The White Widow's Revenge

by Jacob Grey

  He went over to the wardrobe and hanging inside were Selina’s clothes – black jeans, T-shirt and leather jacket – all cleaned, presumably after she had been admitted. Even her ankle-length boots were tucked neatly inside.

  How could she have run without her clothes?

  Caw’s heart was beating fast. Maybe she didn’t run at all.

  He looked again at the window. Four storeys up.

  It wouldn’t be long before the receptionist came looking for him. He went back to the window, trying to piece together what had happened. Someone had come into the room and used the fire extinguisher to smash the glass. They had taken Selina. But who could make a jump like that? Even with a ladder, carrying a grown girl was treacherous – almost impossible.

  Impossible for a regular person, but for a feral …

  Caw’s throat felt tight as he spotted something under the blind.

  Three small insects, curled up in death.

  Flies.

  Caw scooped their bodies into his hand. So small, so delicate. But Caw had seen what havoc these insects could wreak.

  Maybe Crumb was wrong about the Mother of Flies. What if her feral powers had somehow survived? What if Caw wasn’t the only one visiting Selina?

  “What are you doing in here?” said a sharp voice.

  Caw dropped the flies and spun round. A stern-faced woman in a grey suit was standing in the doorway.

  “I … I came to find my sister,” said Caw. “What’s happened to her?”

  “Your sister?” said the woman, folding her arms. “We have no record of any siblings. Do you want to try another lie?”

  Caw wondered if he should call his crows. “Sorry,” he said. “She was a close friend. I only meant she was like a sister to me.”

  “Was?” said the woman. “What do you mean, was?”

  “Er … that’s not what I meant,” said Caw, beginning to panic.

  The woman grasped the door frame like she was intentionally blocking his exit. “The police will want to speak with you about her disappearance,” she said.

  Caw could outrun her, if he could only get past. “When did she go missing?” he asked.

  “Yesterday morning,” said the woman. Unexpectedly, her face softened. “Look, whoever you are, I’m Dr Heidenweiss, senior paediatric consultant on this ward. Your friend, she didn’t just get up and walk. She was in a deep coma. The authorities are treating it as a kidnap.”

  Caw’s heart plunged. He was right.

  “If you know anything …” the doctor continued. Something buzzed and she looked down at a small device strapped to her belt.

  Caw took his chance and lurched towards the door.

  “Hey, wait!” she said, grabbing at him, but he tore free and ran along the corridor.

  An orderly was slowly wheeling a stretcher towards him.

  “Stop that boy!” cried the doctor.

  The orderly spun the stretcher round to block the corridor, but Caw vaulted over the top and carried on sprinting.

  He took the left passage, then a right, then a left again. He ran under signs he couldn’t read, past wards and nurses’ stations. He found a set of stairs leading down and took them two at a time, all the way to the ground floor. As he raced into the corridor he spotted a security guard straighten up, a hand going to the taser at his side.

  Caw skidded round a corner. He could hear a baby crying somewhere. There were no windows, and he didn’t know if he was heading deeper into the hospital or towards a way out until he recognised a sign. A white running man on a green background with an arrow. Exit.

  Caw heard the squeak and slap of footsteps close behind him. He thumped through a set of double doors, and saw another door straight ahead with a bar across it.

  Please, don’t be locked.

  With his breath tearing through him, he slammed into the bar and the door swung open into the cold night air.

  Come! his mind screamed.

  And he felt his crows flock towards him as he ran. Moments later, they lifted him off the ground, filling the night with their raucous cries.

  Despite the lateness of the hour, there were lights on in the Strickham house as Caw touched down on the lawn.

  I’ll say it again, said Glum. I don’t know what you’re hoping to achieve.

  Caw ignored him. He’d seen what keeping secrets from his friends did. This time he was going to be open from the start. The hard part would be getting Mrs Strickham to care. She didn’t know Selina like Caw did. To some of their allies, Selina would always be nothing more than the fly-talker’s daughter – the enemy of peaceful ferals. But if the Mother of Flies was back then everyone needed to know.

