A Gathering of Crows

by Brian Keene

  The shadows swallowed everything else in the living room. Once-familiar objects like the grandfather clock and the potted plants and the coffee table became unidentifiable shapes. The book he’d been reading, a lurid paperback called Depraved, was all but invisible in the darkness. Everything had changed. Muted. But the picture remained clear. Richard’s smile, his hair, his eyes, were unaffected by the gloom. Joel buried his face in his hands and could still see his lover’s face.

  The town had fallen silent. The screams and gunshots had subsided. Somehow, the silence was worse. Joel hoped that it would all be over soon.

  “The feeling’s gone,” he whispered, “and I just can’t get it back.”

  When the window shattered and a dark-cloaked man leaped into the room, Richard didn’t jump or scream or try to run away. He simply looked up, wiped the tears from his eyes and sighed.

  “You are not afraid?” The figure loomed over him, arms outstretched.

  Joel shook his head. “I’m too tired to be afraid. I saw what was happening. Earlier, out in the street. I watched two of you pull a family from their car. Nobody came to help them.”

  “Nobody could.”

  “Is this the end of the world?”

  The intruder laughed. The sound reminded Joel of a whistling tea kettle.

  “No. Merely the end of your world.”

  “Will it hurt?”

  “I could make it very painful indeed. Agonizing and slow. Now are you afraid?”

  Joel shook his head.

  The man’s shoulders slumped. “It is better when you are afraid. It improves the taste of your soul. But no matter.”

  The man in black reached for him and Joel leaned forward into the embrace.

  “Thank you,” he whispered as the darkness engulfed him.

  ***

  Kirby Fox cowered in his tree house, reading his Bible (a red, faux-leather-cover King James version that he’d been given at church after completing catechism classes a year before) and begging the Lord not to let what had just happened to his parents happen to him, as well.

  He’d been camping out in the backyard, sleeping in the tree house—or at least that was what his parents had thought. In truth, there had been very little sleeping, as Kirby’s tree house contained a folder full of pictures printed off from a porno site. He kept the folder in the middle of an old Trapper Keeper left over from elementary school, and hid the Trapper Keeper inside a long white box of comic books. His parents had never been inside the tree house—at least, not that he knew of—but Kirby saw no reason not to be cautious at all times.

  Like now, for example. He looked up from the book of Psalms, his finger frozen over a random passage. He’d had to squint to read it because his flashlight wasn’t working. The tree-house roof had a hole in it so that he could stick his telescope out of it on clear nights. Each spring, his father trimmed the branches away from the hole, providing an unobstructed view of the stars. Kirby kept a five-gallon bucket beneath the hole to catch rainwater and had a tarp he could pull over the top of it. He realized now that he’d forgotten to pull the tarp closed. The leaves rustled softly as the breeze picked up. Wind gusted down through the hole, ruffling the naked pictures, his comics and the Bible pages. The printouts fluttered across the floor. Naked women stared up at him from a dozen different poses. Kirby felt sick and guilty. The pictures had been provided by Gary Thompson. Kirby had given him ten bucks and his copy of Modern Warfare 2 in exchange for them. Gary’s parents had a color printer and unlimited Internet access. The kid had a nice business as a middle-school pornographer.

  Kirby had beat off twice, guiltily wiping himself with paper towels and then tossing the evidence in the corner, and then snuggled into his sleeping bag and read some back issues of Gold Digger, Naruto, Green Lantern and Ultimate Spider-Man. At some point, probably during the issue where Doctor Octopus proposes to Peter Parker’s Aunt May, Kirby had fallen asleep.

  His father’s screams were what woke him, although Kirby hadn’t realized it actually was his father at first. The cries were too high-pitched. Too strange. It was only when his father was flung through the bedroom window and landed in the yard, shards of glass sticking out of his face, that Kirby had realized the shrieks belonged to him. His father had lain there, thrashing and quivering and squealing. Then parts of Kirby’s mother had followed him out of the broken window. First had come her head. Then her arm. Then something from inside of her. Then another arm.

