“Bret. Bret.”
Bret returned to listening, but only the clicking sound of the call breaking up flowed through the receiver. “Hello.”
“Bret. This is Colin.”
“Colin. Bad connection.”
Empty air. Static. Then: “Reason. Are…outside.”
“Am I outside? Yes, why?”
“Get.… Understand? Get…side…now. Magnet…cause…direction…bad. Sat…lite picked it up. Centered…area.”
Bret shook her head. “Colin.” She started to snicker. “Are you joking with me?” Covering the mouthpiece she looked at Luke. “That Colin is so funny. Where you at? Wanna join us for burgers?”
“Bret odd…am it.”
Bret’s head cocked back; something about the tone got her attention. “Colin, is something wrong?’
“Duh.”
That came out clear as a bell. Bret glanced at Luke, “He just said duh to me.”
“What aren’t you understanding?”
Bret shrugged and tried to communicate with Colin again, “You want me to do what?”
“Get…side.”
“Get inside?”
“Yes,” he spoke, rushed.
“Why?”
“Swarms. Attack. Magnet…. Direction.”
“Oh, my God.” Bret stood up as she figured it out. She hurriedly spoke to Luke. “We have a swarm attacking.”
“How’s he know?” Luke asked.
“Colin, how do you know?” she asked.
“Sat…lite at Virginia…station….”
“Oh.” Bret sang out knowingly. Then.… Pause. “Satellite? God, it must be huge to be seen on satellite.”
“Huge. Possibly deadly.”
“Are they bees? Hornets?”
Nothing.
“Colin.”
Silence. A dead phone.
Thump.
Phone sliding slowly from her ear, Bret looked for the noise. Not one foot from her lay a dead bird.
“Shit,” she said.
Luke stood. “Flock. Not swarm.”
“Everyone in the house!” she screamed “Get in the house now!” She scurried for the kids. “In the house!”
Does it ever really work? Screaming out something and having everyone immediately halt their actions and follow the dictate?
No.
Everyone looked at her as if she were insane.
“Bret?” Jesse called out. He stood up from his seat poolside. “What the hell is the matter with you?’
Squawk.
Swooping down like a torpedo with precision—it even sounded like one—the bird sailed fast and furiously straight into Jesse. The beak nailed him in the head and knocked him off balance.
One bird. It started with one bird. Bret screamed, the kids screamed. In the moment of confusion, it happened.
Aggie whispered out, “Oh my God.”
The word swarm truly was the best description. So many birds, squawking, squealing, meshed together so there was no way to distinguish individual sounds. The bright Memorial Day sun was suddenly blacked out.
Then it started.
“Grab the kids! Get in the house!” Bret shouted.
Jesse, blood dripping down his face, scooped up Andi. Aggie grabbed her youngest boy. Luke grabbed his three-year-old cousin. The oldest nephew, ten, jumped from the pool and was the number one target. Twenty, thirty and even more birds raged after him. He ran, swinging out his arms as his dad, Greg, aided in the battle.
Greg then came under attack.
Was it Jesse? Luke? Bret didn’t know. Someone grabbed her arms, but she couldn’t move. Her eyes were focused on Casper. She didn’t get out of the pool; she dove underwater.
Crying out for Casper, Bret felt a peck on her cheek, then her arm. She was engulfed within moments, blackened by the birds that landed on her like a loaf of bread.
Everything happened too fast. Bret, pulled and confused, fought both the birds and the person trying to help her
Suddenly the bird noise was muffled, and it was replaced with crying. She was in her sister’s house.
The kids were hysterical. Aggie was asking, “Is everyone okay?”
It was chaos.
“What the hell is happening?” Greg yelled out. “What’s going on?”
Breathing heavily, Bret scanned the room. “Casper.” She wasn’t there, so Bret dove for the door. Jesse blocked her.
“Let me go.” Bret fought him. “Casper!” Her call carried out.
