Boneland. Part 20

'Only because you asked. Though sometimes you do have that look about you. When you scare me.'

'Go on,' said Meg.

'She has a wide mouth, thin lips, and her head is sitting on her shoulders as if she hasn't got a neck, and her eyes are close together. Her legs are thin, too. She looks like a crow: a big fat crow. And she goes out of the room and locks the door. I'm alone, and the crows are watching me. But I know she'll be back. She's said she'll eat me. And I've wet myself. And it's all going to happen again to the boy at the doctor's. I've got to save him. I've got to stop the story.'

'Is that why the flashback's so clear?'

'I've had it before. All my life since the flashbacks began. It's the worst of them. Sometimes I dream it and wake and it's still there and I have to go on watching it.'

'How does it end?'

'It just ends. Until the next time, when it starts all over again. But the crows are real. They peck on the windows and the door of the Bergli in the night. I hear them, though I don't see them.'

'At night?' said Meg. 'You'll tell me if I'm wrong, but crows aren't nocturnal.'

'They're not,' said Colin. 'But these are. They must be. That's why I'm terrified of crows. It's selective ornithophobia. I love birds; but these are different. They're witches. They know.'

'There's more, isn't there?' said Meg. 'Come on. Now. It's now, Colin. I don't want to have to crank you up to this pitch again.'

Colin stared at the profile of the stone. He shook. Meg was still.

'Help me.'

Meg was still.

'Help me.'

'The stone, Colin. The stone.'

'Yes. All right. No.'

'The stone.'

'Yes.'

He clenched his fists on either side of his face and shut his eyes.

'I'm at school. Walking. By myself. On a path. Through the fields. By a wood.'

'How old are you?'

'Thirteen years ten months and six days.'

'Go on.'

'There's something fluttering. In the gra.s.s. I go to look. It's a crow. A carrion crow. Corvus corone corone. Caught in a mess of barbed wire. I don't know what to do. I can't leave it. I'll have to touch it. I've got to touch it. I've got to touch the witch. Pick it up. I reach down. Its feathers and scales. I try to free it. It pecks me. Makes me bleed. I try again. It's tangled in the wire. I get it free. It's broken a leg and a wing. I don't know what to do. There's no one else. Just me. It's in pain. I can't save it. I have to kill it. I must. It's the only thing. But I don't know how. Wring its neck. That's quickest. Kindest. I don't want to hurt it. I don't want it to suffer. I want to help. It's still a bird. I must help; even when it's a witch. It's still a bird. I must help the bird. I try. But I can't. I can't do it properly. I don't know how. It croaks. It cries. I can't do it. I'm not strong enough. And I'm bleeding. Red. Blood. I hold it by the throat with both hands. I hold it out. In front of me. I squeeze. I've got to choke it. Strangle it. It flaps its wing and claws my wrists with its leg. It's looking at me. Its eye. It's looking. I'm squeezing. As hard as I can. My arms hurt. I can't feel my hands. It flaps its wing. It's clawing. I don't let go. I can't. I'm crying. Its eyelid half closes. And opens. I mustn't let go. Not now. The lid closes. Opens. Half closes. Opens. It's looking at me. Closes. The claws stop. The wing flaps. I hold. Tight. Tight as I can. The body's jerking. I walk back to school. Holding. The crow's still. I've killed the bird. Have I killed the witch? Have I? Have I? Teachers see me. They're shouting. They throw the bird away. Won't let me bury it. I'm-' He opened his eyes.

'OK, Colin. Rest, love.'

'No! That's the start. Only the start. Ever since. They've known. The crows have known. They know what I did. They know it was me. They know. They wait.'

'Shut your eyes again,' said Meg. 'Is the crow still hurting?'

'Yes.'

'What do you want to do?'

'I want to stop it.'

'Stop what?'

'Stop the hurt.'

'How are you going to do that?'

'I don't know.'

'You're a big boy now. Squeeze harder.'

'I can't.'

'Try.'

'How?'

