by Jill Sanders
She was working the late shift alone that next Friday night when she heard the voices again. It had started to rain midway through the day, the kind of rain shower that flooded the streets and made the entire sky dark. She hadn’t even recognized when the sun had gone down since it had been so dark the whole evening.
Mark hadn’t been feeling well and had left her alone in the store since it was a slow night. No one in town wanted to be out in the mess. It wasn’t the first time she’d been left to close up and probably wouldn’t be the last.
She had an hour before she could officially leave. She was completely bored and staring out the dark front windows, daydreaming about being on a tropical beach somewhere with tan skin, instead of her pale, freckled complexion. A hunky man with a sexy accent would bring her a drink and flirt with her.
“It’s beginning.”
Instead of jumping, she groaned.
“Go away.” She rested her chin in her hands as she leaned on the counter.
“You should have listened to me. You needed to prepare.”
She rolled her eyes.
“You’re not real,” she said to the empty store.
She waited for a reply. When no response came, she smiled as if she’d won the fictitious argument. Then a loud thud caused her to jump and frown towards the front windows of the store.
It was strange. Hearing voices no longer made her jump, but a strange noise could.
There was another thud against the window, and she stood up and moved closer to the dark glass. Was someone throwing rocks at the store? There were a bunch of kids that liked to cause problems in town. She’d dealt with them plenty over the years.
She’d moved to within a foot of the window to see if she could figure out what they were throwing. It didn’t sound like a rock, but a softer object.
She jumped when several more hit the window, causing it to vibrate. The next moment, she watched in horror as tons of pitch-black crows plowed into the glass, as if dive-bombing it on purpose. The sound of them hitting the glass and their little necks breaking was deafening. She screamed when the glass shattered, sending a rainfall of shards of sharp glass over her as black crows continued to fly towards her. Their little bodies hit her, and their beaks cut into her skin as they circled around her head.
It was a scene straight out of a horror movie, and Joleen was caught right in the middle of it.
Chapter Two
Mason hated being called a genius. Sure, he’d graduated high school at the tender age of twelve and had been one of the youngest kids to go to college; the youngest was an eight-year-old back in the eighties. Still, that hadn’t stopped people from comparing Mason to several child prodigies over the years.
Now, however, after spending the last fourteen years taking every science class he could enroll in, he was on his own. He’d worked for a few companies in different industries over the past four years while still attending classes, but now he was truly done with school.
He’d taken everything from physics to statistics and every drop of knowledge was trapped in his head. It baffled people. He’d loved everything science for as long as he could remember. He was great at it all—astrology, psychology, microbiology…
His mother used to joke that she should have called him Mason-ology, because if it had ology behind it, Mason was into it.
He’d lost her five short months after he’d graduated with his first degree. Cancer was a bitch, and he was determined to figure it out in his lifetime. After all, what was the use of having a big brain if he couldn’t solve all the puzzles?
Currently, he found himself heading down the highway towards a small town he’d never even heard of until two days ago when a local newspaper article had ended up in his email from an unknown sender.
The article, written by a Breanna Kincaid of the Hidden Creek Gazette, mentioned a strange occurrence that had happened in the small town. It appeared that more than two hundred American crows had dive-bombed the local grocery store three nights ago.
It was just the break he’d been looking for. He’d loaded up his supplies, gear, and his faithful black lab mix, Stinky, and headed south.
Leaving Boston hadn’t affected him as much as he’d thought it would. After all, it didn’t really feel like home now that he was no longer living on campus. When he’d rented the small condo on the outskirts of campus, he’d only had one goal—to be as close to his work as possible. Over the years, he’d ignored everything except finding the answers he was looking for. He’d been offered enough research grant money from the college to continue working the way he enjoyed—alone and at his own pace.
The first year he’d had a few interns working under him, but they’d gotten so frustrated at the speed at which he worked that they’d quickly given up. He was pretty sure they were also upset that he was far younger than they were and far more intelligent.
When one of the interns had suggested that he was obsessed and needed to get a life, he’d gone down to the local shelter and rescued Stinky. He’d named him after that first night they’d spent together. Since then, he and the dog had been inseparable.
If Mason needed anything, he purchased it. When he was tired, he took time off. And if he wanted to travel across state lines to do research, he did so without anyone looking over his shoulder.
Which is why he and Stinky pulled up in the small town of Hidden Creek four nights after the incident in town.
It was late. Late enough that he doubted the local grocery store would still be open. Instead of heading there, he checked into the small hotel just off the highway on the outskirts of town.
When the clerk started to complain about Stinky, Mason tossed a hundred dollar bill his way. The man shrugged and tucked it in his pocket and handed him the room key.
After tossing his things into the room, he and Stinky took off on a short walk.
“It feels good to stretch our legs, huh, buddy?” he asked his best friend. Stinky glanced up at him, then pulled him towards a bush and peed. “Maybe we can find someplace to grab some food,” he said, glancing around the small town. “There’s not even a McDonald’s around here,” he complained after checking his phone for local restaurants.
