The thick, murky green clouds filled the entire sky. It was the moment when the moon, reigning high in the sky, finally began to tilt. The fleeting summer night was nowhere to be found, and I stood on the railing of the police station rooftop, folding my jet-black wings to my sides, gazing at the eastern sky, uncertain when it would dawn. Beyond the mountain ranges on the horizon, there surely lay a morning filled with compassion, tranquility, and vitality. When the dawn's light breaks through the darkness, even 'they' will likely calm down a bit..
The city spread out below was engulfed in flames, its skies punctuated by billowing black smoke, rising as a dire signal towards the sky. Amidst occasional low groans, screams tear through the melancholic sky, bouncing up and disappearing as if sinking. Gunshots, which were frequent just two days ago, had now dwindled to near silence. I turned back to glance at the pair lying beside me. On the rooftop of Raccoon Police Station, on the hard concrete, they lay. Clinging to each other in a firm embrace, blood trickling from their foreheads, they slept, never to be released. Their choice wasn't one of surrender to despair's embrace. The faint smiles on their lips subtly tell that tale.
In the hands of the woman, who had breathed her last and lay as if being shielded by a man, lies a gleaming black Beretta. Her blonde hair had faded completely, and her thinly contoured lips, brought close to the man's ear as if whispering, were parched and cracked. The sky-blue dress, torn at the right shoulder, bore the marks of severe dirt and tear. The man beneath her fared no better, his Raccoon Police uniform, a blue shirt and navy trousers, smeared with unidentifiable bloodstains and the distinct red soil of the region. The blood, soaked in a circular pattern from the collar to the chest on the right side, likely belonged to him as evident by the fist-sized gap in flesh around his neck, marked by sharp, bruised imprints of teeth.
Rick Byer and Cindy Miller. Were you truly happy with that? Your choice was indeed wise, humane, and commendable, but at the same time, it was filled with profound sadness. You were never compelled to make that choice by your own actions. You were merely unfortunate bystanders, unjustly branded with mark of guilt by your humanity alone, innocent victims of circumstance. Was there truly no other way? Was it impossible to create more options leading to a life that was both ordinary and peaceful, yet filled with moments where you could genuinely laugh together?
The hollow inquiry was abruptly cut short by a massive explosion that struck the western side of the city. The intense vibration, shaking even the rooftop of the police station, raced through the ground. The western sky which lies in the direction of the clock tower turned red. Moreover, those insatiable living corpses, displaying intellect inferior even to that of dogs, must have been drawn to combustible materials, where the fire eventually took hold. Judging from the intensity of the flames scorching the sky, the path to the clock tower is undoubtedly ablaze. Nonetheless, since I could simply fly there, it posed no obstacle whatsoever.
I looked back at Rick and Cindy once again. Due to the vibration from earlier, a small brown box was peeking out from Rick's pants pocket. With skillful finesse, I deftly used the slender, elongated beak to draw it out. As the box fell, it made a dry sound and its lid popped open in reaction.
From within overflowed a common, sweet melody, starkly contrasting their tragic fate. That sound pinched at my heart. A feeling of longing reached the depths of my lungs. With a sigh tinged with moisture, I released it from my chest. That familiar melody evoked memories of the days when they still lived ordinary lives, and of the time when I first met Rick Byer.
Yes, now those distant days seem so far away.
Under the blazing light of the white sun, I was astounded. It was a moment of sheer astonishment, where my heart felt as if it might leap out of my mouth. For, suddenly, I found myself, truly and unexpectedly, just being me.
One mustn't utter such foolish words – for truly, until this very moment, I had never truly known myself. As if plucked from a void, I suddenly emerge as myself. And this smell! What could it be, lingering in my mouth? It was a nauseating scent that churned my stomach.
Why am I me? Why am I here in this place? Why am I flying?
Flying?
Yes, I found myself soaring high in the blue sky, stretching my jet-black wings wide and surrendering myself to the the flow of wind streaming past from behind.
In that moment of doubt, the wind released me effortlessly. I plunged downward, feeling as if drowning, my pitch-black beak jutting out into the empty air like ink as I flapped my wings desperately. I moved my body erratically, as if trying to maneuver the controls of a uncontrollable plane. With all my might, I flapped the black wings on either side of me, managing to briefly halt my descent. But it was only for a fleeting moment. My altitude continued to plummet. Despite having just become myself, I was keenly aware of the distinction between surviving a fall from this height and not. If I were to crash onto the ground now, my body would surely be shattered into tiny pieces.
In search of any possible solution, I maintained a posture resembling a "Y", tilting my head slightly downward to survey below. The reality I faced was far harsher than expected. Below, instead of a cushion of trees, lay a dense cluster of buildings covered in solid concrete. The location where I had been flying was directly above a certain city.
Disappointment washed over me, I felt my strength drain away. Then, like a poorly sculpted figure, my body stiffened with its beak upward, but the laws of gravity pulled it downward, spreading my wings into a gliding posture. The indifferent wind nudged at my back, now cutting across my face. Yet, despite everything, my altitude continued its descent.
Frantically scanning my surroundings, I searched for a suitable landing spot. Though seemingly dominated by buildings at first glance, upon closer inspection, there were many places where nature, such as parks, remained. I skillfully adjusted my flight distance by moving my wings up and down, a movement seemingly instinctive to my body. Surrendering myself to the tailwind, there was no room for even a hint of doubt. I convinced myself that this was all natural, perfectly ordinary, and entrusted everything to my senses as I set my sights on a large park near the towering clock tower. Encircled by the branches of towering trees, surrounding a grand hall with a fountain, lay my desired destination for descent.
Just before making contact with the cushion of trees, I gave my wings a powerful flap. For a brief moment, my body lifted slightly. However, the angle of descent was too steep, and I couldn't overcome gravity completely. I thrust out both legs and sank into the cushion below. Branches from the surrounding trees assaulted my vision, scraping and bruising my body as if licking it. Breaking through the accessible branches one by one, I slid through the dense green canopy, gracefully arcing and finally gliding down into a thicket of grass. It was what they call a "body landing." And there, I slid right into the embrace of a couple nestled beneath the towering tree.
It was no wonder the couple was startled.
"W-What! What is it?" - The woman exclaimed, her lush blonde hair disheveled as she jumped up
"I-I got startled. It's alright, Cindy. It's just a crow"
"A crow?"
Invited by the man, the woman cautiously leaned forward, peering down at me with a mixture of fear and curiosity. I remained frozen in my sliding posture, unable to make a move. The grassy ground beneath me offered little comfort. Dizzy and disoriented, I couldn't muster the strength to shift.
The man, with his short black hair and slender face, possessed striking blue eyes. He wore a loose black t-shirt and jeans. In contrast, the blonde woman, also with piercing blue eyes, wore a sky-blue dress. She had a fuller figure compared to the man, yet not excessively so, boasting a feminine silhouette with gentle curves.
"Is this how crows usually land?"
"I doubt it."
The young man squatted before me, gently cradling my body between his palms.
"This one's injured."
"Indeed. Covered in scratches all over. Oh, what's this wound here?"
The woman pointed to my left temple with a slender index finger.
"I wonder what caused this? It looks severe, with the flesh torn and the surrounding area scorched... Could it be from a gunshot?"
