Ravenous Ghosts (9 page)

I can
't tell you why but my skin is tingling, as if I've just stuck my finger in a plug socket. The old man's eyes seem to churn, the clouds above our heads somehow finding a home in those narrow orbs.

"
I don't understand," I tell him with a voice that illustrates my fear perfectly.

"
The sparrow is a symbol of death where I come from. Tonight, a sparrow will be left outside the houses of the sinful in Harperville and tomorrow, they will be no more."

I want desperately to believe that I am listening to the ravings of a madman. But if he is insane, then so am I because I believe him and I doubt anything benign is making the birds fall from the sky all around us.

Janus turns and looks back at the pond. The ducks are gone and now I can see several of those little lumps bobbing on the water.

"
Whoever touches the sparrow will die," he continues. "Whoever moves it will die instantly and awake to find themselves where they belong."

"
Where's that?" I stammer, feeling my lower lip start to tremble. "Hell?"

"
That is not my concern," he replies. "Or yours."

"
Why are you telling me all this? Why are you here? Why now?"

He seems irritated by the barrage of questions and sighs, the brown clumps pattering on all sides of him.

"You bring back memories, boy. Innocence untainted, naivety undamaged. All the things I used to be, back in the day. There are times when I regret not holding onto such things. If I had, the path I travel now might have been a lot different. For a brief while, you have allowed me to remember and for this simple gift, I am giving you a warning."

He levels me with a liquid gaze.
"The bird is not for you. Stay away from it and leave it work for the one who has earned it."

Wild panic erupts inside me.
"But…who is it for?"

"
That, I can't tell you."

"
You have to tell me. You-you can't just tell me something like that and leave!"

"
No."

"
Fuck you and 'no', I want you to tell me. You're going to take someone away from me and I want to know who it is or…"

He grins.
"Or what?"

I slump, defeated and next to tears for the first time in years. For this, I hate him. For all his dark promises, I want to kill him right here and now, regardless of the consequences. Anything to make what he has predicted a lie.

A simple day in the park has turned into a tour of hell.

"
You can't do this," I croak.

"
I'm afraid I can. There is no vendetta against your town, Kieran. This has happened before. Indeed you can read about such things if you look in the right places and although I have not always been the harbinger, the sparrows have been the signature of many a downfall."

"
But why
my
family? They're not evil. They've never harmed anyone!"

"
Haven't they?" he asks, his raised eyebrows mocking the certainty I thought I'd had. "There are lots of things you have yet to know. Until you do, you cannot begin to understand the significance of this day."

The tears come freely then, trickling down my cheeks as I weep and grieve for deaths that have yet to come.

"You have to tell me. Who's going to die?"

"
I can't."

"
You have to!"

"
No I don't. I've told you enough already."

"
Then I'm going to stop it."

"
You can't."

"
I'll try."

"
You'll fail."

I stare at him then, my eyes silently begging him to tell me it
's all just a sick joke. For that, I could forgive him. For taking away someone I love, never. He continues to stare at the burnished steel surface of the pond, watching the splashes until they stop. Wiping my nose against the back of my hand, I look up.

The sparrows are no longer falling.

"Why?" I mutter, half-expecting the deluge of dead birds to recommence.

Janus stands.
"Thirty of them have fallen. Thirty souls will be taken."

I join him in standing, my fingers twitching as I hold my hands out, not knowing what it is that I want to do or say, but desperate to stop him leaving.
"Wait!"

He turns his back on me and begins to collect the birds. I notice then that as he shoves them into his coat the pockets stay flat as if empty.

"What if I touch the bird first? You said I'm not wicked, so what happens then?"

He straightens, his knees popping loudly and turns back to face me.
"Would you really want to take that chance?"

"
Yes," I blurt, not entirely sure if it's the truth.

"
Wouldn't you rather see that sister you hate so much getting her just desserts?"

"
No."

He smiles that crooked smile and nods.
"We'll see."

With that, he turns his attention back to the birds again, whistling tunelessly as he does so. I watch him for a moment, terrified and helpless.

And then I run, as fast as my legs can carry me, no longer able to watch him collecting his weapons.

I burst in the door at home, almost giving my father a heart attack. The glass in his hand spits whiskey onto the table and he curses loudly.
"Kieran. What in the name of God are you doing?"

He seems embarrassed that I have caught him drinking but I don
't care about that now. Instead, I take a moment to catch my breath and then tell him in a commanding tone I would never have dreamed to use in other circumstances for fear of punishment: "There'll be a dead bird outside the house in the morning. Whatever you do, don't touch it."

He stares dumbly at me for a second, his blinking slow and I realize he
's drunk. "What are you talking about?"

"
Didn't you hear them hitting against the roof? It was raining birds!"

He laughs loudly and waves me away with a calloused hand.

"You have to listen to me, Dad!" I step closer to him.

"
I am listening to you but all I'm hearing is some shit about rain and birds that's making me wonder if you've been smoking something you shouldn'ta been."

