Stalking Crows

No coverage, not even one bar, and her phone battery was almost dead. It was still daytime, but the overcast sky had a perfectly even dullness. There was no way to tell what time of day it was, much less which direction was north or south or anything else for that matter. Annoyed, Maya sighed. A two-lane blacktop road snaked up into the distance and disappeared into a forest. In the opposite direction, it twisted down toward some lumpy hills until it receded from view. She found herself in these types of situations more often lately. Maybe she needed to cut back on her late-night fun.

Maya looked at her Cadillac’s front end crumpled around a large oak tree off the side of the road. Her eyes moved up the buckled hood and traced the cracked spiderwebbing that cut across her windshield. Looking down the front of herself, she smoothed her silky shirt with her hands and then brushed them over her ruffled skirt. No glass flicked away. She scoured her bare arms and legs. Not a scratch. She bent down to check her face in the driver’s side mirror. Her makeup was still flawless. She pulled the gold necklace out from beneath her blouse and kissed the keepsake before returning it next to her heart. She grinned at herself, fluffing her dark locks with her fingers and glanced into the car — her purse.

She pulled at the driver’s door. It opened a few inches and then stopped. She pulled harder, but its piercing objection rang out as it refused to move any further. Her Prada knockoff sat on the passenger’s seat next to a full bottle of scotch whiskey she must have swiped from last night’s party. She slumped against the obstinate door, feeling frustrated. Her frustration was accompanied by thirst.

She looked at her two directional options again. A car was approaching from the distant forest behind her. She stood up and smiled, waving at her would-be rescuer, but the long black car never stopped. The Chevy’s left turn signal blinked on as it moved into the far lane to go around her. She watched it continue by and then signal to move back to the right lane. It never even slowed down. With pursed lips, Maya rolled her eyes and looked back at her wrecked car.

She wanted her handbag. In a moment of realization, she pulled on the door handle to the backseat. It opened.

“Duh, Maya,” she said and laughed at herself.

She climbed in and grabbed her bag off the front seat, opened it up, and dumped out four pills from a small white bottle. She popped them into her mouth and swallowed. Then she grabbed the blue-labeled liquor bottle from the front, opened it, and savored the warm tingling sensation spreading down her limbs as she took several gulps. She screwed the top back on and left her car with her purse in one hand and the smooth glass bottle in the other.

Maya stared down at her silver Mischa Slingbacks and grinned, remembering the deal she got on them. They were worth every penny — her legs looked amazing last night! Paul bought all her drinks and even asked to meet up again next weekend. But as much as she loved her shoes, she hated the idea of hiking uphill into a forest wearing them. Even walking downhill might ruin them, but she did need to pick a direction. She eyed the straight white line and began following it like Dorothy did the yellow brick road. She headed toward the lumpy hills, the lesser of two terrible choices, she supposed.

Several yards away, the road’s name was posted on the typical black and white sign. State Highway twenty-seven didn’t sound the least bit familiar to Maya. She tried to remember how she got so far away from the city, but she couldn’t seem to recall anything after she left the party.

She was never the outdoorsy type. She preferred urban life with all its noisy fun. It was much too quiet out here with Mother Nature, where fun was nowhere to be found. Fun was shopping for the perfect outfit to wear at The Red Inn with her friends. It was dancing until two in the morning at the club or someone’s house party. Fun was hooking up with a broad-shouldered hottie who was as generous in bed as he was supplying drinks all night.

Maya’s friends always wanted to set her up with some nice guy they thought was perfect for her, but she liked being single. It made her feel in control of her destiny, not merely attached to someone else’s. She felt like her married friends had fallen into the relationship trap, and she had no intention of joining them there. She enjoyed the singles game she played. It was fun letting the men dote on her. She didn’t even mind if they were married. It was better that way, actually. In Maya’s experience, the most generous men were the ones who were already attached to someone else. It almost guaranteed she’d be free of any obligation toward him if he had a wife at home to appease. She liked the attention, the gifts, and even the sex. But she didn’t want the responsibility or the weight of a relationship.

Maya looked up at the sky. The sun was still hiding behind a cloudy curtain, but she felt like it should be close to lunchtime by now. She tried to remember when she last ate. She skipped dinner last night because she didn’t want to feel bloated in her new outfit, but she had salmon nigiri with Jessica for lunch.

