The Coming of The Crows

“Da, what are you doing with that knife?”

She looked at her father with a mixture of alarm and fear as he closed the door to their apartment behind him. He closed his eyes briefly before glancing at her in panic. It wasn’t the reply she wanted, but it told her everything she needed to know.

The Crows were coming!

“Da?” She asked hoarsely, her tongue sticking to the roof of her dry mouth, “What are we going to do?”

But she already knew the answer. They had seen too many neighbours pulled from their homes in the dead of night, beaten on the streets, and ‘disappeared’. And they’d always known that one day they’d be next.

They had to run and pray to God that they could escape – if God even existed anymore.

She gently took the knife from her father’s grasp and placed it on the sideboard.

“Come on Da, we’ve got to move."

When the old man didn’t respond she pulled at his arm, dragging him into their freezing bedroom. He stood and stared at the wall while she dropped to the floor and wriggled her way under the bed. She emerged a few seconds later with tears of frustration and anger spilling onto the floor.

“For God’s sake Da I need you!"

He turned to face her, a dead, dull expression in his eyes.

“What’s the point?” He asked without emotion, “They’ll catch us in the end; there’s no escaping them."

“You don’t know that!” She cried angrily, “What’s happened to you?” She was shocked by her father’s transformation from that morning.

“They came for your grandparents.” He spoke in a monotone, grief dulled by shock. “They were looking for me."

“What?” She cried out in horror, “What happened to them? Who told you?”

“I…” he faltered, looking away. “I was there, hiding. Your grandfather told them he was running the Witness, but they knew. They knew he was lying and…” his voice trailed off. He turned his gaze back to her, their eyes meeting. “You’ve got to believe me, there wasn’t anything I could do."

Instinctively, she knew there wouldn’t have been. What could one man, half starved, do against The Crows?

“For God’s sake then Da, help me. Help me for them." She wanted to grieve for her grandparents, but not now, not yet. She had to get them both out of the Complex and to safety across Niagara River.

He gazed at her sadly, but something in his daughter’s pleas caused a spark to ignite in his heart, and he went to her, briefly kissing her forehead.

She watched as he moved the bed to one side and eased out several floorboards. Reaching into the hollow he drew out a small bag containing the last of their money, passports, and a torch. Not much, but hopefully enough.

Abandoning the bedroom they hurried to the kitchen.

“What food do we have left?” She was pleased to see his old fire returning.

“A few packets of oats, maybe some dried fruit, let me check."

From a large, chipped, pot on the counter she pulled out half a dozen sachets of oatmeal and a small bag of currants.

“Is that it?” Her father asked in disbelief.

She shrugged, “Delivery’s tomorrow," then, before he could respond she grasped his hand once more, “Come on Da, we’ve got to go."

* * *

The feeble light in the hallway did little to banish the shadows, only heightening their nerves with each step they took. Together, clasping hands for comfort, they made their way to the emergency stairwell. The door was, blessedly, unlocked – the night watchman must still be doing his rounds downstairs. Breathing a sigh of relief as the door clicked shut behind them, they immediately began coughing as a stench of death burned their throats.

Gasping for breath, her father began rummaging through the bag and withdrew the torch. He flicked it on, shining a weak light that barely illuminated the stairway at their feet. Descending as quickly as they dared, they made their way downwards, carefully averting their eyes from the railings and those who hung there.

Halfway to the bottom and unseen in the darkness, her father stopped suddenly. He grunted in pain, staggering forward as she collided with him. Regaining his balance, he turned to her,

“I left it," he cried out in horror.

“Left what?” She asked, confused.

“Your mother’s pendant, the 'golden heart'. It’s the only thing I have left after… after," his voice trailed off, ending with a moan of anguish.

She placed her hand on his shoulder and drew him into a hug,

“It’s ok Da; she’d understand. We can come back and get it once this is over.”

“No!” He replied fiercely, almost shouting at her. Then, breathing deeply, “I have to go back and get it.”

Panic flooded through her as he pushed her away from him.

“You can’t, you can’t go back, you just can’t.” The words tumbled out in a rush, and she wasn’t sure if she was responding out of fear for him, or for herself.

He brought the torch up and shone it into her face.

“You don’t understand. They took everything of hers when… I have to get it.”

She knew there was nothing she could do to change his mind, but she had to try.

“What about me? I need you Da. How can I escape without your help?”

“Go to the bottom and wait for me. If I am not back in ten minutes, head to the River and I’ll meet you there." His voice was calmer now, as he focused on what he had to do.

“Please Da, please don’t do this,” she wept, fear gripping her heart, “I love you."

But he had already started making his way back up to their apartment, taking all their money, passports, torch, and food with him.

The final steps to the bottom of the stairwell were some of the most agonizing in her life. In total blindness she stumbled, clinging to the inside wall, afraid to go near the railings. Finally, she felt the ground level out and lifted her hands to feel for the door. Her fingers brushed its cool metal surface, and she immediately began searching for the handle. Outside, she waited in the darkness, listening for the sound of her father returning to her.

The minutes ticked slowly past and, just as she felt she could wait no longer, the silence of the night exploded with machine gun fire. Feeling her heart shatter, and with tears of anguish and loss running down her cheeks, she sprinted into the darkness.

Straight into the arms of a Crow.