The Crowmaster (11 page)

I
n hindsight, it's easy to say I should have been more careful. I shouldn't have just bashed on the way I did. I should have waited for Ameena to answer. I should have thought it through.

I
should've
done a lot of things. What I shouldn't have done is open those doors.

They'd broken the window and punched right through the thin plywood at the back of the wardrobe. I pulled the wardrobe open expecting to find Ameena. What I found were birds. Six, eight, maybe twelve of them – it was impossible to tell. They were stacked on top of one another, the blackness of their bodies merging them into one big, feathery shape.

As the doors opened, the crows exploded into life. I stepped back, ducked, but they were already on me, flapping and shrieking like miniature demons. Claws tore at me through my clothing. A beak snapped shut just centimetres from my eyes. I twisted and writhed, batting at the birds with my fists, but they moved too fast for me to land a solid punch.

‘Getoff-getoff-getoff!' I cried, throwing myself around like a rag doll. Every direction I turned, there was another bird, scratching me, pecking me, beating its wings in my face. I thought of Marion, and of the unnamed dog up there on the hill. Their bones had been virtually pecked clean, their flesh consumed by birds just like those on me now. Was that how it was going to end? Was I destined to wind up a mound of bloody scraps, miles from home in an unfamiliar house?

I crashed out of the room and into the hallway, clawing back at the crows, trying to catch them, pull them off me. One of the birds made a lunge for my hand. I heard its beak snap shut and felt a searing pain in the web of skin between my thumb and index finger.

‘That hurt!' I snarled. I wriggled like some demented snake. Twisting and thrashing. And as the pain burned in my hand, a panic rose like acid in my stomach. I was going to die.
I was going to die!

The stairs came upon me suddenly and I lost my footing, toppling sideways and hitting the steps hard. Two of the crows burst open with a sickening
pop
as my full weight came down on them. The others backed off, remaining up at the top of the stairs while I bumped and clattered my way down to the bottom.

Dazed, I somehow managed to roll to my feet. I grabbed for the cooking pot I'd dropped earlier; turned with it; swung wildly. A charging bird went down with a satisfying
clang,
but the others were already making their way down the stairs.

Once again, I let the pot fall. I ducked into the kitchen, through the back door, and out into the world beyond. All the while a drumbeat of greasy wings followed close behind.

I pulled the back door behind me, just before the crows could make it out. The window was still broken, of course, but hopefully it'd take their bird brains a few seconds to realise that fact.

I could see smoke pouring from the broken living-room window. The crows had trashed the room when they'd charged through it, knocking everything to the floor. A toppled armchair had landed in the fire and was now blazing brightly on the floor. I looked up at the old timber house. It wouldn't stand a chance.

And nor would I, if I didn't think of something fast. If only I had the mobile phone. It had proved to be the best weapon against the crows – maybe if I still had it I wouldn't be in this mess. If only the Crowmaster hadn't smashed it. If only…

The forest on the hillside seemed to draw my eyes to it. I took a few faltering steps in that direction, as if being pulled in. There was something about the trees. Something that my subconscious had already realised, but which the rest of my brain was struggling to…

To…

My God
, I thought.
Of course!

I hesitated just long enough to get my bearings, then broke into a run. Hope surged through me, powering my exhausted legs onwards up the hill, away from the house. Behind me, the crows were already beginning to find their way out through the broken kitchen window. That was the bad news.

The good news loomed in the distance ahead of me, standing tall and rigid and shiny above the treetops.

I sprinted towards the forest, headed in the direction of the mobile phone mast. I scrambled up the hill on all fours, using grass and bracken for handholds where I could, digging my fingers into the dirt when there was nothing to grab on to. My feet kicked furiously, slipping more often than not on the slick, muddy soil. It was slow progress, and by the time I'd made it in among the trees, my legs were caked with damp dirt.

I wasted half a second looking back over my shoulder. The birds were still flying around the outside of the house, soaring and diving in ever-widening circles. They were searching, I realised. Searching for me.

It took some effort to stop myself cheering. If they were searching, then they didn't know where I was. I'd done it. I had escaped!

For now, at least.

