What The Crow Eats

Hudson couldn't recall his last hangover nor the one before that. He did, however, remember his first. The newly grouted tile on the bathroom floor in Lenny Rickle's basement had caressed his ailed body in a cool embrace during what were sure to be his final moments. His contorted face displayed pleas for mercy, desperate attempts to garner the pity of each soul housed in the scraps of rubbish splayed around him. He'd whispered a soft orison to the goldenrod-tinted cotton swab abandoned near the toilet bowl. This prayer preceded the inevitable pledge to never drink again spoken to a sweeping congregation of loose hairs and dust bunnies. A vain travail.

The clangor of rushed wrapping at the bathroom door had sent his mind even further into its first tailspin of many, a state not entirely unlike his current. Yet, of two truths, Hudson was sure; there was presently an agony barreling through his brain, and despite his labored yet telling expirations, it was not a hangover.

An accelerated rumbling replaced the wrapping at the door, and the cool tile molded into sticky vinyl beneath his cheek.

"Grab his bag." A demanding voice frantically called out into an increasingly brazen light. "Shit. He's getting up." A groan escaped Hudson as he peeled his face from the floor, wrestling himself to a seated position. Tumultuous vibrations roared beneath his body as his outstretched hands blindly sought the solid ground, finding another firm hand instead.

"What did you do to me? Where am I?" Hudson grunted through pain and pell-mell, hurriedly pushing the hand away from him.

"I'm helping you." The deep voice spoke a bit too fondly for Hudson's taste. "You need to stay calm and-" The voice's explanation was interrupted by its deep-bass cough, each hack connecting with Husdon's temple like a sledgehammer.

"I'm Daman." The stranger continued as Hudson's eyes finally adjusted to the sun's extravagant play of light through a rattling train window. "I'm a nurse." Daman was kneeling beside Hudson, and the man's large frame still towered over him. The nurse's square face attempted a welcoming mien, brandishing a wide panicked grin through his dense beard. Between his fraught eyes, one distinct facial piercing appeared to have been thrust directly through the bridge of his nose. So much for bedside manners, Hudson thought. "You boarded about two hours ago. Our train hit debris on the track and let the air out of the brake lines. You were um-" Daman took only a second to glance to his right, just long enough to reveal the inky stare of a crow's eye gawking from a fading tattoo on his neck- and behind him- two other passengers in the cabin with them. "You were standing when it happened and hit your head." A horror-stricken woman shielding a child behind her was leaning haphazardly on one of the four spacious, tufted leather chairs (in an otherwise compact cabin). Daman cleared his throat, threatening them with his third barrage of booming coughs.

Hudson could see that the woman was apprehensive as she coddled the kid with gentle shushing and encouraging words. Despite her calming techniques, the woman was too shaken to have much impact. He gazed warily toward Daman, the iron-pumping, body-mod-donning, first-class traveling nurse; He wasn't buying it.

"Listen, the conductor said we must get to the middle cars as soon as possible. If this train makes an impact with something larger than a bit of debris, we're not going to want to be in First." Daman pointed to the ceiling, calling attention to a small blue speaker box, currently silent. As Hudson contemplated Daman's story, he stole a series of glimpses between the door just behind him and the terrified pair in the corner. Even if Husdon could get away from him in time, Daman couldn't be trusted with these two in their current state. He offered Daman a stern but agreeable nod.

"Give me my bag," Hudson stated before stepping clear of the exit.

Daman tossed a tattered backpack toward Hudson with one hand, reaching into his pocket with the other. Hudson caught the bag and drew it closer to his chest, gazing at Daman's still fishing hand. It emerged gripping a worn ticket on simple beige cardstock. He held the ticket flush to a magnetic pad, which gave a modest beep before automatically opening the door.

-

The party peeked carefully into the car's narrow hallway, lined with rows of empty cabins. Hudson glanced into each as they passed. His eyes scanned for any possessions other passengers may have left behind in the emergency or a sign there were any other passengers at all -no such luck. He unzipped each pocket of his backpack. The first was empty, and the second contained only his dead cell phone. He swung the bag around his shoulder and onto his back before shoving both hands in his jean pockets. First, the front. Then, back. Front again. Shit, he thought. No ticket. He glanced back at Daman suspiciously, wondering how he'd managed to board a train and enter the car and cabin without one. The burly nurse had positioned himself behind Hudson, acting as a brick wall between him and the other passengers.

