Fly Like a Bird

by Jana Zinser

  “Let’s scatter around the house and watch the windows,” Miss Shirley said.

  “The first one to see Miles or Conrad can shoot them dead,” Max said.

  ‘We don’t have any guns,” Bertha said.

  “And none of us are that good a shot,” Uncle Walter said.

  A splash sounded in the lake, startling them. They looked over as two more birds landed on the water with a splash.

  “Shh,” Edna Jean scolded, using her best librarian voice. “Shush now.” The rescuers grew quiet, accustomed to obeying her shushing. “I hear her.” Edna Jean turned and pointed in the direction of the pond. “Carly’s under the dock.”

  “Oh, sweet Jesus,” Miss Shirley said. “Lord have mercy.”

  Ivy’s mouth dropped open. She grabbed Edna Jean’s arm. “How do you know?”

  Edna Jean concentrated hard, squinting her eyes as she listened. “I can hear the water rippling.”

  Ivy hugged Edna Jean. “You have exceptionally keen hearing. I’m glad you came.” Ivy turned toward the pond. Then she put her arm around Russell. “Russell, do you feel like a swim?”

  Russell stopped fidgeting and nodded curtly. He stripped off his shirt as he ran to the water’s edge. He waded toward the old swimmers’ dock, anchored in the middle of the pond. Russell took a breath and quietly dove under the muddy water, as if the lake had just quietly absorbed him.

  Ivy watched from shore as her friends stood beside her. An owl hooted in the still night like a sentry for their rescue.

  Russell broke the surface for a moment and dove back down beneath the dock. Ivy knew there was plenty of space under it, almost a foot. She’d been under the dock herself when she was little. But the seconds seemed to stretch endlessly.

  With a quiet ripple that only Edna Jean could hear, Russell emerged from the dark underbelly of the old dock. His lanky arms rose out of the water, holding Carly’s body above his head. Her little arms and legs hung limply.

  A lump of terror stuck in Ivy’s throat as she waited for Russell and Carly to reach the edge of the water. Silence stretched on the shore where the citizen rescue crew waited. Men capable of despicable acts were still in the house only a short distance away. But Ivy knew she couldn’t go on living if Carly was dead.

  From the dark and murderous pond, Russell escorted the little girl to shore. The fireflies flashed their lights in the woods and an owl’s hoot sounded like a solemn warning. As shock and grief overcame her, Ivy sank to her knees and the deadly water lapped around her legs.

  “Don’t leave me,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

  Max gently lifted Ivy up with his strong arms, keeping her on her feet. “No time to give up now,” he said.

  Ivy looked at Max and held her own weight. He was right. She must face the fate of her child no matter what. That’s what all mothers were supposed to do.

  When Russell arrived at the shore, Miss Shirley stomped her feet. “This atrocity will not be forgotten, by God or me.”

  Bertha reached over and gently moved the hair out of Carly’s face.

  Ivy grabbed her little girl and held Carly’s cold body against her own.

  Edna Jean Whittaker put her hand on Ivy’s shoulder. “She’s alive. I can hear her heart beating.”

  Carly’s chest rose with a shuddering breath, like the fluttering wings of a dragonfly. Ivy’s lips quivered, and she looked to the dark heavens in gratitude.

  When Carly opened her eyes, a grateful moan escaped her blue lips. “I’m cold, Momma. I’m scared.”

  “Shh. Carly, we’re here. Everything’s okay now,” Ivy said, glancing over at the house. The men could come out anytime.

  “What were you doing in that lake, child?” Miss Shirley asked in a whisper.

  “Hiding till morning. I couldn’t see. But I flied like a bird, Momma. I did it. I flied out of the witch’s house.”

  “Yes, you did.” Ivy held back her tears as she looked up at the open attic window.

  “Lord have mercy,” Miss Shirley said.

  “We all came to get you,” Ivy whispered.

  Carly looked around at the assembled rescuers and smiled. “Hi, guys.”

  A shrill bird call echoed eerily in the night. Everyone looked up. Ivy turned, expecting to see Uncle Tommy after all. But the birds flew up to the sky. The door of the farmhouse opened, and Miles came striding out. His dreadlocks careened back and forth as he walked across the backyard, heading straight toward them.

