Torn (14 page)

Bill shook his head. “I’m not seeing what they’re talking about. Things are c
lear as a bell, even on weather.
…” his head jerked t
o
the right to the three printers spewing out data. “What the hell.” He peered at the headers. “From three other subs.”

Stew just shook his head. “What are they saying?”

“What’s this black dot?” Chuck pointed. “It’s moving.”

“Glitch?” Colin suggested.

“Cloud?” Chuck guessed.

Stew shook his head “Not the right color. I’ll zoom in.” With a few clicks, he brought the imag
e closer. “This is a large mass…
shit. I
t’s i
n the air.”

Virginia aimed her voice to Bill. “What are they saying?”

Bill’s head slowly shook. “Can’t understand. This doesn’t make much sense.”

Stew added,
“This one dot isn’t alone. Look…one here and here.
…”

Bill slid the papers Stew’s way
then looked at the monitor. “Those are the areas we got reports from.”

“What are the masses?” Virginia asked.

Colin laid his hand on Stew’s should
er. “Can you concentrate on one?
This one here.” He indicated. “It’s close to Pittsburgh. Give me a general area, and get in close.”

“I’ll try.” Stew replied.

“May I?” Colin reached for the papers and lifted them.

“What
ever this mass
is
, it’s slowing
and looks like it may stall south of Pittsburgh.” Stew said
.

“How
far
south?” Colin asked.

“Five miles.”

“Let’s call Bret,” Colin said. “To see if she sees anything. Something that larg
e is gonna be visual very short.
…” his paused, looked at the paper, then to the screen again. “Shit. Magnetic field disturbance.” He laid down the paper and lifted his phone. “I know what that is.”

The pickle protruded from the edge of the hamburger bun. It caught Bret’s eye and she found herself staring
at it. Round, off edge, sort of
like the earth was.

“Something wrong with the pickle?” her sister Aggie asked.

“Huh?” Bret snapped out of her daze.

“Bug?” She snickered. “Whoops. Wrong word.”

“Ha ha h
a. No. The pickle is fine. I was staring at it and the burger.”

“Can I ask why?”

“It’s there.”

“Ok
ay
,” she said.

“You know, ground meat alone doesn’t really hold
together
.”

“Not well. You need eggs, bread crumbs.”

“True,” Bret said. “We take for granted when we b
uy a hamburger
that there is something inside of it that will
make it firm and stay together,
”
she rambled. “But say the cook
starts taking out a little of those
bread crumbs and eggs each week, j
ust a little. We won’t notice the gradual change. Before we know it, eventually he’d omit all the eggs and bre
adcrumbs and the hamburger will…
fall apart.”

Aggie just stared.

“So many questions over this,” Bret said.

“The hamburger?”

Bret nodded. “Could we have stopped it if there was a way? On the other hand,
had it
progress
ed too far
before we had a chance to notice it? Is the hamburger salvageable? If it isn’t
and there’s no way to save it, c
an we still eat the hamburger? Yes, but it isn’t a hamburger a
nymore. It’s just ground beef. However…
if it forever stays that way, generations to come will never know the hamburger the way we know the hamburger. Make sense?”

Aggie exhaled, stood up, and aimed her voice
across the yard
. “Jesse! Bret is really gone.” She walked away.

Her eyes strayed to where Aggie darted. The kids were across the yard, diving in and out of the pool. Bret was chilled, and swimming was not an option.

“I understood, Mom.” Luke sat down.

“You did?”

“You were making an analogy to what’s happening.”

“Yes, I was.”

He nodded and winked. “A little advice. You have to let people know you’re making an analogy or you won’t make sense.”

Bret started to laugh
but stopped when her phone rang. “You have a point,” she said and grabbed the phone. “Hello?

A
high-pitched whistle
, like feedback
,
rang out.

Bret
cringed, pulled the phone away
and then heard her name.

“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
. B
ad 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…a
rea.”

Bret shook
her
head. “Colin.” She started to snicker. “Are you joki
ng with me?” Covering the mouth
piece 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; s
omething 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 la
y
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.

E
veryone 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, “O
h my God.”

The word swarm truly was the best description. So m
any birds, squawking, squealing,
meshed together
so
there was no
way to distinguish
individual
sound
s
. The bright Memorial Day sun
was
suddenly
blacked
out.

Then it started.

“Grab the kids! Get i
n 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 did
n’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 under
water
.

Crying out for
Casper
, Bret felt
a
peck
on
her
cheek, then her arm. She was engulfed within moments,
b
lackened 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 expo
sed only one recognizable thing, t
he 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
,
h
er head exposed
, showing the
scared expression on h
er face as she shifted her eyes back and forth
quickly, watching, shivering
. When they came for her, she di
ve
d
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 sus
pense, they all watched out the
window. The birds were
pre
occupied; they didn’t come for the house.

The ringing tone made Bret nearly jump from her skin. Still clutc
hing the phone, she answered it.
“Hello?”

“Did they hit?” Colin asked.

Her hand pre
ssed 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?”
s
he questioned with desperation.