dense with crows that they completely blocked out the moonlight. The boy of fourteen years and eleven months stood there and felt the bark of a tree right in front of him that he couldn’t even see. The cawing grew louder and louder, and the morning grew darker still. Asa felt like he was in some kind of a cage. Everywhere he moved, they pushed him backward by flapping wings. The cawing was so loud that he couldn’t hear himself breathing. He closed his eyes because there was no point in keeping them open. He made a wish for Harold Kensing without much hope.
The cawing stopped and the light came back.
Asa looked up. All of the birds were silent. Millions and millions of crows sat throughout the forest; they covered every spot that snow had on the day that he fell from The Tower. Each of their shiny black eyes above their beaks were pointed right at him. He felt that it would be inappropriate to breathe. The branches swayed in the wind, but the birds held their positions. They sat poised upright on moving bark.
Asa didn’t even hear him coming. Even in the silence, he had not heard it.
It was like getting hit with a truck.
The birds and the branches and tree trunks around Asa were moving so fast.
No, I’m moving.
Asa was being carried by a man wearing all black . The man was short, and lean, and hard as marble. His arms were as thick as tree trunks. He was covered in head to toe in black, thick fabric that clung tight to his body.
Asa kicked and jerked and screamed, but it didn’t matter.
The man bounded over a line of bushes and in one leap while still holding Asa, and continued to sprint in the forest.
Asa wondered what color the man in black’s tongue was. Surely these are the people that officer Kensing spoke of. Surely these are the ones who will get me at all costs. And I’m going to die before I know what happened last night—before I know about the dog and what they want and why I’m wanted.
The trees were speeding past Asa at what felt like forty miles per hour. The birds were still, and Asa was amazed at how many there were. Incredibly, he thought that there were more in the trees and the sky and the ground than that day he had been sent home. The man (or thing) that was holding Asa was dodging in and out of the trunks and leaping over brush at a sickening pace. His legs moved in a blur, like a leopard’s. Asa stayed still and stopped fighting; he thought that falling into a tree at that pace could be fatal. Asa looked behind him and saw dirt shooting up behind this man’s impossibly fast moving legs.
Asa felt sick. He looked ahead of him and saw that the road was just a few hundred yards off. The man in black wasn’t even breathing hard and when they were near the road, he skidded to a stop, kicking up dirt and dead leaves beneath him.
He sat Asa down and Asa just stood there, stunned.
“Don’t try to run, or I will catch you,” said the man in black. “Make it easier on both of us and just stay put for a moment.”
Crows covered every inch of White Bridge for as far as Asa could see in either direction. There was a car sitting idle on the shoulder, and Asa wondered if it was his mother’s Volvo, still abandoned from the night before when Harold Kensing had pulled him over.
Asa stood still while the man’s head snapped back and forth, as if looking for something in the vegetation. Asa noticed that the man in black had a band covering his forearm. The numbers “5:55” were stitched in the fabric and Asa thought that it was an amazing coincidence that it was just about that time in the morning. “Ah, there it is. C’mon! Follow me!”
The man sprang across the road and Asa found that his legs carried him over to the
The cawing stopped and the light came back.
Asa looked up. All of the birds were silent. Millions and millions of crows sat throughout the forest; they covered every spot that snow had on the day that he fell from The Tower. Each of their shiny black eyes above their beaks were pointed right at him. He felt that it would be inappropriate to breathe. The branches swayed in the wind, but the birds held their positions. They sat poised upright on moving bark.
Asa didn’t even hear him coming. Even in the silence, he had not heard it.
It was like getting hit with a truck.
The birds and the branches and tree trunks around Asa were moving so fast.
No, I’m moving.
Asa was being carried by a man wearing all black . The man was short, and lean, and hard as marble. His arms were as thick as tree trunks. He was covered in head to toe in black, thick fabric that clung tight to his body.
Asa kicked and jerked and screamed, but it didn’t matter.
The man bounded over a line of bushes and in one leap while still holding Asa, and continued to sprint in the forest.
Asa wondered what color the man in black’s tongue was. Surely these are the people that officer Kensing spoke of. Surely these are the ones who will get me at all costs. And I’m going to die before I know what happened last night—before I know about the dog and what they want and why I’m wanted.
The trees were speeding past Asa at what felt like forty miles per hour. The birds were still, and Asa was amazed at how many there were. Incredibly, he thought that there were more in the trees and the sky and the ground than that day he had been sent home. The man (or thing) that was holding Asa was dodging in and out of the trunks and leaping over brush at a sickening pace. His legs moved in a blur, like a leopard’s. Asa stayed still and stopped fighting; he thought that falling into a tree at that pace could be fatal. Asa looked behind him and saw dirt shooting up behind this man’s impossibly fast moving legs.
Asa felt sick. He looked ahead of him and saw that the road was just a few hundred yards off. The man in black wasn’t even breathing hard and when they were near the road, he skidded to a stop, kicking up dirt and dead leaves beneath him.
He sat Asa down and Asa just stood there, stunned.
“Don’t try to run, or I will catch you,” said the man in black. “Make it easier on both of us and just stay put for a moment.”
Crows covered every inch of White Bridge for as far as Asa could see in either direction. There was a car sitting idle on the shoulder, and Asa wondered if it was his mother’s Volvo, still abandoned from the night before when Harold Kensing had pulled him over.
Asa stood still while the man’s head snapped back and forth, as if looking for something in the vegetation. Asa noticed that the man in black had a band covering his forearm. The numbers “5:55” were stitched in the fabric and Asa thought that it was an amazing coincidence that it was just about that time in the morning. “Ah, there it is. C’mon! Follow me!”
The man sprang across the road and Asa found that his legs carried him over to the
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