“Bret!” he barked, trying to snap her out of it. Grabbing her face, he made her look out the window. “She’s in the pool.”
The black and brown avian-covered yard exposed only one recognizable thing, the underground swimming pool. The birds flew around it but avoided it.
“Birds can’t swim,” Jesse said. “She knows that. She’s smart. She’s safer there. If we go out and get her, we put her and ourselves in harm’s way the second we get her out of the pool.”
Even though she was safe, Bret felt helpless. How frightened Casper had to be. She stayed in the center of the pool, her head exposed, showing the scared expression on her face as she shifted her eyes back and forth quickly, watching, shivering. When they came for her, she dived down.
Some birds showed no fear; they shot into the pool like rocks. They were kamikaze pilots determined in their mission. Casper was the mission of every bird out there.
In a state of suspense, they all watched out the window. The birds were preoccupied; they didn’t come for the house.
The ringing tone made Bret nearly jump from her skin. Still clutching the phone, she answered it. “Hello?”
“Did they hit?” Colin asked.
Her hand pressed against the pane of glass. “We were attacked.”
“Is everyone all right?” Colin questioned.
“A few scrapes. But… no. Colin, my daughter is out there. She’s in the pool.”
“Then she’s safe; birds can’t swim. Is she staying mainly below the water?”
“Yes.”
“She’ll be fine.”
“But for how long? How long will this last?” she questioned with desperation.
“Last satellite image showed it breaking up. A few more minutes, Bret,” he said. “It won’t be long. It’ll be over.”
Bret took some comfort in Colin’s words. Nevertheless, even though a few minutes wasn’t really a long length of time, it seemed like an eternity as she watched her child—alone—avert the danger that pounded relentlessly at her.
***
Blain Davis had just pulled on the Pennsylvania turnpike heading east when the call came through. Mouth full of take-out, he used the hands-free method to take the call.
“Hey, Mom.”
“Mom?” The woman on the other end spoke. “I know I’m older than you, but I don’t believe I’m old enough to be your mother.”
Quickly Blain checked out the number on the phone. “Sorry, I thought you were someone else.”
“Obviously,” she said. “You still have my cameraman, or did you ditch him on a highway.”
Blain lifted his head to the rear view mirror. He gazed by his own young, handsome reflection to the complete contrast in the back seat. Doug Swanson, Vietnam vet with long hair, was highly intelligent, but he always acted as if he were stoned.
“Depends,” Blain replied. “He’s physically here. Sleeping right now.”
“Good,” she said.
“Why?” Blain asked.
“I know you’re headed back to New York.” Shirley McConnell answered. As head Story Editor, she had achieved the nickname, ‘Shit’ McConnell amongst the younger reporters at the highly-regarded Central News Station. Blain never knew why, but he was about to find out.
“Yes, I am,” Blain said.
“Do you like Hitchcock?”
“Um…uh.…” Blain stuttered. “I guess, why?”
“Good. Get off at the next exit, turn around and head back to Pittsburgh,” she explained. “They j
ust relived one of his old classics.”
***
Like an ice cream jerk, Chuck scooped Blain Davis. Big time, too. Not only was Chuck present at the satellite center, he had close personal contact with a family who had experienced the bird attack first-hand. Not to mention the cool video Aggie took. That, Chuck sold to the highest bidder.
Blain was not happy about that, but he was not giving up. He did a small piece but was informed by Shirley to stay and follow up.
“Not here,” Jesse said, hung up the phone, and held the rag to his head. “Reporter. How’d he get this number?”
Chuck shrugged. “It’s listed.”
“Where’s the duct tape?” Jesse asked.
“He needs stitches.” Chuck pointed.
“I know,” Bret said. “But duct tape works well, too.”
“Back to work,” Chuck tapped a pen on the sheet of paper. “I have to get this and those pictures to the AP. Pronto. What do you think?”
