by Chris Hechtl
“What's that?”
“It's an RF tag. I found it in the animal's right flank. According to its ID number, the computer said it belongs to a zoo. One of those private animal rescue places upstate. Funny, they said the tiger died of old age when I called them.”
“Let me see that.” The lawyer nearest her tried to take the bag.
“It's evidence,” she said firmly, snatching it back. “You are not going to compromise the evidence. Period.”
“This means the killers, the real killers are still out there. Still hunting people,” Shirley said, locking eyes with Richard. “Our people. Now, what are you going to do about that? Assuming it's not too late,” she said, crossing her arms.
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The alpha watched the hated tailless ones. They were competition and threat and had to be eliminated. They had watched them from a distance, always staying ahead of the creatures with four legs and sharp teeth. The male fluffed his feathers, and then checked his leg wound. His mate nuzzled his side, looking to him in concern. He fluffed his crest but didn't respond to her. She churred softly, but he turned, eyes intent on the threat. The thunder branches and the creatures were the real threat. Take them away, and the tailless ones were prey. And it seemed they were putting the four legs in small cages like the flock had been in at one time. A few more and the time to strike would be upon them.
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Matt stayed with Fitzroy and his troop. What he had thought was a godsend was turning into a false sense of hope. Foreboding and dread colored his thoughts, but there was little he could do to stop it. Not without bucking his father and he wasn't sure if he wanted to go that far or not.
The remaining press on the scene were packing up. They talked casually as Jack Tate Fitzroy's assistant directed the helpers to pack the dogs up in their kennels on the truck. One by one the animals were petted, checked over, and then boxed up.
“You are full of it you know it? That's not our killer. You are leading the public into a false sense of security,” Matt accused him. “What are you going to do when they kill again? Huh? What then?” Matt demanded.
The hunter shrugged such considerations off but kept a polite face up in case he was being recorded. He didn't want or need anything incriminating to come around and bite him in the ass. What the cop was saying was right though; he knew it. But he and the other gathering hunters needed time. For them time to get to the scene with their kits. And time out of the spotlight to hunt the flock down and kill them. He'd let the lawyers settle the lawsuits later. That was what they were good for.
A few of the dogs started to bark. Then more did until they were all going at it. Jack did his best to hush them, but they wouldn't be deterred.
Matt figured it out after a moment. He looked around, hand drifting to his gun. Jack turned in time as well, now wary. Fitzroy picked up on it as well.
“Phillip,” Jack murmured, eyes darting around. His mustache twitched.
“I know,” Fitzroy said softly, eyes moving around slowly. “Jack, get the dogs back out ….”
Matt frowned as he unbuckled the safety strap on his holster. “Fitzroy …,” was all that he got out. Then something attacked them from of the bushes on either side of the clearing and all hell broke loose.
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Richard scowled. He didn't like the implications Shirley had just made, nor her intent. She was right, he knew it, but he had to keep an eye on the bigger picture. That included the political aspects of it. “I'm shutting you down, Shirley. We don't need the headache,” the sheriff said flatly. “You don't know whose toes you’re stepping on. Hell, that Preserve is why you're on my payroll!” He waved a hand. She set her jaw and drummed her fingers on her arms. “Their taxes have paid for the toys you play with and the lab you play in, Bobby!” He turned to round on the tech.
“Yeah well, something is loose. More than one. And it's going on a killing spree. What happened to protecting the public?” Shirley snarled. “To serve and protect, remember?”
Richard's eyes flashed. He couldn't stand insubordination and doing it in front of others was a death sentence for anyone's career. He had no choice now he thought angrily. “You're on suspension. Turn in your badge.”
“Sure, not a problem. Once I do just point me to the nearest camera,” she said tossing him her badge and then taking out her gun. “This here is mine by the way,” she put it back.” I think I'm going to need it.”
He glared at her.
“You can't …,” a lawyer protested.
“I can and I will. Free citizen and all that. Freedom of speech. And unlike some people I believe in protecting the public,” she said, eying the sheriff.
Another lawyer whispered about a gag order. He took out a cell phone and started to dial.
“I can and I will. Since you’re closing the investigation …,” she turned a look on her boss. “I think we need a full airing out. A full corruption probe. Molly, the whole works.” His eyes narrowed at her. “The indie labs will bear up.”
She held up a paper. “I got this an hour ago. It said the blood is avian. Not …,” she turned to the chief and locked eyes with him, “tiger. Bird. The claw is also avian. The feathers and skin too,” she said. He frowned and turned a look on the lawyers. “I'm going to be taking all that to the press. People have a right to know what's killing their kinfolk.”
Bobby nodded grimly.
