The World Without Crows

by Ben Lyle Bedard

  "Sarah, please," he returned. "We can't go feeding every fuck nugget who comes waltzing by."

  "I'm not a fuck nugget," Birdie murmured.

  Brad didn't respond to her. "We can't be giving away our food willy nilly to every Joe, Bob, and Mary Jane that comes around, that's all I'm saying." He spooned some chowder in his mouth. "You know what I'm saying, don't you?" Brad asked to Eric. "You got to feed this kid, right? Would you give us a meal for nothing?"

  Eric shrugged. He liked to think he would, but he wasn't sure.

  "She's just a little girl, Brad," Sarah said.

  "This ain't the world it used to be," Brad said, as if Sarah had said nothing. "We can't be the people we once were. We can't be nice and charitable or we'll be nice and dead. I thought you learned that."

  "I know what the world is, Brad," Sarah said. "I don't need you to tell me. There's plenty of fish in the creek. We can afford to share."

  "That's exactly what I'm saying," Brad said angrily. "We can't afford to share. We can't ever afford to share. Ever."

  They were quiet. The only sound was Brad, slurping up the chowder. After he finished and sighed, he put down his cup on a nearby stone, where it fell, clattering tinnily. He didn't say anything more but gazed into the growing darkness of the forest. The sun was turning orange in the sky.

  "We made it another day," said Sarah, sitting back, and stretching her legs out.

  Eric felt like an intruder because of Brad's stiff, angry posture. Birdie sidled closer to him and clasped his hand. Eric relaxed and remembered something. He took out his backpack, and then took out some materials, laying it out in front of Birdie.

  "Do you like to draw?" he asked.

  "Oh!" she cried, "I love to draw!" Birdie dove on the crayons and paper and, eyes sparkling, set to drawing. Sarah smiled, watching her. Only Brad seemed untouched. He glared over at her.

  "Where'd you find her?" he asked. "She ain't your family, that's obvious."

  "At a store further south," Eric answered.

  "He almost shot me," Birdie said, drawing intensely. Eric blushed so furiously that his eyes glistened with wetness.

  Brad laughed. "Afraid of black people much?"

  "No," Eric responded quickly. "I didn't even see her before I shot."

  "Good thing you didn't shoot her little head right off," Brad said. "Wouldn't that have been something?"

  Eric paled and looked down at his hands. It made him sick to think about it.

  "Don't be an asshole, Brad," Sarah said. Brad chuckled a little, as if he enjoyed being called an asshole, and then shrugged and turned back to the forest. Sarah turned back to the fire and poked at it with her stick. "Where are you from?" she asked.

  Eric told most of the story. Beginning with the death of his mother, he told how he had formed a plan, and then found maps and camping supplies and emergency survival kits, and then moved north. He told them about Charlie's murder and then finding Birdie. "That's about it," he finished. "I hope to be in Maine by September, so I can have time to get ready for winter."

  "You're going to walk to Maine?" Brad laughed. "Look at you! You're too fat to walk all that way. You'll fucking die of a heart attack before you get out of Ohio!"

  "I have to try," Eric said timidly.

  "Why don't you just get a car and drive?" Brad asked. "Then you might have a chance."

  "Probably for the same reason we don't have a car," Sarah said. "Too much attention. You might as well just join the Snakes. I think it's a great idea." She thought about it, and then turned to Eric. "Actually, I think it's a brilliant idea."

  Brad made a hissing sound, but then settled back. "Winter will freeze Zombies," he acceded. "Sometimes on cloudy, cold days, they can hardly move. I've seen it. I think they're cold blooded, like lizards. They need the sun to warm up their muscles."

  Eric nodded. "I think the Vaca B causes the body to shut down. That's why they can live so long without eating, I think. Snakes can live months on one meal."

  "Winter is a good idea," Brad repeated. "We were moving south. I figured it would be best to go somewhere warm all the time, so we wouldn't have to worry about freezing to death. But maybe getting killed by a cracked Zombie is the thing to worry about." He sat up.

  "Maybe," Sarah began. "Maybe we could come with you?"