'First of all,' said Meg, 'you must stop blaming yourself. The crows do not know. They really do not. You only think they do. They are not waiting. They do not come to you at night. You want them to. So that you can go on hurting as well.'

'Meg. Please. No. Please.'

'Look again, Colin. You're holding the crow. What's the worst part?'

'I can't look.'

'You can. Look. What's the worst? The very worst.'

'It's flapping. It's dead. But it's flapping. The feathers are alive. The bird isn't.'

'Worse than that.'

'Its eye.'

'Worse than that.'

'The lid. Half closing and opening.'

'Worse than that.'

'Nothing.'

'Look closer.'

'No. I can't.'

'Look closer, Colin.'

'Meg.'

'Closer, Colin. Closer.'

'What's happening?'

'Look. Go to where it hurts most and say what it says to you.'

'-Black.'

'Yes?'

'Black. s.h.i.+ning. Eye.'

'Tell me again.'

'Black. s.h.i.+ning. Eye.'

'Tell me again.'

'Black. s.h.i.+ning-No. s.h.i.+ning. s.h.i.+ning. Ink! Black ink!'

'Go to the ink and say what it says to you.'

'Ink.'

'Tell me again.'

'Ink. Black ink. s.h.i.+ning. Ink.'

'Tell me again.'

'Black. s.h.i.+ning. Ink-No! Not ink! Water! Black s.h.i.+ning water! A river! I can't swim! I'll drown! A cave! No! s.h.i.+ning! s.h.i.+ning sky! Stars! No! Galaxies! I see galaxies! Galaxies! More! More than-More! I see! I see! Wonders!'

Colin opened his eyes. 'Meg! Oh, Meg!'

'Where is the crow now?'

'It's gone. It's not there. It's not there.'

'And the other crows?'

'Not any. Gone. All gone. All.'

'Not gone,' said Meg. 'Free. Not hurting. That crow is not hurting. It knows, Colin. It knows you were trying to help. And you? What do you want to do now?'

'Get back to my work. There's so much to be done. So much.' Colin began to cry. 'So much. The wonders.'

'And that's how you start to squeeze,' said Meg, and reached round his back to give him the box of tissues. 'But it's only the start. You've healed the crow. Now you can pa.s.s on.'

'I don't understand,' said Colin.

'You've begun; but that's all. You have to end. Else you can forget your wonders.'

'I don't understand.'

'The Grail Question. That's for you to ask; and to find the answer; not me.'

'"Only the start." You're kind. But please not yet. I have to think about it.'

'Kind? Me kind? You dimmock. You dithering dimmock. You're all the same. Every one of you. Each time. It's there before you, in clear. But you won't see. You say you want help, but as soon as it really bites you try to chicken out. You'll "have to think about it". I can live with that. But don't think you can call the shots. And don't you ever, ever doorstep me again, pal; not even with stone axes. I'm not here to be switched on at a whim.'

'I'm sorry.'

'This time, "sorry" is needed,' said Meg. There was a knock. 'Come in, Bert. We're through.'

Bert put his head round the door. 'Let's be having you. I've stuck your bike in the boot.'

Colin sat and did not speak. Bert was silent. They came to the turn to the wood. Bert stopped on the road. 'You'll do at this,' he said. 'I'll not can go with you no further.'

'Yes,' said Colin. He lifted his bicycle from the back of the taxi. 'Thanks.'

'Eh. Youth.'

'Yes?'

'Thee think on, and then.'

Bert drove away.

He slept, and turned, calling to the beasts in Ludcruck. They answered him, the beasts and the cranes, and he was not afraid to hear their singing.

Colin heard the sound of an engine in the quarry and looked out of the window. It was Meg in her black leathers. She stopped at the hut, took off her helmet and gauntlets and shook her hair.

Colin opened the door.

'Hi, Colin. How are you doing?'

'Better,' he said. 'Better, I think. Why are you here, Meg?'

'I want a word with you. On your own midden.'

'You're angry over yesterday,' said Colin.