The Crow

At first Al thought it was a bird, a crow fluttering at him from the cornfield, big wings swooping against the stalks. It was black, small against the horizon. Something to look at. He turned his eyes back to the long stretch of asphalt, straight and flat until it vanished into the clouds. Endless. Pools of blue peeked through the sky, and yet the sun was nowhere to be seen. Only road. Only corn.

He turned back to the crow. It was closer now, flying low in the cornfields, pushing down stocks in its wake. Its flight was disjointed, body bouncing up and down in a broken rhythm.

It wasn’t uncommon to see an injured crow, especially in the country. He turned back to the road, waiting for the gunshot, for a farmer to come out and finish the job. It never came.

He took a last peek, the crow chewing at his subconscious. The silhouette was growing closer. It wasn’t flying any more, but running, limping rather, arms swinging around like combine blades, hair fluttering from its head.

Before he knew it, Al’s foot was on the break, his backpack slamming into the glove compartment and releasing it with a snap. His eyes were locked on the silhouette. Not a crow anymore. A girl.

Her calls started out as whimpers in the wind. They could be mistaken for a settling barn roof if you weren’t careful, but as she got closer, they formed into words.

“Help! Please, please help me!”

Al released the lock on his door, just finally noticing the open glove compartment. The pack of cigarettes. The registration. A carving knife. A pile of ears. He slapped it closed and then exited the car, walking around the hood with squinty eyes.

“Sir! Sir please help! Please!” The girl screamed, bobbing up and down in the rows of corn.

Al raised his hand and gave her an awkward wave, leaning against the hot hood of his truck. He looked up at the road, the endless void of asphalt. He would lose daylight. He would lose time. The girl’s calls grew louder. What kind of man would he be to leave now?

He stuck a hand into his side pocket, fishing through gum wrappers and toothpicks for a loose cigarette. Then a lighter.

He popped the cigarette into his mouth and lit it up, the hot smoke burning at his lungs. A wave of calm settled over him and he turned back to the girl, approaching the edge of the field with her strained run. She wore all black, a knee-length dress tattered up to mid-thigh, the collar tight around her neck. Her bare feet were caked in mud and fallen seeds, a half-finished infinity symbol tattooed on her calf, blood and ink dripping from the tips.

“Please! Please sir you need to get me out of here!” She threw a frantic glance over her shoulder.

Al looked her up and down. “Okay.”

He released a warm sigh of smoke as he lifted himself from the hood, easing back into the driver’s side door. The girl wasted no time crawling into the passenger seat, cozying up with his backpack and a graveyard of empty Pepsi cans.

He took a long drag from his cigarette, savoring it with every moment in the world, then turned to the girl. “Ain’t you mind the mess. Wasn’t expectin’ company.”

Al chugged the engine to life and started down the asphalt again, his eyes occasionally trailing over to the crow-girl in his passenger seat. She wouldn’t stop fidgeting, her legs bouncing, eyes darting across the beige distance.

He could find a gas station, a police station to drop her off, but that wouldn’t be for a while. He squinted up at the sun, trying to find it between the clouds. He took another drag.

“So?”

Crow Girl glanced up at him, doe eyes wide, sweat spilling down her face.

“You like country?”

She stayed silent.

“Like the music? You a fan?”

Al gestured at the road. “Cuz we gotta long trek ahead. Ain’t no civilization round here til Briar.”

Al glanced over to no avail, then started toward the radio. A tiny hand flew out to stop him.

“No,” Crow Girl squeaked, barely audible over the hum of the engine.

Al let out a snort. “Okie dokie. Don’t like country.”

Silence. The sputtering of the truck

“Anything you do like?”

Al waited for a moment. She didn’t respond.

Before long, the sun was down, the moon taking its turn peaking in from behind the clouds. Al kept one eye on the road and the other on Crow Girl. Her eyes refused to close, wide as dinnerplates. They darted out the window. Then to Al. Then down to the mark on her calf.

They hadn’t passed a town all afternoon. Sometimes a farmhouse would appear in the abyss or a gas station, but the road was mostly lined with corn, soybeans, dead grass, and more corn.

Al stared, heavy-eyed at the road, reaching up to his mouth to stifle a yawn.

“I ain’t know how much longer I can go, little missie.”

She nodded, but didn’t respond.

“Here, pass me one o’ them cigarettes. Keep me up til we find ourselves a town.”

A place to drop her off. Already the thought dreaded him. He was beginning to warm to her silent company.

The crow girl nodded, clicking the glove compartment open. Al flicked his lighter out from his pocket, holding out an expectant hand to the girl. She didn’t move. Al looked over, following her gaze to the ears, a fleshy mound, dripping blood and filth onto his registration.

Al sighed. “I forgot ‘bout those.”

The girl glanced up at him, horror struck, the blood stripped from her face. Her hand jittered toward the door handle.

The truck’s engine sputtered out as Al eased onto the brakes.

“You can go. The door ain’t locked.” Al reached across the center console and within a second, the girl had pushed the door open and leaped out, her bare feet slapping against the asphalt.

The slapping faded into gentle taps as she pushed through the grass, her body slipping into the night. Al grabbed the cigarettes from the glove compartment, popping one into his mouth and lighting it up. It was better that way. She would run to a nice couple, find a home. He would keep driving until Charlottesville, do his job, and then hit the road again. That was the way of things

Still, he stared out into the field, the space in the passenger seat where she used to be. He couldn’t bring himself to press down on the gas pedal, to leave her. So he waited, watching the grass sway as her silhouette faded into the distance. As the crow flew away.