Ducking low, I pushed further into the woods, not walking, but not quite running, either. The smells of the forest closed in around me. The sweet scent of pine. The faint eggy stink of rotting leaves on boggy ground.

The forest had its own soundtrack too. The swishing of branches, the gasping of the wind, the melodic tweeting of distant birds – birds I could only hope had no plans to kill me. The sights, the smells, the sounds, they all combined to give the impression the woods were another world, unrelated to the one beyond its borders.

My trousers were wet from the grass. They slowed me down, but I tried to keep up my semi-running pace as I clambered over the trunk of an uprooted tree and hauled myself further up the hill.

Reaching the top of a low ridge, I turned and looked back the way I'd come. I could make out parts of the house through gaps between some branches. The fire had caught hold and most of the upstairs looked to be alight. I was relieved to see the birds were still flapping around the burning building, still too stupid to figure out where I'd gone.

Wheezing and breathless, I half sat, half perched on the trunk of another fallen tree, and tried to figure out what to do next. I'd only come into the forest in the hope that the mobile phone mast would have the same effect on the crows as my phone had, but now the birds weren't following me, getting to the mast didn't seem to matter. Finding Ameena, that was what was important. But where would the Crowmaster take her?

I don't know how long I sat there, half watching the crows buzzing like flies around the smouldering skeleton of Marion's home, half just enjoying the feeling of air flowing freely into my lungs. All the while I was thinking. Wondering. Where would he take her?
Why
would he take her?

An acrid smokiness had flavoured the air in the forest now. It mingled with the other scents. The pine. The rotting leaves.

Despite the distance, if I listened carefully, I could even make out the occasional faint hiss and crackling of the flames as they consumed what little was left of the house. Like the smell of the smoke, the sounds felt like alien invaders, out of place among the swishing of branches, the gasping of the wind and the melodic…

My stomach twitched and my throat tightened. The birds I'd heard twittering in the distance were twittering no longer. Their music had given way to an empty, chilling silence.

I stood up slowly, being careful not to make any sudden movements. My head stayed level, facing straight ahead, but my eyes pointed upwards into the shadowy treetops. I didn't want to find it, but the sinking feeling in my gut told me I would. Sure enough, there it was.

It was perched high up on a branch, its black eyes fixed on me. I tried to act as if I hadn't spotted it. Tried to appear as calm as I could, while inside my heart tried to punch a hole right through my chest.

The crow extended its wings and I braced myself, expecting it to make its dive. It quickly folded them in against its back, though, and even as I began to edge away from it, the bird made no move to follow.

I made it several metres further up the hill, still walking backwards, still watching the bird. I could barely make it out now, its dark shape blending with the shadows of the tree. Not that I was complaining, but I couldn't understand why it wasn't coming after me. Why wasn't it giving chase?

The reason hit me like a kick to the stomach, forcing a gasped ‘No!' out through my trembling lips. I couldn't see Marion's house any more, but I didn't have to see it to know the birds were no longer circling. I could
hear
them sweeping up the hillside, tearing through the forest, a tornado of thrashing black. The bird hadn't attacked for one simple reason. It was waiting for backup.

Cursing myself, I turned and scuttled up the hill, through the trees, dragging myself along by low branches and exposed roots. I shouldn't have stopped. I should never have rested.

But I
had
stopped. I
had
rested. And as death closed in on a hundred beating wings, I feared it would be the last stupid mistake I ever got the chance to make.

T
he faster I tried to run, the more the trees fought to slow me down. Bare, spindly branches whipped at me, tearing at my hands and face like tiny claws. The steep forest floor seemed to be growing around me, wrapping itself around my wrists and ankles, gripping me, holding me back. I didn't even try to delude myself. There was no way I was outrunning the birds.

A nano-second before I heard the first
caw
, the sparks electrified my skin. The sudden shock made my legs kick out and I leapt like a startled frog, covering over two metres in a single bound. Right behind me, the first of the following crows crashed, beak-first, against the hillside.

Another jolt buzzed through me, and this time I was hurled to my right. A second bird failed to pull up in time. It gave a startled
squawk
as it slammed into the scrub beside me.