  They both looked at him. Eric thought about it. He didn't like or trust Brad, but Sarah could fish and she was a good cook. They needed that. Besides, Brad seemed tough and mean. Eric would feel better with him around. He tapped Birdie on the shoulder.

  "Birdie," he said. "Do you think we should let them come with us?"

  For her response, she held up her drawing. It was a picture of multicolored stick people, holding hands beneath a blazing sun. There were four of them, and in the background was a lake. In the lake was the island. It was decided.

  "Okay," Eric said. "We go together."

  _

  Over the crackling fire, Brad told Eric his story. Birdie was curled up against him, her dark hair in angry snarls. She'd fallen asleep with a crayon in her hand. Sarah sat on the opposite end of the fire, listening while Brad spoke.

  "After the Vaca B came to Wooster," he began, "things went bad quickly. Everyone I knew was either dead or dying. I was trying to find some food one day when a cracked Zombie came out of nowhere." Brad made an expanding gesture with his hands. "It was the Snakes, they saved me. Blew off that Zombie's head with a shotgun. I ended up joining them. It seemed the safest thing to do. They had a king, called him the King Cobra. He said we were supposed to repopulate the earth. It was our job."

  Sarah interrupted then. "He was crazy," she said. "King Cobra had the Snakes gather girls into a compound."

  "Like a warehouse," Brad offered.

  "Like a prison. They were there just to," Sarah said. "You know."

  "Fuck," Brad said helpfully. "King Cobra decided who had earned the right to women every day."

  "They came in at night," Sarah said. "They picked them out like they were dogs."

  "I was never one of them to go to the warehouse," Brad said. "I was on Zombie round up. We put Zombies into trucks and drove them out to Lake Chippewa. When those Zombies got a good look at that water, they just walked in and drown. You know how the worm makes people crazy for water. Then we'd drag them out and burn them in great pits. King Cobra said we were cleansing the world."

  Sarah made a hissing sound. "I hate the sound of his name," she said.

  "What happened to make you leave?" asked Eric. These kind of stories were exactly the reason he was trying to avoid gangs.

  "One day," Brad began in a reluctant tone. "One day we went down to the lake with a truck load of Zombies in the back. It was me, Harry, Paul, and this kid, Willie. Willie weren't more than thirteen, I think. He was a good kid. Never did anything to anyone." Here Brad faltered and then cleared his throat. "Well, we got down to the lake and let the Zombies out. Paul and Harry were laughing as they all lurched into the water. The sight of all them men and women just walking to their deaths, it made your skin crawl. When they were all dead, we dragged their bodies out of the water. Paul got on the bucket loader, and we put the dead Zombies in the pit to burn. Me and Willie were down by the lake, dragging the bodies on shore when Willie found it.

  "It was a silver gun with gold designs. It shined in Willie's hand. Willie's eyes shined too. We were making quite a noise over that gun, so Paul and Harry came down to see. Willie showed them the gun. Then Harry held out his hand and said, 'Give it here.' You could tell by how he said it that Willie wouldn't ever see that gun again. So Willie said to him, 'It's my gun, I found it. Finders keepers.' I remember he said that because it was like what a kid would say on a playground. Same tone and everything. 'I'm the boss here,' said Harry. 'Now give it over!' But Willie stuck the gun in his pants instead. 'No,' he said. 'You ain't the boss of me. There ain't no bosses no more.'

  "Willie was wrong though. There are still bosses. Harry kind of nodded at Paul and Paul, who was t
his big, quiet guy, he grabbed Willie from behind. Then Harry started beating on Willie. I wanted to say something, but they were big guys. They beat him like he was a full grown man. They beat him bloody and took the gun from him. Then they laughed and were walking away when Willie found some strength. He shouted at them, 'You better sleep with one eye open, you fuckers! This ain't over!' He said it like a kid. You know how kids say those things. They don't mean it.

  "But Harry turned around and his face was dark like I never seen a face before. He took out a knife and walked back to Willie. Willie tried to move away, but Harry stuck his knee into his back and just sawed at Willie's neck with that knife. Sawed at it like Willie was a piece of wood. I heard him gurgle and die. 'Now what you going to do?' That's what Harry said to poor Willie.