  Ivy pointed to the woods. “Head for the trees, everybody. Run.”

  Everyone scattered for the edge of Conrad’s property. Ivy grimaced when she saw Edna Jean blindly run into a bush and fall face-first on the ground. Virgil helped her up and with his guidance, she followed the dark blurs and the sound of footsteps, and for once ignored the dirt on her clothes.

  Ivy ran to the end of the barn with Carly in her arms. Luther followed her without a sound as they sprinted toward the woods. But it all became too much for Carly and she started to cry.

  Ivy looked back and saw Miles turn when he heard the little girl’s cries. He dashed after them around the barn. Ivy saw Weston’s forgotten basketball lying in the grass and looked back at Reuben.

  “Lane’s open,” Ivy called.

  Reuben stopped his loping retreat and picked up the ball. He wound up into his bowling stance, lifting the ball up to his chin to aim. Then he crooked his leg high in the air. He shook his body and threw the ball at Miles, who was running towards them. Ivy held her breath as the ball skimmed along the ground and hit Miles in the leg, making him stumble. He fell over like an unstable bowling pin. Reuben jerked his arm back with a clenched fist. “STEE-RIKE.”

  The distraction gave Ivy enough time to get Carly safely into the woods but she looked over her shoulder as she ran.

  Miles rubbed the back of his head and looked up to see Reuben heading toward the barn. Picking himself up, Miles stumbled in the unfamiliar yard as he chased after Reuben. He grabbed the back of Reuben’s shirt and pulled him to the ground. Reuben fell hard, twisting his ankle.

  Ivy paused in the woods and strained to hear them.

  “Who in the hell are you?” Miles yelled. He turned Reuben over to see his face. “You?” He twisted Reuben’s arm behind his back and put a gun to the back of his neck. “I got the old man,” Miles yelled into the empty night. “Do you hear me, Ivy? I know you’re out there hiding in the trees. I’ll kill him if I have to. I told you to come alone to the cemetery.”

  Ivy could see the shadows of her friends hiding behind the trees. Ivy took a deep breath and Luther stopped beside her near a dense clump of bushes. She looked back to see Miles looming over Reuben. Ivy kissed Carly’s cheek and handed her to Luther. “You’ll be okay now. I’ll see you soon. Reuben’s in trouble. I’ve got to go help him.” She patted Luther on the arm. “Call Charlie. Then let the wild dogs run free.”

  Luther took off running toward his house with Carly in his arms.

  Ivy watched as Miles pressed Reuben’s face to the ground. Blood and dirt smeared Rueben’s face. Then she hurried to her friends, who were huddled in the dark woods, catching their breath from their escape and watching the unfolding horror.

  Virgil pointed to himself and Max. “Let us go. We know how to handle his kind.”

  “He’s looking for me and he’s got a gun,” Ivy said. “This one’s mine.”

  “We got your back. Just holler if you need us,” Miss Shirley said. “Be careful, Ivy. Miles won’t play by the rules.”

  “There are no rules for this,” said Ivy.

  Each of her friends held out their hands and touched Ivy as she hurried by, as if their touch could give her strength. And it did. She glanced back at the faces of the people who had helped her save her little girl. Then she darted out of the trees and into the dim light coming from the farmhouse kitchen.

  “Miles, let him go,” Ivy said walking towards him.

  Miles pushed his dreadlocks out of his face. “You’re a
sucker for your old geezer friends.” He shook his head. “I told you to meet me at midnight at the cemetery.”

  “Plans change.”

  “How does it feel to have someone messing with your family?” Miles asked.

  The side door to the house opened and Conrad Thrasher stepped onto the back porch, watching them from the shadows.

  Reuben stared at his buddy. “What’re you doing, Conrad? Stop him.”

  “Not my doing.” He turned to go back inside.

  “Conrad, we’re friends.”

  Conrad pulled at his bushy eyebrows. “You’re on your own if you side with her and that child.”

  Ivy stepped forward. “Okay, Miles. Let’s get this over with. I’m here. Let him go.”

  Miles pushed Reuben’s face into the ground before releasing him. “Get out of here, old man.”

  Reuben rose to his knees. His face was contorted in pain as he tried to stand. Miles laughed and kicked Reuben’s leg. Reuben groaned and fell over again.