"So, um, I'm Hudson. What're your names?" He called to the others behind him. Silence called back. He could feel the penned eye of Daman's crow needling into the back of his head. Hack! Rasp! Wheeze! Each eruption sent waves of pain and sputum in Hudson's direction. His hands shot up and over his ears, inaudibly cursing Daman for each infliction.

Hudson pondered what might await him in the next car or several cars down. His mind conjured images of more brawny blokes like Daman, waiting to outnumber their hostages. Daman's coughing subsided as they reached the door to the next car. His footsteps grew closer to Hudson, as did the bird's stare. His large frame leaned over Hudson, stretching its arm over his shoulder to tap the ticket to the magnetic pad. This time, as the beep sounded and the door opened, Hudson grabbed Daman by the wrist, slamming it into the wall and pushing the man in front of him. Daman's hand released the ticket, and his body was flung into the next car. The door closed behind him. Daman's face warped to anger, and he thrust his fists against the door's small window between the two train cars, Hudson returned a sly grin. They were safe. Hudson turned slowly, standing tall and jutting his chest.

"It's okay," Hudson said, displaying Daman's ticket in hand. "He can't get to-" Hudson's grandiose victory speech was halted by the impact of a dense purse colliding with the side of his face, and a long confused shriek seeped from the child, making its way into each corner of the train car and Hudson's still aching head. "What the hell, lady? I'm trying to-" Another swift swing. This time to his gut. The thin cardstock fell from his hand, and Hudson's knees hit the floor. Through the writhing in his cerebrum, Hudson heard the beep of the magnetic pad and the door closing behind him. The injured man crawled to an open door on his left.

The train lavatory was brightly lit and the toilet seat clattered atop its bowl. Defeated, Hudson lay his aching head on the tiled flooring. He quickly closed the door with his foot and blocked it, sure his aggressors would return. This time, with Daman.

"What I wouldn't give to be in Lenny Rickle's basement bathroom right now." Hudson softly chortled to the empty room. A soft toll of bells played from above him. Hudson groaned, staring at a blue blur on the ceiling followed by a surprisingly familiar voice.

"Passengers. Once again, this is your conductor speaking." The woman spoke sternly yet still panicked. "The train is still experiencing brake failure. Please make your way toward the middle cars in an orderly fashion, find a rear-facing seat, and brace yourselves for impact. Thank you." Hudson shut his eyes tightly, barricading the burning sting of tears from passing his eyelids. A bombardment of insults escaped his subconscious in a fit of self-hatred. He had been wrong about Daman this whole time; Dead wrong. The self-flagellation showed no halting as one memory after another hit him like a dense purse to the forehead.

-

Hudson entered the bustling station, one hand gripping a plastic cup of bourbon and the other holding his cell phone to his ear. The ticket attendant on the other side of the glass gave a properly stultified expression as Hudson bellowed at the robotic voice on the other end of the line.

"Representative!" He screamed for the fourth time in a row instead of waiting for the voice to cycle through the main menu options. The attendant sighed. The voice on the other end was unphased, keeping a pleasant disposition through Hudson's aggravated state.

"I'm sorry." The robotic woman's voice continued. "I didn't quite catch that." Hudson's blood boiled.

"Sir, other customers are waiting. Could you please step to the side while-" Hudson didn't wait for the attendant to finish. He looked down at the small second-class ticket causing him so much grief. He'd booked this vacation last minute and used his remaining miles on a first-class ticket.

"Ticketing!" He tried this time.

"Sure!" The voice exclaimed. "I can forward you to-" The voice paused, and another deeper voice replaced it. This time human. "Ticketing." The man's voice plainly stated. Finally, Hudson thought.

After receiving the new confirmation code and ticket from the exhausted attendant, Hudson continued his fuddled walk to the first-class cars for boarding, groaning at the sight of the line. As he approached the boarding attendant, his phone was still pressed to his ear, leaving a zero-star review for his customer service call. His foot tapped anxiously. A bit of bourbon spilled over the lip of his cup and onto his shoe.

