The Eagle's Talon

Roger walked down the rain washed sidewalk of South Street, clutching at his brown paper bag of groceries and trying to avoid the numerous puddles that blotched the pavement. A relentless drizzle continued to fall from the darkening sky, soaking the man’s coat and black, brimmed hat.

Today had made Roger more tired than usual, and he breathed heavily as he tried to keep a swift pace. He didn’t dislike his job as a bank cashier, but he wished he could spend more time with his family. Having promised his wife and four-year-old daughter he would be home by seven, he was a little annoyed when someone addressed him.

“Hello, sir,” rasped a thin, frail voice. “I have an offer for you.”

The man was sitting on the steps of a building, sheltered from the rain by an overhanging roof.

“I’m sorry,” said Roger shortly, “but I have to get home.”

“You won’t regret it,” the man persisted. “I have a deal for you that none in their right mind would pass up.”

Roger sighed and stepped under the overhang, if only to escape the rain. “All right then, what’s this offer?”

The man who had addressed him smiled, showing a flash of metal teeth. He pushed back his matted hair in order to survey Roger with dull, gray eyes. “I have an item to sell, something I think you’ll be interested in.”

He thrust forward his hand and revealed what looked like a bird’s talon, attached to a frayed string.

“What makes you think I would want that?” Roger blurted.

“It is called the Eagle’s Talon,” the man replied. “But this is no ordinary bird’s claw. It was blessed by a Native American chief many years ago.”

Roger pretended to cough in order to hide his smirk. “Look, I’m sure this is all very interesting, but I told my wife I would be home by--”

“Please, please, hear me out,” the man interrupted. His previously jovial features were beginning to show a hint of desperation. “I promise it won’t be long.”

Roger nodded submissively. This man’s need for someone to talk to was probably almost as great as his need for money. “Okay, if it’s quick.”

“Well, this leader’s tribe suffered a defeat by another,” the man continued as if nothing had happened. “So the divine chief blessed this talon and gave it to the opposing leader as a peace offering.”

“So what’s special about it?” Roger asked, playing along.

The strange man grinned. “The rightful owner of the Eagle’s Talon may ask of it three wishes,” he explained. “And they will be granted.”

“And you are the rightful owner?”

“I am. The talon was passed on to me by another, just as it was passed to him. And for a small price, I will pass it on to you.”

Roger looked incredulously at the artifact. “What about your wishes?”

The question hit the man like a slap in the face. He flinched, then replied, ever so softly, “I had my three.”

Then why are you living on the streets? Roger thought but was polite enough not to say.

There was a long silence as the man stared blankly into the distance. He seemed to be somewhere else.

Finally he snapped back, giving a false smile that did not reflect in his eyes. “Well, the talon’s yours for thirty bucks.”

Roger shook his head. “Look, I know you must need money, but I’m not about to spend thirty dollars on a trinket that--”

“This is not a simple trinket!” the other yelled, his eyes bulging. “This is an ancient artifact with a historical past, something that many collectors would pay over a hundred for, even if they didn’t know its power!”

“Then why don’t you find a collector?” said Roger, getting fed up. This man was quite clearly a junkie trying to feed an addiction, that or on the verge of insanity.

“Twenty-five,” the man offered, his expression pleading. “Think, any three things you want for twenty-five dollars.”

Roger sighed. Maybe this street bum just needed food. “I’ll give you twenty dollars for it, and that’s all I’m offering.

The man hardly hesitated. “It’s a deal. The Eagle’s Talon is yours.” He smiled as he handed Roger the claw and took the crisp greenback. “A pleasure doing business with you.”

The talon felt surprisingly heavy as Roger slipped it into his jacket pocket and dashed back out into the rain. As he ran down South Street, he checked his watch. It was two minutes past seven. He would be late again.


*****


“Flight one-oh-two, coming in for landing. The pilot has turned on the Fasten Seat Belt sign. The plane is descending; clear the runway, clear the runway!”

“I’m not eating it.”

“Come on, Mia, one more bite of mashed potato." Roger waved the spoon in front of her.

“I said I’m full, Dad.”