  “My ankle. I think it’s broke.”

  Miles laughed. “Then I guess you’ll have to crawl on out of here.”

  Ivy stepped toward Reuben to help him up, but Miles grabbed her arm. “Where’s all your buddies now?”

  “Right here.” Uncle Walter and Max walked across the yard. When they reached Reuben, Walter bent down and put his arms around the man who helped Uncle Tommy torment him for over twenty years. Despite Uncle Walter’s own weak knees, he and Max slowly helped Reuben to his feet. Then with Max helping Rueben and Walter limp off together, they vanished into the darkness of the nearby trees.

  Miles waved his gun at Ivy. “I’m sick of messing with you and these grandpas.” He spat at Ivy’s feet and some of the saliva landed on his unshaven chin.

  “You won’t get Carly,” Ivy said.

  Miles shook his head. “I don’t want the girl. I want my freedom. I’m tired of hiding.” He pointed to his Alliance tattoo on his arm. “But if I get locked up, the Alliance will make sure you never get her.”

  Miles wiped the spit from his face. “I’m going to offer you a deal.”

  Leaves crunched in the darkness by the pond. Ivy and Miles looked around but couldn’t see anyone.

  “I’m tired of all those old folks popping up out of those woods.” With the barrel of the gun, he pushed Ivy toward the lit farmhouse. “Move.”

  Ivy could see the shadowy faces in the woods still watching them. Miles prodded Ivy through the back door of Conrad’s farmhouse and into the kitchen. Ivy could see a pan of leftover fried mushrooms still sitting on the stove. Conrad and Weston stood against the kitchen counter filled with empty beer bottles. Conrad glared at Miles as Ivy entered the farmhouse. “Why you bringing her in here?”

  Ivy stood behind one of the chairs around the kitchen table.

  “Bunch of raggedy old people sneaking around in your woods, man,” Miles said.

  Conrad looked out into the dark. Worried, he turned to Ivy. “This has nothing to do with us. It’s all him.”

  “You helped him kidnap a child. You won’t get away with this one like you got away with killing your wife. There’s witnesses this time,” Ivy said.

  Conrad’s eyes flashed with anger. “I didn’t kill Mildred. Your mother did.”

  Ivy gasped and jerked back, but Miles gripped her arm even tighter.

  “Why would my mother kill Mildred?”

  “Mildred found us together. She called your mother a ‘small-town tramp’ and Barbara pushed her down the stairs. Mildred hit her head and died from the fall. I put her body under the dock to protect your mother. A drowning was easier to explain.”

  He took a drink of his beer. “Your grandmother somehow found out. She told Barbara that if she didn’t leave that night, she’d tell Charlie that I drowned Mildred. She said she had proof. Violet always was a liar. But Barbara left town to save me.”

  Ivy broke out in a sweat. “Grandma didn’t lie. Mildred wasn’t dead. The fall didn’t kill her. She drowned after you put her in the water.”

  Conrad’s face tightened. “No.”

  “I saw Dr. Kelsey’s coroner’s report. She died from drowning.”

  Conrad took a long drink of beer. He scrunched up his face, trying to hold back the tears. “I thought she was dead. I was trying to protect Barbara. Your grandma should have stayed out of it. Now you know what it feels like to have someone you love taken away.”

  “I’ve known that all my life.”

  “Barbara never wanted to be a mother. It cramped her style. Ruined her plans.” Spit flew out of Conrad’s mouth. “Barbara was looking for a way out.”

  “Why didn’t you go with her?”

  “I couldn’t leave that night with Mildred dead. So Barbara found someone else to go with her.”

  “Who?”

  Conrad shrugged.

  Truth creates its own freedom. It was time for Ivy to know. “You’re not my father, are you?” She closed her eyes and braced for the impact.

  Conrad choked on his beer. “Heck, no. You were already born when I took up with Barbara.”

  Miles let go of Ivy and pushed his face inches from hers. His breath smelled like cigarettes and liquor. “Shut up. I don’t know what’s going on with you two, but stop talking. Here’s the deal, I’ll give you Carly and you forget you ever saw me and everything that happened the night Maggie died. Without a witness, they can’t convict me.”

  Ivy stared back into his angry black eyes. “So, you’ll trade Carly for your freedom?”