"Hey, let's just go already."
The woman grimaced in disgust, but the man was more forward-leaning, slipping his fingers under my feet. I was effortlessly lifted up.
"Hey, Rick, what are you planning to do?"
"I want to treat it. Take it home with us."
"You must be joking. No, don't bring it here."
"It's fine. It won't bite."
"I'd rather not be poked. "
The young man seemed unconcerned. Eventually, the woman left first, returning home.
Led by the young man, I was taken to a small gun shop. The young man cautiously observed from outside the storefront, ensuring nobody was inside before bringing me in. The shop's walls were adorned with an array of firearms, from practical tools to decorative pieces. Rifles, ammunition, reloading tools, and other equipment filled the space.
Silently, the young man stooped over the counter, carrying me in one hand. He navigated through the opening and closing counter, opening the door leading to the back. He peered inside, checking left and right for any signs of danger. Slipping through the narrow gap of the door, we emerged into the alleyway, where a heavily rusted iron staircase awaited, its steps groaning softly under our stealthy ascent.
As we climbed halfway up the stairs, a deep voice called from below. The young man's body tensed slightly, and he turned his back, stretching his neck to peer down while concealing me.
"Hey Dad, I'm back."
"Oh, you're back already?"
"Yeah, just got in."
"Wasn't it supposed to be a date? If you're free, help out at the store."
"Got it. I'll head over later."
The young man offered a polite smile before ascending the stairs to reach the wooden door on the side. Upon opening it, a narrow wooden corridor stretched straight ahead, with a small window on the wall facing directly ahead, allowing in a stream of sunlight. To the right, a solid concrete wall stood, while two doors were situated to the left. Standing before the door at the end of the corridor, the young man unlocked it and stepped inside, taking a moment to catch his breath.
The room beyond was cramped, filled to the brim with just a bed, a desk, and a single bookshelf. Books were scattered across both the bed and the floor, making it difficult to claim any semblance of tidiness. Despite the clutter, the room was surprisingly well-lit, with the skylight casting a soft glow that rendered the bare light bulb dangling from the ceiling unnecessary.
Brushing aside the books piled on the desk, the young man cleared a space and then removed the sheets from the bed, laying them on the desk before gently placing me upon them.
Alright. Please, just don't make any noise. If my old man finds out, he'll shoot you dead.
With that, the young man stepped out of the room, only to return shortly with a first aid kit in hand. Then, with unfamiliar movements, he tended to my injuries.
That should do it. If you stay quiet for a while, you'll be ready to fly again soon.
I twisted my neck as far as I could to assess the extent of my injuries. The yellow liquid seeping through the white bandage emitted a strong odor. It appeared to be human antiseptic... Wait, human?
Am I human? Yes, that's right. It slipped my mind entirely, but why did I suddenly realize I am me in that vast sky? What exactly am I? I noticed a black figure wriggling behind me, matching my movements. It was within a small rectangular mirror propped against the wall. Something with pitch-black eyes stared back at me. As I leaned closer, the creature in the mirror extended its slender neck and brought its face closer. No way...
The young man gently placed his index finger on my restless head and stroked it.
What's wrong, Crow?
Yes, I was a crow
Covered in jet-black feathers from head to toe, that unsettling crow, namely myself, stared in disbelief at the reflection of me in the mirror. Wrapped from head to toe in bandages, with a sizable white gauze secured by tape covering my left temple, there was no mistaking it—I was indeed a crow. I had been flying in the sky. Because, I was a crow.
But, if I were a crow, why could I understand human language and comprehend the world in this way? I could hear and understand the words of the young man looking down at me. And it wasn't just that. I knew they were humans, what they wore, what they ate, and even the kind of lives they led. While such knowledge could be attributed to memories of the past, this peculiar crow was well-versed in their culture as well. Yes, I knew about Shakespeare writing King Lear, Adam Smith discovering the invisible hand of God, Edison being the father of invention, and even the presidential harassment scandals in gossip magazines. I knew it all.
Furthermore, if I am indeed a crow, why do I lack memories of my time as a crow? Crows aren't conjured from nothingness as a formless black mass. They hatch from eggs and must pass through their fledgling stage before becoming the sizable crow reflected in the mirror.
"Ah, this is not good". - the young man said as if remembering something.
"I've got to help out in the shop. Please, keep quiet, alright? Don't worry, once you're healed up, I'll let you go."
As the young man left, the atmosphere in the room suddenly became heavy. It was already dim inside, with the orange light of the setting sun streaming in through the skylight.
Perhaps it was the warm sunlight, or maybe it was the presence of the young man who called himself Rick, but I found myself becoming increasingly calm and drowsy. My thoughts began to fade, and even thinking felt burdensome. Ah, forget it, too much trouble. What's certain is that I'm a crow, and right now, I'm probably in a safe place. For now, that's enough.
I closed my eyes, tucking my head beneath my wings as a sense of peace enveloped me. For now, this was enough. After all, at the very least, I had reclaimed my appearance. I am a crow—an extraordinary one, having lost my former self and now residing as a guest in a human's home.
At night, the cityscape is illuminated by colorful neon lights and street lamps. Amidst the modern skyscrapers, the city still preserves dimly lit alleyways and antiquated structures, evoking a nostalgic glimpse of America's distant past.
On the west side of the city, a towering clock tower stands prominently, its white-lit clock face illuminating the dark sky. Passing by, I cast a slight silhouette against its towering presence. Meanwhile, bats, perched side by side on the horizontally divided hour and minute hands, watched me with their yellow eyes as I soared on the night breeze, heading eastward across the city.
It has been a week since my arrival in Raccoon City, and my body has fully recovered. But it's not just physical; mentally, I've found clarity in my existence. I have reclaimed instinctual behaviors such as eating, sleeping, walking, and flying—actions that I might have performed when I was not truly myself. It's all thanks to finding a secure refuge where I can truly be myself.
The host, a young man named Rick, always left the skylight open in the room once my injuries healed. In the morning, I would fly out towards the city from there, and return in the evening. Rick's occupation as a police officer, so due to his irregular schedule both in the morning and evening, we rarely crossed paths.
Even on the rare occasions when we did cross paths, there wasn't much interaction. He was notably diligent, always engrossed in books. His eclectic reading habits spanned across various genres, from novels to philosophy (he's even delving into Kant!), mathematics, poetry, and science.
Strangely, I knew the titles and contents of more than half of the books he read. Also, thanks to Rick's diligence, I discovered that my own knowledge was somewhat biased. While I knew everything about subjects like mathematics and science, I was almost ignorant of philosophy, except for the famous ones. As for chemistry, I seemed to possess knowledge akin to that of a scholar who had received advanced education.
I wonder if I used to be human.
Lately, I've been thinking about that. Yeah, probably some mad scientist, experimenting with matter transference devices, accidentally transferred their consciousness into a crow or something.
While pondering such trivial matters, I found myself hovering over the police station, where Rick worked. Leaning against the entrance gate of the station was an old man, known as Smith the beggar, tilting a bottle of booze. His distinctive features included a white beard and mustache connected by sideburns. Although he typically lounged on a bench in Raccoon Nature Park, today he seemed to have procured a bottle of alcohol from somewhere and was in high spirits, singing boldly in front of the police station. The gatekeeper appeared to pay him no mind.
