sense wanted to obey, but sheer panic and fear kept her legs moving. She kept coming and someone else noticed her too. The young man, who she could see now was no more than perhaps eighteen years old, spotted her and was so dumbfounded he stopped what he was doing.

  She was about to yell at him when his foot slipped and he went over. Now he was holding on perilously with one hand. He had to be in good shape to climb the barrier, but Chelle was in good shape too and she jumped up, steadying her foot on a beam and climbed on top of it, hooking her arm through the railing to keep her steady. “Give me your hand,” she screamed. He did and she took it, smiling. She had him.

  The relief lasted only for a moment however, because his foot slipped again. Now he was completely over, dangling by Chelle’s hand. White cold fear gripped her as the thought of losing this man after almost saving him caused her stomach to twist in a knot. She couldn’t, she wouldn’t let him go. She had to save him. She had to. Her body had another reaction as well. One she had not expected, but was unsurprising nonetheless.

  With more intensity and pain than she’d ever felt before the wings ripped from her back in record speed, tearing their way out. She sensed a panic that was all their own and heard herself screaming as it happened. Within seconds they were out, her jacket was in shreds and only the front of her shirt held on, thankfully.

  The piece of metal she’d been bracing herself with for support so as not to fall, gave way under her strength and she felt it bend slightly, then curve, then snap off entirely. In a fraction of a second both of them were falling.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chelle could hear the young man screaming, although she wasn’t sure if it was because the cold water of Halifax Harbour was rushing up to greet them, or because she still had hold of his hand and was likely crushing it. For a few brief moments her wings bent straight back behind her, the length of them being pushed by the force of the fall. They were useless and felt weighted down.

  Then, in quick succession, they bowed, stretched to their full length and gave one giant flap, catching the air. Just as the man’s feet touched the water they were being taken up again, and then they were soaring. For the first time with these wings, these things she had spent her life cursing, there was no pain, there was no doubt, she didn’t even feel a trickle of blood, although she knew it was there, it had to be. There were none of those familiar things. There was only flying and freedom and adrenalin.

  The man dangled from her hand as she held tightly to him. She looked down at him and saw that he was staring up at her in a look of wonder, mixed with horror. “Shit!” he said as he stared at her wings. “Shit!” he said when he looked down at the water flowing underneath his feet. “Shit!” he said, looking her directly in the eye now. Each time he spoke the panic in his voice went up an octave. She wanted to say it as well but somehow couldn’t find her voice. It was trapped in her throat along with a great deal of excitement.

  When she finally had the presence of mind to look ahead she saw something green below her and realized she was looking down on St. George’s Island, a small island in the middle of Halifax Harbour. It seemed quite far away and she bent her head back, seeing the bridge behind her in the distance.

  For the first time since taking flight it occurred to her that she had no idea what she was doing. The wings were doing their own thing and she had no sweet clue how to make them take her back, or if she could even do that. For all she knew she was at their mercy. If they decided to fly her on up to the Arctic Circle perhaps she was simply there for the ride, along with her poor unsuspecting passenger.

  I have to get back there.

  Just as the thought entered her mind the wings seemed to read it and tipped themselves, sending her swooping back down. Now she was turned around and heading back toward the bridge. As she flew closer she realized how fast it was coming up on them. The green structure that spanned the harbour was getting larger and larger, and more quickly than she would like.

  Slow down!

  The wings obeyed and just in time because she was over the top of it, dead center above the traffic and noise. There was a giant uproar now, she could see it. “Put me down!” the young man said, finally finding his voice.

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “I just wanted to help you. I didn’t want you to die.”

  “I don’t wanna die anymore. I just want to be back on the fucking ground!”

  Back on the ground.

  Once again the wings obeyed her and came up vertical to her back. They dropped faster than they should have and the man landed on the hood of a car. Chelle let go of his hand and tried to land, but found it was trickier than flying in the open air. The wings knew she wanted down, and she went down alright. Right in the middle of the pavement in front of a police cruiser. She felt something crack underneath her and realized it was her head hitting the concrete.

  I have to get up. I have to get out of here.

  The thought only had about half a second to formulate in her mind before inky black spots appeared in front of her eyes, and then the spots took over taking her down into total darkness.

  ***

  Robert bolted from the car, chasing Chelle as best as he could, but lagged behind sorely lacking her agility. It was nothing if not impressive. She had the speed and grace of a gymnast, even amidst her panic. But what was she doing? Why was she running toward the man? What did she think she was going to do? It was insanity. Most people would have been all too happy to sit in their cars and let he police handle whatever was going on. Not Chelle it seemed.

  Unable to get over the cars and steel beams he watched from the other side of the grating as Chelle jumped up, seizing the young man’s hand and bracing her body with the barrier itself. He was almost over, but she had him. Then an awful realization dawned on him. He was going over, and Chelle was going to go with him.

  Robert began screaming a
nd crawled up onto the roof of the nearest car, hoping it would help her to hear him. He couldn’t get to her but perhaps he could yell some common sense into her. “No! Chelle, let go!”

  With traffic at a standstill people were getting out of their cars now to watch the human drama unfold. They were ready with morbid fascination to watch not one, but two people fall to their deaths. What they were about to get was something else entirely.

  Without any kind of warning Chelle’s jacket seemed to explode. The wings, all black feathers and metal, ripped the fabric, shooting out of her back like arrows from a crossbow. They asserted themselves, stretching and shining in the winter sunlight. The metal glinted, blinding him for a moment. When she moved again he saw the feathers. Such a deep dark black that the sun caused some of them to appear streaked with blue.

  A stunned gasp ran through the crowd. A heartbeat later both Chelle and the man disappeared as they slipped over the edge. Robert screamed again. “No!” and dropped to his knees on the roof of the car. Lowering his head he was overcome with grief. In an instant she was gone. He couldn’t fully comprehend the scope of what he’d lost but immediately he felt as though his entire world had collapsed inward on him. Chelle was no more. The feeling was unbearable and he locked his arms around his waist, feeling as though he was going to be sick.

  Just as he was sure that was going to happen another gasp ran through the crowd. “What the hell?” he heard a man’s booming voice say from behind him. When Robert lifted his head he saw her. Chelle was alive, the jumper dangling from her hand and she was flying. She was actually flying.

  “Holy hell,” he heard himself say. An involuntary smile spread across his face as he watched. She shot straight up and then down toward St. George’s Island. Where the hell was she going? The excited roar that ran through the crowd was palpable as everyone gaped, not believing what they were seeing. It wasn’t long before a sea of camera phones were present. Each of them pointed and focused directly at Chelle, who was now making her way back, the man dangling below her, his legs kicking wildly.