Bret lifted the sheet of paper, and then glanced down to the photos which were taken from the video and satellite center, photos of black clouds which were large flocks of birds. Bret read out loud: “The attack was centered in one area in the metropolis of Pittsburgh. At one point, a six-block section of town was completely encompassed by the birds.” Bret nodded. “This is good,” she said, then read silently, finishing the last line aloud. “It was something straight out of Alfred Hitchcock. And as with Hitchcock, the bird attack stopped without notice and flew off, leaving Pittsburgh waiting and wondering would it happen again?” She laid the paper down. “Very good. Can it?”
“Happen again?” Chuck clarified.
“Yeah.”
“Colin said unlikely.”
“Did he say why?” Bret asked.
“Simple. Birds were migrating early from the north to the south. Not for weather changes, but for food.”
“Wait. For food?”
“Yeah. With the ground temperature warming, the attacking insects suddenly became dead insects. Eggs and larva, along with the adult bugs, couldn’t survive the slight temperature increase. Without the bugs, rats, mice, squirrels, and birds had a hard time feeding; so they searched for other sources of food?
“Us.”
“Well.…” Chuck tilted his head then went on to explain what Colin informed him: The migration would have taken the birds south without incident, except the recent solar flares—not uncommon—caused magnetic stress and electromagnetic pulses. Birds work on the magnetic pull of waves of sound. Their sense of direction was lost. In fact, their entire perception was lost. Starving birds became confused, scared, and disoriented; then they suddenly became violent.
The poolside attack was just one of many. Casper was a shivering mess when the birds finally flew away. A few scratches graced her face, nothing major. They commended her on her quick thinking, attributing her common sense to saving her life. She attributed her fear to that, saying she was just too scared to get out of the pool that she didn’t even think about the birds not being able to swim.
Bret was in a mesmerized state listening to Chuck. So much so, that when Jesse laid his hand on her shoulder she jumped a foot in the air with a shriek.
“What the hell are you telling her?” Jesse asked Chuck then showed Bret the phone. “Can you please talk to this guy?”
“Am I allowed?” Bret asked Chuck.
Chuck glanced at his watch. “Yeah go on, I’ll send it now.” He scooted over and opened his laptop.
After a breath, Bret took the call. “Hello?”
It wasn’t a long conversation. It started out with her asking his credentials then making him wait while she watched CNS for a few minutes to see his report. Then she spoke to him. She agreed to meet Blain Davis within an hour to share the story. Bret was a star in it all because she was being called by the media the ‘Attractor’, first the bugs, then the birds. The fact that she was a DJ didn’t hurt.
When the call was finished she informed Jesse that she was meeting Blain; he made Bret promise to take Chuck.
Not a problem. But where was Chuck? He had slipped out onto the front porch and Bret found him standing at the railing staring out.
“I agreed to meet Blain. Jesse says you have to come.”
Chuck nodded.
“Something wrong?”
“Listen,” he said. “Just listen.”
Bret folded her arms and stepped closer to Chuck. “I don’t hear anything.”
“Exactly.”
“What do you mean?” Bret asked.
“Quiet. No sounds. An eerie silence has taken over the world—or at least our part of it,” he said, nearly dazed.
Bret sighed out heavily. “I didn’t notice.”
“Do we ever? We taken them for granted. You know something is different, but you can’t put your finger on it. This is it.”
“The silence.”
“Yep.” He nodded once then looked at her. “It’s scary. A world without birds, rodents, and insects is not only a silent world, Bret, but it’s fast becoming a dying world as well.”
***
The four-day trip returning from Africa required nothing more than a bed for Darius to sleep on. He was tired of hard ground, and though sloppy, unmade, it didn’t matter, he wanted his bed.
He wasn’t a firm believer in signs, although occasionally he’d admit to receiving them.
From the moment he left Africa, he was bombarded with signs. He ignored them, but admitted he should have paid closer attention. If he had he would have been ready for when he arrived home.