Come to think of it, within just one week, I've had the opportunity to encounter various individuals, from beggar Smith to my host, Rick. There's Nathan, the mischievous kid who always throws stones when he sees me, Mick, the aspiring but delusional playwright who spends his days lost in fantasies at the park, and Wilson, the bartender who's close to Rick. They're all residents of Raccoon City.
I crossed the arcade and arrived at the back entrance of a restaurant located in the eastern part of the city. Although it's called a restaurant, it's not particularly fancy, more like a typical diner.
There, I let out a caw with the characteristic elongated syllables typical of crows. After a moment, the back door cracked open slightly. A burly figure with a similarly dark complexion to mine peered out. Bathed in the yellow light leaking from the gap in the door, he looked down at me and flashed a toothy grin.
"Hey there, friend. Welcome, welcome" - He greeted warmly.
With those words, he tossed out hardened bread and leftovers through the gap in the door.
His name was Martin. He worked below in the restaurant, the only man in this town who called me "friend." I met him about three days ago, drawn by the same enticing scent as now. Accustomed to disdainful glances, I immediately recognized in him, just like in Rick, a genuine kindness towards me. It was evident in his eyes as he looked at me, so gentle and warm.
"Hey, friend. I'm gonna be a proper chef someday, you'll see" - He said as I pecked at the leftovers.
"I may be a half-baked cook still, but I've got dreams, you know? Someday, I'll make dishes for everyone to savor. Right, friend? You may be a crow, but you're my first-ever customer. You're a special one, coming here for my food" - He'd say with a grin, then pat my head happily.
In this way, I seamlessly blended into this town. But of course, the folks here aren't just human. Just as dogs have their territories, us birds, and various other creatures, have nests. Being akin to them, I had to abide by their rules. I first learned this when I became adept at flying freely. As I soared near the hospital, two crows aggressively attacked me. I had gotten too close to their nest. Fortunately, I escaped with just a few feathers plucked, but this incident made me realize the need to get along with the town's creatures while mingling with humans. However, at first, I didn't know how to go about it. Approaching them made me a target for attack, and it wasn't a laughing matter. The problem was, I didn't understand the language of crows.
After a few days, on a late afternoon when I was beginning to give up on the idea of being just a crow.
As I sat on a park bench, listening to Smith's complaints, a female crow landed right next to me, on the backrest of the bench. I thought she might be about to scold me for encroaching on her territory as usual, but it seemed she had something else in mind. Tilting her head curiously, she looked at me with interest.
I hopped two or three times and stood beneath the bench where she perched, glancing up at her with lowered eyes. I had intended to keep my distance to avoid making her wary, but surprisingly, she approached me instead. She hopped down from the bench and came right up to me, then suddenly thrust her beak forward.
She lightly touched the tip of my beak. Then, she withdrew her face and tilted her head. When I extended my beak, she darted away from its tip, flying down behind me. Then, she approached again.
As we continued this interaction, I gradually began to understand what she wanted. This was what they call courtship behavior. Somehow, she seemed to have taken a liking to me. When I perched on the bench, she quickly settled beside me. When I took flight, she followed behind. Like wild creatures, we remained vigilant, yet expressed the utmost affection.
Hours later, under the darkening sky, she and I perched once again on the backrest of the bench where we first met, leaning against each other, gazing at the western horizon. As the twilight faded, the park lights gradually flickered on. There were no people in the park, only the sound of water flowing from the fountain.
Eventually, the sun set, and the moonlight bathed the park. Through our feathers, I could feel her warmth. Gradually, I stopped thinking about who I was. This area of the park seemed to be her territory, and I found myself unwarrantedly holding a separate estate.
As we carried on like this, late August arrived. The summer in Raccoon City showed no signs of waning. Amidst the oppressive nights, I was awakened by the voices of children playing in the park fountain. Beside me, the dark mass stirred lazily. She spread her wings once, then folded them back and drooped her head again. When I lightly pecked at her neck, she nudged me in return, as if in jest. Then, once again, we nestled together, closing our eyes. It had been two weeks since we began living like this. My routine lately consisted of visiting Rick, collecting leftovers from Martin's restaurant, or spending time like this with her, perched on a high branch of a tall tree in the park, seeking refuge from the sweltering heat
Honestly, I was feeling a bit bored. As someone with the mind of a human, the lives of creatures focused on eating and breeding seemed too monotonous.
It was on the last day of August. When I woke up, it was already midday. She seemed to be out searching for food far away, as she hadn't returned yet. With nothing much to do, I aimlessly headed towards Rick's room.
Despite it being early autumn, the lingering heat was particularly harsh. For us birds flying in the sky, there's nothing more annoying than the glaring sun. Flying low through gaps in the shade, I managed to make my way to Rick's house. As I arrived, I heard a clear, melodic sound escaping from the room. It was a unique blend of high-pitched bounces and soft collapses. Perching on the edge of the skylight, I investigated the source and found it emanating from a small square box sitting on the desk, producing its amateurish melody. The lid of the box was open, and the familiar tune echoed from within. Ah yes, it was called an music box, if I recall correctly. Rick sat in his chair, gazing down at the box.
Rick didn't notice my presence until I perched on the desk. Upon seeing me, he startled and jumped up in surprise.
Ah, what's up? A crow, huh? Good to see you.
Rick awkwardly laughed and close the lid of the box to silence the sound, carefully tucked it into his right pants pocket.
I'm on the night shift today. Anyway, it's been hot lately, hasn't it?
As if making excuses, Rick was trying to maintain his composure. After a moment of silence, he muttered something under his breath.
Hey, Crow. I wonder what happiness really is.
Rick retrieved the tucked-away music box once more, and placed it on the desk. With careful hands, he opened its lid, gently winding the protruding screw, allowing the melody to pour forth.
"This music box belonged to my mother" - Rick began softly, his tone carrying a nuanced blend of nostalgia and uncertainty. "She was happy. She passed away too soon, but my father cherished her dearly. I wonder... Can I make her happy?
Rick then began to elaborate at length on his feelings for a certain woman.
The person's name is Cindy Miller, the daughter of a boutique owner who runs a shop in an alley not far from Rick's house.
"She is such an amazing person. It's almost otherworldly" - he said
Rick, with his masculine and pure-hearted feelings, spoke endlessly, his eyes shining. Though somewhat dreamy at times, it was still a genuine display of masculine love. He even quoted Shakespearean sonnets, praising her absolute beauty. If the person he described were to exist in this world, even Mona Lisa would flee barefoot.
"But, Crow..." - Rick suddenly lowered his voice.
"I don't think I'm the kind of man suitable for her. I became a policeman in an attempt to get her to like me, to pursue a respectable job, but I'm just messing up."
I nodded unconsciously. It seemed plausible. I'd never seen him at work, but I had a sense of it. There was no way this man could catch criminals.
After berating himself for his incompetence and feeling thoroughly disheartened, he collapsed onto the desk and drifted into sleep. Though I wished to assist my benefactor, I found myself powerless. If only there were a statue of the Happy Prince somewhere in this city, and if I were a little swallow seeking refuge there, perhaps I could offer him a jewel or two as a gesture of kindness.
