Michael C Keller Word count 1706 PO Box 1271

Bryan Texas 77806 The Crows

Michael C Keller
Every creature that found its way to Michael and Pat's porch was gifted a name.
Every singing frog, every croaking toad. The deer who destroyed Pat's roses was
Gladys, the feral cat who appeared early one morning for a handout became Arthur,
the garden spider Fred. The elderly couples fading eyesight and poor memory saved
the ants the indignation.
Pat meticulously watered and pampered her flowers and rubbed her aging hand
lovingly over the Oleanders. Out in the carefully mowed field, beyond the lush
green yard, the crows rattled and crawed, warning the ravens not to get too close.
The raven Thomas could offer testament to the fact. The other Ravens Gurguling
croaking laughter at his name became a reminder to stay away.
The pandemic had seriously curtailed the buying power of Mike and Pat's social
security checks, so the open yard became a small make-shift nursery. The old wood-
frame house stood at the end of a long narrow gravel road connected to a four-lane
highway.
The closed gate and its illusion of refuge were now open. Necessity is a hard
master.
As she worked, Pat sang off-key notes that echoed across the field. The crows
stopped foraging momentarily, fluttering to and fro for a moment, startled by the
discordant opera. They looked scornfully at Thomas, " There she goes!" they cawed.
Thomas's brother, who wasn't quite right, echoed, " Yeah, There she goes!"
Thomas had a secret, a secret he kept to himself. A last laugh thing. Pat would
feed you after she forced a name on you. Thomas figured it must be a gift to
lighten the insult. Every morning like clockwork Pat sat a bowl of dog food under
the shrubs for him. Thomas cackled as he ate, "There she goes indeed!"
Thomas remembered his mother's words, "A crow remembers."
Thomas lost count after three or four meals, but he would forever be grateful for
Pat's kindness, especially that winter two years ago when that bowl of food
prevented his starvation. He saved everything beyond his immediate needs and
ferried it to his family.
That winter two years ago was hard on Pat and Mike as well. Mike suffered a stroke
and lost some use of his right arm and leg.
Pat fought to contain her tears as she watched Mike shuffle around the yard
dragging his leg along like a stubborn child who refused to listen.

When you age, your wrinkles are an uncomfortable reminder to others that flesh and
vitality are finite. Time is a fearsome and ever-present beast that the young
cannot bear to see.
Mike spent a long time getting comfortable in his old blue recliner. First, he had
to find the sweet spot that didn't put undue pressure on his hip, then physically
lift his unwieldy leg and place it on the footrest. After one final shuffle, Mike
tried to catch his breath, "Did you ever hear from Theresa or Bob?" "How are The
grandkids?"
Pat was tired of answering the same question day after day. "They both have to
work." "You know that!" "Theresa said she might be able to bring the grandkids this
summer if they don't have summer school." "I told you this Yesterday!" Mike cupped
his hands around his face. "I'm sorry. “I forgot."
Money problems, covid, loneliness, and the need for meaningful conversation had
isolated Pat in a deeply manic cacoon. Mike was her second husband. Her first had
been an abusive drunk, and she had been codependent. Pat knew better than anyone
that the answers to life's problems did not lie in the bottle. Still, she found
some comfort in that bottle of whiskey hidden behind the dresser in her room.
All the chores around the house that they shared had fallen to Pat. All the
problems laid hollow and meaningless when discussed, became heavy, burdensome
chains.
A few times each day, the voices of strangers filtered through the screen door as
Pat conducted her business. If she closed the door quietly, then she had made a
sale. If she slammed the door, it was an obvious disappointment. Mike leaned
forward in his chair. "Well, How much did you make?" A grin meant a few dollars,
while a wide smile could mean a healthy meal. "We're having steak tonight!' she
gushed, holding out a wad of pristine ten and twenties.
Providence, divine intervention, or just plain luck had changed everything. Dollars
had become hundreds, and hundreds became thousands. Everyone from small towns all
around wanted her plants.
People made special trips from the city in hopes of buying things from Pat's
garden.
The steady flow of traffic on the driveway to Pat's house disrupted the Murder of
crows and caused them to flit and fly wildly in the wake of dust. Through all the
endless commotion, Pat always left the serene and patient Thomas his bowl of food.
On Friday, the gravel road became jammed with traffic. The hectic pace both
frazzled and excited Pat. Michael had improved enough to help a few hours each day.
One after another, the cars came that day. Pat looked at her watch and realized
there would be no time to take the money to the bank. As the last car pulled out
from her dusty driveway and disappeared down the highway, She prepared to close the
gate for the night.
The endless chaos caused by the traffic convinced some of the group of ravens and
crows to take up residence at the neighbor's farm. Even Thomas's family was
thinking of leaving.
They steadily chided Thomas, "This is all you can expect from a woman who sings in
an off-key voice that even you do not understand!"
Thomas felt torn between his family and his friend, who now felt like family too!