  Caw was about to knock on the door when he heard hushed, angry voices.

  “… in the middle of the night, with no explanation,” said Mr Strickham. “Not even a phone call to let me know.”

  “Time ran away, Don,” replied Lydia’s mother. “I thought we’d discussed this before. You know I have to be on call.”

  “We’re supposed to be in this together!”

  Caw drew back – he shouldn’t be listening to this. He sat down on the step.

  As the crows settled next to him, Caw began to worry about what had happened at the hospital. What if they had CCTV? He’d be caught on camera, his picture shared with the police …

  “You going to sit out there all night?”

  Caw looked up and saw Lydia’s pale freckled face framed with long red hair, leaning out of her bedroom window.

  Caw smiled. It was a relief to see her looking so normal after all the weirdness.

  “Can I come up?” he said.

  “Use the drainpipe,” she replied.

  Caw shimmied up the metal drainpipe until he was level with Lydia’s windowsill. She moved aside so he could climb into her room, and the crows hopped in afterwards.

  “How did you know I was here?” he said, dusting off his knees.

  “I was awake,” said Lydia, glancing down at the carpet.

  Caw immediately guessed what had been keeping her from sleep. Her parents’ voices were indistinct through the floor, but they were obviously still arguing. Now Caw looked closer, he saw Lydia’s eyes were red-rimmed, like she’d been crying.

  “It’s like this most nights,” she said, slumping on to her bed. “They’re both stressed out all the time. Dad’s trying to track down the prisoners with the police, and Mum is always having secret meetings. He won’t let her foxes come into the garden any more – says it freaks him out. Dad says he can protect the family without them.”

  She paused, and Caw saw her face was beginning to screw up.

  Maybe you should give her a hug, said Screech.

  I don’t think that’s necessary, muttered Glum.

  “I just want them to stop,” said Lydia. “Sometimes I wish we could go back to before Dad and I knew anything about it. They say it’s better with the truth out in the open, but I’m not so sure …”

  She had been speaking into her lap, in a rush, but now she looked up at Caw. He hesitated, and she turned away, wringing her hands.

  Caw? said Shimmer. She’s upset. Comfort her.

  Caw shuffled forwards. He began to reach out, but Lydia suddenly stood up, putting on a brighter expression. “Anyway, what’s going on with you?”

  Caw dropped his hands awkwardly. “Er … quite a lot, actually.”

  “I’ve been watching TV,” said Lydia. “The news is full of stuff about the crimewave. They’re even saying it’s the start of a new Dark Summer. I’m guessing the escaped bison downtown belonged to a feral?”

  “Yes,” said Caw. “I was there.”

  Lydia’s eyes widened. “No way!”

  “But that’s not all,” said Caw. “Lydia, I think the Mother of Flies is up to something.”

  Any trace of excitement drained from Lydia’s face. “She can’t be. We stopped her.”

  Caw shook his head. “I thought so too, but I’ve just been to the hospital. Selina has be
en kidnapped.”

  Lydia gasped as Caw explained about the broken window and the flies. “Who else could carry her out of the window from four storeys up?” he said.

  Lydia went wordlessly to her wardrobe, and began tugging on jeans over her pyjamas.

  “Where are you going?” Caw asked.

  “We are going to find out what’s going on,” said Lydia. She tied back her hair then pulled on a baseball cap.

  “We are?” said Caw.

  His friend started lacing up her trainers. “There’s one way to find out if the Mother of Flies has regained her powers,” said Lydia. “We visit her.”

  Caw shook his head. “We can’t – she’s locked in Blackstone Loony Bin.”

  “Er, it’s called a psychiatric hospital,” said Lydia.

  “Sorry,” said Caw, blushing. “That’s what Crumb called it.”

  “If she’s still there, I think we’ll find out what she’s capable of pretty quickly,” said Lydia.

  Caw felt anxiety squeezing his heart. It had taken more than he knew he had to defeat the Mother of Flies the last time. And even then, the battle could easily have gone the other way. If she was back to her full power …

  Lydia pulled on a jacket.