I leapt out through the skylight, careful not to make a sound, and exited the room. The surroundings were already dimming. She might be back in the park by now. I felt sorry for Rick, but a black angel, perhaps even surprising the Virgin Mary herself, was waiting for me.
Returning to the park, the surroundings had become completely dark. Dispersing a cluster of moths gathered around the irregularly flickering streetlights, I made my way back to our dwelling. Already, she had returned. As usual, she perched on a branch, slightly bowed. I approached as I always did, hoping for that warmth. Unexpectedly, her body felt as cold as ice. Was she unwell? Concerned, I chirped softly, receiving a feeble response. Her body trembled slightly. Had she caught a cold? Suddenly, the flickering streetlights went out. It was a dilemma for birds like us. I blinked repeatedly. When I glanced in her direction, something watery brushed against the tip of my beak. What could this be? This is....
As my eyes adjusted, I realized that what was at the tip of my beak was her saliva. It dripped from her beak, leaving a white thread trailing from her mouth. But it wasn't just that; her eyes were also brimming with the same liquid. It was tears, yet oddly viscous. But what was this smell? It was akin to the stench of decay, enough to dull my senses. I realized that this odor emanated from her beak, attached to the mucus that dribbled from her mouth. It was a scent I had encountered somewhere before. Nevertheless, she was undoubtedly sick. I spent the night warming her body, believing that by the next day, she would surely recover. At least, I didn't think her life was in immediate danger.
However, contrary to such hopes, the next day her condition worsened. The drooping white fluid flowed incessantly from every pore, and that familiar odor now emanated from her entire body. Occasionally, she weakly flew down from the branch, darting to the fountain where the vigorous spurts of water sprayed. There, she drank the water with fervor, almost obsessively.
As evening fell, her condition became increasingly dire. She incessantly exhaled ragged breaths, restlessly swaying her body from side to side. Concerned, I drew closer, and her head turned towards me slowly, like a puppet's, fixing her gaze upon me. In the depths of her eyes, I glimpsed something resembling red specks, and in that moment, she thrust her thin, sharp beak directly towards my face. Instinctively, I leaped backward to evade it. I couldn't comprehend what had just happened. It wasn't a playful jest as she often engaged in; it was a deliberate attempt to harm me. I couldn't fathom what had provoked such aggression from her. It was as if she was a different creature altogether, driven by some unseen force. Despite my efforts to help her, she seemed beyond reach, lost in a state of distress and confusion.
She suddenly screamed as if possessed, and then rushed at me recklessly.
I took her charge and fell to the ground. In a posture resembling a sitting duck, I looked up to see her hovering above, dripping viscous fluid from her eyes and mouth as she flew away into the sunset, after hurling three angry cries.
What was left behind was merely my bewildered self. I desperately wanted to believe that it wasn't her, that it was just some other crow gone mad in the heat, intruding into our nest. However, there was no mistaking it; it was her. The instinct, like a sixth sense, to recognize one's own kind lies far beyond human imagination. But why? What had I done?
Nevertheless, her symptoms... I felt like I had seen them somewhere before. But where? My mind sparked with dozens of thoughts colliding. It feels like something is still missing to grasp the revelation. My head is pounding. I feel nauseous. The cause is this smell. As I focus, I realize that this odor is permeating the entire park grounds. Could there be something toxic in this park? Looking down from above, there doesn't seem to be anything unusual. Instead, I spot Smith lying on a bench. Normally jovial, singing along with a drink in hand, he now lies curled up like a corpse. He seemed to be trembling as he scratched and pulled at himself all over his body.
I didn't want to stay in the park any longer, so I decided to return to Rick's room. When I arrived at his room, the lights were off, and he was nowhere to be found. Was he on night duty again today, following yesterday? Without hesitation, I climbed onto his bed and closed my eyes. Doing so made the events in the park feel like a dream. I checked to see if I smelled like that odor. It wasn't a pleasant smell, but at least it wasn't the nauseating odor from before.
I decided to calmly and methodically think through the events in the park. Was there anything unusual about her? Was there anything amiss in the park itself? As I sorted through each incident, I kept coming back to that odor. What was that odor? Why did only she, out of all of us living similar lives, have that odor?
As I pondered various things, I heard footsteps in the hallway. They grew louder and stopped in front of the room. There was a heavy sigh, followed by the opening of the door. In walked Rick, his expression lacking its usual vivacity. He was still in uniform, not his usual attire. Turning on the room's light, he smiled at me as he noticed me on the bed. There were slight bags under his eyes.
Did I wake you? Sorry about that. Mind if I lie down for a bit?
Of course, I immediately made space on the edge of the bed. Rick collapsed face down. Peering over, he fluttered his eyelids open slightly.
"I'm beat. I've hardly slept since yesterday. After finishing my night shift, a little incident happened. It's some sort of food poisoning outbreak. I've been assisting with directing patients rushing to the hospital all day today. I need to rest a bit before I have to go back. The police and medical institutions are working together to investigate the cause of the situation.
But enough about me. How about you? You look like you've been through the wringer too.
The patients' symptoms are mild. Swelling all over, itching, abdominal pain, vomiting. But since we don't know the cause, doctors can't do much. And this food poisoning isn't just affecting humans. Seems like dogs and cats are showing similar symptoms. Crow, are you okay? You should stay in this room for a while. Oh, and I need to warn Cindy too.
I hadn't really been listening to the latter part of the conversation. She was indeed sick.
I left Rick, who was peacefully asleep next to me, and rushed out of the room. She might have returned to the park. I intended to find her and forcibly bring her back to Rick. If she could see a human doctor, maybe she would be saved. Then, we could snuggle up together again and feel warmth.
Perhaps due to the late hour, there were no people to be seen in Racoon City from above. The only things drifting on the wind were the sirens of police cars and ambulances, sometimes mixed with the distant howls of dogs.
As I approached the park from above, I instinctively averted my gaze. A sickly sweet stench of decay wafted up to the heights of the sky. While this odor could be sensed throughout the city, here it was of an entirely different intensity. Trying to avoid concentrating on the smell, I descended in altitude. I landed right beside Smith, who lay sprawled out on the bench. The overpowering odor made me feel dizzy, enveloping my entire body.
Ignoring Smith, who was lying down, I continued toward the base of the towering tree that served as our roost. Even when I looked up, there was no sign of her. As I turned to search elsewhere, Smith, who had been lying on the bench, sluggishly began to move. Rolling off the bench, he crawled along the ground toward the direction of the fountain. Dipping his face into the water, he started slurping it up as if possessed. His behavior reminded me eerily of her at that moment.
Without any particular intention, I approached Smith's back. Standing on the stone edge surrounding the fountain, I felt a powerful dizziness. The liquid spurting out was not water; it was a mass of that familiar odor disguised as water. Did Smith not realize this smell? Even standing by the pond like this was overwhelming enough for me.
As I tried to leave the area, Smith lifted his head. Water droplets dripped from his beard. In the center of his scratched face, within his vacant eyes, I saw a glint of red. He reached out haphazardly and grabbed my left wing. I was pulled with tremendous force. His mouth opened wide.
