Four

His wing hurt and he was in no mood for a sermon.

"I see," PortaConnor continued, "the fall has made you speechless. No, probably not. It must have been the sudden impact." The crow chuckled mercilessly angering Four to the point of shitting. "Hmm, are we getting angry lad? I see you’re…sort of beside yourself." The chuckle became uncontrolled laughter.

Four could take no more of the stupid bird’s chattering. "Shut up!"

Silence followed Four’s demand but not for long. Crows have always been known throughout the feathered world as cynics, unstoppable cynics. "So, he speaks. The suicidal little bastard speaks. I guess…" Before he could finish his sentence a crackling of twigs startled PortaConnor and he launched himself into the air and flew to the safety of the barn’s dilapidated roof. Four watched as the menace stared down at him without moving. Suddenly his world became dark.

Four’s eyes adjusted finally to the darkness and he could see his surroundings. He had been trapped in some kind of container, man-made. He was being carried in his darkened cage. Four found it both difficult and painful to keep his footing. He then heard strange sounds. It was the voice of the human. It was not a terrifying sound. Four found it strange but soothing, actually comforting. "We’re almost there little buddy. We’ll have you patched up in no time at all." At that frightening but strangely secure moment Four had been introduced to Eddie White, a recluse and deviant in his own world.

"So my little friend it looks like you broke a wing. Hmm. We’ll get you up and going like brand new." Eddie White’s long unkempt beard was wet with drool. If his thoughts fell into the norm of thoughts and if he saw a doctor regularly, Eddie would have learned that his lack of control of the left side of his mouth was due to a recent stroke. But, normalcy was not a word Eddie felt comfortable with, nor was it a word that described him whatsoever. Eddie was the guy kids shied away from and a guy from whom adults looked away. He was the man you smelled in front of you at the grocery store. He was the man needing Lithium or Thorazine but hid from the folks with the straight jackets. Eddie Eugene White was an enigma within an enigmatic world. "Yep, little guy, we’ll have you all fixed up." Eddie carefully placed a flat tongue-depressant stick on the snapped bone and gingerly tied baling twine around it. This rendered the wing immobile and also eased some of Four’s pain.

Eddie cupped his huge hands around the small pigeon’s body and carried him to a cage built with remnants of orange crates and chicken wire. It was a reasonably large contained area with a small wooden box with a hole in it juxtaposed against the backside of the cage. If one looked at the whole affair from a distance it would have a resemblance to some barbaric prison camp created by a madman in World War II. Eddie placed Four lovingly into the large cage, quickly closing the top door (once a screen door to someone’s cabin) behind him.

Four’s eyes were slow to adjust to the dimly lit cage. He did not move from the spot where the huge man had placed him. He was startled by a strangely restricted voice, a voice void of intonation. "A fine situation, huh?" The voice came from the wooden box attached to the far side of the cage. In the center of the box was an entrance, a whole carved crudely by the man, Eddie. "Say, you look familiar to me.