by Greg Enslen
They jockeyed for position on the roof of the gazebo, nipping at each other. The map of Jack’s travels inside the gazebo was covered by the dark shape of a murder of crows.
He had no idea what to think. There were so many different types of birds that it really couldn’t be a flock, could it? Birds didn’t congregate with different species, did they? He didn’t know. The sound was loud, and along with the wind and the rain falling around him, David started to wonder if this whole thing was some kind of crazy dream.
But he had to get out of here.
David crawled -- he'd tried to use the metal walking stick, but his leg was just too far gone. He could put absolutely no weight on it, and that prevented him from even standing, much less hobbling along with a crutch. The leg hung at a strange angle as he crawled, dragging it along, and he left a long streak of blood on the clean white tiled floor of the mall. There was smoke as the fire from the outlet had run up the wall and spread, catching some couches and benches on fire where they stood against the wall across from the pool. He thought the rain would put the fire out, but at this point he didn’t really care.
He crawled his way along the stores, thinking about Bethany and looking for a phone. He knew there was the one at the sporting goods store, and he could see it on the left, coming up. He veered inside, remembering that they had first aid kits and stuff like that. Maybe he could find a tourniquet.
David glanced back a few times at the birds, but he didn’t have time to be curious - he had to get to Bethany if there was any chance of saving her. But what did the birds want? Were they just trying to get out of the hurricane, or was there more to it than that? It was creepy, the way the birds had come in, and the way they had all just stood around quietly, looking at him as if they were waiting for him to leave. What did they want?
Over the collection pond, the birds settled down, watching. They all stood quietly, where they could find space, and stared at the floating body with unblinking, coal-black eyes.
One black bird stepped off the roof of the gazebo and flapped loudly toward the body that floated in the middle of the brackish bloody water.
The other birds grew quiet.
They watched with small black eyes as the black bird circled once, twice, and then carefully landed on the shiny metal tip of one upturned boot. The bird’s head bobbed back and forth as it regarded the floating man, looking at the legs and the outstretched arms and the hole in the man’s chest. The bird cawed quietly and hopped gingerly up the leg and onto the chest, and the bird appeared to be lame, favoring one tiny leg over the other. Looking into the hole, the black bird chirped loudly and hopped around the hole, up onto the man’s shoulder.
The black bird glanced at the man’s face with one eye and then the other, its head bobbing back and forth, regarding the face of the man. A long moment passed, and suddenly loud, impatient cries sounded from the other birds. They cried at the black bird, hooting and cawing loudly as the rain fell around them.
The bird hopped gingerly up onto the man’s cheek, issued a loud, angry shriek. It leaned over, plucking out one of the man’s eyes.
The other birds squawked and cawed and shrieked their approval, a horrible cacophony, an avian chorus of mournful and joyous cries, each distinct and yet all coming together in a haunting symphony. A score of other birds jumped into the air, eager to join the feast, eager to collect their piece of this carrion.
Above and around them, the sound of so many birds in the partially-enclosed space was deafening. The sounds of their mournful and joyous crying carried up into the night sky, out of the broken glass ceiling, and joined the fierce howling of the storm.
David was out of the sporting goods store, and doing a little better. He had wrapped his leg with a real bandage and swallowed a handful of aspirin and the cops were on the way. He had told them that he was hurt very badly and that he had just killed someone and that part of the mall was on fire, and had not given his name. He didn’t know which part had worked, but the dispatcher had said that they were on their way with cops and a paramedic.
He pushed himself along with both hands, his bottom and legs straddling the skateboard he had found. It wasn’t the most elegant mode of transportation and his leg hurt from bumping along on the floor, but that couldn’t be helped - it was going to hurt anyway. And he was making much better time, rounding the railing by the theaters and reaching the clothes store in only a couple of minutes.
He looked in and called to her, but she wasn’t moving. She was on her side and it looked like the bleeding had stopped, but she had lost an awful lot, obvious from the pool around her and from the soaked redness of the shirt tucked up against her belly. David called to her again, shouting, but there was no response.
David fumbled with the keys, but there were so many. Each store had a key and there were a lot of stores, plus all the maintenance rooms and the security office and the doors to the outside - so many keys.
He tried to calm his mind and studied the lock, finding the name of the company who had made the lock, and that narrowed down the number of keys it could be. Finally, the fifth key from that company he tried slid into the lock with a satisfying ‘click’, and he turned the key and pulled the padlock off. He grabbed onto the chain curtain and pulled up, unlatching it from the floor and sending it up into the recessed ceiling.
He dropped the keys and fell off the skateboard and moved over to her, ignoring the blood around her. He took her face into his hands and he shouted at her, shouting for a response, but nothing came. He tried to feel at her neck for a pulse, but his heart was beating so fast, he couldn’t tell if the frantic pulsing was his or hers. He shook her gingerly with one hand and lightly slapped her face, trying to get a response, but there was nothing.