In a frenzy, I jabbed at his hand, kicking off the edge to soar upward. With a loose grip, his hand slid off my left wing, leaving behind a piece of his palm skin attached to it. It tore away from his hand unnervingly easily.
Still, Smith seemed to feel no pain. He looked at his palm, wet with blood and exudate, smelled it, and licked it with his discolored tongue.
I shook off the skin from my left wing and flew into the sky without looking back, rushing back to Rick's room. The room was dark, and Rick was nowhere to be found. I crawled under the desk, trying not to think about anything. If I were to think about something, I might go mad. No, perhaps I'm already going mad. Ah, I remembered. That smell was what I felt in my mouth the moment I realized I was myself. Does that mean I'll end up like Smith or her? I hid my head between my wings, trembling as I waited for dawn.
I suddenly became fully awake. The remnants of sleep were instantly dispelled, and my heart began to race. I can't remember it clearly, but I had a bad dream. At least, it was a nightmare intense enough to make my whole body shudder. It's okay, this is Rick's room. Not there, over there.
Over there?
Yes, the fragment of the dream is etched in my mind—the scene over there. Syringes, operating tables, men in white coats, blinding lights, light, light...
The room was still pitch dark. Could it be that I had been unconscious for an entire day? Or perhaps, is that night still continuing? The gust of wind shook the open skylight vigorously, pounding against the walls of the room. The sweet odor was there as expected.
Even though I woke up, I couldn't bring myself to check on the situation outside. Just thinking about what might be happening in every corner of the city sends shivers down my spine. The faint sound of police sirens that had been incessantly ringing in the depths of sleep is now completely silent. It's still peaceful here. The scent of Rick lingering in the room helps me feel calm.
The skylight made another loud noise, and the wind seemed unexpectedly strong. That's when I heard footsteps in the hallway. The heavy footsteps were rapidly approaching. I froze in place, holding my breath. In the next moment, the door was forcefully flung open.
Damn it, Rick, leaving the window wide open like that.
He turned on the lights in the room. It was a small space. Even under the desk, with only four thin legs, I was exposed to the light. Rick's father raised an eyebrow.
"What? How did you get in here?"
Rick's father grabbed a thick book from the bed and squatted down to the floor, hitting me under the desk. I rolled out from under the desk, and then jumped out through the skylight. I heard the sound of the skylight closing behind me.
With no particular destination in mind, I found myself wandering through the airspace above the streets. The stench was so overwhelming that my nose had become numb to it. The city was eerily quiet, as if nothing had happened at all. It brought me some relief; the city seemed more peaceful than I had anticipated. But then, in the distance below, the sound of gunshots rang out.
The gunshots weren't just once. They echoed two, three times in rapid succession. Startled, I lost my balance drastically. Just before nearing the towering buildings below, I managed to regain my posture and landed on the roof of a grocery store. What could have caused those gunshots? I stretched my neck out, fearfully peering down at the street below.
In the middle of the street, stood a lone man. He held a cheap Beretta in his hand. The smoke rising from the Beretta was swallowed by the darkness of the night. Once again, he readied himself, facing forward. Sticky footsteps could be heard approaching from the darkness ahead. Eventually, under the streetlight, his figure became visible.
What an ugly creature it is. It has a human form, but its skin sags all over its body, and more than half of its facial flesh has decayed away. Its clothes are stained dark red, and maggots wriggle vigorously on its surface. The creature, emitting a dull groan, approached the man with the Beretta in hand.
Once again, gunshots rang out, two in quick succession. They struck the creature's chest, causing blood to splatter, staining the dark street. The creature lurched forward, falling face down to the ground. Its body twitched lightly.
The man with the Beretta wiped the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. He approached to confirm whether the creature was dead or not.
In an instant, as the man approached within arm's reach, the creature's hand seized his ankle. The man screamed out, attempting to aim the Beretta, but his leg was caught, causing him to fall backward onto his back. The gunshots faded into the air.
The creature loomed over the man, its mouth gaping open, drooling white threads. Its teeth tore into the man's throat, sending a geyser of bright red blood spurting into the air. The man's entire body convulsed violently. The creature, relentless, sank its teeth into the man's face, tearing away chunks of flesh around his eyes.
The man must have wanted to scream. At the very least, he must have wanted to distract himself from the pain by screaming. But, being unable to produce sound without a throat, his vocal cords could not tremble. Blood foam overflowed in his mouth.
I deeply regretted having a human heart. The unpleasant smell returned to my mouth. I spat it out. Nothing came out of my stomach. Only the sound of retching was squeezed out of my stomach. Sensing that sound, the creature that was eating raised its head. At the corner of its mouth, an eyeball that must have belonged to the man was dangling.
I flew. Without considering the direction, I fled recklessly. This is not food poisoning or anything like it. Something unknown is lurking in the depths of the city. And it has already thrust its vicious fangs into every corner of the city.
It's better to run. That's what instinct tells me. But still, I didn't want to leave this city. Perhaps as a human, I found a home in this city. It's only been a month, but I've finally found a place to settle down. I don't want to leave this city. However, hovering around the city center like this is dangerous. Because, just like my girlfriend, there's no telling when these crazed mutants might attack.
Is there anyone who would shelter me? Ideally, someone as kind and affectionate as Rick, who would throw a loving gaze at me. Yes, him.
Heading east, I was surprised by the transformation of the city below. There were no figures on the streets, and the doors of houses were tightly closed. The gaudy neon lights accentuated the eerie atmosphere of this ghost town. The only thing lingering heavily in the darkness was the sound of something stirring—a strangely viscous sound, accompanied by low moans.
When I landed at the back entrance of the restaurant, it too was filled with that same smell. The source of the smell was nearby. After jumping two or three steps, I reached the drain opening by the side of the road. From the darkness within, I could hear the sound of flowing water and that familiar smell. And also, the sound of something massive creeping in the darkness.
I shuddered and moved away from the hole.
I poke the back door of the restaurant two or three times, but there's no response. Normally, Martin would come out right away. I try poking it harder this time. Then, the door creaks open slightly. It wasn't latched.
I stick my head through the opening. It's usually Martin's workspace. I can't hear the sounds of cooking or people talking. Only the hum of the ventilation fan. Is nobody here? I slip inside through the gap
The kitchen was unusually cold. I glance around while looking up at the well-polished silver equipment. I sense a presence, but there's no one around. I peek into the restaurant's interior, but only orange lighting illuminates the space; there are no customers. In this deserted restaurant, only the sound of the air conditioning echoes. Where could Martin have gone? Martin, who should have greeted me with his kind smile, is nowhere to be found. Could it be that even Martin...
I returned to the empty kitchen and cawed several times. After a few caws, I heard a noise from the back of the kitchen. Moving toward the direction of the sound, I reached a large silver door at the back of the kitchen. It was slightly ajar, allowing cold air to escape. The door was labeled "Freezer."
As soon as I stuck my head in, I could see the interior of the freezer, which had turned into a wide aisle. Shelves lined both sides of the straight corridor, stocked with ingredients, and there was a bend in the path to the left from the end. From beyond that bend, I could hear strange noises. The rhythmic and consistent sound filled me with a sense of physiological disgust.
I ventured into the freezing space to verify the sound. Upon turning left at the dead-end, there was a figure crouching toward the wall. From their large silhouette, I discerned it was Martin. His black head bobbed up and down. His movements closely resembled those I make when pecking for food.