Stinky whined and glanced up at him. “Don’t worry, I packed enough food for you,” he assured his friend. “It says here that the store is only a block away. What do you say we head down there and see if it’s open still?”
Stinky started pulling him in the opposite direction.
“Wrong way, buddy.” He laughed and corrected their direction.
When the sign that said “Groceries” came into view, he was surprised to see the open sign still on in the front door.
“We’re in luck,” he said eagerly. He hadn’t realized he’d gone without dinner. When he was focused, he usually didn’t come up for air. The entire car trip from Boston, he’d only stopped for gas and when Stinky had whined for a bathroom break.
The windows at the front of the store were boarded up with plywood. He’d read in the article that all the windows had been blown out in the incident. Seeing the aftermath of the destruction firsthand had him growing more excited that he was on the right track.
Since he didn’t see a sign that no animals were allowed inside, he stepped in the front door and glanced around. The place was empty with the exception of two men chatting by the front counter. It almost looked as if he’d interrupted them about to hug.
“Evening,” he called out to them.
The tall blond man looked at him, then Stinky, and smiled.
“Evening,” he called out.
The other man stepped forward. “Can I help you find something?” He was a very built black man who looked like he spent a lot of time lifting weights.
“Just got into town and need some dinner,” Mason replied.
“Dog food is on aisle five,” the blond said easily as he approached. “What’s his name?”
“Stinky,” he answered. At the sound of his name, the dog sat on
his butt and wagged his tail a million miles an hour.
The blond man chuckled. “I suppose he earned the name?” He knelt down and scratched Stinky behind his ears.
“Many times over.” Mason glanced around. “I don’t suppose you have anything hot to eat in here?”
The other man walked over and nodded his head. “We have some soup left over.” He motioned towards the small bakery area where a small buffet was set up. Everything was empty except for two large metal pots. “Cold sandwiches are in the cooler there. It’s all we have as far as fresh foods.”
“I’ll take it.”
“Are you in town for long?” the blond asked.
Mason realized at this point that the man didn’t actually work in the store.
He shrugged. “As long as it takes. I’m here because of that.” He motioned towards the windows.
“What?” the blond asked. “The bird-cident?” He chuckled.
Mason nodded and smiled. “Yeah.”
“What are you? Some sort of bird person?” the other man asked.
“Kind of. I’m an acoustician, among other things.” He noticed the look the men gave him and added. “I study the effects that sounds have on nature and humans.”
“You think the birds dive-bombed into my store because of sound?” the other man asked.
“That’s what I’m here to find out,” Mason replied.
“I’m Lane.” The blond held out his hand. “This is my fiancé, Charles. He owns the store.”
Mason’s attention perked. “So, you were the one here when this all went down?” he asked Charles after shaking Lane’s hand.
Charles shook his head. “That would be JoJo.”
“Any chance he’s around? I’d like to talk to him.”
Both Lane and Charles chuckled. “She,” Lane replied. “And she has the next few days off. She was cut pretty bad when all the glass from the window came down on top of her.”
Mason frowned and sighed and looked down at Stinky. “Just as well. We’re beat from driving all day.”
“Where are you in from?” Lane asked, leaning against the checkout counter.
“Boston.”
“I thought I heard a little northern in your accent. Not a lot.” Lane’s eyes narrowed as he tilted his head. “West Coast?”
Mason stiffened. “Was, at one point.”
“I’ll get you that soup while my fiancé tries to figure out everything there is to know about you in ten minutes.” Charles chuckled as he walked away.
“Thanks,” he called after the man.
“Don’t mind him,” Lane said with a smile. “We just got engaged a few nights back, and he’s annoyed at all the attention the town is giving us.” Lane leaned closer and lowered his voice. “First interracial gay couple to marry in Hidden Creek.”
“Congrats,” Mason added with a smile.
“Thanks.” Lane smiled back at him. “So, you and Stinky drove all the way down here to look at some dead birds for what purpose?”
“Science.”
“Right.” Lane narrowed his eyes. “The effect sound has on nature.”
“And humans,” he added.
“Right.” Lane sighed. “What are you? Twenty-five?”
“Six,” he corrected.
“Single?” Lane asked.
Mason’s eyebrows shot up. “Um, yes, except for my commitment to Stinky and my science studies.”
Lane smiled, a slow smile that made Mason realize the man was plotting something.
“I bet you have a ton of degrees.” He crossed his arms over his chest.
“Not necessarily a ton.”
The man was quiet for a moment, then nodded. “JoJo usually eats breakfast at Café 23 at nine on Friday mornings,” Lane told him.
“Okay,” he said slowly.
“Here you go,” Charles interrupted. “I added the rest of the cinnamon rolls that were left over today.”
“Thanks.” He took the bag and handed over his credit card to pay. “If it’s okay, I would like to stop by tomorrow and take some readings?” he asked Charles.