He started to cry. It wasn’t something he even noticed, but the tears were suddenly there, and he scooted in closer to her and looked down at her face and crazily, leaned over to kiss her. Her lips felt cool and lifeless, and he was about to pull away when he felt the flutter of her eyelashes against his cheek.
David pulled back, and her eyes were blinking, trying to focus on him. He felt her hands move weakly beside him, and he smiled at her.
“David...” she spoke, her voice low and almost too quiet to hear. “You...you came back. I didn’t think you would...” She looked up at him, her head rolling on her neck, and somewhere in the back of his mind his ears reported that they had heard the sounds of sirens and breaking glass and people’s voices.
“Of course I came back,” he said to her, his tears gone from terror to joy in a long, painful moment. She was okay, and when the paramedics got here they would make her better. And they would help him too, and then everything could get back to the way it had been before. Only better this time.
He looked at her eyes and was overjoyed to see her looking at him with a clarity that had not been there moments before. She was going to be okay, and so was he. David smiled at her.
“It’s okay. I’m not going anywhere.”
Part Five:
Aftermath
Epilogue
David nervously straightened his tie, watching the door. He was in his best suit, one of the three he owned, and the tie was new and stiff. He’d tied it three times before it had looked halfway decent, but now he wondered if he had time to run to the bathroom and check how it looked. He had to consciously keep his hands from working through his hair to flatten it and make it look better - there was plenty of gel to keep it all in place, but it still felt heavy and stiff. He wanted to run to the restroom and check it, too. And he felt the sudden urge to use the restroom.
He saw his waiter and flagged him over.
“I’m going to run to the restroom. If she comes in, just seat her, okay?”
The waiter nodded, smiling.
David got up carefully and walked slowly to the restroom, his hands straightening the front lapels of his jacket. The limp was still there, but it was getting better. The scar on his palm had healed nicely, b
ut it was still clearly visible. The doctors had said that the scar from the burn would be permanent.
He finished his business in the bathroom and washed his hands, careful not to splash any water on his pants - nothing looked worse than water spots on your pant legs. He checked his hair and his tie and washed his face again, wondering if she was here. He headed back to his table, his hand nervously toying with the small black box in his pocket.
David had arranged for a limo to pick her up and take her first to a hair salon that also did manicures and facials, and then to a clothing store in downtown Liberty, a nice dress shop. He had left instructions with the saleslady there to catch Bethany as soon as she came in and take care of her every need, helping her pick out a dress and accessories.
He’d given the nice lady a credit card and told her to charge whatever his girlfriend picked out, and also added to the bill a little bag for Bethany’s clothes. David had also told the saleslady to steer Bethany towards something nice and formal, something in black.
David walked back over to his little table for two and sat down. She wasn’t here yet. He wanted to eat some of the fresh bread the waiter had brought, but the table looked so nice, he didn’t want to mess it up. And he didn’t want to get any crumbs on him.
He was waiting for Bethany at one of the nicer restaurants in Liberty. It had opened in those months after the explosion at the high school, opened by some people who had come to town to help with the cleanup efforts and had, after enjoying the small-town atmosphere, decided to stay. They’d opened this quiet French restaurant in downtown, and so far, it had been very successful.
David was nervous, trying to think of other things besides this dinner. He was nervous enough, trying to remember how he was going to say it all, and at the same time not wanting it to sound rehearsed or anything. He’d worked out the words he wanted to use, but he didn’t want to come off sounding canned. But she would be here soon, and then...
No, he tried not to think about it - he needed a distraction.
The explosion and fire at the school, and the subsequent fire at the mall, had been the biggest events to happen in this town in a long time - well, for 18 years.
The fire trucks had put out the fire at the school and had just returned to their stations when they were called out to the mall, and more than a third of the mall burned before they managed to put it out. The fire chief had expressed his surprise at the extensive damage at the mall, saying that the drenching rain should have slowed the spread of the fire before it could do so much devastation. They learned later that so much of the mall had burned so quickly because the space was enclosed, allowing the fire to spread.
The group of mall developers, the same men that Abe Foreman used to have dinner with every Tuesday night, decided to rebuild that portion of the mall and, because of the unique opportunity, actually expand the mall on that end. Construction was almost complete, and with summer approaching rapidly, the developers were racing to fill all of the stores with occupants and businesses. The mall would end up being almost twice as large as it had been only a year ago.
David glanced at the door, waiting.
It was just after 8 p.m., and he’d reminded the lady at the dress store to get Bethany out of there by 8 if she could so that Bethany could be at the restaurant soon after. He glanced at his watch again and wondered if she was on her way yet.
He thought about some of the people from last fall - he missed Norma, regretting that he hadn’t gotten a chance to talk to her more - she had died saving those children. The new Sheriff had posthumously awarded her a medal and plaque, bringing the little kids she had saved up onto the stage and letting them thank her. David and most of the town had attended that memorial service held at the school two weeks after the explosion, and he hadn’t seen a dry eye in the library auditorium - the only other place in town besides the destroyed gym where they could get this many people together at once - when the smallest boy had quietly thanked Norma Jenkins for saving him and his brothers.