I whimpered softly. Martin's back trembled slightly. He turned slowly in my direction. Around his mouth, there were small, reddish-black pieces of flesh clinging, and through the gap of his slackened lips, partially eaten chunks of meat were visible. They glistened dully, mixed with saliva, like jelly.
"Friend" - Martin muttered
"Co-come, f-f-friend. This way, c-c-come on?"
I didn't respond to his invitation. The gleam of the knife in his right hand clearly radiated a sense of murderous intent. I didn't know what he was eating, nor did I care to find out. Hastily, I darted out of the restaurant.
Having lost both a place to return to and a place of solace, there was only one person left I could rely on. I flew towards the police station where he worked. Along the way, I witnessed several horrors.
From above, it was clear to see that the monsters, taking on the form of humans, were acting quietly yet boldly. They formed alliances to obtain meat, targeting women, children, and even infants without discrimination. Somehow, the few remaining residents who managed to survive seemed to be heading towards the police station, but not a single one of them seemed to reach it safely.
When I arrived at the police station, the main gate was open, and several patrol cars roared out. I looked at the driver of the lead patrol car and recognized it was Rick. Everyone in the patrol cars was fully armed. Judging from the bloodstained vehicles, the situation seemed extremely urgent. While I slept, they must have carried out their mission multiple times.
Perched atop the gate, watching the patrol cars depart, I noticed a figure seated in the passenger seat of the last patrol car. It was a young woman. She had chestnut semi-long hair and a somewhat slender face, though her gaze was remarkably sharp. Her uniform looked slightly different from the others, perhaps emphasizing ease of movement as she wore minimal body armor such as bulletproof vests. Whether due to experience or natural composure, she appeared remarkably calm.
The moment I saw the woman's face, I felt a revelation that I had stubbornly kept silent about suddenly ignite within me. Sparks flew before my eyes as thousands of insights collided in my mind. And then, it revealed itself.
I know that woman.
And I knew it was an intensely unpleasant experience from the nauseating churn in my stomach. Just the memory of that woman's fiery determination-filled eyes made my blood run cold. Without hesitation, I followed the patrol car. I wanted to know more about that woman. Who exactly was she? And what kind of relationship did she have with my past self? I felt like she could fill in the gaps where my revelations fell short.
The patrol car's sirens stopped near Martin's restaurant on the east side of town. The cars were parked in a line, facing sideways, as if forming a makeshift barrier. Police officers, with guns in hand, stepped out of the cars. Rick and that woman got out too.
I stood on the fence surrounding the rooftop of a five-story building adjacent to the restaurant, looking down at them. The man with a mustache who rode in the same car as the woman raised his hand, making a beckoning gesture. The officers gathered around him. He seemed to be their leader. Leaning forward, I strained to listen. They were speaking quietly, but I could make out some of what they were saying.
"The report came from around here. There might be survivors. If those monsters show up, take them out one by one. Don't hesitate to treat them as anything other than human."
The leader began explaining the mission. It seems that there are still some normal humans around here. The goal is to rescue those individuals and bring them back to the station.
"Absolutely avoid solo operations. Move in pairs. Rick and Jim, you two stay here on standby. Rick, listen up. That thing out there is not human. Don't make the same mistake as yesterday"
Reluctantly, Rick nodded in response to the call.
"Five minutes to gather. Jill, take the lead" - he said
The woman with the semi-long hair nodded silently. Jill, that's her name. Unfortunately, I don't feel anything about that name. It feels like the first time I've heard it.
The woman, Jill, stepped over the hood of the patrol car with a Beretta in hand. Following her were armed officers with shotguns and the like. They paired up and split in all directions, entering nearby buildings. Meanwhile, Rick and a young man of similar age to him stood back-to-back behind the wall of the patrol car, carefully scanning their surroundings with Berettas in hand.
"Hey, Rick. George mentioned it earlier, but please, if you have to, fire your weapon."
"I know, Jim."
"Well, considering they might be civilians. I can understand your hesitation. Seriously, how did we end up in this mess?"
The man called Jim shrugged his shoulders.
"We're to blame. We didn't believe what Jill and the others said when they came back from that incident. If only we'd listened to their warning at that time..."
"Well, that's just impossible. Nobody would've believed it. Even I, who saw it with my own eyes, still have doubts. Well, anyway, we have to survive. Especially you, for the sake of your cute girlfriend waiting at the station."
"Yeah. You're right. For her sake."
After murmuring that, Rick stroked the barrel of his Beretta with his finger.
Before long, the search party returned with grim expressions.
"The response was too slow. The woman who made the call, she was already beyond saving. It seems there are no other survivors."
The leader sighed and shook his head.
"This place is too dangerous now. We need to retreat immediately."
"It looks like it's dinner time, doesn't it?" Jill said, glaring down the street. The slithering footsteps, accompanied by eerie growls, were closing in from the darkness ahead. From my vantage point above, I could clearly see the figures moving in the shadows.
"Take your positions!" The team dispersed, taking cover behind the patrol cars and aiming their guns.
More than ten figures emerged into the street, illuminated by the dim streetlights. Their shaky movements were accompanied by vacant red eyes.
"Not yet, lure them in closer... Okay! Fire!"
The row of aligned gun muzzles erupted in unison, spitting fire. The resulting explosions echoed like fireworks, soaring high into the sky. The figure leading the group staggered back, but somehow managed to remain upright and continued to advance.
As I watched from the sidelines, I noticed that no smoke emerged from Rick's gun barrel. While the others were too preoccupied to notice, he alone hadn't fired a shot. Even from a distance, I could see his hand trembling as he held the gun.
"Once more! Alright, fire!"
Once again, gunshots rang out. The sounds overlapped, making it difficult to distinguish, but there was undeniably one shot fewer than the number of people. The leading figure persisted in advancing, illuminated by the lights of the officers' aimed flashlights.
...What on earth is happening!
"The person held a knife in their right hand, and beneath their disfigured blackened skin, I could still discern a familiar resemblance. It was my friend, Martin. His stained white chef's uniform bore numerous small holes in the chest.
"Damn it! Retreat!" the captain shouted. Everyone began to move at once. Except one. A figure with a trembling gun aimed at Martin, a look of impending crisis on their face.
"Rick! What are you doing! Get in!"
Jim shouted from inside the patrol car. Rick snapped out of it as if he had been jolted awake, but it was too late. Martin, threading through the gap in the patrol car's wall, stood facing Rick. The other monsters behind him were also closing in on the wall. Just as Rick tried to flee, the massive frame of Martin loomed over him.
In that moment of imminent peril, someone intervened. They tackled Martin with a shoulder charge, sending him flying. The brown-haired woman swayed, and three gunshots rang out. Martin slumped forward.
"Get back! He's still alive!"
With that cry, she fired once more, aiming at the back of Martin's head. His black head split open, and crimson blood poured out. Beside the now pale Rick, Jill lowered her smoking Beretta, casting a cold gaze downward.
"Quick, get in!"
