Keene Brian - A Gathering of Crows

Not for the first time, Randy wondered what would happen to them all after graduation. It was only a few months away. They’d have the summer together. He supposed that he and Sam would have to find jobs, although he didn’t know how in the hell they’d do that when there weren’t any jobs to be had. Stephanie would be going off to college in the fall. She’d gotten into Morgantown. What would happen then? Would she be like everybody else who left Brinkley Springs, and never come back?

“Where’s your sister at tonight?” Sam asked.

Randy turned around to answer and noticed that

Sam and Stephanie were sitting very close to each other on the edge of the mattress. So close, in fact, that their thighs and shoulders were touching. Neither seemed inclined to move. Randy wondered if they were even aware of it. A lump rose in his throat and something churned in his stomach.

“She went out,” he said, trying to keep the edge out of his voice. “Donny’s leaving tonight. She wanted to confront him before he goes.”

“She ought to just let it drop,” Sam said. “Hell, he’s the one who left in the first place. Went off to Iraq and shit. Left your sis and his mother here. And what with his Mom being sick and your sister in love with him—that shit wasn’t right, yo.”

“She’s in love with him,” Stephanie declared. “It’s easy to see why, too. Donny’s…”

“What?” Randy and Sam asked at the same time. “Never mind. All I’m saying is that it’s easy to see why Marsha is still stuck on Donny. Love makes you do strange things.”

“Randy?” The voice came from downstairs.

“Shit. It’s my dad.” He waved at Stephanie and Sam to be quiet. “What?”

“Turn that music down. The bass is coming through the ceiling.”

“Okay,” Randy yelled.

Muttering to himself, he walked toward the computer. As he did, the background music changed, switching from Kanye West to Foxy Brown and Kira singing “When the Lights Go Out.”

“Oh,” Stephanie said, “I love this song.”

And then the lights went out, along with the computer, the television, the video game and all of the other electronics. Stephanie gasped. The bedroom grew dark. The windows were open, allowing the night air to come through the screens, and a slight breeze ruffled the curtains.

“Uh-oh,” Sam said. “Must have blown a fuse.”

“Listen,” Randy said, holding a finger to his lips.

“Ya’ll hush up a minute.”

Downstairs, Randy and Marsha’s father was cursing, and their mother was asking him where the flashlight was. Outside, a dog howled. And then another. And then a dozen.

“Come on,” Randy said. “Let’s go see what’s happening.”

Sam and Stephanie stood up and followed him to the bedroom door. Randy reached for her hand and gave it a squeeze. She squeezed back, and her teeth flashed white in the gloom as she smiled at him.

“Besides,” Randy whispered, “maybe it’ll be more exciting than sitting here playing video games.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” she said. “I was sort of having fun kicking Sam’s butt.”

Sam laughed behind them and Stephanie’s smile grew wider. Randy let go of her hand and walked out into the hall, barely realizing that his hands had curled into fists.

Outside, the barking and howls grew louder.

Five black crows swooped in over the town and then split up, each heading to the outskirts. One glided to the town’s northern point, another to the southern tip. One went east and another west. The fifth crow hovered over the center of town. When all were in position, each simultaneously shed a single black feather. The feathers floated slowly downward. As each one touched the ground, the birds croaked in unison. Their voices sounded human rather than crowlike—as if they were chanting.

The air around Brinkley Springs changed. A glow briefly surrounded the town, and then vanished.

When the lights went out, Esther Laudry had finished brewing hot water in her electric tea kettle. She’d just poured some into two dainty, porcelain tea cups decorated with red and pink roses when the power died.

“Oh, fiddlesticks…”

She tugged on the teabag strings and left the cups and saucers on the kitchen counter, allowing the tea to steep for a moment. Then she made her way to the laundry room, moving slowly—it wouldn’t do to slip and break her hip in the darkness—and checked the fuse box by the light of a match. Everything seemed normal. None of the fuses were blown.

“Esther,” Myrtle Danbury called from the sitting room, “do you need some help, dear? Is everything okay?”

“It’s fine,” Esther said, coming back into the kitchen.

“The electricity is out.”

“That’s strange. It’s not storming.”

“No, it’s not. Maybe somebody crashed into a pole. Or maybe a tree branch knocked down one of the wires. Just give me a moment to call the power company.”

Esther reached for the phone, but when she tried dialing, she found that the phone lines were out, as well. She placed the phone back in its cradle, went to the kitchen drawer and pulled out a pink flashlight. When she thumbed the button, nothing happened. Either the batteries were dead or the flashlight was broken. Shaking her head, she picked up the teacups. They rattled softly against the saucers as she carefully carried them into the dark sitting room.

“It’s chamomile,” she said, sitting the cup and saucer down in front of her guest, “but I’m afraid we’ll have to drink it in the dark.”

“That’s okay,” Myrtle said, her voice cheery. “I like the ambience.”

“You would. My flashlight isn’t working.”

“When was the last time you changed the batteries?”

“I don’t know.”

“I change mine twice a year, just to be sure. You can never be too cautious.”

Esther frowned. “Just let me light a few candles.”

She moved around the room, lighting a series of votive and decorative candles that were scattered among the knickknacks on various shelves and end tables. Soon the sitting room was filled with a soft glow and the competing scents of honeysuckle, strawberry, cinnamon, vanilla and peppermint. Sighing, Esther took her seat, and after an experimental sip, pronounced her tea too hot to drink. ***

“What did the power company say?” Myrtle asked.

“Did they give you any idea how long it would be?”

“I couldn’t get through. The phone lines are down, too.”

“Well, that’s odd.”

“Yes, it is.”

“Should we check on your boarder?” Myrtle asked. Esther shook her head. “No, I’m sure he’s fine. I imagine the poor man is asleep already. He said he’d ridden all day in that buggy. He was pretty tired when he checked in, and he asked not to be disturbed. You saw for yourself.”

“I know. But still…”

“You just want to bother him with questions, Myrtle. Be honest.”

“Well, don’t you? You can’t tell me you’re not just as fascinated with him as I am.”

“Sure, I’m interested, but I don’t intend to bother him about it. Not tonight. He’s worn out. And besides, it’s not like he’s the first Amish person we’ve seen. There’s a whole colony of them up near Punkin Center.”

“I thought those were Mennonites?”

“Aren’t they the same thing?”

“I don’t think so.” Myrtle shrugged. “People from the Mennonite faith can drive cars and trucks. Only the Amish still insist on riding around in horse-drawn buggies. I think they are different facets of the same faith. Like Methodists and Lutherans.”

Esther frowned again. She’d been a Presbyterian all of her life and had little interest in other denominations, especially when they were incorrect in regards to interpreting the Lord’s word.