As Pat prepared to get in her car and close the gate for the night, she saw a lone
vehicle enter through the gate, stop and close the gate behind. Mike, who was
sitting in a lawn chair, noticed what was happening. Years of experience and
watching crime dramas put Mike's brain on full alert. Adrenalin flooded through
Mike's body and filled him with intense fear. "Pat, grab the shotgun!" " Now!" he
screamed.
Pat remembered something Mike had once said to her. "My biggest fear," he said. "Is
that you will hesitate in an emergency, and all will be lost!" Years ago, after
stopping at a traffic light, she pulled out and turned in front of a car after the
light turned green despite Mike screaming, "Stop!" "Stop!" Their injuries were
devastating, and the path to recovery was long and arduous.
Thomas had just flown up into his family's tree above the pond, directly above the
gravel drive as the car passed underneath. A splatter of guano peppered the passing
window of the vehicle.
Pat broke the double-barrel shotgun and fumbled with the shells, shaking as she
pushed a buckshot shell into the breach while another load fell to the floor. Pat
hyperventilated as she picked up the load of buckshot and loaded it. She dialed 911
and delivered a simple frantic message to the voice at the other end. "Come!"
"Now!"
She stood behind the screen nervously shaking and waited. Mike looked toward the
house and hoped this was all going to be silly melodrama. The car pulled behind the
silver Honda, effectively blocking it in. A tall, lanky Latino with a heart tattoo
on his left cheek stepped out from the driver's side. He had a raised pistol in his
hand. It was a face he recognized. Years ago, Mike worked security at a chicken
plant and had stopped this same man trying to leave with a load of frozen chicken.
He detained the man until the police arrived. The company declined to prosecute.
The man laughed, "Remember me, compadre?" His partner, a scruffy-looking towhead,
walked deliberately toward Mike and slapped him to the ground. Pat pointed the
shotgun in the direction of the men and fired one load of buckshot, hitting the
driver just above the knee. The man dropped to the ground withering in pain. The
man with the nasty light blond hair grabbed the driver's gun and held it under
Mike's throat. "We just want the money! "Throw it out, and we will leave!" Pat
shouted through the screen, "I've called the police! " Your fat crip husband will
be dead before they get here!" the man screamed.
Pat shouted back to the man. "We don't have any money here!"
"Look at this place!' "Just leave." "Look, you fucking old bitch!' "We know you
have money!’” We’ve been watching all day!" The man's face turned a bright red. You
have to the count of three, and I'm going to blow his head off!" Thoughts raced
through Pat's head. "Where are the police?"
The gunshot and the distant wails of a siren disturbed the peace and quiet of the
group of Crows and Ravens. The shouting shrill voice of the woman is something
Thomas never heard before. He woke his brother. "Somethings wrong!" "Let's go!"
Thomas commanded.
"I was just getting settled." The other Crows and Ravens shouted at Thomas. "Keep
Quiet!' That lady isn't our business!" Thomas thrust out his chest. His blue-black
feathers glistened in the dying sun." "Remember that cold winter when the only food
you ate was food I Brought!" One crow shouted, "We're grateful, but you've already
overplayed that card!" "Besides, what does that have to do with anything?" Thomas
Cawed loudly, "That woman was your savior!"
"She fed us!"

Without another word, the flock rose in murmuration toward the old woman's house.
Thomas dived down just as the dirty white man was about to apply pressure to the
trigger. Thomases sudden action instantly pried the gun from the man's hand. The
gun flew to the ground and went off as it struck the hard dirt, killing Thomases
brother. The man reached for the gun, raising his other arm to fend off the
onslaught while indiscriminately firing into the flock. The towhead fired toward
Mike through the storm of crows. The cover of a hundred wings shielded Mike from
his would-be killer but cost Thomas three of his friends. While the driver crawled
toward the shelter of his car, his friend was smothered by the bodies of a wall of
crows. Three sheriff cruisers pulled up sirens blaring as the last crow flew to
roost. The aftermath left one driver screaming inside his car and his partner dead.
One of the deputies scratched his head in amazement at the dead bird stuck inside
the man's throat. As Pat stepped out onto the porch, Thomas landed lightly on her
shoulder. They shared a long look that Thomas ended with a wink.