Zero

ZERO

Michael came to a road at the top of the hill.

Exhausted, he looked to the left. No cars coming in that direction. Nothing on the right either, just an endless stretch of black bitumen surrounded by fields and dancing flowers. On the horizon, James Bridge sat in a quicksilver haze. Helicopters swarmed above the town, their thudding blades lost on his ears. All Michael could hear was his pulse.

He wouldn’t be found for another thirty-seven minutes. In that time, flies laid eggs in his wounds, in the corners of his eyes.

Michael Delaney felt a shadow on his face. He watched the crow swoop down to land upon a metal rectangle silhouetted against the sun. The bird spread its wings, claws scratching at the dented sign. Michael cupped a palm to his brow and read the words printed across its surface.

BUS STOPS HERE