Being Henry David - By Cal Armistead Page 0,10

the growing circle of my own blood, so dizzy I can’t see straight.

“Somewhere safe,” Jack says through clenched teeth. “Don’t pass out on me now, Hank. We’re almost there.”

People, buildings, dogs, telephone poles, mailboxes pass in a blur, colors and blending shapes. I concentrate on moving one foot, then the other. Just keep moving. Jack and Nessa lead me to a side street, then down a set of stairs leading to a below-street-level apartment. My knees almost buckle as I scramble down the stairs behind them. I scan the street for anyone who might be chasing us, as Jack pounds on a graffiti-covered black door.

“Magpie, let me in,” he shouts at the door. “It’s Jack.”

The sound of sirens rises from a short distance away, getting louder. Jack pounds harder on the door. “Magpie, we’re in trouble. You gotta let us in.”

Slowly the black door opens, and the three of us fall inside. The lights are dim in the apartment, which smells of rancid garbage, cigarette smoke, and aftershave. The weird combination of smells makes me gag. The apartment is a mess, piled nearly to the ceiling with stacks of books and newspapers and trash.

Sirens grow louder until they pass in front of the apartment. We stand motionless and silent as the wailing sound fades.

“This better be good,” says the tall man standing beside the door. He has an English accent and is wearing a blue satin robe. With his beak nose and slicked black hair, Magpie resembles his name. “Talk to me.”

So Jack tells Magpie everything. By the time he gets to the part about Simon and the brick, and the construction worker seeing us, my legs won’t hold me up for one more second. I slump to the floor, remembering the blood, remembering the bitterness mixed with powdered sugar on my tongue. A black, heavy wave sweeps up behind my eyes.

Just before the wave crashes over my head, I hear Magpie curse at Jack, followed by a sickening smack and a cry of pain. Then I am gone.

4

The cabin is tucked under the pine trees, just up the embankment from the lake. It’s small, just one room, no Bigger than a walk-in closet with windows and a fireplace. But everything is right where I need it. Just enough space and no more. There’s a narrow bed with a rough wool blanket. A small green table and work desk. Three chairs. A fireplace for warmth and cooking.

A large bird with a sleek black head and long blue tail feathers is perched outside on the windowsill. He pecks against the glass, like he wants to get in. I lie still on the bed, try to ignore him. Inside the cabin with doors and windows shut tight, I believe I am safe.

But the bird pecks harder, faster, like a jackhammer against the glass, his head a black blur. Finally, the window can’t hold up. It cracks, jagged fault lines pointing fingers of lightning. Then the window breaks into a million pieces, shatters in on the bed, on me, and the big black bird swoops into the cabin, wingspans large it fills the room, and he comes at my face.

Flailing, I fight off the bird, push his black wings away, throw fists at his sleek black head.

“Young man, stop. I’m trying to help you.” Man’s voice, English accent.

My eyes fly open, and there is the guy with the beak nose, holding my arms down on the floor, his black beady eyes shining with irritation. Behind him are Jack and Nessa, white-faced, concern creasing their foreheads. Jack’s eye looks red and swollen and there’s a fresh bruise on his cheek. I sit up too quickly and my heartbeat swishes loud in my ears.

“Tell me, do you always faint at the sight of blood?” Magpie asks. “Clearly, you have quite the delicate constitution.” He rises to his feet, throwing a red-stained dishtowel over one shoulder. “You have a wound, but you were very lucky. It’s not too deep. We stopped the bleeding and patched you up.”

Lifting up my torn sweatshirt, I see a square of gauze taped onto my skin with a stain of blood in the center. “Thank you,” I murmur.

Jack and Nessa help me stand. “What happened to your face?” I ask Jack. He glances at Magpie, at his straight back as he walks past a chaos of cardboard boxes and plastic bags into an adjoining room. Jack shakes his head at me. Nessa just looks terrified.

“Come into the kitchen,” Magpie says. “I’ll