Where the Birds Hide at Night

by Gareth Wiles

  * * *

  You remember, you were inside,

  And the Devil knows -

  You gotta hide from me.

  ALEX’S ISSUES

  (PART TWO)

  Alex was alone for the first time in a long while. He looked alone, and he felt alone. He washed his hands and looked in the bathroom mirror. Still he couldn’t see himself. There was absolute space ahead – endless and never beginning all at once. He decided that if Reaping Icon would go away, he’d be able to see himself again. Did he want to see himself? It didn’t matter, because Reaping Icon wasn’t going anywhere. They were one now.

  He thought about Emma – he should have just been a man and gone off with her instead of marrying Katie. What a fool. Never mind, it was done now and Katie would pay for her crimes. Alex had allowed hate to flood in; hatred in its most basic form. Katie found sexual fulfilment with other women. ‘A perversion,’ Alex said to himself. He stared longingly at the mirror. It would not reflect his image. It was not playing ball. ‘Perversion must be stamped out.’

  * * *

  ‘Prime Minister,’ Newsman Richard Hart addressed Alex.

  ‘Leader – please, Richard, address me as Leader,’ Alex interrupted.

  ‘Very well, Leader-’

  ‘Because we as a country need a leader, a guiding force for good. Ill health has crept in to our society. It must be cured,’ Alex again interrupted, feeling no need to smile as he turned to face the camera with a vexed crease to his otherwise line-free face.

  Richard cleared his throat, shuffling some paper props on the sofa between them as he gauged whether or not Alex was going to continue talking. He did not. Instead, he kept his glare focused on the camera. ‘Surely, if we as a nation are sick, then an alias such as Doctor would be more fitting?’

  ‘I will guide the nation towards the doctors and nurses who will aid in my cure.’

  ‘And what specifically are these illnesses, and indeed cures?’

  ‘Oh Richard,’ Alex groaned, turning to face his interviewer, ‘knowing is the first step. If you don’t know, you cannot help in the recuperation.’

  ‘That’s why I asked.’

  Their eyes met, and at once Richard was fully immersed in Alex’s ocean. There was no flapping, no clamouring to get out; he had no possible idea he had been taken in. Alex was simply too good at what he was doing.

  * * *

  Cut myself off from the world,

  Contemplate my narcissistic ways.

  I’m not a hero, I deny myself that honour.

  I’m a blank canvas, mould what you wish of me.

  Nobody wants me to just

  Do whatever I want.

  A feeling that they might change me

  And leave something behind.

  NOOSE’S DILEMMA

  It was the first time he’d been out in a while. He didn’t know exactly how long it had been and, furthermore, didn’t care. He didn’t care about anything. Once he’d reached the end of the street, it suddenly dawned on him that he was outside. He wasn’t even fully aware of where he’d been staying, or how he’d been eating and drinking. He was still physically alive, so he must have been eating something. His weight had dropped significantly, however, and he was literally a shadow of his prior self. Grey-skinned, gaunt and hunched; the pathetic thing shuffled along with no particular reason to do so only that he hadn’t done so for a while. This shadow would have had its own shadow too, but for the fact the sun was as far away from this place as it could get. He passed a billboard with the headline “HOMOSEXUALITY OUTLAWED” written on it, but he’d either not seen it or it hadn’t gone in because he kept on unperturbed. People walked by in silence, nobody seeming to take the blind bit of notice of the billboard or Noose – like neither were worth bothering with. There seemed to be enough going on for them without having to take either of these two things on as well. Only one person seemed interested in Noose, and only momentarily, as they whipped their smartphone out and made a quick recording of the stooped wreck as he hobbled along. ‘I’m sure it’s him,’ were their only words, before they moved on, flicking through their other photos and videos. One video on the phone showed a man being kicked and punched in the middle of the street as passers-by stood and watched, most of them holding up their phones to take pictures and record the event as well. ‘Dirty queer fucker,’ one of the attackers yelled, before the viewer swiped to his next video.

