Midland County Night Owl

THE FIX

Nic was tired of waiting. The guy was s’posed to be here hours ago. He stretched his 6ft, 275 pound bulk, and shrugged off his jacket.

“Damn Karl, why you keeping it so hot in here??”

Karl didn’t bother to answer, he was laid out on the couch, flexing and unflexing his arm. Making the vein stand out, over and over.

Nic tossed the jacket on the floor and kicked his way through the debris, into the kitchen. He grabbed a glass jar and poured the last of his last two-liter into it. He was going to have to find a way to the store. There were some benefits to living in this podunk place, but a grocery within 20 miles wasn’t one of them. Nic chugged the drink and watched out the kitchen window.

Headlights flashed into the yard and Nic was out the door. He practically ran to the dusty Vega, sticking his head into the drivers window.

“What took you so long, man? I ain't no night owl. You got the stuff?” The driver palmed him several small packets and Nic tossed money into his lap. The car took off as Nic headed inside, tucking his hand with the little gold pouches in his pocket, practically hopping up the steps into the house.

~

Nic came to, surprised that he had been out. This was not like the high he had expected, where everything was crystal clear, enhanced by the drugs. His head felt stuffed, groggy.

He focused his eyes and scanned the room until he noticed Karl, still sprawled on the couch, but now with his eyes wide and fixed.

“Karl!” Nic forced himself to move forward, feeling like his heart was about to beat out from his chest. His vision cleared as he reached Karl and touched his skin, cold.

“Oh, FUCK! O’shit, o’shit oshit, Wake up, man!” He grabbed Karl, pulling him from the couch to the floor. Nic’s mind raced faster than his heart.

It was bad luck to have someone die in your house.

Grabbing Karl by his arms, he began to pull him toward the door, pressing a path through the discarded trash. He dragged him through the kitchen, down the rough steps, into the yard.

Then he saw the lights of a car. He looked up. It was the town patrol car.

When the cop saw Nic, standing in a tank-top and sweats in the backyard of the run-down rental, dragging someone by the arms, he stopped the car and climbed out of the vehicle. Shining his flashlight, he took in the scene.

“Is he dead?” the cop asked, narrowing his eyes at a wide-eyed, panic stricken Nic. Nic nodded and let Karl’s stiff body drop fully onto the ground.

The cop, who appeared to weigh nearly as much as Nic, but far shorter, had climbed straight back in the car and was using the radio to call for help. Nic’s brain finally kicked out something clear. Karl was dead, the house had drugs and paraphernalia.

His rattled brain grabbed at the thought: RUN!

THE LAM

He could hear the other man shouting at him to stop, but the anticipated gunshot never came. Nic ran down the road, moving fast until he crossed over the tracks and went crashing into the wooded area that bordered the town.

He’d tried doubling back after waiting on the on the other side of the creek. He reasoned he could follow the old abandoned rail line, graveled and clearer than the surrounding woods. But by then there were trucks and lights shining up on the trees and flashing through the edge of the woods. He’d have to keep going.

He knew the highway was 4 miles west from town. If he stayed off the roads, he could get to the highway through the woods and fields. Maybe by the time he got there, he could come up with something. A plan, a story. Maybe he could get back to his Mom’s house, in Labette County, and she’d give him some money so he could get out of state.

The woods were wet from recent rains and he had already crossed the creek twice. He had to make his way around pits of water with mud banks. He’d stumbled right into the first one, not realizing it was stretched before him until he hit the cold water. Both his shoes were soaked through.

Adding to Nic’s misery he was cold and his arms were scratched and bleeding from the brush and brambles. He was short of breath and his chest hurt from the exertion.

He’d come upon a feeder with large round hay bales where he’d rested briefly, taking cover from the wind but it felt too close to the gravelly dirt road he’d just crossed. He’d seen the lights and could hear the cops driving around the mile section, looking for him.

He kept trying not to think about the events that brought him to this, but he couldn’t keep his mind from replaying the previous hours, and the fact Karl was dead. Bad Mojo for sure.

Nic moved on, sticking to the tree lines, watching for traffic' avoiding houses and fields. He figured he was only 2 miles from the main highway, now. It was slow going. Every step a risk, as he broke twigs or sticks.

His eyes had adjusted, but it was still so damn dark! He could hear traffic on the roads around him so well out here in the woods.

The rustlings and sounds of the wood were not making him jump as much as when he’d rested earlier. He had ran across a deer, which startled, before crashing away through the trees. He could hear an owl hooting forlornly, in the distance. A low, garbling, mournful call.

Nic saw it was nearly daylight now. He needed to hide.