Sushi was her latest addiction. The thought of its smooth, almost-buttery taste made her mouth water.

“I love sushi!” she announced to the landscape.

Her voice sounded juvenile to her ears and caused her cheeks to flush red. She looked around in embarrassment before remembering where she was.

“Right. No one to see you make a fool of yourself out here, Maya.”

As she looked toward the forest behind her, she noticed three large crows sitting in the middle of the road. The largest one flapped its wings a little, cocked its head, and seemed to consider her from head to toe.

Although the temperature was perfectly pleasant, goosebumps freckled her skin as a strange feeling washed over her. The bird’s sudden squawk startled her, and she dropped her purse onto the blacktop. She leaned down to pick up her bag, and when she looked back up at the birds, all three were squawking at each other. It looked like some sort of avian argument. Maya burst out laughing. They seemed annoyed at her reaction and flew off. She stared after them for a moment, still giggling. It all seemed preposterous. She mumbled to herself how birds must be as argumentative as some people she knew.

She took a long drink from the blue-labeled scotch, wiped her mouth with her bare forearm, and continued her walk along the white line. Maya looked around at all the trees on either side of the road. They were pretty — not what she’d want to see all the time, but charming, still. She looked forward to getting home to celebrate her successful hike with a warm bath and a bottle of red.

The sound of an engine cut through her thoughts, returning her mind to the present. She saw a rust-covered pickup heading toward her, hard rock blaring out its rolled-down windows.

“Thank God,” Maya said. It came out almost a whisper.

She waved at the oncoming vehicle and put on a friendly smile. As it got closer, she saw the driver was a young guy playing air-drums on his steering wheel. She stepped into the roadway, flapped her arms over her head, and yelled a hello. But the truck didn’t even slow down.

She saw the man’s shaggy head dip below the windshield just before the pickup crossed the road’s yellow dashes. The vehicle barreled directly toward her. Maya screamed and jumped back beyond the stone shoulder, landing on her hip in the grass. The truck’s brakes squealed once as its front tires neared the asphalt’s edge. She saw the driver torque the steering wheel correcting his unintended lane change. Music harmonized with a scratchy voice wailing you’ve been thunderstruck from the truck’s radio as it flew by.

Maya shrieked at the truck — something about being a dumb backwoods redneck probably on his way to some equally-dumb redneck cousin for an incestual booty call. She huffed in defeat as she sat there, watching the tailgate disappear into the forest from where she started this trek. Then she stood up, took a drink, and began following the state highway’s white line again.

Maya couldn’t see her Caddy behind her anymore, and the thought that she might have already walked for hours surprised her. The thick woods had thinned out and far in the distance fields of tall grasses waved at her as if from a light breeze, although she couldn’t feel any blowing through her long hair. It was also curious her feet didn’t hurt yet. An all-nighter on the dance floor usually irritated her big toe at least. She’d broken it when she was a teenager, and it liked to be angry with her the morning after an evening of fun. But it didn’t hurt at all. Then she realized her usual hangover was nonexistent, and although it felt like lunchtime, she wasn’t hungry. She felt fine. Good, even. She did a little pirouette mid-walk and smiled. That’s when she noticed another vehicle coming down the road from behind her.

The car slowed to a crawl before it reached her. Its familiarity made her heart drop into her stomach, and she stepped back onto the stone shoulder. Never coming to a full stop, the old car sidled up next to her. She was sure it was the same black Chevy as before. This time she saw her reflection in its darkened windows, a confused expression on her face. She took another step back, and the car passed by her slowly picking up speed the farther away it went.

The muscles in Maya’s back tightened, and she couldn’t move. She kept staring at the taillights of the strange car, searching her memories for any possible hottie-stalkers that might be messing with her. No one stood out to her; none seemed capable of such a pathetic move as stalking. And the long black Chevy didn’t seem to fit the style of the men she hooked up with.

As the car finally disappeared into the hills ahead, she glanced behind herself, half-expecting to see it approaching her again. Of course, it wasn’t. She started doubting her thoughts. Maybe she banged her head in the crash. Or perhaps her absent hangover and lack of food were making her delusional or paranoid. She tried to physically shake off the creepy feeling crawling all over her skin. She lifted the whiskey to her lips and then thought better of it.