  “I don’t think your parents are going to like this plan,” said Caw.

  “Those two …” Lydia pointed to the floor, “probably won’t even notice I’m gone.”

  Angry muffled voices filtered up through the carpet.

  “We should at least tell Crumb,” said Caw. “And there’s a new guy – a coyote feral …”

  Lydia nodded at her alarm clock – it was just after midnight. “You’re going to wake them up? We can hardly go into the asylum with an army,” she said. “Look, Caw – you only need me.”

  She spoke firmly, but Caw could hear the faintest hint of a plea in her words. She needs to get away from here, he realised.

  “You’re right,” he said.

  “Great!” said Lydia breezily. A smile lit up her freckled face. “Let’s go catch some flies!”

  s Caw and Lydia climbed down the drainpipe, Caw caught a glimpse through the living-room window of Mr Strickham slumped on the sofa, staring vacantly ahead.

  “Maybe we should talk to your mum?” Caw said as his feet hit the ground, but he already knew what the answer would be.

  “Please don’t, Caw. It’ll only set them off again. Besides, this is just a fact-finding mission. It won’t be dangerous.”

  Caw instinctively scoured the garden for any foxes, glad not to find any watching them. Maybe Velma Strickham really had banished her foxes from her home. Caw felt a bit guilty about keeping things from her. But he’d done plenty for Mrs Strickham already, letting her invite everyone into his house. She didn’t need to know his every move.

  “Let me get us a ride,” said Caw. He looked towards the sky and clenched his fists, ready to call the crows.

  “Don’t,” said Lydia, touching his arm. “If there are flies about, they might see us.”

  “Then how will we get there?” asked Caw. “The asylum is right on the edge of Blackstone.”

  “The number sixty-two bus!” said Lydia. “It might be public but it’s under the radar.”

  I’m not travelling on a bus, said Shimmer. It’s undignified.

  “You three can meet us there,” said Caw. “Just keep low and out of sight.”

  Ooh, a secret mission! said Screech, hopping along the top of the Strickhams’ fence. Exciting!

  You’d better be careful, said Glum. They’ll probably want to keep you there indefinitely.

  Very funny, said Screech.

  “Will you quit it?” said Caw.

  Lydia grinned. “Hey, it’s good to see you guys again,” she said.

  It’s hard to fly in a straitjacket. Just saying, added Glum.

  Keep up, old-timer, said Screech.

  Unsurprisingly, Caw and Lydia were the only people on the bus. The driver didn’t even seem to notice them as they got on board. Caw found it strange to feel the soft rumble of an engine beneath him, and it reassured him to watch the crows keep pace outside. He’d only travelled by car or bus a handful of times in his life and it was a relief to step off when they reached their stop. The doors snapped closed and the bus pulled away into the night. Caw watched its red rear lights vanish over a hill.

  They were right on the outskirts of Blackstone, where the city’s residential suburbs gave way to scattered industrial buildings, factories and farms. Caw had been here only once before, when he was much younger, exploring with his crows. The bus depot was half a mile up the road, according to Lydia, and there was no other traffic and no pavement.

  The Blackstone Psychiatric Hospital sign was painted on a rotting wooden panel set just back from the road. The building itself looked more like a spooky old mansion than a hospital, perched on raised ground, its turrets and towers piercing the sky.

  Looks homely, said Shimmer. I like what they’ve done with the bars on the windows.

  “It’s one of the oldest buildings in the city,” said Lydia with a glimmer in her eye. “It was built in the early 1700s.”

  Caw nodded mutely. The psychiatric hospital wasn’t all ancient though. There were a couple of ugly extensions on either side – plain, windowless, single-storey bunkers – sprawling across the grounds. Spotlights cast eerie pale arcs of light through the deep shadows. There was a mesh fence, about three metres high, and beyond that a wall. Caw shivered. If you were a patient here, you were obviously a prisoner too.

  There was a large front gate with a guardhouse next to it. Inside, Caw could see a man in uniform reading a magazine with his feet up.