"Last cabin on the left." The attendant handed Hudson's ticket back, giving a similarly annoyed sigh as the one he received at the ticket booth.

Hudson stood outside the lavatory door, waiting for the red indicator light to switch. His eyes rolled impatiently, feet still tapping. The door opened, and a woman emerged, politely smiling.

"It's all yours." She joked, pulling a small child by the hand behind her. Hudson gave the woman a once-over and a coy drunken grin.

"The bathroom or you?" He asked slyly. The woman covered her nose from the strafe brought on by Hudson's bourbon breath and ignored his advance. She hastily pulled at the child, disappearing into a crowd of people finding their respective cabins. Hudson scoffed at the woman and entered the restroom. The mirror was a warped acrylic, displaying Hudson's face like that of a carnival funhouse. So much for first class, he thought. Setting his belongings on the counter, Hudson turned the faucet and gave his stubbled face a much-needed splash before heading to his cabin.

Hudson approached the last cabin on the left, shoving both hands in his jean pockets. First, the front. Then, back. Front again. Shit, he thought. No ticket. He knocked on the door, waking a startled Daman in the process. The drowsy man approached him slowly, scanning his ticket to open the door.

"I must've lost my-" His eyes scanned the room, locking with those of the woman from the bathroom, suggesting a longer train ride than expected. She averted her eyes, focusing instead on the child sitting next to her, whom Hudson noted to have shaggy hair much too long for a kid that age. The elephant in the room was imperceptible to the child, who was instead favoring a handheld video game with headphones. Hudson took his seat, sipping bourbon every so often, his gaze occasionally shifting to Daman, who was, again, fast asleep. The beady eye of Daman's crow throbbed above his jugular with each pulse. Each time Hudson attempted to avert his eyes, he could feel unblinking the crow affixed to him. The unbearable silence accompanied by his now empty cup ate away at Hudson.

"Hey, look." He started toward the woman again, unable to sit with the discomfort any longer. "I wasn't trying to be rude. It was just a compliment." The woman shifted uncomfortably and politely nodded back at the slurring man. Hudson scoffed again, allowing his voice to raise a little more. "Geez." He rolled his eyes. "You're not even my type anyways. I was being nice." Daman stirred at the sound of his voice.

"I'm just trying to get where I'm going." She stated firmly, one hand gripping her purse more tightly, the other haphazardly fumbling with her dress.

"And I'm just trying to be nice and make conversation." Hudson's increasingly defensive tone caught the attention of a now alert Daman. "When you get where you're going, how about getting him a haircut while at it?" Hudson chortled loudly, gesturing to the thick cascade of curls spilling from beneath a pair of oversized headphones.

"Hey, Why don't you just leave her alone?" Daman was firm yet friendly. "She doesn't seem interested." Hudson's head swiveled, his face growing in irritation.

"I don't see how this is any of your concern." He spat, attempting to stand. Hudson wobbled back and forth, sticking a finger in Daman's face. "Now, you listen to me-" Hudson's aggression quietly tapered as Daman stood to meet him.

"No." Daman plainly stated, the eye of his crow now face-level with Hudson. The crow stared intently, begging for Hudson's next move. "Please, sit down before you hurt yourself or someone else." Hudson's eyes furrowed, and once again, he found his audacity. His hands stretched forward, shoving the man into the window behind him. The cabin shook, and a reverberating burst echoed through the car. Hudson's body flew backward, his head connecting with the door to the cabin before his body was thrust again, this time face first into the small table allotted for the four of them.

