Lita sighed in mock exasperation. “I guess I’ll do the dishes. A woman’s work is never done.”
Ross accompanied Dave outside. They headed over to the chicken coop and the yard, but neither of them found any eggs, and both of them were assailed by angry, overly aggressive birds. It was Dave who finally swung his basket, hitting a hen and knocking the animal over. “Let’s get out of here,” he said.
They both exited through the coop after hanging their baskets on hooks. “I think they’re getting worse,” Dave said, discouraged.
“Do you think it’s some kind of disease or…” He could think of no other alternatives since he knew next to nothing about raising chickens.
“Come here,” Dave said. He led Ross around the side of the house to the cellar, checking to make sure Lita wasn’t watching them through one of the windows before opening the cellar door. “I want to show you something. I haven’t told Lita anything about it, so I’d appreciate it if you kept this to yourself.”
Ross was intrigued. “Sure thing.” He followed Dave down the steps. There was a foul odor in the enclosed space, a fetid stench that did not decrease in rankness with the opening of the bottom door and the letting in of fresh air. “Oh my God!” Ross pinched his nostrils shut, gagging.
“I know,” Dave said, holding a hand over his own nose. “I put a couple of air fresheners down here yesterday, but they just got swallowed up. Don’t worry, you’ll get used to it in a few minutes.”
Ross didn’t think so, and he didn’t want to be down here for even one minute, but clearly something was up, and he was anxious to see what Dave had to show him.
Just inside the doorway, along the left side of the wall, was a shelf on which sat various tools and jars. Dave picked up a ball peen hammer and carried it to the table in the center of the room, where oddly shaped, sized and colored eggs sat in a box. Next to the box, on the wooden tabletop, were scattered pieces of broken eggshell and what looked like dried blood.
“Watch,” Dave said. Gingerly—
nervously?
—he picked up a large egg from the box and placed it carefully on the table, holding it in place with a finger to make sure it didn’t roll as he tapped the egg lightly with the hammer, cracking it. He stepped back as the crack grew of its own accord. Within seconds, a tiny claw had punched its way out of the shell, and a moment later the shell was in pieces, a slimy black lizardy creature writhing amidst the fragments. It had a thin body, clawed appendages and an oversized head with beady red eyes and a permanently open mouth.
The hideous thing stared up at them, screaming.
Dave hit it hard with the hammer, smashing its head.
A smell like raw sewage emanated from the blood and brains that spilled out. The horrible stench in the cellar grew stronger, and Ross gagged, staggering back. Dave was gagging, too, and seconds later, both of them were bolting up the stairs. Miraculously, neither of them threw up when they reached the top, although each of them stood in place, bent over, breathing heavily and gulping in the fresh air.
Dave glanced over at the house to make sure Lita wasn’t watching them. He exhaled heavily, straightened. “The thing is,” he said, and Ross heard real fear in his voice, “they’re all different. As far as I can tell. No two seem to be alike. I discovered it yesterday morning when I brought the six eggs I’d collected down to the cellar. One of them broke open immediately, and an insect came out. Not any insect that I’ve ever seen before, but kind of a wasp crossed with a scorpion. A big one. It came at me, and I batted it down and squashed it on the floor with my boot. Scared the hell out of me. But I cracked open another egg, wanting to see if it was the same. It wasn’t. It was a freakish little thing that looked like a rat’s head on top of an overgrown silverfish. And it made a sound like a baby crying. This morning, I picked one at random, checked again, and it was kind of a snake. Only…it kind of wasn’t.” There was a long pause. “My chickens are giving birth to monsters.”
The words hung in the air.
“I don’t know why this is happening,” Dave said, genuinely confused. “Or how it could.”
He looked to Ross as if for answers, but Ross had none to give. For some reason, he found himself thinking of that black thing he’d seen flying through the night sky. And Jill’s missing dog. And the little girl at the farmer’s market.
“Dick suck mushroom! Pickaninny pie!”
Jill was right. There were a lot of crazy things happening around here lately.
“So what do we do now?” Ross asked.