The Birds, They're Back

by Wendy Reakes

  Her name was Lucy. “That’s my granddaughter’s name,” Gladys said, as they both moved around the kitchen collecting cups and saucers and some plates for biscuits. “Why are you still here?”

  She poured two cordials for the children and prepared a bowl of water for the dog, putting them on a tray with some biscuits. Everyone sat down at her kitchen table, glad of a piece of normality. The house was cold but, in the kitchen, a small coal fire burned.

  “Where am I supposed to go?” she said. “Been living here for forty years. There’s nowhere else for me.”

  “What about family?”

  "We never had any children and our other relatives are all dead. Not got anyone in this stupid world. Can't wait to go meself." She removed a handgun from her jacket pocket. "Been thinking of using it."

  “None of that, missus,” said Bill. “It’ll all be over soon.”

  “And what makes you say that?”

  “I can’t imagine them keeping it up.”

  “I can’t imagine them starting in the first place,” she guffawed. “There was a time when all we needed was a couple of scarecrows to get them off our land.”

  “Aye,” said Bill nodding. “Where’s your husband, then?”

  "Gone ten years," Lucy said. "Peter, his name was. A good man all in all. Took to his bed with cancer and never got up again."

  Dolly and Bill exchanged glances. He knew what she was thinking. That they should take Lucy with them. Bill thought about it. They wouldn’t have room, but if Harry drove her vehicle… “Where’s your car then, Lucy?”

  She chuckled. “Wouldn’t know how to drive one if I had one. Peter’s got his motorbike in the barn, but it hasn’t been started up since he went.” She sipped her tea. “Anyhow, the roads are blocked. You’ve got no chance of getting through. If you think it’s bad here, the M5 will be chocker-block. Seen it in the past every time the kids finish school for half term. Everyone going off on holiday. It’s mayhem.

  “I have to get back to Bristol,” said Harry. “My family…”

  “The trains are still running.”

  “What?”

  “Aye, the track goes through our field yonder.” Lucy pointed through the kitchen window. “Leaving from Exeter. One went through only half-an-hour since. The station’s three miles from here. Not far.”

  Bill thought about them travelling by rail. It would make sense for the trains to run. If they needed to transport people from the south to the north, then it was a good option. Especially if they used closed carriages. Even with the open ones, the trains could go faster than the birds. Yes, if the birds were to attack, the trains would leave the blighters behind. It made sense.

  "I'll take this tray out to the young uns," Lucy said.

  “Can we do that, Bill?” Dolly asked when she’d left. “Get the train.”

  “Aye. I think it might do. We’d have to go as far as we can with the truck and then leave it behind. We may have to walk a mile or two.”

  “Might be best for you to leave your lovely truck in the barn here,” Gladys said. “You don’t want it ruined and you can pick it up when you come back.”

  Bill nodded. “What about you, mother? Will you manage that walk?”

  “What you asking me that for? I could out-walk any of you, Bill Hock and you know it.”

  And then they heard screams.

  Bill and Harry rushed to the front of the house as everyone else followed, except Melanie. The children were already inside. Bill pushed them behind him so that he could go through the door, but then a hand restrained him.

  Bill stopped and looked through the window. The old lady was covered from head to toe with crows. Bill saw her eyes looking through them with sheer shock. Arthur Reed's dog jumped up and forced her against the sides of the porch. Some of the birds momentarily dropped away and turned on the dog. When Lucy's hand was free, she reached inside the pocket of her pinafore and pulled out her handgun. Then she held it to her temple.

  When her mouth opened, Bill saw new blood running down her chin. The birds had ripped out her tongue.

  As Lucy pulled the trigger and put a bullet in her brain, the sound of the gun didn’t deter the birds. They covered her even in death, while her blood was still warm.

  Chapter 44

  Matt was the only guy left now, so it was his job to look after the girls. By Sunday afternoon, he still hadn’t heard from his mother. He hoped she was okay, and that wherever she was, she was protecting herself from the birds.

  Sim and his father’s bodies were still lying on the kitchen floor covered in sheets. Matt didn’t know where else to put them. Molly refused to go in there, which was just as well under the circumstances.

  The girls had cleared the sitting room, putting the debris in plastic bags. Dead birds, feathers, broken picture frames and lamps. The worst was the bird muck. Gemma was the only one willing to tackle that.

  They were all morose. They had taken Sim’s and Franco’s death badly. None of them had ever seen someone die before. And as Sim’s father had also been killed, they thought about their own parents and how they would feel if they were too were taken so brutally. As they all stood over the bodies lying on the floor, Coco had thrown a fit. She was determined to go home, and in her panic, she’d reached the front door before Matt pulled her back and held her tight. “You have to stay. They know you’re here. They will come and find you,” he said as she fought, and she cried.

  Finally, when she’d calmed, Matt had called a family meeting, as Ellen always called it.

  Molly had her lovebirds. Coco had protested, saying they were probably causing it all, that they were probably diseased, or that when they were in their own country, someone had cursed them…’with voodoo…or something,’ she’d said.