He fingers the tumbler of whiskey and looks from me into its amber depths, eager to return to his drinking. His guilt is dwindling, being replaced by the impatience so much a part of him these days. I am keeping him from his business and it won
't be long before he tells me so. I stand frustrated, searching for some way to penetrate the indifferent murk shrouding him. His eyebrows draw further down the longer I watch however, so I go to my room, my heart pounding in my ears.

As I gaze out the window, the clouds begin to separate once more, allowing the sunlight to dominate the sky as they had before I met the Sparrow Man.

I am alone, cursed with a horrid, dark awareness that twists my guts into knots. Who will it be? My father, my sister?

Sometime later I hear the front door open and a high-pitched voice filters up the stairs. Sheryl is home. Her job at the local Wal-Mart keeps her away from me most of the time, but when she
's home, I am her verbal and often physical punch bag. It has been that way for as long as I can remember. All the pictures that grace the hallway walls of us smiling and hugging were taken before we grew wise to each other and usually the idea of hugging her makes me physically ill.

But I know I could stomach it now as I kneel on my bed with my elbows on the windowsill and wonder how she will die if she is the one to touch the sparrow.

"Where's the dillweed?" I hear her call as she mounts the stairs. Ordinarily, this would provoke an equally spiteful and creative response from me, but today the rules have been changed.

"
In here," I yell and the door creaks open.

"
Howdy, butt-face."

I turn around and her smug smile fades just a notch.
"You sick?" she asks.

"
No, why?"

"
You look sick."

"
No. Come in. I need to ask you something."

She frowns, already deciding that she isn
't interested but pushes the door closed behind her and walks over to the bed where she stands, arms folded. "What? You want to borrow my underwear?"

It occurs to me then, as I sit on the bed and look up at her, that devoid of the mean streak she could almost be pretty. As it is, she is developing a deep wrinkle between her eyebrows from frowning so much and she
's trying too hard to make herself a blonde when her natural auburn is a lot nicer. "No. I really need to ask you to do something and I need you to take me seriously."

She rolls her heavily mascara-ed eyes.
"What? Want me to set you up with a boyfriend?"

"
Look, just shut up a minute will you? This is important. Make fun all you want later, but for now I need you to listen."

I don
't want to say it, but know it's the only way I can get her attention. "If you don't, someone could die."

Sheryl blanches.
"What are you talking about?"

"
I told Dad already but he's too drunk to care."

"
Told Dad what?"

"
About the bird."

"
What bird?"

And then I tell her everything. The park, the birds, Janus and the mission he claimed to be on to rid the town of evildoers. It sounds ridiculous to my own ears so I guess I shouldn
't have held out much hope of Sheryl buying it.

"
Are you smoking something?" she says, laughing. "Do you really expect me to believe this shit? Raining birds? Do you really think no one would have heard about that if it had really happened? That kind of thing is world news!"

She leans close as if to whisper something but punches me hard on the arm instead.

"Ow!"

"
That's for being such a little retard," she sneers and spins around. "You're lucky Dad's wasted or he'd probably smack the shit out of you for lying to him."

I pound the mattress in frustration as she opens the door to leave.
"And try growing up just a tad, wouldya? I've hawked snot that was more mature than you."

She leaves me alone to ponder the horror I can sense drifting ever closer towards our house. An image of my father opening the front door and kicking the dead sparrow off the step comes to me and I feel the tears rushing up my throat.

What if I touch the bird first? You said I'm not wicked, so what happens then?

Would you really want to take that chance?

I decide I do want to take the chance, not out of any sense of duty or heroism but because this is all so wrong. This is not how things are supposed to happen. People can't just drop a bird at your door and rob you of your life. A dead bird is a dead bird and not a symbol of anything.

I know what I have to do.

* * *

Almost all of Janus
's predictions come to pass. Before dinner I go out and sit down on the step with Gabber, our Labrador who seems uncharacteristically agitated, as if he too knows that something terrible is gathering on the horizon.

Over a meal of broiled fish and cold vegetables, Sheryl gives me grief and I end up telling Dad that I know she
's having sex with that pimple-studded guy named Felix who sometimes calls round. Unsurprisingly, she goes nuclear and threatens to kill me but Dad lets a spittle-winged roar out of him and we are quiet, with nothing but murderous looks to exchange.

Sheryl storms off to her room and I do the same, but not before giving my father a hug he reluctantly accepts and then I leave him muttering to himself by the fire.

Just out of spite, I don't brush my teeth.

After a while I hear my father stumble into his room and slam the door.

When he starts to snore, I ease open my door and creep down the stairs, wincing every time one of the old steps groan. And then I am outside.

The day has been humid but the night has sucked the heat from the air as I take my post on the step, glad I have worn a thick sweater. Gabber lies beside me, his head between his paws, eyes opening every now and again, ears pricking up as he listens to something I can
't hear. I grow cold and hug myself, clicking on the torch I brought down to dissuade the shadows.

I sit like that for hours, unmoving. A boy and his dog, watching for death.

Despite my courage and determination however, I fall asleep.

And then just as suddenly I
'm awake, wracked with violent tremors, the dog barking at the fence that surrounds our garden, a squashed red orb rising in the morning sky…