She was back to walking for only a few minutes when a large black bird landed in front of her on the road’s white line. She wondered if highway twenty-seven was a crow-magnet for some reason — she didn’t know anything about birds. With a flick of her arms, she tried to shoo it away, but it wouldn’t budge. Oddly motionless, it stared at her. Its gaze prompted goosebumps to spread across her skin with an abrupt flush. She asked the big bird what it wanted and told it she had no intention of sharing her scotch. Still, the crow didn’t move. She shook her head from side to side, disbelieving the unusual spectacle in front of her. As she began to back away from the bird slowly, it cackled and flew off as if insulted. She heard a nervous chuckle escape her while she stared after the black-feathered creature.

“Cheers, weirdo!” Maya called out as she lifted her bottle toward the bird and took another drink.

She walked a little bit farther and glanced up at the sky for the umpteenth time since she began her trek. Still no sense of what time it was. The clouds were apparently against her today. Maya rechecked her phone. The screen was blank — no signal and no battery now. Did she forget to plug her phone into the car charger when she left the party?

She was bored and started to feel antsy. She squeezed her nana’s snowflake charm hanging around her neck. She knew it would all work out. She just wished the universe would hurry up about it. She needed time to get cleaned up and changed before meeting up with Jess and Kat.

Maya’s mind wandered as her feet steadily marched along the concrete path in front of her. She started to pretend the white line was an acrobat’s balance beam while she considered which dress she would wear to The Red Inn tonight. Then her mind drifted back to her teenage years and shopping trips with her nana. Memories of impromptu fashion shows inside JC Penney’s fitting-rooms bloomed in her mind. Her balance beam changed into her catwalk as she placed one hand on her hip and interrupted her walk with a pose for an imaginary crowd. She giggled and took a drink. She still loved a fabulous fitting-room fashion show. She just preferred Saks now.

Her musings were interrupted by the rapid rumble of a Jake brake behind her. Maya turned to face a large truck. For a hopeful second, she thought the trucker was slowing down to pick her up. She smiled and jumped up and down, waving her arms. The semi’s grill gleamed even in the overcast sun, causing her to squint and perch her forearm over her eyes while keeping hold of her bottle of Johnnie Walker. She stepped sideways onto the shoulder, anticipating the truck driver opening his passenger door for her. But as the big rig passed through the broad curve she’d already walked, the sound of the brakes stopped, and she saw it picking up speed again as it accelerated toward her. Its bold red trailer with Budweiser scrolled across the side blew past her. The beer truck’s wind threw her dark hair across her face and knocked her bag to the ground. Another bastard who had no intention of giving her a ride. She watched the semi get smaller as it followed the straightening road ahead of it.

Maya wondered if country people were ruder than city snobs. That seemed impossible. She remembered several instances when she, unfortunately, stepped into the path of a Houston native who became abusively vulgar. She never took it personally, but she made a point to avoid those pricks as much as possible. It was easy to pick them out. They all had that exasperated look on their faces like they’d been holding in a massive crap for the past few days. Maya giggled at the thought.

An unmelodious uproar rambled toward her in the form of a honeybee-yellow convertible with its top down. As it got closer, she saw its passengers waving their hands in the air and shouting. She took a step closer to the center of the road and waved back. Some country song that sounded like it included a banjo having a heart attack blasted from their radio. As the car whizzed past her, a soggy McDonald’s bag and several mostly-empty beer cans barely missed pelting her in the arms and face. She screamed at the disrespectful brats. Her anger erupted as she flung her glass liquor bottle as hard as she could after her flippant tormentors. Any whiskey that was left splattered on the state highway as glass shards exploded on impact. She missed her targets by a mile.

Maya stomped her silver slingbacks against the blacktop as she returned to her side of the road. She cursed every obscenity she’d ever said or heard at the top of her lungs while her hands shook at her sides. She was furious for letting such idiots cause her to waste such good scotch in a fit of anger. She continued on her way, trying to pour all her focus into following the white line again. After a few slow, steady breaths, she felt a little better, but Maya guessed it would be another mile before she walked off all her anger.

