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“You don’t have any holiday time left,” pointed out Carol reasonably.
“Too bad,” said Daisy. “I’m too old for this shit.”
“Oh. Where are you going?”
“I’m going to catch a crook,” said Daisy.
FAT CHARLIE LIKED CARIBBEAIR. THEY MIGHT HAVE BEEN AN INTERNATIONAL airline, but they felt like a local bus company. The flight attendant called him “darlin‘” and told him jus’ to sit anywhere that struck his fancy.
He stretched out across three seats and went to sleep. In Fat Charlie’s dream he was walking beneath copper skies and the world was silent and still. He was walking toward a bird, vaster than cities, its eyes aflame, its beak agape, and Fat Charlie walked into the beak and down the creature’s throat.
Then, in the way of dreams, he was in a room, its walls covered with soft feathers and with eyes, round like the eyes of owls, which did not blink.
Spider was in the center of the room, his legs and arms extended. He was held up by chains made of bone, like the bones of a chicken’s neck, and they ran from each corner of the room, and held him tightly, like a fly in a web.
Oh, said Spider. It’s you.
Yes, said Fat Charlie in his dream.
The bone chains pulled and tugged at Spider’s flesh, and Fat Charlie could see the pain in his face.
Well, said Fat Charlie. I suppose it could be worse.
I don’t think this is it, said his brother. I think she has plans for me. Plans for us. I just don’t know what they are.
They’re only birds, said Fat Charlie. How bad could it be?
Ever heard of Prometheus?
Er…
Gave fire to man. Was punished by the gods by being chained to a rock. Every day an eagle would come down and tear out his liver.
Didn’t he ever run out of liver?
He grew a new one every day. It’s a god thing.
There was a pause. The two brothers stared at each other.
I’ll sort it out, said Fat Charlie. I’ll fix it.
Just like you fixed the rest of your life, I suppose? Spider grinned, without mirth.
I’m sorry.
No. I’m sorry. Spider sighed. So look, have you got a plan?
A plan?
I’ll take that as a no. Just do whatever you have to do. Get me out of here.
Are you in Hell?
I don’t know where I am. If it’s anywhere, this is the Hell of Birds. You have to get me out.
How?
You’re Dad’s son, aren’t you? You’re my brother. Come up with something. Just get me out of here.
