A Murder of Crows: Two

He ran outside, fright filling his mind and snaking its way throughout his body.

Staggering across the asphalt, over the median, and into the parking lot of a restaurant, Raymond stopped, bent over, and vomited. His head throbbed, and his ears rang with the new whine of a fire alarm. He stood. Shaking, he walked to the heavy steel-framed door and pulled it open.

The air was cold and smoky—food burned in the kitchen. The screaming tremolo of the alarm pierced his ears, and the sprinkler system snapped on, raining over everything. He ran outside, fright filling his mind and snaking its way throughout his body. Then, he ran unconsciously toward the gas station. Frantically, Raymond searched—under boxes, tires, parts, behind the building—for anyone. He ran down the highway, looking in car windows, their paint, hot from the sun, burning his hands and forearms when he touched them. “Somebody!“ he screamed. No answer. Only a crow cawed from the top of a power line pole.

A Murder of Crows is a story in parts. Read previous posts here: joewilley.substack.com/t/books