Session 8

~JET~

I don't know what I was expecting. More filth, more death, more attempts to get me to hurl my breakfast. That was not in the least bit what Spike showed me.

In the midst of the sun pounding down into the dusty crater I found myself standing in the center of a vast chapel beneath the rotting roof, in the center an intact bell tower. Ash clung to the wood skeleton of the building where an old fire had punched holes through the ceiling. Rays of light poured through the partially shattered stained glass windows. Spike's laughter echoed off the walls as he ran through the aisle with his fingers aloft. He smiled as his fingertips changed colors in that light, shifting from red to green to blue to yellow in rapid succession.

At that moment in his eyes I glimpsed the child he was supposed to be. Playful, inquisitive, there was even a sense of innocence that I hadn't imagined I'd ever see in a boy forced to grow up too swiftly as he shared with me a rare wonder in this crater.

Color.

My footsteps echoed against the hollow walls as I followed Spike up into the rickety bell tower. By some miracle the fire hadn't touched this part of the structure. Being far more nimble than I was Spike dashed up the spiraling stairs, each one barely made a sound beneath him. But the wooden boards creaked and groaned under my feet. Still, they held.

Up at the top birds crowded in the rafters. Dark shrouded shadows with beady eyes. One of them spread their wings and cawed drifting down to perch on Spike's shoulder. The crow ruffled its feathers and rubbed its head affectionately against his cheek. Spike pulled out a piece of brightly colored ribbon and held it up. He crow took it, gently in its beak and flapped off into the upper reaches as Spike observed the path. A beam with several colorful strands dangling down.

It only made sense. They were both scavengers in this brutal world. He wasn't inherently cruel to everything. These birds were not prey to him. They were collectors as well, despite their drab feathers were known for desiring shiny or colorful objects. In a dust bowl like this there was very little of that to be found. The only green I had seen here, besides the kid's hair, was unnatural; awnings, the felt of the pool tables, the ribbon he had just gifted to a crow, the glass in these windows painting the room in ribbons of light.

Spike crouched beside the bell and grinned at me as though he held a secret. I stood at the other side trying to catch my breath. That clapper had long since corroded in place telling of how long this place had been abandoned. He licked his finger and rubbed it along the bottom edge for a fair distance, as far as he could reach, then back again.

It vibrated, voicing a strange song. I cocked my own head listening to the low voice of the bell. I wasn't expecting Spike's other hand to hold his pocket knife. He struck it—hard!

CLANG!

I covered my ears. The crows cawed and flapped, but none of them moved. It seemed as if they joined Spike in the laughter. My scowl wasn't deeply set as a moment later he ran his finger against the edge setting it to the somber tone.

"She has a pretty voice. Shame that everyone has forgotten about her up here."

"Spike, you should be careful. This old church doesn't seem very stable."

"Church?" He turned to me. "Is that what this place is called?"

I nodded. "Definitely. Bells like this would be used to call people to the service."

"Not in a very long time." He sat on the open ledge of the tower, the breeze buffeting him. "This place was gutted by fire before I found it." A smile grew. "I used to come here just to watch the way the light played. It was so beautiful."

The way he said that, it was earnest. But how could he not? I doubted anywhere else in this place had color to this saturation. At least not that I had seen.

He continued as the crows flitted about, dancing on the air currents out of the tower and back in again. "Tried to shelter here for a bit once, bad idea. Too drafty. When it rains, funnels right down and floods the building. See? Look down, you can see where it hits."

There was no missing it. Several divots in the cracked tile floor showed precisely where the rain fell. "Doesn't seem like it would have been pleasant."

"Ehh, it wasn't. But it was worth a shot on one of the nights Joe kicked me out."

He swung a leg outside of the tower, which made me nervous even though he seemed steady enough. If he toppled from the steeple he wouldn't walk away without injury. "Joe … he didn't treat you well." Though he wanted to ask again where Spike's folks were, he had a feeling it would lead to the same response as last time. "Why did you return to him?"