“Full?” Roger repeated. “That’s too bad. We won’t be able to have any of that stuff in the freezer then, will we Mom?”

Janet feigned disappointment. “No, I suppose we won’t. And I was so looking forward to it.”

“What’s in the freezer?” Mia chimed. She looked knowingly at her parents. “Is it ice cream?”

Roger raised an eyebrow. “Maybe.”

“What kind is it, what kind is it?” Mia yelled, bouncing excitedly in her seat.

Janet smiled. “Chocolate.”

“What a pity you're full,” Roger said in mock lamentation. “It will have to wait until tomorrow.”

“I guess I can eat some more potato,” Mia admitted, seizing her spoon. “But I’d better get a lot this time.”


“Why were you late, Roger?” Janet whispered as they lay in bed later that night.

Roger wondered whether he should tell his wife about his encounter and the acquisition of the Eagle’s Talon. It already felt like a distant memory. “I guess I just made a promise I couldn’t keep. I’m sorry.”

Janet sighed. “It’s okay.”

Roger listened as her breaths became deeper and deeper, as she passed into the peaceful realm of sleep.

And then he heard them. Those small, soft footsteps coming down the hall.

Mia entered the room and walked up to the bed. “Dad, I’m scared.”

“What are you scared of, Mia? Did you have a bad dream?”

The little girl nodded. “It was about eagles.”

The ticking clock echoed in the hall.

“Eagles?” Roger repeated.

“Yeah. They were attacking me... and cutting me with their claws.” Mia’s face was pale as a ghost’s in the moonlight.

“Okay, you can sleep with me and Mom tonight,” Roger whispered, helping his daughter up onto the bed. “Don’t worry, it was just a dream.”

*****


Roger stood in front of Carl’s Casino on South Street, staring up at the flashing lights that decorated the sign. He was not normally one to gamble, but he did harbor a soft spot for poker.

Roger’s family was away for the night. Mia was staying at a friends house and Janet had gone to visit her parents.

What harm could a few hands do? Roger decided. He walked to the doors and entered.

The casino reeked of alcohol and tobacco. It was fairly quiet, with only a low buzz of conversation and the occasional sharp click as someone made a shot in pool.

Roger was seated with three other men who introduced themselves by last name. Johnson was thin and scrawny, with a long nose and mousy hair. Myratova was tall and well-built. He wore a white suit and tie and had a strong Russian accent. Wade was dressed the least formally of the three. He had a wide jaw, sporting a scruffy beard.

“I’m Mr. Black,” said Roger, seating himself opposite Myratova.

Five-card draw was the game and the cards were dealt. Wade started off, placing the minimum bet of ten dollars.

Roger had a good starting hand, with a pair of kings, a jack of hearts, and the eight and five of clubs. “Call,” he said, throwing his chip into the middle of the table.

Johnson and Myratova both called, keeping their faces expressionless. Everyone took three cards, except for Myratova who only took one.

Roger now held three kings.

Wade checked and Roger threw in twenty.

Johnson called, his face showing a hint of doubt.

Myratova raised twenty.

Wade folded, slamming his cards down angrily on the table.

Roger and Johnson called.

Myratova revealed his cards. “Straight, ten high.”

Roger cursed inwardly as he showed his hand.

Johnson didn’t look happy either, with his two pair.

Roger kept playing hands, losing track of time. He and Wade had won a couple and Myratova had won by far the most. Johnson was having terrible luck, and he grew increasingly more agitated as the night went on.

It was only after Myratova won a hand with a very large pot that Roger began to get nervous. He did a quick calculation and realized that he had lost over a thousand dollars.

Roger gulped, feeling an uncomfortable pang in his stomach. I have been a fool, he thought. I was only going to play a few hands, and now look. How will I explain this to Janet?

“I am going to play one more hand,” said Myratova. “I am growing tired and wish to retire.”

“Retire with our money!” Johnson complained, his voice rising to a shout. “You rich bastard, just coming in here to play for fun and robbing a working man of his bread and butter.”

The man sounded rather comical with his meager, nasal voice, but Roger couldn’t deny a certain sympathy with his feelings.