She started picturing how amazing a long hot soak was going to feel the moment she got home. She could almost smell the lavender bath soap and feel the caress of bubbles against her skin. She grew tired of Mother Nature’s recreational park. She wished someone would give her a lift.

A bit farther down the road, Maya came across a damaged sign lying flat on some broken bushes. Its two rotting posts looked like something had knocked it over months ago. The horizontal advertisement boasted of a bar and grill called The Bourbon Hog serving barbecued ribs and whiskey and claimed it wasn’t far ahead. She yelled a woo-hoo to the world in relief. Her nature hike would soon be over. This was the happiest she’d felt all day. She twirled in her skirt with her arms outstretched like an eight-year-old on a school playground.

She noticed a car heading her way as she spun. Its bright headlights seemed unnecessary since it wasn’t dark yet. She glanced up at the dull sky, wondering again what time of day it was. When Maya looked back at the oncoming car, she realized it was the damn Chevy. Her smile morphed into a glower. Surely this creep was messing with her.

She considered diving into the bushes on her right, but she didn’t think she’d clear the muddy ditch to get to them. This schmuck’s antics grated on her nerves. She refused to let him win this game of intimidation he was playing. She walked along the road’s edge in long strides with her chin up, pretending she had all the confidence of a supermodel. The dark car kept pace directly behind her for several minutes. The driver was apparently trying to make her feel uncomfortable, but she wouldn’t let him know he was succeeding. She turned back with a scowl hoping to unsettle him, but couldn’t see his face through the darkened windshield. She shifted forward and stared ahead, disappointed she missed the reaction on her stalker’s face — or was he a good Samaritan with a dark sense of humor? The car finally went around her, giving her plenty of space as it passed. She didn’t dare steal a look into the car this time but kept her sights on the pavement in front of her. The vehicle slowly picked up speed and disappeared further down the road. Maya surmised that if Mr. Chevrolet were an abducting psychopath, he would have probably tried to grab her by now. Initially, she thought he was some perverted miscreant. Now she didn’t know what to think.

It wasn’t long before she saw a large, one-story log cabin off the highway to the right. The stone parking lot spread out in front of it and contained several cars, including the Budweiser truck and rusty pickup she saw earlier side by side. A tall neon sign atop the roof of the place blinked The Bourbon Hog in bright cobalt letters. The happiness she’d felt earlier spread across her face in a smirk.

Maya entered the bar, noticing the light inside mimicked the dullness outside. The place was bursting at the seams with would-be cowboys and cowgirls. She’d never seen so much western wear in one place. She noticed an old-style jukebox off to the left of the door she came in. It glowed pink and yellow and blue as country music assaulted her ears. Maybe it had some bluesy songs to play as well. Or hopefully, she wouldn’t be here long enough to hear many more anyway.

She scanned the walls for a clock. She didn’t find one, but she noticed a hallway that opened to the right of the bar with two small signs on either side. One posted cowgirls to the left, and another stated cowboys to the right. Maya dismissed the country bar cliché with an eye-roll. Then she saw another smaller alcove past the restrooms. There was a canister light in its ceiling that illuminated something she hadn’t seen in years — a payphone! She’d be home in plenty of time to hit The Red Inn with her friends.

Maya moved toward the ancient telephone, excusing herself as she weaved around the other patrons of the bar. Remembering the type of establishment she was in, she stole some napkins off a nearby hightop. She stood in front of the payphone and considered who to call. She wished she knew what time it was.

She studied the small cubbyhole she now stood inside. The walls were wrapped with worn bumper stickers. Many of them overlapped each other, causing one spot to seem like an endorsement from Jimi Hendrix to Drive American & Support Local Unions. Her eyes passed over slogans to end the war in Vietnam, vote for Kennedy, and impeach Nixon. But the political catchphrases were outnumbered by faded neon peace signs and band logos from the Sex Pistols, AC/DC, and the Rolling Stones. It seemed the country bar hadn’t always been full of countrified cowpokes.

Maya looked at the payphone again and covered the handset with one of her stolen napkins before lifting it from the receiver.

She scrutinized it as she wiped away a layer of grime with another napkin before finally holding it up to her ear. She couldn’t hear a dial tone, so she clicked the line a few times, hoping her efforts would fix the connection, but the line stayed dead. She slammed it back in its cradle and told Tricky-Dick he could keep his damn fossil of a phone.