  Kirby had been too frightened to scream. He’d simply cowered there in the tree-house door, watching in shock and horror as his father bled to death with his mother’s decapitated head and various internal organs lying upon his chest. The ground around him was soaked with blood.

  After his father fell quiet and quit moving, Kirby became aware of the screams from elsewhere in town. There were too many of them. He’d sat with his back to the wood-plank wall, pulled his knees up to his chest, grabbed the Bible—and prayed. His mother had insisted he keep the Bible in the tree house; it was her idea of good luck. In hindsight, maybe she’d been right. His parents were dead but Kirby was still alive. He turned his attention back to the book and focused on a random psalm.

  “He giveth to the beast his food, and to the young ravens which cry . . .”

  Kirby was unaware that he was reading aloud and equally oblivious that he was crying.

  “He delighteth not in the strength of the horse: he taketh not pleasure in the legs of a man. The Lord taketh pleasure in them that fear Him, in those that—”

  Something warm and wet plopped onto the page and splattered against the crook of skin between Kirby’s thumb and index finger. A raindrop? Frowning, he looked up and saw two eyes staring back at him through the hole. It was a crow, he realized. A big black crow—the biggest he’d ever seen. The bird had shit right through the hole and onto the Bible.

  Kirby wiped the offending substance away with his shirttail. Sniffling, he turned his attention upward again, but the bird was gone. In its place was a man, perched on the roof of the tree house and grinning wide enough that his teeth flashed white in the darkness.

  Then the darkness flowed through the hole, and whatever good luck Kirby’s Bible had brought him finally ran out.

  ***

  “Is that yours?”

  Levi glanced up and saw that Donny was pointing at the buggy.

  “Yes, it’s mine.”

  “Where’s your horse?”

  “She is safe. I have her stabled down near the river.”

  “How do you know they haven’t fucked with her, too?”

  “Dee has certain protections. Similar to mine. No harm will come to her.”

  Marsha smiled. “Your horse is named Dee?”

  Levi nodded. “Yes. And my dog, who is back home in Pennsylvania, is named Crowley.”

  “Those are unusual names. Don’t get me wrong—I like them, but they’re not ones you hear every day. Around here, not too many people even bother to name their horses or dogs.”

  “I named them after old friends of my family.” He paused, surveying the street. “It looks okay to cross. We’ll be safe once we get inside Esther’s house.”

  “How?” Donny asked. “I mean, no offense, Levi, but I don’t see how we’re any better off inside that old bed-and-breakfast. We ought to get the hell out of town.”

  “I don’t think we can leave. I don’t think they’ll let us. And as for the house, I can protect us once we’re inside.”

  “The way you protected us back there, you mean?”

  Marsha gasped. “Donny!”

  “It’s okay.” Levi raised his hand. “He’s right. I did miserably back there. I almost failed. That won’t happen again.”

  “But how are you going to protect us? I mean, no offense, Levi, but how can I be sure that Marsha is going to be safe?”

  Levi smiled. “You’re a soldier. So am I. The only difference is our methods and the weapons we choose. I give you my word that she’ll be safe inside. Now c
ome on. Let’s go, while the coast is clear.”

  They hurried across the street. Marsha and Donny trotted behind Levi, hand in hand. They had just made it to the opposite side when a truck engine shattered the silence. Marsha and Donny jumped, startled by the sudden noise. Levi merely turned in the direction of the disturbance.

  “Now that is odd.”

  A four-wheel-drive pickup truck rounded the cornerand raced toward them. Levi frowned, staring at the onrushing headlights, and raised a hand to shield his eyes from the glare.

  “That’s Randy,” Marsha yelled. “That’s my little brother!”

  Marsha and Donny waved their hands at the approaching truck. As it neared them, Marsha released Donny’s hand and ran toward the curb. The truck skidded, the brake lights flashing red in the darkness, and then slid to a stop. Randy leaped out of the cab, leaving the engine running, and dashed toward his sister. The two embraced fiercely, as Donny and Levi hurried toward them.

  “Are you okay?” Marsha gasped. “You’ve got blood all over you.”

