An Excerpt From "Birds"

In the distance, I see a flock of birds, but they seem bigger than the ones that migrate through here. They rise from the section of the dense cacti that I saw those tiny, graceful beauties settle in, but these are five or six times the size of those, and I can tell even from far away. Gradually, they make their way toward the town and I can finally get a better glimpse of them as they come from over, behind, and around my house. My heart races as I comprehend the impossible truth of what they are. I race downstairs, pull on my tennies, and sprint out the door, down the road, and on to Main Street.

I start pointing to the sky and practically scream, “Everyone move! Get out of here! Go inside where you can find shelter!” I can see that nobody is paying me any real attention when I see Adam.

“Adam!” I say. “Come here, I need your help.”

“What is it?” he asks.

“Look up!”

“No seriously, Kira, what is it?”

“I’m not kidding either, look up!”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, I know. Now help me get everyone inside. We don’t know what they will do if they attack.”

Now we both start getting people’s attention. Slowly, everyone forms a clump around Adam and me and no matter how we tell them to get into the shops, they don’t go away. Some of them tell us to go home or get some sleep. They think that we are crazy and won’t listen. Finally, we get them to believe that we are sane, and they all begin to sluggishly stare at the sky. I wait for them to realize the danger that they are in, but no one seems scared or even worried. Suddenly, a collective gasp runs through the crowd as the look in their eyes changes from confused and slightly curious to a gradually rising panic. I hear murmuring and see a few people back away from the crowd, but most are paralyzed with fear.

As the swarming mass descends, everyone scatters. The people who were once simply curious spectators are now terrified members of a terrorized town. As I try to see if anyone is still outside, everyone else realizes what has befallen on this small town. Birds. Hundreds and hundreds of huge, feathery monsters have caused more chaos than this town has ever experienced. Some of the men try to fight back, but most of them are simply carried off like a sack of potatoes. Only one bird is killed, and it took five of the biggest men in the town to destroy it. Finally, the vulture-looking creatures fly away, but not before causing physical or emotional pain to almost every single one of my friends and neighbors. Some men and one or two women have been carried off to who knows what kind of horrible fate. Blood smears are visible on the roads, trailing from some of the victims. The stains could lead us to the source of all this pain, and we want to avenge those who have been taken from us, but we know in our heart of hearts that the offending monsters are practically impossible to defeat. This first attack was the most surprising, but it was not even close to the pain that was still to come.

Over the next several weeks, we expect another attack, but most of us just want to forget the tragedy that has been set over us. A heartbroken, terrorized sort of scream silently seems to ooze from everyone I pass at school or on the street. Willa Grey lost her dad, so her mom and her left for a while to get a grip on the grief. The loss that slowly takes over my friends is infective, and soon I can’t even help being as depressed as they are. I pretty sure that they went to Mexico, although there won’t be a lot there to make them forget this place, as we had red dirt, cacti and scorching heat here too.

In the cafeteria, everyone is silent for the first week, which in a way is worse because it provides nothing but pure quiet with nothing to do but remember that horrible day that changed us all forever.

Some people, however, want to form a defense system to make sure that when the next attack arrives, we are ready. About ten or fifteen men and women go to these weekly meetings, my mom and dad being two of them. When the rendezvous finish, it is about eleven or twelve o’clock, so my parents assume that I am sleeping. I can hear them get home though, and even if I didn’t stay awake, staring at the ceiling every night, replaying the screams of my peers in my head, the slight creaking sound of them opening the door would instantly rouse me. They talk about forming some kind of small army of trained citizens.

“I think that John from 175 Elmswood would be able to help,” says Dad.

“I don’t know.” says Mom, “He doesn’t seem to be very agreeable.”

“Well, maybe you just don’t know him that well,” retorts Dad.

“If you think you know him that well,” snaps Mom, “why don’t you just discuss this with him!”

“Honey, I’m sorry, I just -” Dad tries to save himself.

“You know what? I don’t want to hear it. I don’t want to hear any more about this army or that stupid group you always want to go to. I want to protect my family and if that means making my own plans and never meeting with the rest of our neighbors again, then FINE!” shouts Mom.
I hear her stomp up the stairs and only when I reach to turn off my light and my hand brushes across my face do I realize that I was crying. I freeze at the the shocking, cold feeling of tears from my unconscious understanding that we were all growing apart when that was the worst thing that we could do.