“We open at nine,” Charles replied.
Stinky and Mason made it back to the hotel just as the rain started.
“Looks like we have great timing.” He opened the door and unhooked Stinky from the leash.
Instead of rushing into the dry warmth of the hotel room, Stinky cocked his head to the side and his ears perked up as he looked off into the dark rain through the still-opened doorway. Then he let out a loud bark and bolted into the darkness.
“Shit,” Mason said, quickly tossing their food onto the table inside the hotel room He took off after his dumb dog, yelling his name as he bolted through the rain.
He heard Stinky bark in the bushes to the left of an empty building. He skidded to a halt on the slick pavement and jumped into the bushes himself. The thorny branches cut through his light jacket and shirt as he raced through the underbrush.
“Stinky!” he called again, coming to a halt so he could listen for any sign of his best friend.
Panic almost overtook him when he didn’t hear anything.
What if he never found Stinky? Why had the dog run off? In the past two years, he’d never bolted like that before.
Maybe the long road trip had set Stinky off?
He’d run about three quarters of a mile when he heard the low growl and froze.
Turning around, he watched a dark blob cross the empty pavement and head his way.
“Stinky.” He sighed and held out the leash. “Come here. Let’s go back and get some treats.” He relaxed when the shadow started moving towards him.
Then he noticed the glowing green eyes and froze. As the shadow moved closer, he realized just how much bigger it was than his small lab-mix dog.
Taking a step back, he glanced around for an escape route.
He’d ended up down what appeared to be an uninhabited road. There were three buildings nearby and all of them looked to be abandoned.
It wasn’t as if he was that far out of his league in the country. Hell, he’d spent enough nights camping that he knew better than to go rushing headlong into danger.
Taking another step back, he tensed when the shadow started rushing towards him, those glowing green eyes getting bigger and bigger.
When the beast was less than a hundred yards from him, another dark figure charged. Only this time, it was towards the bigger shadow instead of him.
He recognized Stinky immediately. The low growl turned into a snarl as he put himself between the bigger shadow and Mason. Instantly, the fear he’d felt for himself circled around his best friend until all he could think about was keeping his dog safe.
“Stinky,” he said trying to sound calm. “Come here.”
The bigger shadow had stopped in the middle of the road. It was now stalking the dog instead of him. He’d read plenty of articles and books on wildlife and knew that if this was a black bear, as he suspected, that he needed to stand his ground, keep facing the bear, and try to make himself look as big as possible.
So, that’s what he did. He feared for his dog’s safety and tried to get the creature’s attention off the dog and back onto himself.
It appeared to be working, at least for a few moments. Stinky even quieted down some and was inching his way back towards Mason.
Then the creature turned slightly, and as the streetlight washed over the black figure, he finally got a really good look at it. Instantly, he realized that there was no way the thing was a black bear. It was too massive and oddly shaped to be a simple bear. The thing’s neck was twice as long as its body. Its head was smaller than the rest of it. Its huge front claws—yes, claws—took up most of its mass, while its hind legs were nothing but bare muscle, telling Mason that there would be no running away from the thing.
As the creature stepped further into the streetlight, he knew that he and Stinky were thoroughly screwed.
Chapter Three
It was very hard to concent
rate when someone was shouting at you. Even when it wasn’t real.
Joleen was covered in white bandages and scrapes from the glass that had showered over her a few nights back. The officials had called the bird-cident, as everyone in town was calling it, a fluke.
The local paper had said that a new radio tower that had just been installed outside of town was the cause of the problem.
Joleen wasn’t buying it. The voice had warned her something was coming. For years now she’d done everything she could to ignore it, but now she was wondering if she should have listened.
Then again, it had said that he was coming, not that birds would kamikaze themselves into the store’s windows.
Of course, Charles and Mark had given her a full week off from work. She’d tried to argue with them, but after being patched up by the EMTs on site and looking around at the mess that had to be cleaned up in the store, she’d agreed.
So, she was sitting on her sofa, trying to read a book while the voice screamed in her head. Tonight it wasn’t saying anything in particular. More like the voice was background noise. It was like standing across a softball field while a group of people shouted different directions at you from the bleachers.
Since she couldn’t make anything out, she pumped up the sound on her stereo and tried to concentrate on the words on the pages of her book. She gave up less than fifteen minutes later and walked into the kitchen to pour herself a very large glass of wine.
She didn’t have proper wine glasses, so she filled up a tall mug instead and sipped it like her morning coffee.
She was just reaching for the wine bottle to pour another cup when all of the voices finally chimed together and screamed at her.
“Help him.”
“What the…” The bottle slipped out of her hands and shattered on the floor, sending red wine splashing all over her new slippers. Closing her eyes and taking several deep breaths, she willed herself back under control.
This was stupid. She should have gone years ago to get help for this. I mean, no one else in town heard voices. No one else in the world, for that matter. At least not that she knew of.