  Randy nodded. “I’m okay. It’s . . . it’s not my blood.”

  He pulled back from her, and they all glimpsed the tears on his cheeks.

  “Come with me,” he said. “I can get us out. The old logging road—”

  “That won’t work,” Levi said. “We need to get inside.”

  Randy stared at Levi, then glanced at Donny and

  Marsha. “Who’s this?”

  “You can call him Levi,” Marsha said. “It’s okay. He’s a friend.”

  Donny stuck out his hand and Randy shook it. They embraced quickly, and Donny slapped him on the back.

  “Good to see you,” Donny said.

  “You, too. Thanks for taking care of my sis, yo.”

  Randy reached his hand out to Levi, but Levi hesitated. He seemed deep in concentration.

  “What’s up?” Randy frowned. “Do I have a booger hanging out of my nose or something?”

  “Your aura,” Levi whispered. “It’s interesting, to say the least.”

  Randy’s frown deepened. He glanced at his sister and Donny, but they only shrugged.

  “What’s up with him?”

  “Apparently,” Donny said, “he sees auras. And yeah, I know how that sounds, but after some of the shit we’ve seen tonight, I’m inclined to believe it.”

  Marsha took her brother’s hand. “Where’s Mom and Dad?”

  Randy’s expression clouded. He took a deep breath, tried to speak and then sagged forward. Donny and Marsha caught him before he could collapse.

  “Jesus,” Donny grunted.

  “Randy?” Marsha patted his cheek with her hand.

  “Randy!”

  “He’s passed out,” Donny said. “I’m guessing shock. I’ve seen this before.”

  “Is he going to be okay? He’s got a lump on the back of his head. And all this blood! What’s happened to him? Where are my parents?”

  “We need to get him inside,” Levi said, stepping forward to assist them. “Quickly.”

  Donny picked Randy up and gently placed the teen over his shoulders.

  “Hurry.” Levi’s tone was insistent. He stared up into the sky.

  “Why?” Donny glanced around but didn’t see anything.

  “Because they’re coming.”

  “Shit.”

  “Yes.”

  Donny carried the unconscious teen toward the house. Marsha trotted along beside him, stroking Randy’s hair and begging Donny to be careful with him. Levi ran over to the truck, shut off the engine and the headlights and then closed the door. The wind picked up and the tree limbs rustled in the breeze.

  “Your will be done, Lord. All I ask for is time. For their sakes as well as mine.”

  Turning, he hurried after the others. As they reached the bed-and-breakfast, the door opened and Esther stepped outside. Myrtle bustled around behind her in the doorway.

  “What’s happening?” Her eyes widened when she saw Randy. “Oh, goodness! Is he hurt? Is he . . . dead?”

  “He’s okay,” Donny panted. “Just passed out.”

  “Well, get him into the sitting room.” Esther moved aside and let them pass. Then she beckoned at Levi. “What is happening, Mr. Stoltzfus?”

  “I’ll explain what I can,” he said, slipping past her and into the foyer. “But first, I want to make sure we’re safe. I don’t have much time. Do you have a Magic Marker I can borrow, or even a pen or pencil?”

  “Oh, yes. I have some in the kitchen. Which would you like?”

  “It doesn’t matter. But I need one quickly.”

  Nodding, Esther hurried into the kitchen. Myrtle shut and locked the door, and then she and Levi joined the others in the sitting room, where Donny had laid Randy on the sofa. The teen’s cheeks were pale in the candlelight, and his breathing was steady but shallow. His eyes flickered beneath the lids. Marsha sat beside him, stroking his hair.

  “Is he going to be okay?”

  Donny lifted Randy’s wrist and checked his pulse.

  He nodded. “He’ll be fine. His pulse is strong, and his breathing is steady—if shallow. Just let him rest for a bit.”

  Esther returned from the kitchen and handed Levi a black Magic Marker. He dashed back into the foyer. Esther, Myrtle and Donny followed him. Levi uncapped the marker and then glanced over his shoulder at Esther.

