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Black Birds | Pájaros Negros [Maske]
🕑 Added 2023-12-02 01:14:53 +0000 UTC
A boy was looking out of the window in the middle of geography class. A flock of crows was soaring over the horizon. It might have been a common sight, except that in the world he had grown up in there were no wild birds left. Maybe some in the desert, but not in St. Gabriel. He had stopped talking about them because the answers he got were the same as those he would get from a madman or a child too young to understand how his own imagination works.
He had seen them all his life, but they were usually on their own. Little black and white birds lost, creating erratic figures in the sky. But that day, that day it wasn't one, not even two, it was a real flock. At least twenty flapping dark wings in an arrowhead formation.
A clatter made him jerk in place as the teacher's hand landed heavily on his desk.
"Pay attention, or do you think you're not the class act, Maximillian," he gritted his teeth as he pronounced his fulll name. No one in his entire life, not even his own father had ever called him that. Two desks ahead of him someone laughed. He could guess who it was, because he was the only one with the right brain cells to find the situation funny.
"No, of course not," he said with a restrained gesture, though he had never been good at concealing his annoyance. The teacher didn't insist and kept moving forward. He tried to continue attending to the class, typing on the holographic screen, even if his mind was far away from there. In the sky where the birds were still flying overhead. For him it was a sign, an omen that something bad was going to happen. The first time he saw them he was five years old and still remembered the explosion in the supermarket. At seven, there was one of the worst fires in the business district, and at thirteen, two blocks of the suburbs collapsed and were buried under sand and rubble. He could not trace a pattern between the two phenomena, all the people involved were not connected, the incidents did not resemble each other either: a bad design in the structure of the buildings, an attack by a madman, a landslide in the inner part of the earth... Maybe some of these things could have been anticipated, but not all of them, right? And birds that only he could see couldn't be the cause...
His foot drummed against the floor, he was more tense and impatient than usual. When the bell rang he gathered his things quickly and hurried out. He would go and find his sister, return home and lock the door with several turns of the key. Whatever happened, he would not risk being left on the street wandering. If his instinct didn't fail him, and it never had, it wouldn't be long before something happened. Minutes passed in front of the first-year classroom. Almost as usual Mia came out last. He took her hand and tugged on it without even greeting her.
"Let's go home," she said, standing up, somewhat annoyed with her brother.
"No, not today. I'm meeting someone." She looked around, but most of the kids were scattering in all directions.
"Not today." Her sister's confused expression was all the answer she got. How was he going to explain to her that he couldn't stay because he had seen something that only he could see and that, for some reason he didn't even understand, was a bad sign? He knew he had lost the battle before he fought it. He let go of her arm with a resigned gesture.
"Oh, there she is," Mia pointed out.
She was short, thin and had pink hair. She was probably the same age as her sister, but they didn't fit. Mia was demure, shy, withdrawn... That girl was the stereotypical student who skipped classes, always had a retort and bad ideas in her head.
Max had a bad feeling. He thought that maybe it was because he was feeling more superstitious than usual that day. He could feel it on his skin, it was like a sour itch, and his eyes were an unnatural reddish colour. Those signs should have been enough to make him do something, but in reality, he was afraid. Something about this girl frightened him and put him on his guard.
"Mia, I don't like her." The girl giggled and danced around her brother like a delicate little ballerina. She didn't see what she saw. That much was clear, and he wouldn't dissuade her with a silly excuse.
""But the thing is, I do," she announced before breaking away from him and joining the girl.
This would be the last time he would see his sister as he knew her. One of those moments, seemingly superfluous, that break all your reality. Memories that you go back to and try to imagine what would have happened if you had simply decided to change something. If only he had known earlier what those damn birds were.
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Un joven miraba a través de la ventana en mitad de clase de geografía. Una bandada de cuervos elevaba el vuelo en el horizonte. Algo que habría sido de lo más común de no ser porque en el mundo en el que se había criado ya no quedaban aves salvajes. Quizás alguna en el desierto, pero en St. Gabriel no. Había dejado de hablar de ellas porque las respuestas que recibía eran las mismas que tendría un loco o un niño demasiado pequeño como para entender cómo funciona la propia imaginación.