They were attacked by rebels en route to the city, then the small plane ran out of gas and they had to crash land.
The crash landing was followed by a truck ride full of soldiers who’d spent forty sweaty days in the jungle. Finally a plane out of Africa brought him to the United Kingdom where he went through a twenty-four hour quarantine for typhoid.
A comfy seat on the way back to America was the only positive thing. They served ham—a dish Darius hates.
Three times he called Colin, once from the UK, and Colin assured him he would be there at the airport to get him.
After a two hour wait and with no answers from Colin’s phone, Darius realized Colin was a no show. So he took a cab.
The fare was high, although not a problem; he had enough cash on hand to cover it. He unloaded from the cab, walked up his path and stopped.
‘This is a joke.’ Darius thought when he saw the white sheets of paper plastered all over his windows and door. Was someone protesting him?
The month old stack of mail was falling out of the screen door when Darius pulled it open. Like a flood through a broken dam the letters rushed out and the return addresses and emblem for University of West Virginia caught his attention.
Believing it was important—it looked official—Darius opened it before even going in the house.
“What?” he said aloud upon reading the letter. “Since I failed to reply to their final attempt to talk to me…when?” Darius peered down, ran his foot through the stack of mail and saw several other letters from the university. “Oh, there they are.” Further examination of the envelope in hand, brought the surprise appearance of a hefty check. Darius whistled. “At this point in time, the severance works.” He tilted his head, smiled, and tucked the envelope in his back pocket—check and all.
Perhaps he should have read one of the many white letters posted on his house. Had he done so, the padlock on his front door wouldn’t have been such a shock.
Ripping the notice from the screen door, Darius chuckled. “Condemned. Figures.” With a ‘well’ spoken in stride, Darius stepped back, set down his bag, and looked at his house. “Good thing I don’t have much.” After examining his car and determining it was big enough to lug his belongings, Darius went around to the back of the house and broke in.
***
Class was back in session the next day, and Colin wanted to get to sleep early. The day had been horrendous, the ne
ws reports on CNS kept him up way past when he wanted to slumber. Plus he had this overwhelming feeling that he was forgetting something.
He discovered what that ‘something’ was when his doorbell rang.
“Shit!” Colin yapped when he opened the door. “I forgot to pick you up.”
Darius smiled. “Yes, you did.”
Colin peeked out. “Did you drive all the way up here to bitch at me?”
“No, can I come in?”
“Absolutely.” Colin widened the door for Darius.
As Darius stepped in he saw Colin ready to lock the door. “No, don’t. I have to go back out and get my things.”
“Are you staying the night?”
Darius set down his guitar. “And some. I'm living here now.”
“Excuse me?”
“I lost my job,” Darius said. “Failure to report.”
Colin cringed. “You should have seen that coming.”
“I did. Not a big deal in the scheme of things. And…my house was condemned while I was gone.”
“You should have seen that coming, as well. You didn’t…you didn’t by any chance purchase more pets and forget about them, did you.”
Darius stared at Colin.
“You did!” Colin whined. “Ah, Darius, learn some responsibility.”
“Ha!” Darius laughed. “Responsibility. You forgot about me at the airport. How responsible is that?”
“Well, not very, but I had a good reason.”
“Which is?” Darius asked.
“Birds attacked Pittsburgh,” Colin waved his hand. “I’ll get into it later. Come to the kitchen; I bet you’re hungry.”
Darius followed him. “Birds attacked Pittsburgh?”
“Yeah, all over the news, too. Your little friend Bret is the focus.”
“No way.” Darius nodded. “Was any one hurt?”
“Not seriously. Hot dog?” Colin opened the fridge. “I have some left from today’s Memorial Day feast.”
“Yeah, sure.” Darius slid on a bar stool. “Was it magnetically related?”
“Bingo.” Colin popped open the microwave. “Solar flare…sun spot thing.”
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