Scary Out There by Jonathan Maberry Page B

probably bum a cigarette,
    except there’s no one here but me,
    so I settle, back against a building
    wall, on a thin strip of cement.
    Face turned into the weak sun, I close
    my eyes, feel the cloud appear.
    It Arrives
    On wing, chill and
    menacing, accompanied
    by a trio of squawks.
    Chloe.
    Chloe.
    Chloe.
    Not one crow this
    time, but three, as alike
    as single-egg triplets.
    Black feathers.
    Black talons.
    Black pearl eyes.
    I should be scared.
    So why does crazy laughter
    spill from my mouth?
    They circle.
    They caw.
    They perch on a wire overhead.
    â€œScrew you,” I say out
    loud. “What you gonna do,
    peck me to death?”
    Black feathers ruffle.
    Black talons stretch.
    Black pearl eyes stare.
    â€œScrew this,” I echo,
    getting to my feet,
    hoping the crows
    don’t smell blood.
    The Day Doesn’t Improve
    In Government, I sit in back, staring
    out the window, watching a murder
    descend, a black feathered storm
    cloud, over the branches of a big oak.
    The crows must’ve smelled blood
    after all. Mr. Webb notices my inattention,
    calls me out on it, initiating a chorus
    of snickers. I freaking hate school.
    I do manage to meet up with my pill
    connection in the parking lot right
    after the last bell. Two good minutes
    out of four hundred eighty or so.
    I’ve got a mountain of homework,
    but I’m still not ready to go head
    to head with Mom about her totally
    selfish decision to marry another cop.
    So, rather than turn toward home,
    I detour across the city, to the cemetery
    I visited just a couple of days ago.
    This time I go ahead and travel the road
    Cam’s funerary entourage parked
    along. I’ve only got an approximate
    location for where his grave should be,
    but it doesn’t take long to find the spot
    where the grass was recently peeled
    back like skin to let the backhoe dig
    a casket-sized hole, drop a Cam-filled
    coffin in, then close it all back up again.
    Sprays of wilting chrysanthemums
    and lilies leak their dying perfumes
    into air richly scented with damp earth.
    â€œIs this what Paradise smells like?”
    I lie on top of Cam Voss’s fresh grave,
    back against the thick peel of grass,
    pretending I can’t hear bones rattle,
    until I’m chilled all the way through.
    I’m Shivering
    When my cell buzzes in my pocket.
    My stomach knots dread, but I can’t
    not look. Will I learn how Paradise
    smells? But no. It’s a text from Mom.
    Went out with Mark after work. Ring
    shopping. There’s pizza in the fridge.
    Rings. Awesome. What’s next?
    A white freaking dress? Oh, well.
    At least I won’t have to go head
    to head with her tonight about
    the insane decision to commit
    her life—and mine—to a cop again.
    A dark form appears suddenly
    in the sky, circling. Circling.
    Closer. Closer. It’s black, but
    too big for a crow. A buzzard,
    that’s what it is, circling to take
    a peek at the quiet form lying
    here like a headstone. I jump
    to my feet. “I’m not dead yet!”
    I yell. Still the ugly bird makes
    long, slow loops above my head.
    I hurry to my car, drive surface
    streets home to avoid evening
    traffic. Mom is still gone
    when I walk through the door,
    and that’s just fine with me. I go
    into my room, toss my backpack
    on the floor, remove the textbooks
    I’m supposed to read. Thirty pages
    in one, twenty in another. Not to
    mention the essay due tomorrow
    that I haven’t even started. Nope.
    Not going to happen. I reach
    into my pocket for my phone.
    Not sure why. No one ever calls
    and, other than the odd one from
    my mom, the only texts I get anymore
    come from my demented psyche.
    Hey. Where is it? Not in either
    pocket. I check my bag, dump it,
    in fact. All that falls out is my wallet,
    two pens, a half pack of gum,
    and enough pills to put me in
    the proper place for several days.
    Anxiety nibbles, a caterpillar
    chewing into my brain. I go ahead
    and down a Valium, pray