Black Feathers

18

Gordon kept to the edge of the garden as he ran to the green door and forced his way through. Pushing it closed again, he set off at a fast walk. He was determined and steadfast at first. Sheriff Skelton and Sheriff Pike became the central victims in a dozen brutal fantasies.

With every step he took from the house his outrage diminished. The cut in his thigh throbbed harder and the muscle around it tightened, slowing him down. The rucksack became a burden and he knew himself and his plans for what they were: the daydreams of a fourteen year-old boy who had no power in this world. Long before he reached the end of the disused bridleway, long before the abandoned railway tunnel mouth came into view, Gordon was crying so hard he could barely see.

When he reached the tunnel mouth he slung off his pack. It landed and tipped over and he left it that way. On either side of the maw of the tunnel was a grass bank and there, to the right of the black opening, was where Gordon collapsed, sitting first and then lying down and curling in on himself with his arms covering his head.

The day began to die. Gordon didn’t care. He could lie there all night, balled up.

What did it matter?

But with the sun paling and falling the wind was colder, and soon he was uncomfortable enough to sit up. As he wiped his face of tears, two magpies flew up over the hedge on the far side of the bridleway, fast-patting the air with black wings and flashing their white breasts. They both landed on his toppled rucksack and proceeded to flick their tails up, bob their heads down and broadcast their ratcheted chatter.

He was so shocked he didn’t move. Magpies never got this close; they were far too wary of humans. And yet, here they were, not ten feet away from him and acting as though he didn’t even exist. But there was still plenty of light and every now and again he was sure they were cocking their heads and looking right at him.

One for sorrow, two for joy…

“Well you’ve got that wrong,” he said.

The magpies stopped calling and bouncing. They regarded him for a moment more and then took off. They flew into the mouth of the tunnel. Gordon scrambled down the grass bank after them. If they came back out now they’d have to fly right past him.

He stood on the threshold looking into the darkness and smelled the tunnel’s cold, earthy breath pushing out at him. The magpies were gone. He waited there a long time, not believing that they would stay in there and then, terribly far away, so far he almost could have imagined it, he heard a single clicking call. Then all was silence.

He gave up the vigil when he saw how the darkness was gathering. If he wanted a decent place to sleep he needed to set it up right now. He cleared a space on the flattest-looking piece of ground nearby, throwing rocks to either side. Then, laying out the tent’s base, he began to pitch his tiny, solitary camp.

October 5th ’14

My eyes only

I shouldn’t waste the torch batteries like this but I’ve got to write something or I’ll go insane. I can get more batteries tomorrow when I go back to the house. I’m going every day until they come home.

I keep replaying this story in my mind. In it, I go back to the house with a shotgun and I see Ward vehicles parked at the front of the house. I sneak in the back door and there’s a Wardsman standing in the corridor watching the front door. I shoot him in the back of the neck. A second Wardsman comes out of the living room fumbling for his gun. He gets the second round in the chest and slides down the wall, leaving a smear of blood. I take his pistol and reload the shotgun. I go upstairs. A Wardsman is coming down to meet me, pistol drawn and ready. I fire first, obliterating his hat and the top of his head. At the top of the stairs, two Wardsmen are running for the nearest door. My second cartridge hits both of them, knocking them down. There’s no time to reload so I take the pistol and each of them gets a bullet in the spine. I reload the shotgun and clear the house one room at a time until eight Wardsmen lie dead. I remove all their weapons and ammo, find a set of car keys and drive to the Ward substation in Monmouth where I storm the building and rescue Mum, Dad and Jude.

It makes me feel a bit better and it keeps my mind occupied. Please, God, let them be safe and please, God, let me sleep.