Drizzled with Death(74)

I leaned away from the door as far as I could, wondering why I never drove the minivan until I remembered I didn’t have any kids and now probably never would. The bird didn’t give any sign that the door had injured it in any way. It lifted its foot again and began another pass down the side of the car. I was beginning to take the attack personally when the thought occurred to me that I had no idea what the thing wanted in for. Was it a carnivore? It hissed and slashed some more and I felt like I was in a science fiction novel that was not going to end well for me, one where the island inhabitants wall themselves up in a city to avoid the perils of the giant beasts beyond. I was worried for my safety but I was also angry about my car. It was a classic before the bird decided to open it like a can of kippered snacks.

The bird reached the bottom of the door and I watched with relief as it moved away. Now if it would just wander back into the woods, I would risk retrieving the keys and keep driving no matter how much the exhaust system dragged on the ground. That was when things started to get really bad. The bird leaned down and began to investigate the tires. There was some tapping and thumping and then a bang and a hiss. I felt the car settle lower on one side as the air leaked out of a tire.

Instead of scaring the thing off, the popping noise startled it into even more aggressive action. It jumped onto the hood of the car, offering an even better view of its clawed feet. With a striding, leaping motion, it disappeared from view and the entire car shook as it landed with a thud on the convertible’s soft top. I heard the ripping before I saw the claw coming through the fabric.

I was bent low in the seat when I heard a horn blaring over the sound of the tearing fabric. I looked through the gap in the steering wheel and spotted Graham’s state-issued truck racing into view. He parked a hundred or so feet away and slid out on the passenger side. He busied himself with something in the back of the vehicle then headed toward me carrying a rake. As he drew closer, I could see it was missing a bunch of tines, like it had been under a running lawn mower. He held the rake aloft like a king’s standard bearer and advanced toward me at a steady pace.

I wasn’t sure where to look, up at the claw coming down toward my head or out at Graham. Soon enough, I didn’t need to choose. The ripping noise ceased and the claw pulled back out of the fabric. I could see through to the sky. As suddenly as it had jumped on, the bird took a flying leap off the roof of the car and began running toward Graham. He stopped moving forward but he didn’t back off. He just stood there bobbing the rake up and down like a picketer at a demonstration. I’m not sure what Graham had hoped it would do for him, but whatever it was didn’t seem to be working. The bird was bearing down on him steadily, determinedly hissing and opening and closing its beak.

I didn’t want to attract it back in my direction, but I didn’t see what choice there was. I laid on my own horn and kept at it in staccato bursts. The bird appeared disoriented. It dashed back toward me and then raced once more toward Graham. It shot past him and began pacing near his truck. Suddenly, out of the woods emerged a second bird, even bigger than the first. It joined the first bird and they appeared engrossed in each other.

Graham took advantage of the birds’ short attention span and ran toward me, not even keeping his eye on them. He just pelted along like he was training for the Olympics. If the U.S. teams added these birds to their training regimens, we would probably bring home an even larger array of glittering medals.

He paused next to the MG long enough to notice the flat tire, pop open the door, and grab me by the hand.

“Is there anywhere nearby we can take shelter?” he asked as he dragged me along behind him.

“Tansey’s place is just over the rise a little ways. She has an outbuilding Knowlton uses for his taxidermy at the edge of the property. Tansey doesn’t like the dead animals so close to the house.”

“How long to get there?”

“Three minutes, if we hurry.”

“Oh, we’re going to hurry.” Graham picked up his pace and I was almost dragged off my feet. His legs had to have been twice as long as mine the way he was moving. I wished I had taken time for a snack in the afternoon because my energy levels had been flagging even before the cassowaries showed up. Now I was running on pure adrenaline.

“What will happen if they catch up with us?” I didn’t think I wanted to know the answer, but the question blurted out before I could stop myself.

“Have you seen Jurassic Park?”

“Enough said.” I broke into a jog and then turned on the turbo. What I lack in stride, I make up for in a willingness to try harder. We ran the whole way to the little shed. Fortunately, few people in Sugar Grove worry about locking their outbuildings. Many don’t even lock their houses. Graham pushed open the door and shoved me through it. I stood there looking around at all manner of dead creatures in various poses before I could catch my breath. The place smelled of skunk. It made me wish I were still out in the open air even if it meant I was running from those feathered dinosaurs.