Song of the Red-Legged Birds: Chapter 35, Part 2: It’s a shame about Wake
Ira fades away
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With gratitude, Bill
Last week, in chapter 35, Part 1, Luke had a revelation, and Ira set up his ambush
Chapter 35, Part 2: It’s a shame about Wake
Sheila handed out the stun gun phones before they arrived in downtown Portsmouth. Takeda decided that Triscuit would stay in the car, buckled into the backseat. He kissed the dog on her head, “Be good, Tris. I’ll see you soon.” Triscuit grumbled as he checked her seat belt.
“She’ll be fine, man. We’re all gonna be fine,” Sheila said, leaning against the GTO.
“Hey, incoming,” Holly said.
Each of them looked at their phones. A message arrived from Scott.
GETTING CLOSE, ALMOST HAVE EYES ON THE TARGET
GO FOR T&H
“Perfect timing,” Holly said as a Flyer came to a stop across the street.
Sheila hugged Holly and fist-bumped Takeda. “The pooch and I will circle the block, waiting for Scott’s word. Don’t forget to text when you get inside.”
“We won’t,” Holly said as they boarded.
Scott could see someone barbecuing on their back porch. Damn, that smells good.
In the yard, a young woman was pushing a wheelbarrow filled with leaves toward the woods, headed for him. He melted to the ground and froze.
“Mama! Telephone!” a child’s voice shouted from the house.
“Okay, be right in,” she called back, removing her gardening gloves and turning around.
A fly buzzed past Scott’s ear. He jerked his head, rustling leaves underneath him. The woman snapped her attention towards the woods, squinting.
The back door slid open, and a man came out. “Honey, your mother’s on the phone; she’s upset about something. Again.”
With resignation, she turned back to the house. “Okay, okay, I’m coming.” The woman gave one final look in Scott’s direction before disappearing inside.
“Fucking black flies,” Scott said, reaching to scratch his head. He crawled down a slight decline on his belly until he could stand up and continue walking. In the distance, he heard a babbling creek.
Diane watched the intruder. He stood on the porch for a while before walking down the wooden steps and out of sight. She breathed a sigh of relief that he hadn’t charged back into the house.
For several minutes she listened for the slightest sound. Her gut said that he would sneak back into her home. But she’d lived there too long not to recognize any floorboard squeak. There were none. She heard a twig snap and the sound of leaves rustling. Is he in the woods?
Diane twisted in vain at the restraints and looked at the broken glass ornament at her feet. She thought the man would’ve taken satisfaction in discovering that Holly gave her that for Mother’s Day ten years ago.
She hopped the chair forward an inch, then another–stopping after each hop to listen. Maybe the glass can cut these ties, and maybe it can’t. It’s worth a shot. She began to rock her hips until the chair legs lifted off the ground. That core work at the gym turned out to be useful. Diane gave one violent heave, and the chair tipped onto its side, slamming hard on the floor. Her head collided with the doorframe on the way down. Everything went gray, dark, and soupy. She drifted away.
The world swam back. I’m on the floor. When was the last time I dusted the ceiling corners? She tried to get up, finding she could move her right arm now. The chair had smashed apart and left her with a sizeable wooden bracelet. She reached for her face, dragging the arm of the chair along, and found that a few pieces of glass had pressed into her cheek. Diane brushed them off, and her hand came away with a smear of blood.
The kitchen seemed a mile away, but the logical place to find something better to cut her bonds. Then she remembered the letter opener that Jack’s father had given her. She kept it in the end table drawer. He’d given it to her amongst many other personal treasures. He hadn’t much time left and wanted to be sure every last detail of his estate was taken care of. She rarely used it but kept it in a special place. That’s where she reached for it now.
She began cutting at her restraints while keeping a watchful eye on the door.
Ira enjoyed the moment, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath of the crisp New England air. Maybe this is the last one, he thought. His father swam into view, ‘Such a prissy little bitch, aren’t you? What’re you crying for? Missing your Mama again? Tighten the fuck up. She left us both. Why she didn’t take your sorry ass with her, I’ll never know. Go to sleep.’
“You go to sleep,” he said out loud. That was the last thing he’d spoken to his father as he stepped over his lifeless body. The extension cord still wrapped around his neck. It was a spur-of-the-moment decision but as inevitable as a volcano’s eruption. He’d emptied the old man’s wallet and left home with only the clothes on his young back.
Ira heard a crash coming from inside the house.
“Fuck!” he scrambled to get up but found that he couldn’t move from the waist down. Roots from the tree he leaned against twisted and curled over and under his outstretched legs, pinning him to the ground. In a frenzy, he pulled at the gnarled crawling tendrils, then reached to grab his knife. A massive root exploded from the earth, locking his arms and torso to the tree and sending the knife flying.
Ira grunted and twisted in pain as the roots squeezed tight, cutting into his skin and shortening his breath. He tilted his head to look up at the tree, and horror took his remaining air. The tree leaned forward in response, and two bright red slits creaked open–glaring at him. The sound of twisting and grinding lumber filled the air, and the tree bowed further, closing the distance.