A farmhouse sat on the edge of the field, her wobblily figure scrambling up the steps. Al watched as the lights turned on, the door to the farmhouse opening. Crow Girl stepped inside. And she was gone.

It was enough to snap him back to reality. He eased off the brakes, and the truck slowly began to rattle down the road. Then there was the slam of wood on wood, a man’s shouts, dog barks rattling the night.

Al’s foot returned to the brakes. Crow Girl was back in the field, violently limping toward him. A figure wobbled out of the farmhouse, something in his hand. A gunshot.

Al reached toward the carving knife from the glove compartment, taking his time, sucking in cigarette smoke, shifting into park, easing from the driver’s side door.

The dogs were getting closer, the shotgun reloading into the sky.

Crow Girl was speeding across the field, approaching like a broken machine as Al ambled into the field, boot suctioning to the mud.

“Get in the car, little missie, I’ll be there soon.” Al sighed as she darted past him, leaping in the passenger side door.

Then it was Al and the darkness, the growl of dogs, the cocking of a shotgun, the stench of death. He reached to his lips, sucking in the rest of his cigarette before tossing it into the grass.

“Okay. Come an’ get me”

The dogs were on him, tearing at his chest, chewing pieces from his stomach. It took one slice of the knife to cut one, the other growling, slobber and blood running down its teeth. Al pulled at the knife, but it wouldn’t release, caught in the dead dog’s bone. He released it, taking a hand to the dog's throat and squeezing until there was a snap. It fell limp atop him.

A shotgun went off. Above Al stood the silhouette of a man, the only thing invisible in the moon light was an infinity symbol snaking across his neck. The shotgun reloaded and fired again. Al grabbed for the knife, but he caught on a dog’s tooth, tearing it from his skull, chucking it at the silohuette. It landed with a thunk. The man fell. Al sighed, glancing up at the moon. He would need a new shirt.

Al moseyed from the cornfield, wiping the dog tooth off with his shirt, knocking seeds off his boots and onto the asphalt. His chest was torn into ribbons, dozens of holes burrowed through his chest, the light of the farmhouse glimmering through them.

Crow Girl’s eyes followed him as he flopped into the driver’s side door, trying to brush off the holes like crumbs. He tossed a small lump at Crow Girl, and she caught it, blood splattering across her hands. An ear.

“Can ya’ put this with the others?” he muttered, revving the engine before starting back down the road.

The two didn’t speak for a while. Al didn’t look at the crow girl again, his focus turned back to the road, but he could feel her gaze locked on him.

“Paul Simon,” she stuttered.

“What?”

“I like Paul Simon.”

It was quiet, then Al began to laugh. Long chuckles, deep and rumbling like gravel. Then a lighter giggle. Crow Girl was laughing too. Like two crows in a field, cawing into the night.

“I like you, little missie.” Al chuckled, his laughs rumbling out.

Then there was silence. A silence where Crow Girl really looked at the ear in her lap, where Al started to feel the holes in his chest, his body cramping as they began to mend.

“Did you kill them all?” she asked, massaging the ear between her thumbs.

“They were bad people.”

She glanced out the window. “I know bad people.” her hand fell to the tattoo at her leg, rubbing the infinity sign, closing the half-finished tattoo with her fingers. “Can you...?”

She gestured at the ears.

Al sighed. “I can’t kill all bad people.”

“Oh.”

She continued to fiddle with the ear, rubbing the blood off on her dress, massaging away flakes of skin.

“But hey,” He reached into his pocket, fishing out the dog’s tooth and setting it on her lap. “That don’t mean you can’t”

A smirk tugged at her lips as she took the tooth in her hand; her grip was tight, determined.

“I can give you their ears.”

Al snorted so hard a trail of spit fell from his mouth.

“Nah I can’t take those. Those are yours, little missie.”

“I could make a necklace.” She mumbled.

“You could make a goddamn cape!”

She let out a giggle again, her voice jittery, childish. Her shoulders were finally relaxed. Her legs had stopped twitching.

Al smiled over at her, turning away from the road, lingering on her pale cheeks, her gaunt body. She was so small, a girl with her ear. He wished he didn’t have to turn back to the road. But that wasn’t his job. His gaze always fell back to the darkness.

“You got a name? Cuz I can’t keep callin’ ya’ little missie forever.”

Her eyes darkened, turning to the window.

“Albert, but you can call me Al if ya’ want, he reached out a bloody hand for her to shake.

Quiet. And then the giggling. Soft and slow, building into a laugh. Her laughter overtook the car, unrestrained, a free girl’s guffaws.

“I didn’t think it was that funny a name,” Al snorted, but still a smile tugged at his lips.

“It’s like,” she pushed through her tittering, “it's like the song.”

“The whu- Oh! Paul Simon!” He hooted, slapping a hand down on the steering wheel.

“If you’ll be my bodyguard, I can be your long-lost pal,” Crow Girl started singing, her voice mellow ad cracking

“I can call you Betty and betty when you call me you can call me Al,” Al joined in, thick and gravelly.

She continued giggling, humming the next verse, letting the ear fall into her lap.

“Well hell, little missie. I think we gotta name for ya’.”

“Betty,” she smirked, tasting it in her mouth.

“A fine name.”

She turned out the window, still humming, still keeping a finger against the ear. Al looked at the road. It only seemed to get darker ahead of them, birds calling into the night, clouds coating the horizon.

It was only a matter of time before he needed to leave her with that nice couple, return to the road, the job, but not yet. For now, they could be Betty and Al. A crow and her long-lost pal, together against the road.