“I am simply playing the game,” Myratova said coldly. “If you have had enough, then leave.”

“I will!” Johnson yelled, standing up and walking towards the door. “I’m not waiting around for you to rob me even more!”

“And you two?” Myratova asked. “Will you play one more hand or shall we stop for the night?”

“I’m in,” Wade grunted. He turned to Roger. “What about you?”

Roger’s thoughts whirled. Was it worth the risk? He glanced at Wade. The man’s eyes bore into him like a hawk’s... or an eagle’s.

“I’ll play,” said Roger. “But can it wait a minute? I have to use the restroom.”

The other agreed, and Roger walked to the bathroom. Once he was out of sight, he pulled the Eagle’s Talon from his pocket and gazed at it thoughtfully. He hadn’t believed in it before, why did he now? Perhaps it was just desperation. Regardless, it was worth a try.

Roger clutched the thing tightly and declared, “I wish to win the next hand.”

His head swam and he fell against the wall, the talon dropping to the floor with a clatter.

“Are you okay?” someone asked, standing by him nervously.

“I’m fine,” said Roger. He stood up, embarrassed and dizzy.

“What’s that?” The man was pointing to the floor.

“Nothing.” Roger bent down and retrieved the talon. “It’s nothing.”

Wade was tapping his fingers impatiently as Roger returned.

Myratova looked expressionless, as always. “Shall we begin, then?”

Roger’s hand consisted of a two and three of hearts, a seven of spades, a nine of diamonds, and a king of clubs. He bit his tongue. Not so good.

Myratova started the bid at fifty and Wade immediately raised it to a hundred.

Roger’s breaths came quickly. Why should he risk so much on a bird’s claw? He called, and Myratova naturally did as well.

“I’ll have one card,” the Russian stated.

“One card for me,” said Wade.

Sweat broke out on Roger’s brow. He took three cards, keeping the two and the three in his hand.

It was all Roger could do to keep his face passive. Four, five, and six, all of hearts. He had a straight flush.

“I’ll bet two-hundred,” said Myratova.

“I’ll raise a hundred,” Wade replied gruffly.

Roger couldn’t hide a smile. “I’ll see three-hundred... and raise a thousand.”

Silence. He had just placed the maximum bid, yet considering the circumstances, it would be natural to assume that he was bluffing.

Myratova looked from Roger to his cards, and back again. “I call.”

“I’ll raise you another thousand,” said Wade, his slight smile causing his stubble to bristle.

Roger had full faith in the talon. “I call and raise a thousand.”

Myratova’s normally blank expression looked slightly surprised. “Very well, I call.”

Wade added his chips to the pot, bringing it over ten-thousand dollars.

Myratova revealed his cards. “Four tens.”

“Four aces,” Wade growled, slamming down his cards triumphantly.

A surge of happiness rushed through Roger as he let down his cards, knowing he had won back his money and over five-thousand more dollars. “Straight flush.”

*****


Roger sat behind the counter of the silent bank, gazing into the darkening sky outside and thinking about the money he had won the night before. Five-thousand dollars. This might even enable him to work less hours, giving him more time to spend with his family.

"I'm leaving, I have to meet a friend." It was the manager, a lanky man, with round spectacles perched on the tip of his long nose. "Roger?"

"Yeah, that's fine," Roger muttered absentmindedly.

"There's only about ten minutes left. Don't forget to lock up."

The door thudded softly as it swung shut, and only Roger remained in the bank.

There was no doubt the Eagle’s Talon had a part to play in Roger’s luck. While he now kept it around his neck for safekeeping, he did feel a slight fear around it. The talon had earned his respect.

Roger made a mental note to try and find the man who had sold him the talon and give him the extra ten dollars he had originally asked for. This was only fair, considering what this artifact had done for Roger.

The cashier was too busy in his contemplation to notice a familiar face entering the bank. The newcomer walked up to the counter and pulled out handgun. Aiming it at Roger, he said, “I want money.”

Roger looked up, his fear doubling when he realized who this man was.

Wade had left the casino last night in fury, promising Roger that he would not forget what had happened. The threat had seemed hollow at the time. Now the man had come for revenge.