  "Then Paul made a grab at me. I forgot I was even there. It was like a nightmare, I couldn't hardly believe what I saw. I knew I had to run. The King Cobra didn't like Snakes hurting each other. He had people thrown down into this narrow pit called the Pipe for it. They stayed down there until they died. Harry and Paul wouldn't want no witnesses. I was lucky to get away. I was lighter on my feet than those fuckers. Hope they rot in hell."

  Eric swallowed through a dry throat. He'd come close to getting caught by the Snakes.

  It was a long silence. The fire crackling. Brad staring into it. Sarah looking at her hands. Eric imagined Willie and seemed to feel Harry's knee hard on his back and the cold knife pressing into his neck. They all seemed to feel the touch of death, just at the edge of the light, just where the darkness began, out there among the lakes and forests where the shadows waited.

  _

  "Fuck it," Brad said, throwing some grass into the fire. "I'm going to sleep." He stood up and put out his hand to Eric. Eric blinked at it for a second before he realized that Brad wanted to shake hands. Then he took it quickly. Brad's handshake was firm and painful, but Eric hid the pain. "Don't mind me if I mouth off once in a while," he said. "That's how I am." Eric watched him leave, out into the forest where he had set his tent, away from everyone.

  "It's true," Sarah said after the sound of Brad's walking through the forest had subsided. "He just can't control his mouth."

  Eric thought about it. It was strange to think they had only known each other for a day. It seemed much longer. "How about you?" Eric asked to Sarah.

  Sarah shrugged, looking into the fire. "I was a girl in high school with a mother and father and two little brothers." She didn't look at him, but at the fire where all her memories seemed to kindle and burn in the fire. "Now I'm a woman and I'm alone."

  "We're not alone," Eric said after a while.

  Sarah didn't answer. She continued to look into the fire, the red flickering light reflecting in her eyes as if all her past burned there, to cinders.

  _

  Moving north again, the four of them trekked through bushes and forest. Brad and Sarah kept a much faster pace than Eric had. He puffed and stumbled after them as best he could. Birdie, her feet still sore, did her best as well, and though her face was pinched in pain, she never cried or whined.

  They agreed to move around the east of Wooster. Brad said he knew how to avoid the Snakes. They would be able to get to Cuyahoga Valley very soon. But at the pace they were moving, Eric, sweating and breathing hard, wasn't sure he would make it without collapsing in exhaustion, but he would not ask Brad to slow or to stop. He didn't care how much it hurt.

  Brad scouted ahead. He had broken off a branch and used it as a walking stick. He would stop at the crest of a hill and listen while the rest of them caught up with him. Eric kept having a distant memory. When he was very young, he had visited his aunt's farm in Indiana. He had many cousins there, and, though he was very young at the time, they had led him through the fields, playing war. Brad reminded him of that, how his cousins held guns that were branches and would crouch in the soil, tracking down the enemy. It was no game now, but Brad was not much older than his cousins had been.

  They were still children, he kept thinking. The thought made his heart beat and skin crawl. They were so young.

  _

  "When I get to the island," said Brad, "I'm going to build a house." They had stopped for a lunch of leftover chowder. "And I'm going to build a little dock for our boats. We'll have boats, won't we?"

  "Yes," said Eric. "We'll have boats. And we'll have animals too."

  "Puppies?" Birdie looked up from her meal. Her eyes sparkled.

  "If we can find one," laughed Sarah. "I'm going to design the kitchen. A great big fireplace. Unless we can find an old cookstove."

  "Too heavy," Brad said. "There's no way me and Fats can move a cast iron cook stove alone."

  "Well then," Sarah said, "a very big fireplace then. It'll keep us warm and I can cook with it. We'll have to dig a root cellar."

  "Yes," Eric said. "My aunt had one of those. She said they used to store food in it all year long."

  "I guess we'll have to learn to grow food," said Brad. "Anyone know a damn thing about that?"

  Sarah and Eric looked at each other. Eric turned back to Brad. "I don't know, put seeds in the ground and give them water, I guess."

  "Fucking A," Brad said. "There's more to it than that!"

  "We'll just have to learn," said Eric. "Trial and error."

  "Yeah, great idea," Brad huffed. "Only one problem with that bit of fucking genius. One error and we're dead."