Leaves showered down from above. Ira stammered, “You don’t scare…,” as two roots from either side of him wrapped around his open mouth, cinching his head to the timber.
The depthless eyes of the tree transfixed him. Something swam in there, beckoning. Soil and earth caught in his throat, and he vainly tried to cough but gagged. Choking gave way to panic. He breathed hard and fast through his nose.
A mouth began to form underneath the eyes of the tree. It sounded like a log snapped in half by a giant as it fractured and yawned wide.
He tried to blink away the bark and debris. I’m done. Let’s see how this ends.
The cavity smacked open as far as it would go and then stopped. A single black bird with a red leg appeared in its maw. Ira could see his reflection in the bird’s onyx eye. It examined him indifferently and hopped out.
A thunder of birds came roaring forth from the tree’s mouth. They encircled Ira in an obsidian cocoon that blotted out the sun. Feathers smacked against his face. Beaks and claws scratched him as the dark tornado whirled.
He didn’t know that you could scream inside your head. But Ira screamed there for a good long time before he was Ira no more.
The Flyer set down at a stop a hundred yards from Holly’s mother’s house. They jumped off and ran down the road while straining to catch a glimpse ahead.
Takeda texted:
DROPPED OFF. CLOSE TO THE HOUSE.
Scott messaged back:
ETA 10 MIN
Sheila sent:
STANDING BY TO FUCK SHIT UP
Takeda hustled to keep up with Holly, who was accelerating. They came to a mailbox at the end of the driveway shaped like a lighthouse. ‘JOHNSON’ was printed on its side. Holly jogged to the car and examined its interior. She shot Takeda an expression that said, “Let’s do this.” They walked up the porch steps, knocked twice, and opened the door.
“Mom!” Holly screamed immediately and dashed inside.
Diane was on the floor, having managed to free one hand and a leg. She released the letter opener from her grasp.
Holly dropped to the floor and hugged her mother. “Where is the fucker!”
Takeda scanned the room–his arms loose, ready for a fight.
“It’s okay, dear. I’m okay. I’m not hurt. But we have to get out of here. He went outside and could be back any minute.
“Tak, help me get these things off of her!”
Takeda knelt beside Diane and picked up the letter opener from the floor; he cut off the last two zip ties. They helped her up and walked her to the couch.
“Your face, Mom,” Holly inspected the scrape and looked her mother over for other signs of injury.
“It’s only a scratch. I’m all right, honey,” Diane took Holly’s face in her hands and kissed her forehead.
“I was so worried,” she choked back a sob. “Tak, can you get her a glass of water from the kitchen? It’s right there.”
“On it, sending Sheila a message to come but not to crash into the house. Scott should be outside now dealing with this prick.”
“Crash into the house?” Diane said while rubbing her wrists.
“We had a plan, Mom. I’ll tell you about it when we’re safe.”
Takeda came back and handed her the glass. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Johnson. I only wish it were under better circumstances.” He jogged to the back door, clutching the stun gun phone. Three green dots lit on its edge.
“Oh, Mom, this is Takeda,” Holly said, attempting to hide any inflection.
Diane smiled with her eyes, “It’s a pleasure to meet you as well, Takeda. Did I pronounce that right? Ta-ke-da?” She turned towards Holly.
“Mom. Stop it.”
Diane smiled.
There was a loud crack from outside.
“What the…” Takeda said.
Scott heard a sound that someone else might have mistaken for gunfire, but not him. From his vantage point, he could see a revolving black mass, but he had no idea what it was. He took out his phone and read the group message from Takeda:
MOM SAFE.
BAD GUY OUTSIDE.
SHEILA COME, DON’T CRASH INTO THE HOUSE.
Scott replied:
SOMETHING OUT HERE.
STAY INSIDE.
He pocketed the phone, quickened his pace, and swept the area. I’m not getting caught in whatever that is. Maybe it’s a trap that backfired.
He drew closer, within fifty yards, and froze.
It’s birds, THE birds. Holy shit, those are the fucking birds. What the hell are they doing?
He’d never witnessed them in real life but had seen images on Wake’s network. He snapped a quick photo before noticing the outstretched legs underneath the churning black vortex streaked with red.
The GTO came to a screeching halt in the driveway, an inch behind the other car. Triscuit stayed locked tight in her seatbelt and grumbled at the sudden stop.
“Be right back, pup,” Sheila said, leaping out of the car.
He was about to open the front door when his eyes drifted to the woods near the side of the house.
“What the? Somebody running a giant leaf blower or some shit?”
He pushed the unlatched door open and went inside.
“Ya’ll good in here?” he said.
“We’re okay. Sheila, help my Mom to the car. Tak, what’s going on out there?” Holly said.
Takeda opened the porch door. “Um, not sure. Sit tight for a minute. Sheila, keep an eye on things here; I can see Scott now.” He closed the slider behind him.
Next week in Chapter 36, Part 1, “Re-exist,” The crew saw goodbye to Ira and hello to Bodhi
Whoah!
Keep it coming, Bill! It's great stuff. 💯