Slowing only to boot the beast as hard as I could, I kept moving. The ground was rising sharply, becoming almost a wall of dirt, held together by the roots of a huge tree that towered above me.

Kicking my feet in against the muck, I caught a trailing root and climbed. One metre. Two. I was over halfway up the curved wall when the next bird came at me. Again, the electrical buzz zapped through me, but this time there was nowhere to go. I could only keep climbing as the crow swooped at me, its curved claws outstretched.

I ducked my head, protecting my face. Pain exploded at the top of my spine as the crow's talons dug into my neck. Clinging on to the root with one hand, I threw the other back over my head, fist clenched. The punch missed the bird and threw my balance off. Helplessly, I spun so I was facing away from the embankment.

For a moment I thought the forest was alive. Birds moved on almost every tree, hopping over one another, pushing others aside as they jostled for position. An audience, fighting among themselves for the best view.

I spun further, still holding on with one hand. I cried out as the crow dug its claws in deeper, and almost didn't hear the irritated croak the bird gave. I quickly realised why the bird had made the sound. My half-turn had bumped the thing against the wall of soil.

I gritted my teeth and twisted at the waist, swinging myself back around towards the wall until I could press my feet flat against the steep curve. The bird gripped tighter and the wave of pain almost made the muscles in my arm give up. But I clung on, knowing I'd probably only get one chance to rid myself of this nasty pain in the neck.

Roaring, I kicked with my feet and swung out with my free arm, hurling myself around in a half-circle so my back was rushing towards the wall. At the same time, I brought my head sharply up and back.

Realising what was about to happen, the crow released its grip. By then it was too late. It dropped down below my shoulders just as my back was driven against the tightly packed dirt. The bird gave a strangled cry, then dropped past my legs and rolled clumsily down the hill.

I had no idea if it was dead, but nor did I have any intention of stopping to find out. Gripping the tree root with both hands, I clambered up the rest of the embankment, the thrashing of wings already filling the forest behind me.

With my muscles burning, I heaved myself up over the top of the wall. The ground here was flatter, sloping only very slightly upwards. I scrambled forward on my hands and knees, my tired legs not able to give me the explosive start I hoped for. My right hand slipped on something wet and I almost landed face-first in a quivering mound of reddish-brown flesh and greying fur.

It was the dog – well, part of it, at least – that first dog I'd encountered here in the forest only yesterday. The dog I'd seen torn to shreds. The dog I had at the time assumed must be…

Toto. The word winked up at me from the dull grey metal of the animal's nametag, which poked out from a fold in the blood-soaked fur.

Toto.

Toto. Toto. Toto.

The word repeated in my head, over and over, like the steady clattering of an express train.

Toto. Toto. Toto.

Toto. Toto. Toto.

How could this be Toto? If this
was
Marion's dog, then what about the one at the house? The one that had appeared from nowhere at just the right moment and saved me from—

The crows. In that brief moment of confusion, I had forgotten the crows.

They suddenly filled the space around me; clawing, screeching, snapping, croaking, flapping, biting at me.

Terror gave me the strength to push against them, hands over my head, until I was on my feet. Blindly I staggered onwards, tears streaking my face, a hundred different agonies stabbing through my skin.

Panic smothered my power and kept me from using it. All I could do was keep my head low and try to run, but even that proved too difficult. With the birds covering every part of me, I fell forward on to the forest floor.

I couldn't see through the mass of beaks and wings and feathery bodies, couldn't hear a thing above their crazed screeching. I was lost in a blizzard of black, inching along on my hands and knees, waiting for one final, inevitable strike.

But then, without warning, the crows moved away. They pulled back, leaping off me and curving upwards to be swallowed by the darkening sky. I crawled forward, every centimetre of my skin awash with my blood, until a pair of dirty black boots blocked my path.

I stopped crawling and for a moment just lay there, looking at those boots. This was it then. It was over. He had found me.

I rolled on to my side and managed to turn my head enough to look up. The face that looked back was not the one I had expected to see.

‘Come on, get up, we need to move,' Ameena urged, bending down and catching me by the hand. She pulled hard, but her grip slipped on my blood-soaked skin, and my arm dropped back down on top of me.