  He took a couple of steps back and leaned against the refrigerator by the window. The gun rested across his chest. He nodded. “The Alliance needs me. I want my life back.”

  “So, does Maggie.”

  Miles smashed the butt of his gun against Ivy’s face, knocking her to the floor. She touched her cheek and felt the warm wet blood. The ticking of the clock on the stove echoed in her head as it counted down the seconds. Anger surged through her.

  Ivy thought of Carly, scared and wet, waiting for her at Luther’s house. She knew she might not get out of this house alive and Carly could lose another mother, but she was going to stand and fight. It needed to be finished. This had to end.

  She grabbed the corner of the stove and defiantly pulled herself up, glaring at Conrad and Miles. “There’s no difference between you two. You’re both thugs who killed the women who loved them. I hope you both rot in prison.”

  Miles lunged at Ivy and grabbed her around the neck. He pressed a gun against her head with his other hand. The vein in his forehead bulged. “That’s not the way this is going to go down.”

  “Pull the trigger. Pull the trigger,” Weston yelled.

  Ivy reached for the iron frying pan of mushrooms and grabbed the handle that was still warm. She swung it at Miles but his hand with the gun blocked it. The impact broke his hand and stopped him from shooting. The greasy mushrooms spilled all over the floor. Ivy kicked him, and Miles slipped on the mushrooms, stumbling back against the stove, his broken hand dangling.

  A shrill bird call pierced the deathly quiet night. Then a shot rang out, shattering the kitchen window and hitting Miles in the temple. He crumpled to the floor, dead. The purple hole in his head oozed blood. Ivy startled and ducked down.

  Weston knocked over a chair. “There’s a sniper in the woods.”

  Conrad threw down his beer bottle, which smashed as it hit the floor. Weston and Conrad ran ducking through the house and out the front door. Ivy stared at Miles splayed out on the kitchen floor, shot in the head like a varmint before he knew what hit him.

  She backed away from the body but slipped from the greasy mushroom floor and landed in Miles’s blood, which was spreading in a red pool on the kitchen floor. Ivy trembled as she crawled across the floor, littered with broken glass. She shook as she stood up and stumbled out the back door. She needed to get away from that house of death.

  The sound of barking and growling dogs broke the stillness of the night. Luther’s wild dogs
had surrounded Weston and Conrad as they tried to escape and drove them toward the pond. Rosie’s four-legged family had finally exacted their revenge against Weston, the fire-starter and town tormentor.

  The sheriff pulled into the gravel driveway with his lights flashing. Charlie got out and hustled down toward the dark pond and the canine commotion. Conrad waved wildly at his old buddy.

  “Charlie, thank God you’re here. Shoot these vicious mutts before they kill us.”

  Charlie sniffed and pulled at the loose skin under his chin. “Conrad, I can’t protect you and Weston any more. This time I’ve got to take you in. I got no choice.” He turned and pointed to the woods. “Too many witnesses.”

  Out of the trees, Ivy’s friends emerged, stepping into the brightness from the sheriff’s headlights.

  “I got you that job,” Conrad said.

  “And I’ve paid you back over and over for that. Now let’s go, Conrad. You’ve gone too far this time.”

  Charlie scratched his white hair which stood on end in his stiff crew cut. “Luther, get these dang canines out of here. You made your point.”

  Luther was still carrying Carly, who was wrapped in Luther’s old bomber jacket. “Wild dogs, cease,” he said. They reluctantly came.

  Ivy knew Ben and the other EMT’s would be there soon. Then Dr. Kelsey, who still served as the county coroner, would come to examine Miles’s body. Miles would be zipped into a black body bag for his final removal. Carly’s father could never hurt her again.

  Despite their protests, the deputy sheriff handcuffed Weston and Conrad. He looked at Ivy. “I don’t suppose you know who shot Miles?”

  Ivy shook her head. “I wish I did. I’d thank them.”

  Charlie nodded. “Okay. I need all of your statements tonight at the station.” He put Conrad and Weston in the back seat of his car and took them to jail.

  Ivy ran toward the people of Coffey who had risked their lives for her and her daughter, the little girl she couldn’t live without. She threw her arms around them, trying to hug them all at once.

  “Thank you. I love you all and especially whoever shot Miles.”