Talons of Mercy

Caroline muttered out a curse word as she stared at the shards of antique porcelain splintered across the hardwood floor. A large and calloused hand grabbed hold of her arm, shaking her out of the split-second stupor. She caught his eyes, flooded with concern.

“Mama?” a little voice whispered, tugging at the hem of Caroline’s robe.

“No time. Go.” Caroline bent over again, Clutching at the familiar grip in her womb, this one would not take long. Mr. Farmer opened the basement door and the faintest footsteps could be heard as the children followed their father into the storm shelter. Taking a deep breath, Caroline counted the head; 1,2,3,4 all of them here. Almost. She grit her teeth as another wave came over. Somewhere in the distance a siren blared. Not the wailing of an ambulance to escort her to a hospital. This siren was an alarm, haunting, piercing. Usually nothing followed the alarm. This night was different.

Had the sky not been so dark, had it not been in the middle of the night, you’d see it. The swirling clouds, pulsating, stunning in form, devastating in destruction. A wind howled. You could almost hear the high pitched screams of the victims in the distance. A tornado drew near. Mr. Farmer latched the door closed.

“Of all times,” Caroline laughed, her forehead covered in sweat. Her breath quickened. Mr. Farmer smiled at his wife and snatched the supplies they’d prepared from the shelves. He lay down towels as the four girls huddled on the sofa. The wind outside began to rattle the windows upstairs. The screeching sound of metal twisting and ripping apart caused Ellie, the youngest girl to squeal and tuck her head into her sister's lap.

“I believe that’s the barn,” Mr. Farmer grimaced at the girls as Caroline squeezed his hands, nearly ripping off every callous in the process. And at precisely the exact moment the tornado touched ground, splintering the sturdy barn wood, Mrs. Farmer screamed and pushed out the fifth Farmer child.

“Well mama, looks like I’m no longer the only man around here,”

Caroline reached out her arms, shaking but steady, and took hold of their son.

“Hello Elliot Jr. You're gonna have quite the story to tell.”

Before the first golden ray could graze the dewy grass, Mr. Farmer crouched at the place where their barn once stood. Nothing but dirt, metal, and wood were all that were left, piled in a chaotic rubble. Kara, their eldest daughter, named after her mother, made her way over one of the heaps, teeter-tottering on a panel of roof.

Mr. Farmer looked up, “You should be sleeping. Or helping your mother,”

“I made her eggs and toast, but she’s still asleep. So is the baby. I can’t sleep. Wow, this is so bad.” Her words ran together, evidence of adrenalin and excitement. Mr. Farmer laughed and opened his arm to her.

“I don’t know what I did right to be so blessed with such amazing girls,”

“And a boy,”

“And a boy,” whispered Mr. Farmer.

As Mr. Farmer stood and walked around the debris, Kara headed towards the house, Which was miraculously unscathed. Her pace quickened.

“Hey, I don’t want you and your sisters playing out here,” Mr. Farmer yelled, “It’s too dangerous. Kara!” She didn’t turn her head to acknowledge the warning, but instead lifted up two 2X4s before Mr. Farmer reached her and grabbed her hands.

“Besides the obvious fact that none of this is steady and nails could be sticking up anywhere, it has created the perfect hiding for copperheads.” With eyebrows down, He looked into her face.

“But dad,” Kara pointed to a dark hole in the rubble they stood by. Mr. Farmer reeled back, feeling a spike in his heart when he saw two black eyes staring up at him. He placed his palm over his chest and chuckled.

“Can we keep it?” she asked as he carefully pulled out the trapped barn owl. Mr. Farmer sighed.

“Only long enough for this wing to heal,” he said. And so the Farmer family cared for the little owl. Each Farmer girl took turns in feeding him each night. However, his hoots did not find grace with Mrs. Farmer, whose sleep was found wanting with little Elliot. Her body barely lifted itself out of bed, ready to drive the nocturnal creature far far away for yet again waking the babe. She hushed and sang, nursed and cooed, but Elliot Jr. would not stop crying.

“We can’t keep it in the house anymore,” Caroline said to a half-awake Mr. Farmer, who, by some act of God, could sleep through all of the racket.

“Do as you wish,” he mumbled and turned over. A sense of relief filled her heart as she sat back in the rocking chair. She would do something.

But as life would happen, chores came up, sweeping away every thought of anything but the tasks at hand. And by the time Caroline remembered her plan of ridding the Owl, it was late afternoon. If it weren’t for the library book on owls sitting on the dining room table, She probably would have forgotten the whole thing until again in the middle of the night with a crying babe and a screeching bird to keep them up. Caroline took a deep breath. She’d only thought of herself and a wave of guilt washed tears to the edge of her eyes. The deep voice of Mr. Farmer echoed through the hall. Caroline crept forth, babe bundled to her chest asleep. Mr Farmer held the owl in his hands as all four girls sat before him.

“His wing seems to be healed now.” He said

“So he’ll be safe from predators right?” Kara asked

“I wanna keep him!!!” Ellie jumped up and flopped back down on the bench. Her sister turned to her and hissed with a finger over her mouth.

“It wouldn’t be right of us to keep him,” Mr. Farmer said, “He’s a wild animal. Born wild, with a wild purpose written by the very hand of God. He don’t belong in a house. He belongs out there” He pointed out the window.

“Ohhh okay…” Ellie pouted her lips and puffed out air that lifted her bangs. Caroline watched as they all marched outside. She too was curious what the owl would do. She leaned over the kitchen sink, almost pressing up against the glass pane. Without a sound, the owl lifted into the blue sky and circled the property before landing on a fence post. Moments later, when Ellie kicked at a rock, he took off again. The girl’s hearts sank, they’d been secretly hoping their owl couldn’t fly.

Thousands of feet above the Farmer house flew the steel of a jet carrying deadly cargo. Encased in five thick layers of protection were four little mice. Seemingly harmless, yet on their way to a facility to be properly destroyed. In an effort to find a solution for world hunger and third world diseases, Scientists accidentally created a flesh eating disease that in less than a month, could destroy the entire world. These mice were carrying it.

The pilots shared small talk, unaware of the death they were transporting. The sound of a loud thunder clap and crushing metal shocked the aircraft pilots into alert. Smoke billowed out of the tail end of the plane. They turned, attempting to assess what had just occurred. A large hole was the only evidence. A hole right where the package had been. But they couldn’t worry of that now. The plane would not be able to hold a steady flight. Crashing was inevitable. Small talk quickly turned to yelling and rushed movement.

The chance of a meteorite falling at just the right moment to hit right where the mice were could never have been predicted, could never have been accounted for. The container fell and crashed in a field. The five layers of protection were destroyed upon landing, but the mice inside were so well insulated that they survived the impact and immediately scurried through the field and into the rubble of an old fallen barn.

Later that night, the mice’s ears pricked up to a high pitched screech. Their hearts raced. Without sound, a pair of talons lifted off each mouse from the ground. They were torn apart in consumption. And so, that night the owl feasted, the Farmers slept, and the world, quite unknowingly, was saved.