Las había visto desde siempre, pero normalmente iban solas. Pequeños pájaros negros y blancos pérdidos, creando figuras erraticas en el firmamento. Pero aquel día, aquel día no fue uno, ni siquiera dos, era una auténtica bandada. Al menos veinte que batían unas alas oscuras en formación de punta de flecha.
Un estruendo le hizo agitarse en el sitio cuando el manotazo de la profesora cayó fuertemente sobre su pupitre.
—Pon atención, ¿o crees que contigo no va la clase, Maximillian?— Apretó los dientes cuando pronunció todo su nombre al completo. Nadie en toda su vida, ni siquiera su propio padre le llamaba así. Dos pupitres por delante alguien se rió. Podía suponerse quién era, porque era el único con las neuronas justas para encontrar la situación cómica.
—No, claro que no.— Dijo con un gesto contenido, aunque nunca había sido bueno disimulando su molestia. La profesora no insistió y siguió avanzando. Procuró seguir atendiendo a la clase, tecleando sobre la pantalla holográfica, aún si su mente estaba muy lejos de allí. En el cielo dónde seguían sobrevolando los pájaros. Para él era una señal, un presagio de que algo malo iba a suceder. La primera vez que los vio tenía cinco años y aún recordaba la explosión en el supermercado. Con siete, se produjo uno de los peores incendios en el distrito comercial y con trece, dos manzanas se hundieron en la periferia y quedaron sepultadas bajo arena y escombros. No podía trazar un patrón entre ambos fenómenos, todas las personas implicadas no estaban conectadas, los incidentes tampoco se parecían: Un mal diseño en la estructura de los edificios, un atentado de un demente, un desprendimiento en la parte interna de la tierra… Puede que alguna de esas cosas se hubiese podido anticipar, pero no todas, ¿verdad? Y unos pájaros que solo él podía ver no podían ser los causantes…
Su pie tamborileaba contra el suelo, estaba más crispado e impaciente que de costumbre. Cuando sonó la campana recogió sus cosas rápidamente y salió a la carrera. Iría a buscar a su hermana, volverían a casa y cerraría la puerta con varias vueltas de llave. Pasase lo que pasase, no correría el riesgo de quedarse en la calle deambulando. Si su instinto no le fallaba, y no lo había hecho nunca, no tardaría en pasar algo. Los minutos pasaron delante del aula de primero. Casi como de costumbre Mia salió de las últimas. Tomó su mano y tiró de ella sin siquiera saludarla.
—Vámonos a casa.— Ella se paró algo molesta con su hermano.
—No, hoy no. He quedado con alguien.— Miró alrededor, pero casi todos los críos estaban dispersándose en todas las direcciones.
—Hoy no.— La expresión confusa de su hermana fue toda la respuesta que obtuvo. ¿Cómo iba a explicarle que no podía quedarse porque había visto algo que solo él podía ver y que, por algún motivo que ni siquiera comprendía, era una mala señal? Supo que había perdido la batalla antes de pelearla. Soltó su brazo con gesto resignado.
—¡Oh, ahí está!— Señaló Mia.
Era bajita, delgada y con el pelo rosa. Seguramente, tenía la misma edad de su hermana pero no encajaban. Mia era recatada, tímida, retraída… Aquella chica era el estereotipo de estudiante que se saltaba las clases, siempre tenía una réplica y malas ideas en la cabeza.
Max tuvo un mal presentimiento. Pensó que, quizás, era porque aquel día se sentía más supersticioso de lo normal. Lo notaba en la piel, era como un picor ácido y sus ojos desprendían un color rojizo y antinatural. Aquellas señales deberían haber bastado para que hiciera algo, pero en realidad, tenía miedo. Algo en aquella chica le asustaba y le ponía en guardia.
—Mia, no me gusta.— La chica se rió y danzó alrededor de su hermano como una pequeña y delicada bailarina. No veía lo que veía. Eso estaba claro y no la disuadiría con una excusa boba.
—Pero el caso es que a mí sí.— Anunció antes de separarse de él y reunirse con la chica.
Esa sería la última vez que vería a su hermana tal y como la conocía. Uno de esos momentos, aparentemente superfluos, que rompen toda tu realidad. Recuerdos a los que regresas para intentar imaginar qué habría pasado si simplemente hubieras decidido cambiar algo. Ojalá hubiese sabido antes que eran aquellos malditos pájaros.