  “What now?” said Lydia. “I have a feeling visiting hours are over.”

  Caw looked sideways at his friend. “I have a better plan.”

  “Disable the fence?” asked Lydia, rubbing her hands together.

  Caw shook his head. He’d already begun to summon the crows as soon as he stepped off the bus. Now they started to arrive, a wave of dark shapes flitting overhead, joining Screech, Glum and Shimmer. Caw guessed they could sense the electric current humming through the second fence, because they landed only on the first.

  The guard looked up briefly then went back to reading.

  “Flies or not,” Caw said, “it’s the best way.”

  Lydia held out her arms. “Come on then, give me a lift.”

  The crows landed across their shoulders and lifted Caw and Lydia off the ground.

  His friend was grinning madly. “I love this bit!” she said.

  Caw directed his birds to swoop over the gates and the hospital itself. From above, they could see that the asylum was built round two central courtyards. Too out in the open. The crows carried them across the steeply pitched roof, and then he spotted something more promising. Caw steered them towards a flat section scattered with bulky chimney flues. The crows set them down lightly then gathered on the rooftop. There were no security lights or cameras up here.

  A light breeze gusted through his clothes as Caw picked his way between the chimney stacks. The turrets were huge up close.

  “I don’t fancy squeezing down a chimney,” whispered Lydia.

  Caw stopped by a metal hatch in the rooftop, with a simple looped handle. It looked newer than the rest of the building, and a couple of modern air vents had been fixed beside it.

  “Hopefully we won’t have to,” he said.

  He reached down and tugged on the loop. It opened half a centimetre, but then snagged. Caw pulled harder but it didn’t budge.

  “It’s locked from the inside,” he said.

  “Oh well, good try,” said Lydia. “I guess we go through the courtyard.”

  Caw peered down over the edge. There were more security spotlights mounted on the walls, but it looked like they were switched off.

  “Shimmer, do a sweep for any guards,” he said.

  The crow took off, diving down over the edge of the roof. As she approached ground
level, several of the lights blinked on, casting the courtyard in silvery light. Caw heard an electronic hum and saw cameras rotating to focus on the empty space. Shimmer banked and flapped skywards again, rejoining them just as a guard wandered into the courtyard. Caw and Lydia ducked out of sight with their backs against the chimney flues. The crows were dark silhouettes, unmoving.

  “I don’t think that’s an option then,” said Lydia.

  Caw chewed his lip. There was no way they could break open the roof hatch without some serious metal-cutting equipment. And Lydia was right about the chimneys – they were too small.

  Too small for a human anyway …

  Caw scrambled to his feet. He edged back to the vents beside the hatch. They were about a foot across.

  “A crow could fit down there,” he said.

  “Good thinking!” said Lydia.

  Caw turned to Screech, who looked away as if he was suddenly very interested in something in the distance.

  “Screech,” Caw said, “can I borrow you for a moment?”

  The crow plodded over. Why me?

  “You’re the smallest,” said Caw. “Glum wouldn’t fit.”

  Yes, I would! said the old crow indignantly.

  Shimmer sniggered. Too many French fries. Hey – I’ll do it! She hopped excitedly from side to side.

  But Screech shook his wings. Go on then. Bring me back in one piece, OK?

  “Of course,” said Caw. He closed his eyes, and concentrated on his mental image of Screech. He felt his spirit detach from his body as it searched for the young crow. For a moment he floated on nothingness, then the crow body drew him in with a sort of feral gravity.

  As Caw felt his talons touch the ground, he opened his eyes and found himself perched among the other crows. Several regarded him with curiosity, as if they sensed a different aura about him. He saw his human body lying motionless beside Lydia, eyes rolled back in his head. He took a few steps, getting used to the new configuration of limbs. He opened his beak – Screech’s beak – and squawked.

  In truth, he’d chosen Screech because he was the easiest crow to control. Caw wasn’t sure why – perhaps because he was the youngest, or perhaps it was just because their connection was stronger – but Shimmer was definitely harder, and Glum almost impossible.