  Molly had stuck up for them, saying they had done nothing wrong and that Coco was an idiot for even suggesting it, and if she kept it up, she’d put a curse on her, since she’d seen how to do it on the TV. That had shut her up. Molly had been left satisfied that as long as she kept them covered up, they could stay.

  They’d discussed the window doors. “They’re made with hardened glass,” Matt said, “so I don’t think the birds can get through them.” Which meant no one was allowed outside and that no windows anywhere in the house were to be opened at any time. They all agreed on that one.

  As Matt referred to his notes, he told them that they had plenty of food, although with the fridge not running, they should first eat the perishable items until the electricity came back on and mum came back with groceries. He thought cereal was a good choice since they had three-litre bottles of milk and they could keep that cold out on the terrace. Everyone could move around the house freely, but when they leave one room to go into another, they should tell someone first. His mum’s room was out of bounds since she’d always said as much in the past.

  When he opened the meeting to any other business the only matter raised was about candles. Did they have enough? His answer was yes, but don’t just leave them burning for the sake of it.

  Before the meeting was adjourned, Matt decided to voice some ideas he’d had earlier. “What do you think about me going to the restaurant to get mum?” he said, opening the room for discussion. Gemma had gasped and said she would never allow him to try such a dangerous act. Matt had pondered the feasibility of taking his dad’s old bike, kept in the garage at the side of the house. “It’s not even roadworthy,” Gemma protested. It was true. Harry had left it there for Matt to play around with, but it hadn’t worked for years. Matt had often suspected Harry stripping the bike of a vital piece of the mechanism, just to prevent his adventurous son from going further afield than their driveway. Finally, it was agreed that they would all stay put and wait for the parents to get there and pick them up.

  After the meeting, everyone dispersed, until Coco said, “Look”

  They all rushed to the windows.

  Matt slid open the door and they stepped outside. There, three-hundred-feet below, acros
s the gorge to the left, large gulls and blackbirds flocked over buildings and trees in their thousands. Down by the river, they covered telegraph poles and fences and stone walls, and as boats along the river moved, they attacked, making them rock on the water with their clamouring. People jumped into the river as the birds infiltrated the cabins in great numbers, but as they dragged themselves out, onto the muddy banks, the birds took them then. The people stood no chance against the onslaught. They were like early morning worms, plucked from the soil and devoured.

  That had been earlier. And as the day had worn on, Matt wondered how long it would take for the adults to get there.

  He really hoped it would be soon.

  Chapter 45

  “Mark, I’m going to try my luck,” Ellen said. They were sitting in the grand hall under the glass dome.

  “You can’t. You don’t know if they’ve gone yet.”

  “We haven’t heard any activity for a while. I can’t just sit here. I have to get home to my children.”

  “Wait another hour. Just to be sure.”

  She shook her head. What she really wanted, was to find a bed and sleep for a week, but she couldn’t. Not when her children might need her. As soon as she thought of them being just a mile away, she felt sickened that they were so far out of reach.

  “Look at you, Ellen,” Mark said. “You can hardly keep your eyes open. And you haven’t eaten. If you attempt to walk that hill, you’d have no strength to get the top. What good will you be to your children then?”

  She rubbed her eyes with both hands. She rubbed them hard. It was so frustrating and yet, she knew he was right, but she would do anything not to feel so damn tired. Oh, keep safe, my babies, she thought. And please hang on.

  Martin came out of the kitchen with a tray of sandwiches. Ellen threw her head back and stared upwards. Something had caught her eye. It was a shadow…a leaf…or something. She pointed. “What’s that.

  “Hmm? Where?” Martin gazed up and chuckled. “Will you look at that. Those pests have pulled away some of the mesh on the roof.”

  Ellen got to her feet, feeling dizzy and nauseous. “What?”

  “Oh, don’t worry, my dear. It’s just that part there.” He pointed. “They’d have to rip the whole lot off if they wanted to get through that glass, and that’s too strong for them. No dear, the birds, ‘magnificent’ as they are, will never get through the dome.”

  Ellen was content with his assurances, but it still niggled her that they’d managed to get a part of the wire off.

  “Why don’t you get some rest. We’ll save some of these sandwiches for when you wake up. How’s that?”

  Her eyelids felt so heavy. Mark was right, she wouldn't have the strength to walk that hill. "Just two hours. Wake me up in two hours."

  "We will, don't worry."

  Ellen slept soundly on a French striped-satin couch placed within an arched recess inside the grand hall. She had been reluctant to go anywhere else in the house to sleep in case they forgot to rouse her. When she awoke a few hours later, she noticed someone had covered her with a small blanket.

  Across the hall, next to the front door, Mark was asleep in a chair. It matched the couch she had slept on. A grandfather clock chimed four times. It was four o’clock in the afternoon and the light was fading outside. She thought about the feasibility of walking around at night. If she kept to the sides of the road, away from any obvious light, she could possibly avoid any bird attacks. She made a mental note to ask the professor if birds normally flew about in the dark.

  Then she heard a noise. She wasn’t sure what it was. Maybe it was the professor pottering about in the kitchen. But it couldn’t be, the noise came from above.

