Ben Bedard - The World Without Crows

Back and forth.

Moving north again, back to their old plans, they went slowly and carefully through the park. On the first day, they ate nearly all the food they had brought with them. None of them had thought of hoarding any more. Two or three times, they came across farms, but they didn’t dare go there, for fear of the Snakes and the Zombies they had seen wandering earlier. If these farms were the last of the Slow Society, then it was no more.

On the edge of the park, looking east, they huddled over Eric’s map. Eric traced his finger along the I80 and then north of Warren, Ohio, into Pennsylvania, and, finally, to a long lake bordered by woods, Pymatuning State Park. This was one of the stretches of the trip that Eric dreaded. It was open fields mostly. They would have to follow the I80 for some time. They would be in plain sight of the Snakes if any of them used the interstate, which, Brad informed them, they did.

As they camped for dinner that night, none of them said much. Birdie was silent, sitting next to him. Sarah dissolved into tears several times until Brad lost his patience.

“Would you stop it?” he said angrily. “They’re dead and gone, all right? They’re dead. Just leave it.”

“Just leave it?” Sarah asked. “Leave it?” Her voice broke in a sob. “It’s our fault those people are dead, Brad. It’s our fault. We led Carl Doyle to them. We brought that monster right to them. If it hadn’t been for us…” If there was a second part of this sentence, it was expressed in tears.

Brad looked at the ground, threw a couple twigs in the fire, and then said, “Shit.” He moved to Sarah and put his arm around her. Sarah sobbed violently into his shoulder. “It’s not our fault,” Brad told her. “Carl Doyle was crazy. And that’s no one’s fault.” When that didn’t seem to help, Brad continued. “The Snakes would’ve found them at some point, Sarah. You don’t think they keep cracked bears for nothing, do you? They lure them into vans with water and then shut the door. I seen’em do it with bears and dogs, even a few cats. They use them to clear out places just like that farm. That way they don’t have to fight. It weren’t our fault. It would’ve happened anyway, trust me.”

Eric crawled into his tent quietly. He listened to Sarah cry. He rolled over and tried not to think of the people who had died. He too wanted to cry. He too wanted comfort. But who would hold him? He had not felt this alone since he had first left Athens.

They moved slowly along the interstate. To keep out of sight, Brad kept careful look out with the one thing he had taken from the farm: a pair of green binoculars. With them, he scanned the highway in both directions. He scouted ahead to find a safe location before the whole group of them moved on. Then they would huddle in shadow, waiting for the sound of Brad’s whistle. At first Eric thought such extraordinary care might not be worth it, but after two trucks with Snakes on their side went past as they remained safely hidden, Eric changed his mind. They made very little progress.

While they waited, Eric sat beside Sarah who was quiet. Birdie, as usual, said nothing. Eric noticed Birdie had begun to hold Sarah’s hand and was annoyed at the pang of jealousy he felt. Perhaps those ladies had been right, Eric thought. Maybe little girls needed women, not a fat little boy.

Sarah too had been quiet. Her eyes were darkly ringed.

“What is today?” she asked suddenly. Eric took off his backpack and found his calendar.

“The fourth of June.”

“Oh.”

Eric could think of only one more thing to add. “Monday,” he informed her.

They listened to the wind in the grass.

On the first night, they camped in a golf course, under a maple tree. Brad dug a pit for the fire while Sarah put on the water to boil. They was not much food. For dinner they shared a can of beans. The four of them sat and watched the dark night sky. The stars glittered overhead like a handful of gems tossed into the sky. None of them had ever seen so many stars. Suddenly Brad made a hissing sound and pointed.

Not more than a mile or two distant, another fire flickered in the darkness. They eagerly took turns with the binoculars.

“There’s three of them,” Brad said. “Two men and a woman, I think.”

Sarah took the binoculars and put them to her eyes. “They’re avoiding the roads, like us.”

“Mmm,” said Brad with suspicion.

“I wonder where they’re going?” asked Eric.

“Timbuktu for all I give a shit,” muttered Brad. “I’m not ready to go announcing ourselves like we did last time. That didn’t turn out too fucking well, did it?”

The rest of them were silent and crept back nearer the fire. Brad stood where he was with his binoculars on them.

Sarah and Birdie crawled into the tent, leaving Eric to watch the stars. The stars had lost their luster to him.

Sarah woke Eric. “Have you seen Birdie?” she asked.

“What?” he asked. Then he came awake. “Is she missing?” He got up out of his tent into the cold morning.

“She wasn’t here when I woke up,” Sarah said guiltily.

“Well, why wasn’t she?” Eric asked, but he wasn’t paying attention to either what she was saying or what he was saying. He scanned the overgrown golf course. And then, in the distance, under an oak tree, he saw a flutter of red. Without saying anything to Sarah, Eric waded through the wet grass down to the tree.

Birdie sat under the tree with her knees in her arms. She was crying. Eric sat down next to her. He went to put his arm around her, but she flinched away, and, hurt, he took his arm away. Swallowing, Eric turned away from Birdie. There were about twenty deer down below, feeding on the early morning grass. They didn’t seem to care that the world was ended. It occurred to Eric that for the deer, the world had not ended. It was reborn.

Eric let Birdie cry for a while as he watched the deer graze. Then he tried again. “What’s wrong, Birdie?”

“Nothing,” she muttered.

“I wish you wouldn’t walk off by yourself,” he said. “You make us very worried for you.”

“I can take care of myself,” she said. And then she sobbed again and started to cry anew.

“Do you miss the people at the farm?” asked Eric.

Birdie shook her head. She wiped her nose wetly and then turned to him. “Do you hate me now?”

“No!” he blurted. “Of course not Birdie! Why would you think that?”

“Because I left you,” she said. “When Carl Doyle came for you, I ran away. I left you alone! You’d never do that to me!” Her face contorted in misery and a painful sob shook her whole body.

“Birdie,” Eric said. He put his arm around her. Her body was stiff with guilt. “Listen,” he said to her. “I don’t blame you for running. I always want you to take care of yourself, okay?”

“You’re not mad?”

“No way,” Eric said. “You need to look after yourself. I’ll help as best I can, but sometimes Birdie, you’re going to have to run. I’m glad you run. You did the right thing. It’s okay to leave me, Birdie. The most important thing is that you’re safe.”

“You don’t hate me?”

“No, never,” Eric vowed.

Birdie nodded.

“Do you feel better now?” asked Eric. Birdie nodded. Eric wiped her face with his shirt sleeve. Then Birdie stood up and when Eric did too, she took his hand.

As they walked back to the campsite, Brad met them halfway.

“I think they’ve already left their campsite,” he said.

“Who?”