Maya weaved her way to the bar hoping there was a house phone she could use. She approached with a frown as bartending-Barbie flashed a rose tattoo just above her left nipple to a grizzly-looking man sitting on a stool in front of her. The Charles Manson character raised his glass at the barmaid and whistled. The flirtatious server grinned and sashayed to the other end of the long bar throwing back a wink over her shoulder at the whiskey-drinking admirer. Crinkling her nose, Maya turned away with a furrowed brow.

She eyed a table at the back and decided to grab it while it was empty. Never wanting her back toward strangers, she sat on the left side of the dark green booth keeping most of the room in front of her. Half-empty bottles of beer cluttered the tabletop, but she didn’t care. She sat back and scrutinized the bar’s occupants and décor. Definitely not her usual sort of spot. She checked her phone for the millionth time. The screen was still completely blank.

She noticed a small group of girls huddled not far from her booth. She walked up to one of the wanna-be cowgirls wearing pink boots and introduced herself. The girl continued chatting about how she fell off her boyfriend’s tailgate one night after too many Jack and cokes — apparently blaming her poor life decisions on that evening’s drink choices. One of the girl’s friends, equally dressed in country-singer-chic, chimed in explaining that was the reason they all stuck with beer now. They all laughed as Maya tapped Miss Pink-Boots on the shoulder and asked if she could borrow her phone for just a quick minute. As the jukebox kicked off a new song, the cowgirl whooped out a yee-haw and threw a fist into the air. The whole group moved five feet farther into the center of the room and started line dancing. Maya exhaled a heavy sigh and walked back to her empty booth. She wondered how so many people could be so damn rude.

She sat there alone in the dingy booth, staring at her cell phone’s screen incredulously. The entire display was now blinking bright white and then empty black again.

Was it trying to work? Did it actually have some battery life left?

She popped out the phone’s battery, waited ten seconds, then shoved it back together. The blank screen wasn’t blinking now. Damn thing wouldn’t turn on at all. Maya seethed with frustration. Her right leg bounced like a jackhammer as she studied the beer bottles cluttering her table. She contemplated whether or not to take a swig from one of them. Several were more than half-full. She wondered if alcohol killed countrified cooties. The thought brought her smirk back.

She looked out across the barroom, analyzing it all. There was a large group of twenty-somethings getting louder by the minute. They sloshed their drinks around in their hands. Every stool at the bar had someone’s ass in it, along with other patrons standing between them. There were a couple of smaller groups of three or four people scattered about the place. And there was a quieter couple in another booth probably in their fifties enjoying what seemed to be date-night for them. But something was off. She couldn’t quite put her finger on it.

Then some girl with purple streaks in her hair bumped into Maya’s booth, causing one of the beer bottles to topple over. Its few remaining sips dripped onto the wooden table. The girl was shoving her tongue down a very tall man’s throat. He was leaned over to the point that Maya wondered if he might fall on top of the little kissing girl, crashing them both into the booth or the floor. The girl pushed her palm to her companion’s chest, broke free, and gasped for air. There was a chirping noise, and Purple-streaks pulled her iPhone from her back pocket and scrolled her finger across its screen. Maya tried to interject, asking if she could use the girl’s phone. But the girl locked arms with the guy and told him it was time to jet, their ride was waiting outside. They left Maya to sit there alone and confused. Her eyes burned, threatening tears.

She sat in her ugly green booth with her arms crossed, feeling defeated. While considering her next move, someone came up to her table and gestured to join her. Maya swallowed her sadness, nodded, and put on a friendly smile, which was reciprocated by the stranger with kind eyes. She touched his hand, attempting to flirt with the only person who seemed to notice she existed in the damn bar. A static poke caused her to flinch. The fact she had seen the spark leap from his fingers to her own felt unsettling. She recovered quickly, though when she heard him exhale a slight chuckle.

“I’m glad you joined me. I was beginning to think I was invisible to all the country bumpkins in here.”

Her booth-mate raised an eyebrow.

“Not that you are one of them. I mean, it’s okay if you are. You don’t look like you are, but it doesn’t matter to me if you are. I mean, I don’t actually know what I mean. It’s been a long day.”

