Chapter 1.A
Wounded Sparrow
It was a dreary September morning. The mist masked the road making it almost impossible to see the road beyond 2 to 3 miles as he drove his motor cycle.
The roar of his motorcycle echoed as he drove on. Scaring a passing armadillo in its wake. It seemed like he was driving on forever. 10 miles? 100 miles? It didn’t matter. He had an end goal to reach. The haunting image of a girl drove him on.
He remembered. It was A. He remembered that day he left her behind. One last glance before he walked out the door. Her long auburn hair hiding her tears as she cried “Don't go..” in that sad dreary apartment. He left to seek fortune.
He left to live a dissolute life. He sought and received both. Yet as he wallowed in pleasure and his pockets grew heavy with cash it all seemed hallow and meaningless. Every woman he bedded simply did not compare to A.
She haunted him. Every time he bedded a woman no matter how beautiful A always crept into his thoughts. Thoughts of him and her in the ultimate act of bliss tainted the moment. He tried for a year to forget her yet no matter how deep he wallowed in depravity he could not. It was simply impossible. She was an apparition that refused to leave him. No matter how annoyed he can get with her she always haunted hin.
So he set out on his quest. He started with looking for her in the old apartment complex he last remembered her to be at. That was 7 days ago.
He remembered pulling up to a street filled to the brim with people. All of them are staring him suspiciously and music was thumping in the background. Groups of rough looking youth congregating at the footsteps. Children obviously playing in the street blissfully unaware of their decrepit surrounds. Scattered in the mix an occasional group of women either gossiping or bemoaning todays newest struggle. All in all it was a very low class neighborhood. He regarded them as unimportant yet kept his bag at his side none the less. He parked his bike at the front of an old decrepit building. The paint of it was a faded grey hidden underneath a coat of dirt and grime. It was a essentially a time capsule. A long expired artifact from the era of the war on poverty. Long forgotten and neglected. He remembered exactly why he hated this place. He climbed the stairs. Apartment 107 was what he was looking for. Yet he only found a shocking image.
Step by step his heart sank. He sensed she wasn’t there instead lay a horrid sight. His heart thunder as he looked at the door.
The door was sealed up with police tape. Splatters of long dried up blood gave the door a rusty hue. He glanced in the window what he can make out in the darkness was a deep crusty pool of red. Rusty red. A dark brown red like an insignia of fate. Laying on the floor. His heart sank as panic set in. Then he noticed two children running past him breaking his concentration. Their cries of joy seemed out of place in such a dismal area. Behind them followed a teenage girl in braids.
“Wait!” she cried flustered puffing out breaths “Mom said you can’t go to the corner store with out me.”
So intent she was on her task she didn’t notice the man's bag.
She almost slipped but he caught her. Her eyes widened as she realized he caught her by the hood of her jacket.
She blinked for a second as gently he pulled her back up. He stared studying the girl. The children paused and stared back at the man. The air was tense. He didn’t know what to say. Then finally the girl broke the silence.
“Thank you, sir.” The girl spoke in a country drawl. She recomposed herself and was about to leave but then the man stopped her.
“Can you tell me what happened here?” Asked the man as he pointed to the sealed and blood stained door.
“Are you a reporter?” Inquired the girl curiously as she looked back on the door. “No I’m just a friend looking for who ever lived there.”
She eyed the kids in the back ground. Then went closer to the strange man. “A girl killed themselves there.” She whispered in a hushed tone “It happened two months ago. Apparently she shot herself in the head as soon as she got home from work.”
His heart sank as the girl whispered. “I moved only in with my mom about a month ago.” She spoke as she walked towards the curious kids “ask the land lady she probably has more information.”
With that the girl hastily ushered the children away. It started to rain he took cover underneath the stairs. Maybe the land lady had more information. Grotesque images danced around his head as the rain poured. She couldn’t have? Had she done it? Did the sorrow of life got to her?
Mindlessly he made his way to the office. If she did, sorrow started to choke his throat, if she did he just couldn’t go on.
A young lady in her late twenties was standing at the door fiddling with the keys. She huffed as the lock seemed to be jammed. Her blonde hair was coiffed in a bun. She seemed so out of place with her Armani dress suit in black. Compared to her surroundings she stuck out like a sore thumb. She was obviously working for an estate company as the owner of the place was too lazy to run things themselves. In her other hand she held a black business case. So intent was she on the task she was startled when the man tapped lightly on her shoulder she panicked . With a snap she turned around dropping her keys to the ground and had made ready to go in her hand.