-

Hudson sat motionless, weeping eyes staring at the little blue box above him. He no longer winced at the pain, this time brought on by fluorescent lighting shining down upon him, its ballasts humming a number to the tune of his humiliation. There he lay, no hope left. No bourbon left. No hand to cling to nor push away. No ticket. Wait, he thought. His hands shot up, grabbing the counter of the bathroom sink. He leveraged himself to his feet. Hudson saw his bruised face contorted in the mirror for the first time. It reminded him more of a haunted house than one of fun. He hung his head in shame, eyeing the countertop where he'd set his belongings upon boarding. Aside from several stray water streaks and soap puddles beneath the dispenser, it was empty. Hudson balled his fist and pounded them onto the counter. More tears begged an escape onto his cheeks. He kicked his foot forcefully, colliding with a small trash can, already tumped over. The bin flailed wildly at the impact, blundering about the room. Hudson's hands covered his ears, pushing away the sound of metal on tile. He returned to his knees, beaten. His anger turned somber, and his empty eyes sent a final plea to the scraps of rubbish splayed around him. He whispered an orison to the wrinkly bogey-covered tissue near the door. This prayer preceded the inevitable request that his cabin mates make it safely to the middle cars despite him, speaking only to a crumpled and torn piece of simple beige cardstock.

Hudson's eyes jumped from their slowly vacating state, tunneling in on the ticket. His hand reached for it slow, disbelief still settling. His fingers unfolded its creases and smoothed the paper at the corners, revealing the sketch of a steam engine train on one side. The other side brandished a banner that read, THE JACOBY in bold lettering. He stared through the ticket, his mind offering one still image of the screaming child, Daman's worried smile, and the woman's fearfulness. Hudson dazedly exited the bathroom and peered into the small window where Daman's fists once struck. The car was empty. Hudson imagined Daman's face still contorted in anger, wishing him to perish there in first-class. Hudson wished it for himself.

His penitence was halted by another soft toll of bells just as an image of the crow's eye bore a disappointed stare directly into his.

"Passengers. Once again, this is your conductor speaking. The train is still experiencing brake failure. Please make your way toward the middle cars orderly, find a rear-facing seat, and brace yourselves for impact. Thank you." Her voice echoed in his head.

"Thank you." He whispered in a trance as he repeated the voice, lifting his hand toward the magnetic pad. A muffled beep rang through his brain, and the car door opened in front of him. The weight lifted from his ankles, and he haphazardly hastened toward the next car and the next. His head raced, harking back to his cabin mates helping him while he hindered them. He shook the regret from his mind and focused on the next car. Then, the next.

He approached the window of the car door to second-class. With a sea of heads visible, Hudson caught the eye of the woman. Her now calm demeanor hardened at the sight of him. He looked back at her with apologetic eyes. He lifted the ticket with his hand, displaying it through the window instead of touching it to the magnetic pad. His mouth opened, letting a long exasperated breath loose from his already heavy lungs. Hudson's face disappeared behind the fog left on the window. He raised one finger, carving his final plea into the condensation. I'm sorry, he wrote backward.

Hudson sat in the nearest rear-facing seat and braced himself for impact. The train convulsed around him, sending loose belongings flying. Muffled cries from the adjacent car echoed in his brain. As Hudson's eyes shut tightly, the train's symphony of entropy was broken by a single beep. The muffled cries grew louder, and a frightened but polite smile met his own astounded expression.

"It's all yours." The woman spoke, gesturing hastily into the cabin. Hudson jumped to his feet, entering the cabin before the doors closed behind him.

"Thank you. I'm so-." He labored between breaths and chaotic ramblings of the cabin. The woman cut him off, offering her hand.

"I'm Mercy." She gestured to the child sitting on the floor. "This is Faith." Mercy paused briefly, giving Faith's headphones a gentle tap. "My niece." Faith apprehensively peered up at Hudson from her handheld video game screen. "Faith, this man has something he'd like to say to you." Hudson leveled with the girl, his honest gaze meeting hers as the train shook every terrified soul in the packed car.

"I'm sorry, Faith." The train gave a wailing screech, sending Hudson flying into the crowd, a choir of muddled screams and limbs. Not again, he thought, shielding his head. Bodies piled on top of him, the weight suggesting to his ribs they make room. Hudson managed a final exhale from beneath the heap before sinking.

The screeching gradually subsided, and the rumblings of the train were replaced by the car filled with cries of relief and expressions of love. Hudson's lungs strained tiny breaths beneath his cracked ribs. As the train brakes slowed to a steady crawl, too did the passengers, now weeping more lightly. The soft ambiance of gratitude is broken only by the heavenly sound of a raucous hacking from Daman's throat, on which the crow gleefully danced.