Little Plover Bird

The train chugged past, its lumbering cargo behind. Wheels clacked loudly on the rickety tracks as black smoke brushed past, engulfing the small boy. The heavy sounds shuddered through his body. He almost blended in with the bleak surroundings, his old clothes melting into the grassless ground. His small hand covered his mouth as dying trails of smoke wrapped around him and floated away into the clouded sky. The air was already tinged with the heavy smell of the bakery. It rested on his shoulders, pulling the boy down as he fumbled his way across the maze of tracks.

He winced as he stubbed his foot and his big toe slid out the front of his boot. He knelt, pulled a scrap of twine from his pocket and tied it tightly around the broken shoe. It would be a long time before he would be able to get a different pair, and broken shoes were better than bare feet. He had found that out the hard way. He took a deep breath, his last outside air until sunset.

A twittering caused him to look up. A small dirty plover bird sat on the sign “Oklahoma City Bakery” beside the door. It called again, but the boy knew that it was not a happy sound. There was something off in the musical notes of its voice. There was a plaintive longing, a sound pulled from the very depths of the little animal. He’d seen it there before, everyday for a week. Perhaps it was waiting for scraps. But it had never sounded like that before.

A sharp sting dazzled the boy and he stumbled forwards. His ear throbbed as a hand clubbed him again. “Get in rat!” Rough words spoken through a mouthful of tobacco.

“Dungey! ‘Ey, Glenn!”

Shoulders hunched, head down, he sidled over to the voice that had called him. A gummy smile greeted him from a face so wrinkled he could hardly make out the features.

“How’s ya ma, eh? I ain’t seen her since-” he ran gnarled fingers over his balding head, fingernails scraping the scalp. “Glory be, I don’t even remember.” Red tongue brushed over the few remaining teeth. His cracked lips stretched into another crooked smile and he ruffled Glenn’s hair.

Glenn raised his head slightly to watch the old man limp away, his left foot twisted and dragging horribly, leaving one long track on the dusty ground. The air quivered with heat that poured from open ovens as the fires were stoked and prepared for the day. Already, many people had shed layers of clothing. Tattered jackets and scarves lay in muddled heaps in every corner.

“Get to your place!” The huge man who had hit Glenn before advanced towards him again. A heavy boot swung back and Glenn moved deftly out of the way. He scampered away, ducking through another maze. Nobody spoke, all faces bore the same expressionless mask.

No talking meant no thinking, except about what you were doing. It was easier to get through the day that way. Glenn heaved a log into his arms, the bark bit into his scabbed skin, rubbing against yesterday’s sores. The warmth of the fire slid up his skin and fanned his face as he pushed the log as far as he could into the flames without those hot hands grabbing his own and pulling him in.

Breath blew from his lips as he straightened and moved for the next child to put their log in. His pattering heart thumped awkwardly as he was shoved out of the way by one of the older workers. They grabbed the ear of the girl infront of Glenn and shook her. Glenn turned and watched from the corner of his eye. He picked up another log as the girl was scolded at for a reason unknown to him. No thought was spared for the girl as she was dragged away, her ear bright red from being twisted so tightly.

Glenn knew where they were taking her though. Out the back. He closed his eyes and scrunched his face. Out the back. He shivered in the stuffy room and tripped forwards to the fire again. He never wanted to go out there again.

As he pulled back from the fire he heard a quiet tweet from a pile of clothes in the corner. He backed over, head bowed, trying not to draw attention. There was a loud buzz as he pulled back a lump of jackets. A baby bird flapped its wings desperately. Glenn stared for a moment, watching as its feeble wings struggled to lift the body into the air. It looked so much like the one outside.

Glenn crouched, his eyes flicking from side to side. The bird squeaked loudly, its tiny wings blurring as it tried to move away. Glenn stretched out his hands slowly. It only cried louder. One of the workers glanced over, squinting to see what was happening. The bird cried again as Glenn wrapped his hand around its tiny body.

“Who’s makin’ that noise?” The huge man was back, his arm pushing people into the wall out of his way.

Glenn clutched the bird to his chest and pressed his back against the wall. The window above was open. If he could just reach up, the bird could be free.

“What you got there in your ‘ands boy?” The thumping steps stopped infront of Glenn, thick hands open and ready. They wrapped suddenly around Glenn’s stick arms. “Gimme that.”

Glenn shouted and tired to pull away “Mine! Tha’s mine!”

“Yours eh?” The man sniggered. He turned towards the fires.

“No!” Glenn started forwards. “Tha’s my bird!”

He felt his arms pulled behind his body and he fought against the restraints.

“My bird. Tha’s mine!” He screamed.

The man only laughed as he looked at the baby bird.

“No!”

A small smirk spread the man’s lips as he opened his hand, dropping the little animal into the flames.

“Bird!”

“Take ‘im out back.”