He froze dropping his bag to his feet. He put up his hands to show he meant no harm. She blushed beet red in embarrassment. “I’m sorry..” She spoke softly as she put away the mace; “It’s a rough neighborhood. I’m new so it’s a reflex.”
“I understand..” He replied as he picked up his bag.
“Are you here about a listing?” She asked as she went back to fidgeting with the door. “No I’m here to ask about apartment 107.” He replied in matter of fact tone.
“Well if your part of the media I can’t answer any questions.” She spoke with a frustrated sigh as the door finally yielded. “You would have to call my firm’s PR number..”
“Actually no…I’m a friend of the occupant of 107.” Replied the man.
“In that case you can pick up belongings.” Replied the land lady “my boss wanted to toss them out. Some of them looked important so I salvaged what I could. Poor girl offing herself so young. With no known family either.”
His shell of stoicism almost cracked; yet he held some hope that maybe it wasn’t true. The agent then ushered in the man into a drab and very disorganized office. She sat him down and in an instant she disappeared into the small back room of the office. His heart thudded as he waited. Then finally the disheveled woman came out with a box. “Well here it is.” She replied, politely she handed him a handkerchief.
He began to rummage around the box. He pulled out some garish looking jewelry. Then some more garish jewelry. He remembered A. Never had a thing for vintage jewelry. Then as if he didn’t need more confirmation he pulled out a picture. This wasn’t the girl he was looking for. In relief it showed an obviously different girl.
He placed the items back in the box.
“I’m looking for a girl named A.” He spoke “Do you have an record of her leaving apartment 107?”
“A. A girl named A.?” she asked as she went to a file cabinet, “A., A.,” she murmured to herself. She was scanning the records. “Ah yes.” She spoke aloud as she pulled the file; “ She moved out of apartment 107 six months before the incident.”
“I see.” He replied thoughtfully “Did she tell you where she was going?”
“I’m sorry but I wasn’t working here at the time.” She replied “We can’t even find a forward mailing address to mail her deposit back.”
“I see, well thank you for your time.” He replied; he got his bag and left. He was relieved that she didn’t kill herself, yet frustrated that his quest hit another road block.
The rain had stopped when he got out. He got on his motorcycle and sped away. His next step was to track her favorite haunts as he knew she couldn’t resist temptation to drown her problems after a hard day at work. The evening bathed the city in an orange twilight as he drove down the highway towards down town. He was going towards her favorite bar. Darkness finally hit as he went to her favorite bar. Already even at such an early hour outside there was a man puking his guts out.
This wasn’t the epitome of class; he quietly approached walking to the entrance. Two girls stood at the side smoking cigarettes. Ah, working girls, keeping things classy he knew A. goes there to imbibe not for the environment. He entered into the bar and already it was packed to the gills with sullen figures. A mixture of working men, working women, white trash and gangsters sat either conversing with each other. Or washing away a day’s worth of sorrow with cheap booze. He scanned the room and noticed a group of obnoxiously loud factory women in the corner of the bar. Immediately he noticed a familiar red hair band in the crowd. It was one of her coworkers. A tall stocky girl dressed in a grey jumpsuit. Her black hair tied up in a bun wrapped in a red a hair band. The grey jumpsuit indicated she worked at the ship yard. She was surrounded by two other girls dressed in the same uniform. Another lead he hoped.
He quietly walked towards them taking care not to disturb the other patrons. He sat at an empty seat next to the trio. Immediately a disinterested bar keep came to him.
“What do you want?” he asked in a disinterested voice. “Beer.” He replied. Immediately the bar keep went to the tap. Then suddenly one of the trio took notice. It was a young petite thing of twenty one. Her wavy brown hair was barely kept in a pony tail. Out of the three she was the most attractive out of the group.
“Hey there handsome.” She replied as she invaded her personal space; The raven hair girl eyed him contemptuously as she took a sip of her whiskey. The third just sat there awkwardly like a statue.