“Richard, we're getting something …,” a dispatcher came in suddenly flustered. She was shaken and bewildered. “Matt …”
Richard scowled. “What about him? Why isn't he here?” He was pretty sure his son could cool Shirley off, talk reason to her. The more he tried to back her down the more he realized he was backing her into a corner. If she came out fighting like she was threatening, it would get seriously ugly.
“He … boss, you gotta get out there. Some sort of shooting and attack where that tiger got killed,” the dispatcher said, clearly shook up. “It's bad. Matt … uh … God man, I'm sooo sorry,” she broke down after that, face streaming tears, hands over her mouth.
Richard scowled. It hadn't quite sunk in yet; it seemed like a bad dream. They followed the woman as she went to her desk shaking her head. “What happened? Damn it, what happened to Matt?”
“What about him?” the others asked, following the sheriff and dispatcher out into the outer office. Silently she tapped a control and then slowly sank into her chair. She covered her head with her hands, clearly not willing to hear it again.
Matt's voice played over the speakers. “Officer down,” he coughed. It was a wet cough Shirley realized as an ice cold wind hit her. The bottom was falling out of her universe. “Something, God, it's a bird. Four or five of ‘em. Big bastards,” he said just as they heard a crash in the background. “They killed the hunter. The press too. God, just slaughtered everyone. I got one but it's on top of me,” he whispered. “God, something’s got my leg,” he said, voice rising. They hear a crunching noise. He screamed, shaking Bobby into a pale ghost. “Dad, tell Shirley I love ….”
Shirley licked her lips and then turned to Richard. The sheriff's face was stone. He silently went over to the gun rack and pulled out a rifle. He handed one to her, then a box of shells. She started to chamber rounds.
“So this mean I'm not suspended, Richard?” she asked coldly, holding the rifle.
“Don't get smart with me, bitch. Just shut up and drive,” he growled, handing her badge back as they left the others behind.
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In the truck she glared as she drove so the sheriff could coordinate things through the radio net. He was calling everyone and anyone up, putting people on alert. Occasionally she shot him a look out of the corner of her eye. He was sweating hard. When he finished he sat back and wiped at his mouth with his hand, and then rested his fingers on his lips. “Nice job, Richard. You got your own son killed—for what? Was it worth it?” she asked bitterly.
He looked away. She could see the r
eflection of his face in the window. “God, what am I going to tell Betty?” he asked himself quietly.
Shirley tried to hold it in. They made it to the site in record time. When they pulled up, they couldn't see much but could hear it was some sort of a madhouse. Bird creatures the size of horses darted in and out of the light of the headlights and then away into the dark. They cawed from the dark, sending shivers up and down Shirley's spine. She ignored the startled chatter on the radio, eyes intent on their surroundings. She left the engine running and the lights on. She even flipped the spotlights on. It'd run the batteries down, but they needed the extra light.
The sheriff slowly pulled out a pair of night vision goggles and looked around. “There are four, no, five of them,” he said softly. “The damnedest things ….” He rolled down his window to get a better look just as one rushed the truck. He shot at it, but it dodged the rifle and then turned and ran.
He fired again several times but it darted about as it ran, evading his fire. The flock ran around the edge of the tree line, then seemed to melt into the forest. They stared at them wildly for a long moment.
“Let's go,” the sheriff murmured. He turned to Shirley. She nodded.
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They pulled up to another horror scene. It was torn apart. Bodies of people and dogs were everywhere, hardly recognizable. It looked like some sort of splatter punk horror movie. Grimly they looked around until Jerry found Matt's torn body. He was clearly dead. His left leg was torn off. His throat had been torn out and his head crushed.
Shirley gulped and fought the tears. She looked around as she breathed in and out deeply. They had to stay on alert. This was a hot zone; they could be ambushed.
The other deputies did so as well, keeping a wary eye out for what had killed one of their number. They found the news van had also been torn apart.
Two survivors were found; one had video recorded the encounter. They watched silently as Matt, Jack, and Fitzroy valiantly tried to protect the civilians for as long as he could. The bird creatures moved so fast; they were just blurs until one stopped. It turned slowly, majestically to show them its profile. Shirley's fingers stabbed out to hit the pause button.
“What the hell … a bird with teeth?” Shirley muttered, watching the tiny monitor. Grimly she studied the profile then hit play once more. The animal cocked its head at a vehicle, then bobbed its head up and down. Then it clawed at the underside of the truck.
After a moment it started knocking the thing with its body. The truck rocked. They could hear screams coming from inside the vehicle.
Bobby was nervously looking around as those around the monitor stared intently at it. “Um, shouldn't we get out of here?” she asked. The survivors nodded, clinging to each other as they cried.