"Didn't return to him. Returned to his roof. Ruins like this were the only other option. The most intact ones are held by groups of other kids and gangs. Even if I scored one of those, on my own the moment I left to scavenge someone would get it. Nah, as much of a pain in the ass as he was, Joe's roof was worth it."

"Spike, he was using you."

He stared at me flatly. "How much of an idiot do you take me for? I knew that. But I also knew what each night spent safe from the death trap the streets are was worth. Sure, he made me steal. Sure, he blamed me when things went wrong. But a night not facing the streets was worth putting up with his crap."

I leaned on the tower's ledge and gazed down at the city streets. I lost count of the roaming mongrels, children darting in the shadows, thugs shifting their glances. From up here it was all on display. Cars sped through nearly running over a couple kids. He hadn't been joking about the death trap. All the more I marveled at how he had beaten the odds.

Spike wasn't watching any of that. He stretched out his hand and the crow alighted delicately. It blinked at him and cawed, spreading the wings. Spike shifted his hand up and down, laughing as the bird rode the motion clearly enjoying itself. I swear I had no idea crows could laugh, but it was definitely laughing.

So, there was, beyond contesting, trust in another living being.

At length the crow took off and landed on his head, combing its beak through his snarled hair. Spike ducked and grinned, squinting one eye. "Hey, careful up there. That's attached!"

The crow peered at him upside-down and appeared to laugh with him. It took off, swooping low over the city.

"Hey kid, how did you do that?"

"Do what?"

"Get that crow to trust you."

He stared after it for a moment and shrugged. "Dunno. Just sort of happened. I've been coming up here for years. Never hurt them. Started bringing stuff they liked, and over time that one in particular decided she liked me."

That startled me. "It's a girl? How do you know?"

Spike snorted a laugh. "Don't you know anything? Girl birds lay eggs."

Heat burned my cheeks. "Oh yeah, of course. But … they all look alike."

"No they don't. Not if you spend enough time with them."

They all looked like beady-eyed black birds to me. As they hopped around the bell tower cawing … I started to listen. The cawing. There was a difference. Some were higher toned than others. Some had a different rhythm to their calls. As I watched them interacting I began to note the subtle differences in the plumage. Fascinated, I'd entirely lost track of the time.

Spike's crow returned, swooping in and perching on his shoulder again. When the ruff fluffed out I noted it was more significant than the rest. She was a healthy bird with a full wing span and bright eye to her.

I stepped closer to Spike and she glared at me, hissing and snapping her beak.

Spike stroked her. "Shhh, s'ok. I brought him here. I don't think he means us harm."

She danced across his back onto this other shoulder and cawed. In a flurry of feathers I found myself surrounded by crows.

"Spiiikkkeee, what's going on? That's a hostile look at me."

Taking a bright colored wrapper from his pocket, Spike held it out to me. "Take it. Trust me. Just take it, hold it up, then put it in your pocket."

"But I don't want it."

He half-hooded his eyes. "I said trust me, it's about the action, the display. Let them see you do it, kay?"

"Aggghhh." I took the wrapper feeling a bit foolish. Holding it up, I nodded, and swallowed, before putting it into my pocket.

The flock of crows cocked their heads and one by one went back about their business. The big female eyed me. She flapped over to the ledge a few inches from me and examined me with a discerning eye. I had never felt more dissected by a gaze then that crow! At length she cawed and flew back up into the bell tower rafter.

Not moving an inch, I cast a glance to either side. "Am I good?"

Spike help up a finger a knowing grin on his face.

A moment later I almost fell out of the window as the bird landed nimbly on my hat. An old dented key dropped into the palm of my hand. "Uhhhh, thanks?"

She rumbled in her throat before abandoning the perch on my head.

"Now you're good." Spike put his hands in his pockets. "Just remember, never cross them. They recall, and they'll tell the whole flock."

I had to laugh as I looked at the key. "Kid, you got some weird friends."