“I wouldn’t mess with him.” Spoke the raven haired girl as she slammed her drink cup. “That’s A.’s ex. J.” She replied gesturing towards him. The third froze further as immediately the flirt pulled away. “Ah geez…why you gotta cock block me Miranda?” she spoke as she turned towards the raven haired girl; “Oh Jenny, he probably won’t be a good lay.” retorted Miranda as she took another sip. “ Some nerve showing his face here after what happened to A.”
“Yeah don’t you remember Jenny?” replied the third “Oh yeah..Daisy. Didn’t she end up in the hospital a day after he left?”
“Shut it Jenny.” Commanded Miranda as she downed the last of the amber liquid in her glass.
He sat there quietly.
“It was such a shame though.” Jenny spoke thoughtfully as she stirred her glass.
Then finally J. ventured to speak up.
“Where's A.?” he asked as he toyed with his beer. “Wouldn’t you like to know.” Replied Miranda tauntingly as she gestured towards the bar keep for another round.
“I need to know where she is.” He spoke with only slight trace of frustration in his tone.
“Like I would tell you that.” Miranda snorted as she grabbed her drink. “As far as I am concerned she’s far happier with out you.” She continued “After all you abandoned her.”
“Listen I don’t have time to waste I need to find A.” He replied hastily as he pulled out a crisp one hundred dollar bill. He placed in front of the trio and all three eyed it.
“Fine.” Spoke Miranda as she quickly pocketed it.
“Where is she?” he asked again, he was growing impatient “She went back to school and then left.” Replied Miranda “To another city..called Westdale.”
With that he left. He had some distance to travel.
He stayed the night at a cheap hotel. The next morning he set out for Westdale.
Which now brought him to the road he traveled now. He was on the outskirts riding and thundering through endless fields. His destination was in reach yet the mist dimmed his view.
Then suddenly, with out warning or notice a figure in the mist appeared. He didn’t anticipate this he tried to slow down. It was of no use.
Closer it approached. Then he heard a loud panicked “Moo!”. He swerved then flew. Next thing he knew he hit the ground. He landed in a field and just before the world turned black he saw the bovine face of his obstacle staring back at him. He felt something warm and wet then the world turned black.
This was going to be a long day. A. could feel it as she anticipated coming into the nurses station. She felt as if she swallowed rocks. This was her third month working in St. Anne's medical Center. Her long auburn hair fought the scrunchie it was tied up in. Immediately with haste she clocked in. She sat down and checked the charts.
One admitted to third triage waiting to be placed into a bed due to drug overdose. Two homeless men threatening suicide for a place to stay the night. At least five other patients exhibiting flu symptoms. One admitted due to insertion of foreign object into rectum.
She paused scanning the charts to take a sip of coffee and chuckle at the last one.
Finally one admitted to ER due to head wounds incurred by motorcycle accident. It was noted specifically cow involved.
Oh those evil cows! With their nefarious intent. All and all a some what average day. She sipped her coffee as she contemplated the day. Obviously soon night shift will be released of their duty. She reviewed every case before hand.
With out fail this was the amusing part of her job. It just amazed her paperwork. Yet somehow she can’t get rid of this gnawing pit in her stomach.
Earlier this morning before she departed her beloved cat Alfred left her a present. A sadistic sign of love he brought a wounded sparrow to her door step. The poor tormented creature died in only seconds in her hands.
Then as she went to dispose of the poor thing a very flustered Mary wandered into her yard. “Missy…! Missy!” she was calling out “Come on girl we have to go back to the barn.”
She politely waved as she passed; her hair concealed underneath a straw hat. Apparently Missy the cow escaped again. She knew Missy quite well she was a bovine rebel. A free spirit of cows. A cow that refuses to be tamed. Occasionally she would pay A a visit by standing on her front porch. Sometimes if she forgot to close the back door Missy would sneak in and make a mess in the kitchen. Although A. couldn’t be too mad as she found herself laughing at the situation. In tears she would laugh as Missy would look at her with her saucy eyes. Granted it was troublesome, but amusing none the less.
“Cow…” she spoke aloud as she chewed on the pen; she was deep in thought at this. Cows can be naughty creatures indeed. She started to peruse treatment plans enjoying this rare hour of quietness. The motorcycle victim was rendered unconscious. Knocked out completely concussion unknown. Stitches administered head bandaged. No ID or wallet found. Other than that he was essentially a lucky bastard. Cow was found licking his wounds.