The world blurred and turned shades of grey, like an outof-focus old movie. A tingling, like pins and needles, prickled at the back of my head. It wasn't my abilities this time. It was sleep. Or unconsciousness. Or something more.

I could feel Ameena's hand on my face. It brushed against my cheek, leaving behind a tickly imprint of her palm. The numbness in my skull eased, and a vague focus returned to the world just in time for Ameena to slap me again.

My cheek was still burning as she grabbed me by the shoulders and dragged me into a sitting position. I could make out her face close to mine, her eyes wide. Panicked. Bloodshot.

‘Wake up, dammit,' she shouted, raising her open hand. ‘They'll be coming back. Wake up!'

‘O-OK,' I muttered, ‘just
please…
stop hitting me.' I leaned a hand on her shoulder. ‘Help me up.'

‘No time,' she replied, glancing up into the treetops, ‘I need you moving on your own steam if we're getting out of here.' She looked me up and down, and I could see the doubt in her eyes. ‘Can you heal yourself?'

I frowned. Even this tiny movement sent pain rippling across my face and down through my body. Far overhead, a crow
cawed
.

‘Let me rephrase that,' Ameena said, the urgency obvious in her voice. ‘Heal yourself. Now.'

‘I… I don't think…'

She leaned in closer still, close enough for me to smell the Crowmaster's stink on her clothes. ‘Listen, kiddo,' she hissed. ‘I'll spell it out. We. Are. Going. To.
Die
. Both of us. Here and now.' She peered up into the trees again, then back down at me. ‘And your mum next. He's going to finish what he started. And then, when he's done with her, he's…'

Ameena continued to talk, but I was no longer listening. I was concentrating on my wounds, feeling the pain from every one of them, making a map of every injury. I had healed before, and I was sure I could do it again, if I could only figure out how.

I tried to focus on each individual pain at the same time, imagined the wounds knitting together, sealing shut. An itchiness crept across my skin, up my arms, around my neck, and down my back. Steadily, the itching grew in intensity, until my whole body felt like it was burning.

‘I can't!' I hissed, feeling that my skin would blister any second. ‘I can't do it.'

‘Come on,' Ameena said, and her voice was little more than a growl at the back of her throat. ‘I need you healthy.'

The words, and the way she said them, made me hesitate. Her eyes seemed to bore into me, wide and bloodshot. That smell from her clothes flooded my nostrils.

The smell of the Crowmaster.

‘What do you mean,
you need me healthy
?' I asked her. ‘Need me for what?'

Her pause was so short it was barely noticeable, but it was there. ‘So we can, you know,
run for our lives
?'

I pushed backwards on my hands, studying her face. ‘The birds flew away,' I said, partly to her and partly to myself. ‘When you arrived, they all flew away. Why would they do that?'

‘How should I know?' she shrugged. ‘Now come on, if you're not going to fix yourself we need to move.'

She held a hand out to me, but I didn't take it. My eyes searched her face. She looked like Ameena. She spoke like Ameena. But Marion had looked and sounded like Marion right up until the point the scarecrow had burst out of her skin.

‘Get away from me,' I said, my voice shaking.

Ameena raised her eyebrows. ‘Say what?'

‘You're him,' I spat. ‘Aren't you?'

The thing that looked like Ameena shuffled forward on its knees. ‘What are you talking about?' it demanded. ‘We don't have time for this.'

I let it get closer. Didn't stop it closing in. Didn't resist when its hand caught me by the arms. The monster opened Ameena's mouth, spoke with Ameena's voice, but I had no interest in hearing anything it said. With a sharp jerk of my leg, I drove my knee hard against its jaw.

The thing cursed and swore like Ameena would, but I was beyond being fooled. I knew the truth – the horrible, sickening, heart-breaking truth.

I couldn't watch it happening, though. I couldn't sit there and watch the Crowmaster tear his way free from inside the skin of my friend. I
wouldn't
watch it.

With a final kick against what had once been Ameena's shoulder, I sent the thing sprawling backwards over the embankment and rolling down the hill.

And then, finding strength from who-knows-where, I got to my feet and ran further into the forest, Ameena's voice crying, ‘Kyle, come back!' as I made my way up the hill.