He was near the end of the edge of a wide field, the woods growing more dense as he neared yet another creek bed. He noticed some trees that had fallen close enough together that vines between them created a sort of shelter. With some effort he was able to fit into the gap between the trees. Huddling for warmth, ignoring discomfort of the scrapes and bruises on his bare arms, he pulled them inside his thin tee shirt, wrapping them around himself for warmth.

Whooo-Whooo-Whooooo!

Nic jumped feeling like he was coming out of his skin. The sky was light, but grey clouds filled it and large flakes of ice and snow were blowing in the gusts.

He remembered owls were supposed be harbingers of death.

“Probably means I’m going to freeze to death out here!” Nic thought to himself. He didn’t dare whisper or even sniff hard, even though his nose had been running like a sieve for hours.

He thought of Karl, and how he had seemed frozen, his body stiff and unyielding being dragged into the yard.

His eyes filled with tears, spilling and trickling down his face, mixing with the snot, streaming into his tangled beard.

Damn owl was a bit late.

Nic wrestled with cramped, uncomfortable sleep. It was still light, although the day was gray and dim. He could hear the distant, occasional noise of traffic in the quiet of the woods. He didn’t want to start moving again until the cover of darkness was there. He was thirsty as hell, and felt the familiar oppression of having come down from a high. He longed to be able to stand and stretch, go get a drink at that creek, but his mind kept focusing on the cops, looking for him. Instead he pulled his knees in closer, huddling into the smallest ball he could manage, and waited for night to come.

Once it was dark his muscles felt so stiff he could hardly move. Everything hurt. Maybe he could jack a car once he got to the highway. Might as well go for it, things couldn’t get much worse.

THE OWL

It was snowing again now, but so windy the flakes weren’t landing, just swirling in the bitter air. Nic was so disoriented he wasn’t even sure he was going in the right direction. He figured it was past midnight. He hadn’t heard any traffic noises for awhile.

He’d been following a pretty cleared out path. Honeysuckle, thick and tall, growing near as high as his head, making a woody tunnel where the deer had trailed through.

He could see something pale on the path ahead. He continued walking and the creature turned it’s head until it was looking at Nic. It was an owl, a fucking owl. Visible in the moonlight, peeking through the now departing clouds.

Nic was mesmerized by the creature. Round face, almost like a heart, the way the feathers dipped down in the middle of the face, and the beak vee’d out the lower face.

The bird let out a raspy, high screech. Nic laughed out loud in response, high pitched and nervous.

“You’re supposed to say WHO; like Who goes there?” Nick spoke to the bird in a lowered voice, still giggling.

He stepped toward the owl, kicking his foot, trying to get it to fly the other way, or up and out of the copse. Anywhere but right in the damn path.

The owl lifted it’s wings, spanning across the path but did not lift off. It pushed it’s beak forward, as if to ward off the offense. The Bird wasn’t that big, but short and fat. He could get around it. Push it out of the way. Nic kicked again. This time he lost balance and fell backward; landing flat with an “OOOoooFFF”. His head snapped back and hit on a flat stone buried in the dirt path.

He lay still, now with his head pounding even harder than his heart. Then he felt a small weight land on his legs, and the barn owl moved in hops, up onto his torso. It perched on his belly. “What th’ Fuuuuuck?” He moaned.

Nic wanted to lift his arms and rise, sweeping the damn thing back to the ground, so he could get back on the path. He started to move but was stopped by the sharp pain down his left arm, a sudden increase in the cramping in his chest.

"Fuck oh fuck - a heart attack".

It was his turn to die now.

With a fucking owl on his chest. With a fucking OWL on his chest.

Nic was crying again, flat on his back, blubbering, not even worrying now about keeping quiet. Wished the cops would find him. His sobs drowned the other night sounds.

The owl spread it’s wings but kept it’s head still. Then settled, and focused it’s huge, open eyed gaze down at Nic.

Nic closed his eyes. Tears drying down the side of his face. He was so tired now; sure he would die, here in these woods. That’s what an owl was, a message: He was going to die and rot, and be eaten by fucking animals.

~

When Nic woke again it was daylight, the sky was blue, snow particles still drifting into the channel between the tangled walls of honeysuckle. There was no owl on his chest. Nic felt the absence of weight, of pain; taking a deep breath in, pushing his arms up, he stretched. He found he was able to roll, and then lift his bulk up to his knees. He groaned as he stood upright. He looked around. The path was clear. No Owl.

He could hear traffic as he turned to face the westward path. He stretched his aching limbs and started walking toward the sound of traffic. Within half an hour he reached the highway.

Cold and exhausted, aching from head to foot, he stood still. Just waiting for the cruiser to pull up and transport him to the safety of county jail.