  Noose couldn’t look up to the sky, though the dull day could have told him it was full of clouds. Even so, he couldn’t look up because of his bent neck. The tragedy of his life had not only destroyed him mentally but taken an irreversible toll physically too. He also knew not to look up to the sky – it was one less place to find the face with the smirk looking at him. He knew who’s face it was now. Well, he thought he knew. He’d decided it was his own face, the face of the man who he should have been. The Henry Noose who he could have been had he done the right things in his life was constantly watching him and smirking, appearing first on the carpet at the police station and since then as far as behind his own eyelids. Or as close. He couldn’t escape the vision of the man he could have been had he not done wrong to his wife and child. That child had become such a vile monster, and it was all Noose’s fault. That’s what he believed, anyway, and everybody had given up trying to convince him otherwise. In fact, a great number of people hadn’t even bothered to try to convince him at all. It was both easier to believe that Noose had actually contributed to his son’s crimes and ignore him altogether. It certainly looked like Father was to blame for both Nurture and Nature.

  He wanted to play things over in his mind to try to make sense of them, but the memories just weren’t there. He couldn’t even fully recall the brief altercation he and Gary had at the police station just after Barbara’s murder. He knew the lad had blamed him for the state Sam was in, but that was about it. That wasn’t enough to go on; enough to create a whirlwind of pain in his brain. He was just fully burnt out now. To think that Gary had killed Barbara less than an hour before dashing down to the station and putting on that performance… terrible.

  ‘Noose,’ a voice called out ahead of the man. He hadn’t heard it. ‘Noose,’ came the call again. It was Peter. Suddenly Noose bumped into him and twisted his tilted head to look up. ‘You look a state,’ Peter pointed out, nearly pleased with his honesty. Noose just stared at him. ‘Still not speaking?’ Peter went on, a playful cadence in his speech. ‘You need to get a grip. Terrible things happen, that’s life. I’ve realised that. Nothing we can do about it.’

  ‘We can kill ourselves and escape,’ was the former inspector’s husky words.

  ‘You could,’ Peter laughed, ‘but it didn’t work for me.’

  ‘I deserve to stay alive and suffer some more,’ Noose mumbled, trying to push Peter out of the way to move on. He was weak, Peter would not let him by. ‘So Stuart murdered Lucy.’ It was now Noose’s turn to laugh. ‘And you just forgot about it until now?’

  ‘I don’t know if there’s any way back for us, Noose, I really don’t,’ Peter said with any trace of forced humour gone. ‘Certainly not me, anyway. I could have made something with Lauren, but it’s just not to be.’ He looked over at the billboard sign.

  ‘Well I’m finished with everyone, I just couldn’t give a shit about anything anymore.’

  ‘That’s too bad, because I need your help… one last time.’

  ‘What this time, Peter? Your botty need wiping, does it?’

  ‘Reaping Icon, Noose; I’m the only one who can stop Reaping Icon, but to do that I then need someone to stop me. Only you can stop me.’

  ‘And why should we stop Reaping Icon, exactly? I’m not a complete fool, I see what this is all about.’ Noose straightened his back as much as he could to square up to Peter. ‘Let the human race burn, my boy. I’m done helping people. All it got me was hell. And why should you want to help people anymore?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ was Peter’s honest response.
Noose had a valid point. ‘I guess we should just wallow in self-pity.’

  ‘Go and have your life with Lauren, hide yourself away and forget about everyone else.’

  ‘If I do that I’ll just keep coming back. If I stop Reaping Icon, at least I’ll have a relatively normal life once. Then, all this can stop.’

  ‘And why do you need my help? How am I the only one who can stop you?’

  ‘You are the closest non-collective link I have. You have been like a father to me. Our emotional attachment will break through the tirade Reaping Icon will reign down on my mind.’

  There was the first glimmer of an emotion other than tepid anger from Noose as he edged back from Peter. ‘Like a father? I couldn’t even be a father to my own son,’ he coughed, trying to hold back.