  They ate quietly after that.

  _

  The woods thinned. They began moving through fields, the green grass already up to their shins. They felt exposed and vulnerable. Sticking to creeks as best they could, keeping low, they moved slowly, but as quick as they could. The warm wind blew in earth-scented gusts about them. Little yellow flowers bloomed about them. Eric reached down, picked a few, and then tucked them into Birdie's hair. She waited patiently while he did it.

  It wasn't long before they realized they needed more supplies. Unhappy about it, Brad nonetheless relented. They could see a town up ahead, sprawled out and menacing. It seemed a life time ago when such places seemed small and boring to Eric. Brad said the town was Orrville.

  The four of them snuck down into the outskirts and began scavenging while Brad kept watch. "This is Snakes territory," he told them. He positioned himself so he could see the road while they busily searched the abandoned houses.

  The Snakes had cleaned up the Zombies, it seemed. The town was deserted of humans. Raccoons, mice, and dogs had moved into the houses. Cats watched them with baleful eyes. Listening for Brad's whistle, they scavenged quickly, taking what little they could find.

  In an hour, as planned, they met in the main street. They found a bag of rice, a box of instant potatoes, a large canister of oats, a jar of applesauce, and three cans of spinach. Sarah had grabbed several plastic containers of spices and a cardboard cylinder of salt. They were looking over their spoils when they heard the voice.

  "Hey!"

  They whirled around, both Brad and Eric pulling guns from their belt.

  The man only laughed when he saw the guns. He was a tall, husky man, who loomed large over them. Under a bushy yellow mustache was a thin, red mouth. His eyes were large and seemed to take in every one of them at once, like he had no need to focus on anything. He was dressed in camouflage pants and shiny black boots. The sweater he wore over a slightly bulging stomach had leather patches at the shoulders and elbows. He had the look of a bear to Eric. In his arms, carelessly held, was an assault rifle.

  "Stop pointing those at me," he said, but his voice was not afraid. It rolled across the stillness like distant thunder.

  Even Brad lowered his weapon.

  He walked toward them, smiling. "Good day," he said, holding out a beefy hand. When Eric shook it, he felt hair upon the man's knuckles. "Pleasure to meet you," he said to each of them. He shook all their hands but for Birdie's, who he seemed to ignore. When he was done shaking hands, he said, "I am Carl," he said. "Mister Carl Doyle. Follow me."
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br />   Him being a large man with an assault rifle, they obeyed, though they glanced at each other nervously.

  "I've watched you cross the fields to the south," he told them as they walked. "I thought what an extraordinary thing, four children so determined to stay hidden. What times we live in, eh?" Eric thought the man was trying to sound English, like his friends imitating Monty Python. "Ordinarily, I would have nothing to do with strangers, not in these times, but something about the four of you was so pathetic, I thought I should do my utmost to assist you." He turned back to them. "Babes in the wilderness, you understand. Not good." He led them across the town and into a gully where there was a campsite next to a Land Rover.

  Eric had only seen a Land Rover a few times in his life. Shaped like a rugged block of granite, it was light green with a white top. The windshield was outlined in white. There was mud spattered on the sides and on the little, square grill at the front. It looked unstoppable.

  "Where are you headed?" he asked, hanging his gun on a rack in the Rover. Eric noticed that a samurai sword was beneath it, a gentle, smiling curve beneath the grave line of the gun.

  The group looked at each other, uncertain. Doyle frowned.

  "You have nothing to fear," he said. He held up his hands. "I assure you I mean you no harm."

  Eric cleared his throat. Although Brad glared at him, Eric said, "We're going to Cuyahoga Valley."

  "I know the place," he said. "Quaint. Hop in, all of you." When they didn't move, he laughed again. "Don't worry, I'll have you there in no time."

  When they were all inside, Brad up front and the rest of them piled in the back, Birdie tugged on Eric's shirt. "I don't want to go with him," she said. Eric blushed, her voice was so loud in the Rover, but Doyle did not seem to notice. Eric whispered to Birdie they would be all right, though he too felt unsure and nervous in the Rover. It smelled strange, sweet and metallic. When he looked in the back, he saw the source of the smell. Two skinned deer, bright red.