Jill pulled Rick's uniform sleeve. Rick rolled into Jim's driving patrol car. Jill, sitting on the window ledge, slid both legs into the passenger seat, leaning her upper body out while swinging her right arm holding the gun vigorously. The patrol car began to move simultaneously. Maneuvering the vehicle skillfully through the narrow streets, they headed towards the station.
As the lights of the mixed blue and red sirens disappeared from sight, I felt a profoundly mixed emotion. Was I sad that Martin was killed, relieved that Rick survived, or resentful towards that woman who killed Martin? The blend of emotions left me confused. As the monsters, deprived of their prey, began to feast on Martin's fallen body, I found it too distasteful to witness. Offering my condolences for the loss of my friend, I followed the patrol car until the end.
Several hours later, dawn broke, leaving behind a lingering nightmare. The streets of Raccoon City bathed in the brilliance of the morning sun appeared unchanged, adorned in their usual peaceful attire. The sky was infuriatingly clear, and a cool breeze caressed the rooftop of the police station.
Perched on the railing, conducting surveillance, I blinked my swollen eyes several times. I hadn't volunteered for the sleepless watch. It's just that I couldn't sleep, plain and simple.
Yesterday, perhaps due to the variety of events, my memories are overlapping, and each scene has become blurred. It feels similar to watching several movies of the same genre in succession; once they're over, it's hard to distinguish one from another. I can only recall whether they were interesting or boring. Of course, in my case, only unpleasant feelings remain.
Since that last mission, there has been no movement within the station. Neither Jill nor Rick has shown themselves. The station is eerily quiet, as if everyone has died.
Around noon, while seeking refuge from the harsh sunlight in the shade of the rooftop's water tank, I heard the creaking of rusty metal, and the rooftop door opened. Peeking cautiously from behind the tank, I recognized Rick and a blonde-haired woman I had seen once before in the park.
The two walked up to the railing and leaned in towards each other, surveying the city.
"It's quiet, almost surreal with all the commotion," the woman murmured.
"Hey, has your dad not shown up here yet? Is he okay?"
"He's fine. He's that kind of guy. He wouldn't bother coming all the way here. Our place is a gun shop, so we have plenty of weapons."
"So..." a silence fell between them, and I began to feel uneasy.
"Cindy, about your mom..."
"It's okay. Don't say it."
"No, I've been worried about it for a while. If only I had rushed to your house a little sooner..."
"Don't be silly. Don't worry about that. If you hadn't come then, I wouldn't be here like this now."
"But we don't know how long this place will hold up. We still can't communicate outside the city, and no rescue is coming. In the end, we might..."
Rick swallowed his words.
"Hey, why can't we communicate outside the city?"
"I don't know. It seems like someone is emitting jamming signals within the city. And it's not just ordinary interference. It's high-tech stuff like the military uses. Phones, radios, nothing works. But we can't just leave through those monsters' nest either."
Who on earth could be emitting jamming signals?"
"I don't know... Jill says it's the work of someone who doesn't want this incident to go public. Anyway, unless we find it, we won't be saved. So, George assigned Jill the task of finding it. Right now, she's infiltrating the city alone."
"Jill, that woman?"
"Yeah, that brown-haired woman."
"She's strong, isn't she? Not at all shaken by this commotion."
"Because she's experienced."
"Experienced?"
"About a month ago, she got involved in a similar incident in the suburbs. At that time, even the members of the special forces could barely escape from where those monsters swarmed. Jill was one of the five who managed to survive. She knows how to survive. She's saved me many times."
"But now, she's left here for a mission, hasn't she? If those monsters come here now?"
"If that happens... I'll protect you."
Rick held her tightly, and the two gazed intensely at each other.
I withdrew before their lips met. This is where I feel human, I thought. At the same time, I felt terribly lonely.
They say humans can't survive for a month feeling lonely. Without someone to understand them, they can't go on living. I don't even understand myself. While I feel something towards Jill, she doesn't seem to hold the key to understanding my existence. Who exactly holds that key? As I pondered this, the drowsiness that had been haunting me since yesterday came rushing back.
When I closed my eyelids, I found myself in the usual scenery once again. The operating room, advanced machinery. The light from the lights fading away. It was that dream again. Frankly, I was getting tired of it.
Perhaps my feelings reached someone that day because things were slightly different. I was placed inside a small birdcage. It was the same operating room. In front of me stood a man in a white coat, a young man about the same age as Rick. He had blond hair and blue eyes. In his hand, he held a book.
"Sample 1, how are you feeling? Can you understand what I'm saying? Alright, let's read 'Applied Polymer Chemistry' today."
...What are you saying?
The scene changed again, and this time, I was on the operating table. In front of me stood an old man with sharp eyes and white hair.
"Sample 1, do you understand your purpose? You're special. You were born to lead them. Every group of crows needs its leader. Do you understand what I'm saying? Good, good, you're a good child."
My head... it feels like it's splitting. My vision is getting dark. Just before it all fades away, I saw it. That mansion standing alone in the dark, crimson-stained forest. And... that figure... was it...?
If we were to describe the state of my sleep recovery as akin to a state of suspended animation, then it would be appropriate to say that my soul was forcefully summoned back. Indeed, my consciousness, referred to as a soul, was dragged into the vessel by the abnormal condition of the body it sensed. As sensation returned to my body, I realized that every hair was standing on end. My nose detected the putrid odor lingering on the rooftop of the police station. That familiar stench of decay. The monster was nearby.
When I opened my eyes, the surroundings had already darkened. Adhesive sounds reverberated in the gloomy sky. The noise was unprecedentedly abundant. For a moment, I thought of jumping up, but I reconsidered and held back. I could escape at any time. It was Rick I was more worried about.
Like a cat, I stealthily emerged from the shadows of the water tank. I surveyed the rooftop. No human figures were present, and the sticky footsteps, once audible, were now silent. Then, what was causing this smell? Peering over the parapet, I extended my neck to look below. I saw the shadows of lifeless bodies gathering around the building. The stench was rising from the ground below.
It began suddenly. Along with the sound of shattering glass, gunfire roared below. Screams and growls intertwined, and a deafening alarm resounded throughout the station. Simultaneously, an explosion occurred to the east of the city. Judging from the relatively small blast, it was likely a car or something similar. They occurred simultaneously as if meticulously planned in advance. There was ample potential for those monsters to unite. Everything they had was directed towards their insatiable appetite. And the bait was here.
Despite such an emergency, I could only stare blankly at the unfolding events. I couldn't observe the situation inside the station because the rooftop door was firmly sealed with rusted iron, beyond my ability to open. All the windows were closed, making infiltration impossible. All I could do was pray for Rick's safety.
After that, I don't remember much. After the repeated screams faded away, and the sobbing voices disappeared, I found myself standing at the rooftop railing, gazing emptily at the sky.
Why did this happen? I wonder why it turned out like this. Come to think of it, someone else said the same thing, didn't they? Who was it? Well, it doesn't matter anymore.
I enjoyed some peaceful time. It's been a while since I felt this calm. The smell is a bit strong, but the cool breeze is refreshing. It's like resigning myself to reality at the end of suffering, under the guise of acceptance.
At that moment, there was a sound behind me. The dull scraping of metal. The door to the rooftop opened, and the two of them appeared. Rick was leaning on Cindy, desperately trying to support himself with her help. They somehow made it to the center of the rooftop, on the verge of collapsing.
