Bleeding Bird

VII

It was mid-morning when they emerged. The woman wrapped Helen's wet clothes in a bag and handed them to her to carry. "I'll check first," she said, leading them up the stairs. Their routine had seemed out-of-the-ordinary to Helen, and she had hardly known them enough to say that. The three had risen, washed up, put on fresh clothes, brushed their hair, and so forth. The woman had even powdered her nose and scrubbed at a spot of dirt on the little boy's face. It was her, and then the little boy, and then Rush, and then Helen on the stairs.

The woman peered out the door, allowing bright blue light to filter through, and a breath of fresh air to lighten the weight on Helen's shoulders. She closed the door and looked back at the boys, "they're not expecting us so there'll be no carriage. We simply need to move quickly. If you hear anything, run to the house."

"Mum," Rush said, "what about the door?"

His mother shook her head, eyes flickering just a moment to Helen, "don't worry about it. It is getting what it wants."

A sick feeling settled into Helen's stomach, but it melted away in surprise as Rush reached down to take her hand. She looked up at him sharply, but he didn't even acknowledge her. She noticed they'd formed a line, all linked by hands. They seemed to have a rehearsed system of dealing with the day after a crow storm.

They slowly slipped out into the day. The graveyard looked much different than last night. Its bird statues were warmed in bright blue light. The sky was perfectly clear. Willow branches waved, exhausted in a gentle breeze, but their curving cores did not ache any longer. A path of mulch lead through the cemetery and out into the beautiful field that surrounded Heledelle estate. A few acres away, a forest wrapped around them in a great circle, but other than the house and the weeping cemetery, there was nothing but tall yellow grasses the circle.

Helen could not help but feel exposed here out in the open. She had used to love this, but was when the grass glowed gold, and not when she could see the specks of black and mold and pale yellow that covered them. That was when her father believed in change, and now he just believed in...nothing. She felt Rush squeeze her hand gently and looked up as if he'd heard her thoughts, but he hadn't and she assumed it must have been an accident.

"Ma," the little boy said, breaking the stillness.

"Sshsh," she hushed him.

"Ma," he repeated, "mum."

"What?" she said hoarsely.

"We are not alone."

Very slowly, all four of them turned back to see a great black cloud rising from the cemetery. They must have been hiding in the trees. Helen shivered as she realized they'd been walking right under them.

"RUN," mother said. Helen wanted to break from their chain, but she understood. If one of them got caught back in the swarm, they would need the others to pull them out—or at least what was left of them. They ran and ran as fast as the little boys legs would allow. Helen was sure his mother and Rush must have been basically lifting him up.

She could see her aunt's staff opening the veranda door, ready to receive them quickly. The outside of her aunt's estate was brick. It was rounded. There were a few sharp corners, but in general it was a very round looking house. There were domes of the roof, and thousands of glittered windows.

They were growing closer, but not close enough, she feared. The sounds of the birds' wings grew and grew. Finally, the mother must have picked up the child because Rush started sprinting, dragging her along. Her breathing cut sharply in her throat, and she thought her body would come out of her skin or explode, but it didn't. She feared her legs would grow tangled, but they didn't.

She and Rush burst through the front door of the mansion just in time to turn and see mother and the little one fall. The birds grew ever closer.