Trembling With Fear 02/05/2017

Hello Mr. Magpie

By: Ross Baxter

Sophie looked at her watch again in frustration; Jim had kept her waiting for nearly twenty minutes now, even though he knew she needed to be home to collect her daughter from art class. She sighed heavily, bitterly regretting ever offering Jim a ride home from work. As she had to drive past his house on her daily commute she had offered to give her colleague a lift whilst he fixed his broken car, but over three weeks later it was still not on the road. She had not really known him before, but during the increasingly tedious rides to and from the office, she had learned more about him than she ever wanted to know. Just as she opened her car door to return inside to find him he saw him stroll out of the front doors of the office and slowly made his way across the car park towards her.

“I told you I needed to leave at five!” she frowned.

“Yeah, but something came up,” he explained casually. “I’m sure whatever you’re going to do can wait a few minutes.”

“My eight-year-old daughter and her teacher would probably disagree,” she muttered, starting the engine.

Jim said nothing and unhurriedly climbed in. Sophie put the battered Ford into gear and roared off towards the outskirts of town. Luckily the traffic was light but she doubted she could get to the school in time. Another round of apologies to the teacher and to her daughter was not what she needed after a stressful day, and she started to think about what she was going to say.

“Just pull in at the shop on the left,” said Jim. “I need some beers for the game tonight.”

“You’re kidding me?”

“I won’t be long,” said Jim.

“I’ve already told you how late I am! My daughter is already going to be really upset, as is her teacher.”

“Oh, come on!” Jim cried, sounding more like a churlish teenager than the forty-year-old he was.

“Sorry,” Sophie shot back. “Perhaps you can fix your car instead of watching the game?”

Jim shook his head and looked longingly at the off-licence as they drove past.

After a couple of roundabouts they soon emerged on the country road which led towards where Jim lived, and she speeded up a little. Jim gave her a disapproving look.

“You know the limit is forty here?” he muttered.

“I’m late,” she answered, looking at the empty road ahead.

Jim tutted to himself and then for the next five minutes kept openly glancing at the speedometer as they drove in silence. Suddenly he stared incredulously at his colleague as she appeared to salute and then mumble a few inaudible words behind her hand.

“What the hell did you just do?” he asked.

“Pardon?” Sophie asked back, keeping her eyes fixed on the road ahead as she steered the old Ford around a sharp bend.

“You just saluted and muttered something,” said Jim accusingly.

“Oh, I saw a magpie,” Sophie replied.

“And?”

Sophie sighed. Having to put up with the boorish and opinionated Jim for the twenty-minute ride was becoming more and more of a challenge every day.

“Why did you just salute a stupid bird?” Jim pushed.

“Because it’s bad luck not to,” she explained. “It is good luck to see two magpies together, but if you see a single one you’re supposed to greet it and say ‘Hello Mr. Magpie’.”

“Are you superstitious?”

“No,” said Sophie.

“Then why does a grown woman openly salute and talk to a dumb bird?”

“My family have always done it. I suppose it’s a bit of a tradition going back as long as we can remember.”

“So you are superstitious,” Jim scoffed loudly. “That is so lame! I really expected more from you.”

Sophie shrugged and returned her attention to the road.

“So, are you from a family of superstitious Leprechauns?” Jim continued. “Are your days ruled by avoiding black cats, not walking under ladders, and not getting out of bed on Halloween?”

“No,” said Sophie flatly. “It’s just the magpies. I’ve never given it much thought really.”

“Obviously,” sneered Jim. “I’m not sure if you realize but we do actually live in the twenty-first century and not the eighteenth. It’s time to forget about stupid superstitions, especially nonsense about greeting magpies. I can’t believe how some people still believe in such claptrap!”

Sophie said nothing, trying instead to control her anger at her boorish passenger. She had greeted magpies ever since she could remember; it was no big deal but she knew Jim was not going to let it drop.

“All superstitions are nonsense designed to frighten the weak and the ignorant; flesh and bone can’t be harmed by old wives tales,” Jim ranted on.

“Whatever,” Sophie said, trying to concentrate on driving.

“We’ve put a man on the moon; you’d think stupid superstitions would be a thing long consigned to the dustbin of history!”

Sophie ignored him; her attention drawn to a black and white bird pecking at roadkill on the narrow road ahead. She started to slow the car.

“You have got to be joking?” Jim sneered. “Just run it over!”

“Hello Mr. Magpie,” Sophie yelled loudly, flipping an extravagantly fancy salute as she slowed the car.

The magpie looked at the approaching vehicle and quickly flew off, but Sophie stopped the car anyway.

“Why the hell have you stopped?”

“Get out Jim; you can walk from here,” she said calmly.

“But my house is over a mile away!” Jim spluttered in surprise. “I can’t walk from here.”

“You are the most self-opinionated and bigoted man I have ever met,” said Sophie. “Instead of wasting energy on your constant lecturing, I suggest you spend it on fixing your car. Now get out!”

Shocked and for once speechless, Jim grudgingly unfastened his seat belt and opened the door.  As soon as he was out Sophie gunned the engine of her elderly car and roared off, leaving him alone by the empty roadside. He could not understand what he had said to make her so angry and resolved to formally complain to her manager in the morning.

As he started to trudge up the deserted country lane the thought of making trouble for Sophie cheered him up. Dozens of possible stories flooded his mind, and after five minutes of walking he finally decided he would say that he had asked to get out of the car because Sophie had made a pass at him, That felt plausible, especially as he was sure that most of the women at work actually did want to make a pass at him. Spreading that story would not only get Sophie into trouble, but it would also remind his other female co-workers what an absolute catch he was. Maybe one of them would offer to give him a ride to and from the office; although he had actually fixed his car two weeks ago he did enjoy getting a free commute.

Thinking up the ultimate story to completely discredit Sophie in the eyes of her colleagues was fun, and by the time he reached the bend on the last rise it had completely absorbed him. He did not see the truck speeding over the rise, and in the failing afternoon light the truck driver failed to see Jim as he took the corner wide whilst re-tuning the radio. The loud music masked the thud as the lorry’s offside mudguard glanced off the surprised Jim, and the trucker drove on oblivious.

The blow knocked Jim senseless for a few minutes. When he finally came too he found himself face-down in the dirt at the edge of the deserted road, confused as to how he got there. Then he remembered being thrown out of the car by Sophie, all because he told her it was stupid to believe in superstitions. With rage and indignation, he tried to clamber up but something was wrong.

Nothing would respond; he could not move his legs, arms or even his head. He felt no pain except for in his eyes which were full of grit, each blink causing him to cry out in agony. But his cries were silent.

But his cries were silent. Next, he saw the blur of a black and white shape hopping towards him. The magpie stopped inches from his face, coldly peering into Jim’s bloodshot eyes.

Then it started to peck hungrily at flesh and bone.