“Look, Mr. Wade--”

“Ten-thousand bucks will do,” Wade growled. “It’ll make up for what you robbed from me."

“I didn’t rob you,” Roger protested. “That was a fair game.”

“Just get the money. Ten-thousand dollars cash. Now!”

“I’ll have to go into the vault.”

“I’m coming,” said Wade as he climbed over the counter.

Roger unlocked the bars blocking off the vault and descended a flight of stairs with Wade close behind him. He opened a safe containing stacks of notes and, as ordered by the robber, filled a bag with the chosen amount.

Wade snatched the satchel. “Now give me the key,” he ordered.

“What for? You have the money.”

Wade responded by hitting Roger in the stomach with the butt of his gun, then proceeding to take the vault key as the cashier doubled over in pain. Wade walked up the stairs and locked the bars behind him. “Goodbye, Mr. Black!” he yelled from above and closed the foot-thick steel vault door.

Roger was plunged into darkness. He yelled out in rage and frustration, kicking a nearby wall and stubbing his toe. Wade had taken back what Roger had won, and more.

And then he remembered the talon. He fumbled under his shirt and pulled it out. Clenching it so tightly in his fist that it drew blood, he said, “I wish that Wade will be killed today!”

*****

“Mom, can we stop at the toy store?”

“No, Mia, I want to get home.”

“Please, Mom?” Mia begged. “I really want to. Please?”

“All right,” Janet sighed. “But it’s going to be a quick stop.”

“Yay!”

Janet pulled up by the sidewalk and stepped out of the car. A siren wailed in the distance.

“Mom, is Dad home now?” Mia asked.

“No, he’s at work. He’ll be home this evening, as usual. Come on, Mia, I said this has to be quick.”

The siren was getting louder and louder.

“See that doll?” said Mia, pointing through the window. “That’s the one I want. You can even brush its hair. See? It has a hairbrush.”

Janet could see flashing blue lights approaching on the street. A man was running down the sidewalk towards the mother and daughter, a large cloth bag in his hand.

“Mia we have to go!”

“But Mom,” Mia complained, “I told you I want--”

“No, Mia!” Janet hissed, grabbing her daughter’s arm and pulling her towards the car. “We’ll get your doll later. We have to go now!”

Janet opened the door and lifted Mia in, then buckled her seat belt. As she ran around to the driver’s seat, the running man came upon them. He looked desperately around and his eyes settled on the car.

Just as Janet revved up the engine, the man opened the driver's door.

“Get out!” he yelled, aiming a gun at Janet. “I’m taking your car, get out!”

She stifled a scream. “Okay, take my car, just let me get my daughter out of the back,” she pleaded, stepping outside.

The man hopped in and put the car in reverse, backing right out onto the road.

“No, wait!” Janet shrieked desperately. She heard Mia crying in the back seat. “Let me get my daughter!”

A loud horn blasted as an eighteen wheeler tried to stop. The truck collided into the little Honda, and with the crash and screech of metal, reduced it to burning wreckage.

*****

A week later, Roger sat outside on the step of his house, allowing more tears to fall from his tired eyes. He and Janet had attended Mia’s funeral four days ago, and it was something the parents could hardly bear. There was no room in Roger’s heart for anger, only sorrow.

Who is to blame? Roger thought to himself amidst the sobs. Wade, obviously. But who else? Me? No. It was the talon.

Roger stopped crying and stood up. Of course. The Eagle’s Talon. Why had he not thought of it? The talon had caused Mia’s death, but it could also bring her back. He pulled out the retched thing and glared at it. It seemed to glare back.

“I wish that my daughter was alive again.”

The night was silent as death. Roger waited and waited, expecting something to happen. But nothing did. Finally, he gave up and walked back inside. Could it have all been coincidence? he wondered as he ascended the stairs.

He looked upon Janet as she lay in bed. Her moist eyes recounted recent tears, yet she had managed to find sleep. Could this all have happened if I had never bought the talon? Roger climbed into bed, hoping that he might fall asleep as well.

And then he heard them. Those small, soft footsteps coming down the hall.