Maya’s face burned. She realized she was rambling — and to a stranger. She looked into his face and lost herself in the stunning shade of blue of his eyes. They made her think of the blue and white Christmas lights her nana used to put up every winter. She pulled at the charm around her neck.

The gentleman was smiling again when Maya awoke from her trance down memory lane.

She spilled all the day’s details to him, trying to explain how she just wanted to go home. How her phone had been acting weird all day, and it was impossible to use anyone else’s around there. The stranger slid his right palm over her phone on the table in front of them. Then he removed his hand, and the phone lit up, displaying full battery and signal; she was dumbfounded. Maya snatched her phone, scrolled through her contacts, and tapped on Jessica’s picture. She held her phone to her ear but heard nothing. She checked the screen to verify it was calling Jess and saw her home screen displayed again. After many more tries with the same outcome, Maya cursed at her useless phone and gave up. She slumped in her seat, feeling mentally exhausted.

The stranger reached across the table, picked up her chin with his calloused fingers, and looked straight into her eyes.

“There’s nothing wrong with your phone, but it won’t work for you anymore.” He spoke slowly and deliberately.

“No one is ignoring you either.” He motioned around the bar room. “They just can’t see you. Or hear you. Or even feel you.”

His voice was warm and calming. Her emotional exhaustion from the day melted into the floorboards under her shoes.

“Everyone here but me, that is.”

Her brow furrowed in confusion, and she turned to look out at the crowd. Her eyes darted back and forth, searching. She didn’t catch a single person looking back at her. She glanced again at her new companion. No one noticed her except him. She sat back, and her arms slumped to her sides. She looked across the room at bartender-Barbie laughing, probably at some old fart’s one-liner.

Maya stood up, squeezed her eyes shut, and screamed. When she had no more air left in her lungs, she slowly opened her eyes and looked at the blonde pouring drinks. Nothing. No reaction from her or anyone else in the place.

A sickening unease swam in her stomach as her thoughts drifted backward in time. The purple-haired girl and her kissing Romeo hadn’t seen her. Old Charlie Manson and flirtatious bartender-Barbie hadn’t been ignoring her either. And Cowgirl Pink-Boots hadn’t been acting like a rude little witch. She just hadn’t known Maya was there. She wondered if whatever was happening to her only affected her inside this bar. She looked back at her strange new companion. His kind eyes stared right back at her.

The day’s events felt like a tornado spinning inside her skull. She wondered if it was possible all the traffic that passed by her earlier hadn’t known she was there. Hadn’t seen her walking along the roadside. She almost felt comforted by the possibility as she remembered the rowdy teenagers’ beer cans that almost smacked her. But then she remembered the old black Chevy. That car’s driver had undoubtedly seen her. She was sure of it.

Maya struggled to comprehend her reality. She pinched her nana’s snowflake between her fingers. Then she remembered her broken Caddy. She contemplated how the driver’s door wouldn’t open, how she hadn’t a scratch on her. Her heart raced in her chest. She felt dizzy. Nausea threatened to purge the unease, rocking in waves inside her stomach. She looked at the man who sat at her green booth, and a wave of calm washed over her entire body.

“You’re right,” Maya said. “They don’t see you either.”

Her booth-mate stood up and offered his hand to Maya. She took it without a second thought.

They made their way through the crowd and out to the parking lot. He held her hand and led her to an old black Chevy. As they approached it, a crow flew directly over their heads and landed on the hood. It perched there staring at them. They stood some distance away and watched the crow watching them. Another crow flew directly overhead and landed beside it. The first crow squawked, and then both flew away. They watched the crows disappear.

Maya looked up at her new friend. That calm, soothing smile still adorned Mr. Chevrolet’s face. He gestured toward the car. She half-closed her eyes and took in a deep, satisfying breath. Again her hand found Nana’s snowflake, and she squeezed the charm between her fingers. Then Maya hopped into the passenger’s seat.

Zada Kent is an author of fiction and nonfiction who grew up in a small mundane town in Ohio. To avert death-by-boredom she allows the creepy, unexplainable, and horrific possibilities in life to flood her imagination with stories. By writing them down she shares them with the world. If you enjoyed this piece, you might also like her FREE dark short on Amazon.