Cindy staggered to her feet and gently laid Rick on his back. Rick's chest heaved up and down violently. The distant neon lights illuminated Rick's chest, stained with crimson.
"Pull yourself together, Rick" - Cindy said, clasping Rick's cheeks with her blood-stained hands.
"Respond, please!" Rick's body moved ever so slightly, as if attempting to sit up, but it seemed beyond his reach.
"I'm sorry, Cindy. I just couldn't... I couldn't bring myself to... to shoot anyone. It's pathetic. I can't even... protect you..."
"It's okay. It's okay. Hey, let's get out of here, okay? We're getting married, right? We're going to be husband and wife, right? Rick, I love you. Don't leave me."
"Yeah... we're getting married." Cindy forced a smile through her trembling lips. "Simple is fine. Let's make our vows right here, right now, just the two of us."
"But... there's no pastor..."
"A pastor...?"
Cindy frowned in confusion, then raised her face. Our eyes met as I stood by the railing.
"There he is, isn't he? The pitch-black pastor," Rick said, arching his body slightly and smiling at me.
"Indeed. Well then, let's make our vows. I pledge lifelong love to you. And you?" Rick said.
"Of course! I love you, Rick," Cindy replied.
Cindy's upper body covered Rick's, and he passed away.
Looking down at her husband, now motionless, Cindy was stunned. For whatever reason, she drew the unused Beretta from her husband's waist.
"Rick, I won't let you become one of those monsters," she said, and the gunshot echoed. A stream of red blood spurted from her husband's temple. Then, Cindy turned the gun on herself. Another gunshot. Embraced by her husband's arms, she fell, taking her last breath.
Now, with the city engulfed in flames behind me, I find myself listening intently to the music box that fell from Rick's pocket. It plays the same melody endlessly. I wished to remain like this forever. It felt as though acknowledging the reality in front of me would drive me mad. Yet, contrary to my wish, the music box's tune becomes faint and eventually ceases altogether. It's as if it mirrors the fate of this city. And now, there is no one left to wind the screw.
I felt the urge to go somewhere far away. To leave behind the past, to abandon this city, and perhaps live peacefully somewhere else didn't sound like a bad idea. Finding new friends, seeking a new lover, and pursuing happiness seemed to align with the will of the two lying before me.
However, the hammer of judgment is about to fall upon me now. My sharp senses caught the sound of footsteps coming up the stairs beyond the open door on the rooftop. Not the footsteps of those monsters, but firm, human footsteps. The instinct of a beast can sometimes be remarkable, and I knew exactly who it was.
The figure appeared on the rooftop. Her brown, semi-long hair looked more casual than when I first saw her. Instead of a Beretta, she held a thick knife in her hand. A Beretta peeked out from the side pack strapped to her shoulders.
She scanned the rooftop with a calm face but with a hint of vigilance. Then, she spotted Rick and Cindy lying in the middle. And upon finding me between them, her face tensed. Jill approached without saying a word. Surely, to her, it must have seemed like a hungry crow had come for a meal.
I cawked at Jill, "It wasn't me." She drew a pistol from her side pack the moment she reached a certain point. I jumped in alarm. Along with the gunshot, something hard grazed my left temple. I hardly felt any pain. It was just warmth. A warm substance dripped onto the concrete of the rooftop. I realized an old wound had reopened. At the same time, a scene burned into the depths of my eyes, like watching a movie.
I, born as Sample 1 in a certain laboratory, was the leader of the crows endowed with knowledge. My role was to guide my fellow creatures born from the same research. After an accident occurred in the laboratory and humans disappeared, I continued to lead the crows as their leader. That's when that woman appeared.
Just like now, she was looking up at me, aiming a Beretta. She was wearing a slightly different uniform and a blue beret. We were not on the rooftop of a police station, but on the terrace of some mansion. At her feet lay the remains of our comrades, barely recognizable. They hadn't turned violent for no reason; that terrace was our territory. I trembled with anger.
That woman shamelessly intruded on our territory and even killed our comrades.
I screeched as if my tail had caught fire and swooped towards her. For a moment, I was too late, and a deafening roar grazed my ears. I felt an intense heat in my temple, causing me to lose my balance and fall from the terrace. Just before crashing into the ground, I summoned my last ounce of strength and rode the wind. Then, there was nothing. Just emptiness.
The film ended, and everything went pitch black. For a while after that, I might have reverted to being just a crow. Then, high up in that blue sky, by smelling that familiar scent, I regained my human consciousness. Afterward, I found temporary solace. I gained new friends. I even made acquaintances among humans. Yet! Despite all that, why are you, once again, getting in my way!
I had forgotten about her ferocity, but it surged up my spine and reached my brain like lightning. I targeted her from above. I knew well of her marksmanship. Confronting her head-on wouldn't be winning strategy. I scrutinized the barrel of her gun, predicted its trajectory, and dodged it with certainty. It was the same back then. The bullets from her Beretta veered to the right from my perspective. Her firearm wasn't a one-shot thousand, so the more accurate her aim, the easier it was to evade. Even if she calculated it and shot accordingly, she couldn't alter the trajectory. Just before she pulled the trigger, I needed to flee to the left.
And indeed, it worked perfectly.
After the gunshot, I descended unscathed upon the defenseless Jill. With my beak, I struck her neck with a blow. Fresh blood spurted out, and Jill screamed as she fell to her knees. I couldn't afford to be treated like an ordinary crow. After all, I can think. I know all too well where humans are weak. I grabbed Jill's hair with the talons of both my feet and pulled her face up. Taking aim at the top of her head, I swung down my beak.
With this, everything would end. I was convinced of it. But in that moment, I lost my balance. Jill suddenly stood up. A white line grazed past me. It was the tip of the knife that Jill held in her opposite hand. With that one strike, my left wing was torn from its base. And then, the barrel of the Beretta was pointed directly at me.
The sound echoed loudly. I floated through the air, powerless. Just like the first time I met them, I fell beneath Rick and Cindy. A bullet pierced through my chest. There was no pain.
The footsteps draw near. That woman is coming to finish me off. No doubt she's feeling victorious. Well, let her see the faces of those she's trampled upon. I summon my last ounce of strength to lift my head and gaze upon that devilish face.
However, she was not gloating.
Instead, her expression seemed rather sorrowful. Those eyes, I've seen them somewhere before. Yes, they were the same as Cindy's when she witnessed Rick's death. She looked down at Rick and Cindy's happy faces and smiled sadly.
Seeing that face, I couldn't help but smile bitterly. Upon closer reflection, what she was doing now wasn't so different from what I did at that mansion. She attacked me to avenge Rick and Cindy. Though the outcomes differed, wasn't it essentially the same? I thought she resembled me. Or perhaps, I resembled her. We both just wanted to protect what was dear to us, in the midst of circumstances where left and right were unclear.
She crouched down and picked up the music box that had fallen beside me. She wound up its screw. Once again, music sprang forth from the music box. There were still people around who would wind it up. Thinking that made me very happy.
"It's a beautiful melody. Very nostalgic" - she said.
I agree. It's a very beautiful melody. Unusual for a funeral tune, but that's why it suits me so well. Because I am a crow. A unique crow with a human heart.