The Weight of the World

Chapter 11: Bought the Farm

What I could see of the farm seemed nice. A big house with large front windows. The rest extended behind, like the rump of a horse, beyond which lay the many fields, view of which was blocked by the barn. The façade, as we drew closer, revealed age

The windows were gritty with dirt and impossible to see through. The door was slightly ajar, rattling in the wind. We were high up, and as I gazed back down the hill we had climbed, the wind billowed around, tugging at my hair.

I shuddered, getting a distinct feeling I was somewhere I didn't belong. Tiny Tanya brushed her hand along the render of the wall, and it came away black.

"You look like you've been down a coal pit," Sammy chuckled.

Tanya pressed her dirty palm to his face, and he pushed away, spitting and wiping his face.

"So do you," she shrieked, running as he lunged at her.

"I'll have you!" he cried.

"Pack it in, both of you!" I hissed, turning back to the house. "We're not here to muck about, we've got a job to do."

"Sorry, Issy," Sammy said, tucking his hands behind his back.

"Just keep your head screwed on," I said. "Tiny, you wipe that off when we get back, or you'll get everything black rotten." Tanya nodded, and slinked away around the corner of the farmhouse.

The terror twins, as I'd privately nicknamed them, bore no relation, yet were frighteningly similar. Twelve years old and overflowing with energy and a manner that just got under my skin.

Still, I welcomed their enthusiasm at least. "They're like cocaine," I'd told Mike, before setting out. "Tolerable in small doses."

I trudged behind her, the thin strip of gravel path crunching pleasantly underfoot. As I came around the corner to the yard, Tanya and Sammy began digging away at a storage shed, attached to the house.

I went to the crest of the hill. It sloped down quite gently, much less steep than our approach. Judging from the troughs and hay nets, it had been for keeping horses. I scanned the fields quickly, and laid eyes on a bundle of birds, fluttering around a dark shape in the grass.

"I'm just going to search the field. Don't go far, the pair of you."

"We won't," Tanya said, in the usual dismissive voice of early adolescence.

"I'm serious," I said, more strongly. "Sammy, Tiny, stay put. Give me a bell if anything goes wrong."

"Got it, boss," Sammy said.

At the far end of the fences, a line of trees ran back, further down the hill. I had a strong feeling there was a river at the base of the valley, and made a mental note to return here for fresh water, if the taps ever ran dry.

Closer to the mass, I recognised it. A flurry of crows blasted in the air, blaring like furious monsters. A rain of black feathers fell around the bloody corpse of a horse. Beak-deep in the gut of the animal, a lone crow emerged, it's black feathers matted with blood and gore.

Without a care, it continued to peck away at the carrion, until finally I drew near and it departed, casually, and with an almost indignant coo. I flipped it off and knelt beside the horse.

Its neck was torn and bloody, scratched with many narrow furrows and semilunar scars. The smell hit me like a punch, and I reeled back, fighting the urge to be ill. It wasn't rotting, not yet, but the heavy aroma of raw, bleeding meat turned my stomach.

Leaning closer, I peered deep into the wound on its chest. Or, rather, the wound that had replaced its chest. The underbelly of the animal was gone, save for protruding ribs and a few stringy, bloody tendons.