  “I apologize in advance for doing this, but it’s the only way to keep us safe. This will protect us. I’ll pay for the paint and repairs later, if you wish.”

  Before she could respond, he stood on his tiptoes and began to write on the wall just above the closed door. He didn’t talk, didn’t explain to them what he was doing. He seemed totally absorbed in the task.

  The three could only watch him and look at one another in confusion. He wrote,

  I.

  N. I. R.

  I.

  SANCTUS SPIRITUS

  I.

  N. I. R.

  I.

  Ito, alo Massa Dandi Bando, III.

  Amen J. R. N. R. J.

  SATOR

  AREPO

  TENET

  OPERA

  ROTAS

  When he was finished, Levi stepped back and studied his handiwork.

  “Oh my . . .” Esther’s hand went to her chest.

  “What is that stuff?” Donny asked. “Is that Latin or something?”

  “I recognize some of it,” Myrtle said, sounding excited. “It’s a powwow charm. Isn’t that right, Mr. Stoltzfus?”

  “Three different charms, actually.” Levi turned to them and smiled. “You are partially correct, Mrs. Danbury. But I must hurry. Please excuse me one moment. While I’m doing that, it might be best if you snuffed out the remaining candles.”

  “But then we’ll have a hard time seeing.”

  “Yes, but perhaps those outside will have a hard time seeing us, as well.”

  “But you said that inscription above the door would protect us,” Esther said. “Why do we care if they know we’re in here?”

  “Because I don’t want them surrounding the house. When we’re done, after I’ve rested a bit, I need to go back out there. That’s easier to do if I can sneak outside, rather than running a gauntlet.”

  He turned away and repeated the inscription process over every door and window in the house, while the others returned to the sitting room. When he was finished, Levi joined them. To the others, he seemed exhausted.

  “Mrs. Laudry—”

  “Call me Esther, dear.”

  “Very well. Esther, would you be so kind as to grant me a drink of water?”

  “Certainly. We have bottled water in the refrigerator. I would imagine it’s still cold, even with the power being out. I’ll get some for everyone. Myrtle, would you help me?”

  “Sure. Good thing our eyes have adjusted to the dark. I don’t fancy breaking a hip on top of everything else tonight.”

  “Oh, hush.”

  The two old women bustled off
to the kitchen again. Marsha hovered over her brother, seemingly oblivious to anything else in the room. Donny and Levi studied each other.

  “You look beat, Levi.”

  “Not yet.”

  “No, I mean you look tired.”

  “Oh.” Grinning, Levi scratched his beard. “That I am. But it will be a long time before I sleep. I don’t think any of us will sleep before dawn—except for the boy there. His name is Randy?”

  “Yeah.”

  “He has . . . abilities.” Levi’s tone was flat—a statement rather than a question.

  Donny shrugged. “He’s pretty good at fixing cars, but other than that, I don’t know. Why?”

  “It’s . . . Never mind. We have more urgent matters to discuss. I just find him fascinating, is all.”

  Donny looked over at Randy and Marsha and then back at Levi. “Fascinating?”

  “He reminds me of . . . someone else at that age.”

  “Who?”

  “Here we are,” Esther said as she and Myrtle came back into the room, juggling plastic bottles of water. “It’s still cool. I’m sorry we didn’t pour it into glasses, but these seemed easier, given the circumstances.”

  Levi smiled as he accepted one. “I’m sure this is fine. Thank you both.”

  He unscrewed the cap and took a long sip while they handed bottles to Donny and Marsha. Marsha opened hers, but rather than drinking, she raised her brother’s head slightly off the couch, put the bottle to his parted lips and poured a small amount into his mouth. Randy swallowed and then smacked his lips. His eyes remained closed.

  “I hope he’s okay,” Marsha said.

  “Here.” Levi stood up, crossed the room and knelt by him. “Allow me.”

  He took Randy’s hand in his and lightly pinched the skin between the thumb and index finger. A moment later, Randy’s eyes opened. He glanced around in bewilderment and then relaxed when he saw his sister and Donny. Levi gently released his hand and then returned to his seat.