FBI Special Agent Julie Noble, her back still in a brace from her fall, had gotten up and spoken a few nice words about Norma, relating stories from the one and only day she had known her, and then David had gotten up and made a few more comments. The audience had applauded when he stood and hobbled to the podium, his right leg encased in a huge cast that made him feel like he was lugging around a tree trunk - the cast had seemed so huge to him at the time, he’d almost forgotten what it was like to walk around without it.
The memorial service had been his idea, and after what had happened last fall, people seemed to be listening to him a lot more.
Agent Noble had also received her applause before and after her short speech, relating how Norma and David and Bethany had assisted in her investigation. There were a few referential comments on the ex-Sheriff Brown, but Julie did not ponder on him - most of the town wouldn’t even speak his name anymore, as hated as he was. He was blamed for ignoring too many clues and facts, and aside from Jack Terrington, Brown was the probably going to go down as the most hated man in this little town's history.
Jack Terrington - now there was a name David would like to forget. It had been in the news on almost a weekly basis since last fall - Julie and the rest of the FBI were still poring through the mountain of evidence recovered from the inside of his van. That story itself had been the talk of the nation for almost a whole week last fall, and finally the name ‘Van of Death’ had been coined and instantly stuck.
The FBI had removed the van to their compound in Quantico, VA, and they were still culling information and clues from its contents. So far, over one hundred outstanding homicide cases nationwide had been solved based on information collected from inside the van. And it seemed like more cases were being solved every day. All across the country there were stories of families, people who had always lived with the knowledge that their loved ones’ murder was unsolved, that their killer might still be running around loose - and the FBI had personally visited each of these families when the identity of the victim was conclusively determined. DNA evidence went a long way, and Jack had helped by making sure to preserve some of his victims – in a way, he had helped give the victims’ families closure, and some peace.
Jack Terrington surely would’ve hated that idea.
Julie Noble received a commendation for her efforts in the Black Diamond Killer case, as it was now known nationwide.
And Hurricane Mandy went down in the record books as one of the strongest to make landfall in a long time. There was a lot of damage up and down the East Coast, but thankfully not too many lives had been lost. It sounded like the experts were busy adjusting their prediction programs for the approaching season – they didn’t want to be surprised again.
David glanced at his watch again. He didn’t know if he could take this waiting.
He quickly took out the box and checked it. He opened it and made sure the ring was centered and facing up, and he buffed it quickly with one of the napkins.
It looked nice - he had recruited a couple of Bethany’s friends to help him pick it out, swearing them to secrecy. He had known next to nothing about engagement rings. Bethany’s friends had loved it too, and they had made strange noises when the salesman had mentioned the price. David hadn’t even blinked, though, and bought it without hesitation.
He clapped the box shut and put it away, checking his watch again.
The waiter was near the front door when the limo pulled up. It was a nice one, and when it stopped he saw the chauffer hop out and open the door for a very pretty brunette. She was wearing a lovely burgundy dress and carrying a matching bag.
The waiter was happy for them both - they had gone through enough over the past few months.
Everyone in town knew about them, about what had happened last fall. The story of David Beaumont and Jack Terrington had reached almost mythic proportions. The explosion at the school, with David and his friends trying to save as many people as possible, and the gunfight at the ma
ll, and the death of the Killer - these tales had been added to the Story of David's father, bookending the narrative nicely. A happy ending for a tragic tale.
The explosion at the school had made a profound impact on the town, but the people of Liberty were recovering. New people were moving in, and with them came renewed energy and raised spirits. And all that stuff that had happened out at the mall, with the girlfriend kidnapped and used as bait and the boy almost crippled for life (the waiter had heard that the boy would always have a limp, but he seemed to be walking just well tonight) and the gunfight, with the storm raging outside - it all sounded so crazy that almost no one had believed it at first. It made for a great story, and everyone in town had heard it or told it a dozen times. Someone from the press had picked up on it, too, and most of it had been printed in a full page story in the USA Today in December - they had managed to get most of the facts straight, even if the story had been full of typos. There had been full-color pictures of the mall and the school, and of David and the Killer and even one of David's long-dead father.
There was even talk of some author coming to town soon to interview David and the others to do a book on the whole thing.
But the waiter didn’t think that would happen. It was a great story for their little town, but he didn’t think it would be big enough to write a whole book about. This was about their town, and the story that had taken almost 20 years to play out. Liberty had their family of heroes and a villain that had been defeated. What more could you ask for in a mythology?
The girl pulled a larger bag from the trunk and smiled at the chauffer, heading inside. The waiter stepped around the greeter’s stand to meet her.
“Good evening, Miss King. May I take your bag?”