  She looked up and squinted. The fading light was making it difficult to see, but as her eyes adjusted, she could have sworn she saw the wings of crows fluttering randomly around the brim of the glass dome. If they hadn’t been black, she would have thought they were ordinary pigeons, nesting…homing in.

  She stood up and looked more carefully. They’d loosened more of the mesh from its fasteners around the base. It couldn’t be. It couldn’t. They had small brains. That’s what the professor had said. They weren’t clever enough.

  “Mark,” she whispered loudly. He stirred straight away, but he was dazed and unfocused. She went to him and tapped him on the shoulder. “Mark, look.”

  His eyes followed hers upwards.

  Then the professor and Tom came out of the kitchen carrying torches. They were about to shine the beams upwards, but Ellen stopped them. The less light the better in her opinion.

  “Well, I’ll be damned,” the professor said. “They’re pecking at the wire.”

  “They’re doing more than that,” Ellen said. “They’ve actually detached it from the fixings. See there, a whole piece has curled upwards, away from the glass.”

  “I’ll be,” he said again. “Still, not to worry, they won’t get through that glass. It’s unbreakable.”

  “Thank God,” said Mark “But, Martin, how can they be so smart? I mean, that’s clever, eh, being able to do that?”

  The professor shook his head. “I’m as baffled as you, Mark, really. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

  Ellen pondered something. “Martin, if that glass is unbreakable, why is it covered in chicken wire?”

  “Probably, to stop the birds pecking at it. The glass is very old.”

  “What do you mean, ‘probably’?”

  “Well, it was like that when my wife and I bought the place fifteen years ago. That dome was put in when the house was built. It must be over 150 years old.”

  Ellen pondered that. “Did the Victorians actually make toughened glass?”

  “Well…let me see. I’m not sure. If only we had Wi-Fi, we could google it.”

  Ellen scoffed at his remark.

  He remained enthused. "You know, I bet they did. Look at St Paul's Cathedral, that was built in 1675 and that's not just any old glass."

  "But it's a cathedral, isn't it? Not a house in Bristol." Her imagination was going into overdrive. "Am I right in assuming that you were told the glass was hardened…but you don't actually know for sure?"

  “Oh, I’m almost sure of it, dear. The artisans in those days knew how to build houses to last.”

  Ellen munched on some sandwiches as they sat around a table in the kitchen. “I’m going to take my chances and leave in a minute,” she said.

  “My dear, couldn’t you wait?”

  “For what? If what you said is true, there will never be a safe time.”

  Earlier, Ellen had asked the professor about birds flying at night. He said that most can, but normally, they would only do so if essential. “Much like humans, they’re not designed to see in night-time conditions. And like humans, they rely on light to find their way about. Most birds wouldn’t risk it, quite frankly. They’d be better off staying put.”

  “Except these birds aren’t normal. Right?”

  “Unpredictable, I’d say.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Yes. I would say that too.”

  “Look, if you’re going to insist on trying your luck, make sure you stay out of the light. I don’t know if the street lamps are working.”

  “Some are,” Tom said, but just on one side of the road.”

  “Working on emergency supply generators, I expect.” He looked at Mark’s white shirt. “Mr Shark, you would be wise to remove your white shirt. Or I can provide you with an overcoat.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Are you still coming with me?” Ellen asked, looking at him as if he’d gone mad.

  “Of course. You need me to keep you out of trouble.”

  She smiled. She felt better knowing she'd be with her children inside of twenty minutes. "Well, at least you aren't locking me in the cellar this time."

  “I’ve considered it.”

  The professor spoke. “But, my dear. I wonder if you aren’t putting yourself in harm’s way.”

&nb
sp; “What choice do I have, Martin?”

  He nodded. “I understand.”

  Tom gave Mark a coat. He pulled it on, covering his white shirt.

  Then they heard a noise that sounded like a hail storm.

  Curious, the group went back into the hall and looked upwards towards the noise.

  “What the hell?”

  “What is it?” shouted Ellen.

  Martin was shaking his head in disbelief. “The wire has all but gone. And now they’re dropping stones on the glass.”

  “What?”

  “Yes, look. Can you see? There you are. I just spotted one with a stone between its claws. He’s just released it over the glass. Well, I’ll be damned.”

  Suddenly, in a blink of an eye, just before the light from the moon faded, hundreds of birds descended upon the dome, each carrying a single stone, like pieces of gravel.

  “We’ve got to get out of here.”

  “They won’t get in,” said the professor. “They won’t.”

  “They’re having a bloody good go at it,” Mark yelled.

  They could hardly hear themselves speak for the noise. More birds had arrived, dropping more stones on the glass. Hailing.

  “Come on. You’re both coming with us.” Ellen opened the door that led from the hall to the corridor, leading to the garden.

  “We couldn’t possibly, my dear. We’re safe here, me and Tom.”

  Just as he said it, as if he had tempted fate, seconds before the glass rained down, Ellen and Mark pulled Martin and Tom from the room and slammed the door shut.

  In their hundreds, the defiant birds, searching for prey, filled the room over the broken glass of the unbreakable dome.

  Chapter 46