One of the survivors had managed to lock herself inside a metal cabinet in the van. She was shaken and looking about the area, beyond hysterics and close to catatonic in Shirley's estimation. She broke down when she heard the recorded bird noises. Shirley spooked and looked around them again. Then her eyes fell on the sheriff. One by one the other sets of eyes did as well.
“We're not going anywhere,” the sheriff said grimly. “Not till these things are dead.”
More vehicles pulled up behind them. More spotlights shined out into the night. One drifted until they found the body of a brown bird near the edge of the clearing. One of the hunters shot it making it jump, so others fired as well before Richard bellowed to cease fire.
Chapter 4
Shirley watched, arms crossed, as the ornithologist Doctor Rowland did the necropsy on the creature. She'd been called in by Matt; her intense curiosity over what was going on had made her follow up with the visit quickly instead of putting it off. Also, the very idea that some sort of big bird was hunting people had intrigued her.
The sheriff was out of the office, most likely informing his wife of the news and dealing with what was left of his son's body, Shirley thought remotely. She did her best to bank her grief. She'd mourn Matt later after the other damned creatures were dead.
The ornithologist turned to Brenda, pointing out the teeth, enlarged head and elongated forearms. Brenda nodded. She looked guilty and grim as she worked with Doctor Rowland. The newcomer spread the truncated left wing, and they saw the fingers had been shorted into claws. “There are no flight feathers,” Doctor Rowland murmured.
“Thank God. Can you imagine a flock of these in the air?”
“Yeah. Thank the genetic engineers who did us a favor you mean,” Doctor Rowland said. Shirley nodded.
Most of the side was gone due to the damage as well as the tail, but she pointed out it had some sort of elongated tail based on the shape of it. “If we trace this out …,” she took a piece of large paper and put it under the animal then drew the tail's shape from what was left. It came to a point over two feet away from the stump. “Almost saurian. Fascinating,” she murmured.
“If you say so, Doc,” Brenda replied doubtfully. She shivered. No amount of money or pressure from Richard or other people could convince her that covering these things up was worth it anymore. She didn't want to run into one!
“If I didn't know any better, I'd say it's a dinosaur or at least as close as we can get to one.” The ornithologist said, shaking her head.
“Are you serious?”
“Yes. This is some wild genetic tampering, but … yes. You can see what they were after, the traits they had induced and enhanced.” They took pics and samples and sent tissues off to an independent lab for comparison. Just to be on the safe side, Shirley backed everything up on multiple servers under different accounts. She also made multiple copies on flash sticks. There could be accusations of a conspiracy later, but she'd have as much evidence as she could to back up her statement.
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The alpha chirruped at the remaining members of his flock. He hadn't planned on losing one of their number in the ambush; that hadn't been anticipated. They now knew the tailless ones carried small shiny thunder branches. It was hard-won knowledge, bitter one he thought. Losing one of his flock had never been a part of his plan. It was time to find other, easier prey.
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Shirley tried to sleep, but all she can see is Matt getting torn apart. She cried a little but then rubbed at her eyes and got up. She figured she had a couple hours before the meeting, and every moment she was crying for herself, she was not out chasing the killers.
Grimly she set her jaw and went to work. She had work to do. And damned if anyone got in her way.
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“Was it worth it? Your thirty pieces of gold? Huh, Brenda? Molly? Was it worth his life? The lives of others?” Shirley snarled in the meeting. They flinched and looked away. “Was it worth Matt's life? The others? Come on, I want to know!” she snarled.
Molly couldn't help it. She broke down and cried.
Bobby cut in. “I think … I think someone tried to play God,” she said. Shirley and the sheriff turned to her.
The ornithologist nodded as she went over to the printer. “It looks that way.” She held up a screen grab she had printed out. “Look at this. See here and here? It's a bird, but not. I'd say a retrograde.”
“Ah … Lost me …”
“It's a genetic engineered thing, boss,” Bobby explained. She pulled out her laptop and showed them. “You see Discovery Channel did this thing a while back. I just remembered it—a dino thing.”
“That's right, they had this idea to reverse engineer a dinosaur. It looked like someone took it to heart,” Doctor Rowland stated with a snap of her fingers. “I remember now. Jack Horner?”
“And you're just saying this now because …,” the sheriff snarled.
“Cause I just thought of it. I didn't know what the hell it was. Hell, you were so sure it was that declawed tiger, remember?” she turned her accusing eyes on Richard, the sheriff. “And it wasn't, was it?” she demanded, glaring for all she was worth. Shirley glared as well.
“So what the hell are these things?” Bobby demanded.
“My best guess?” Doctor Rowland asked. The sheriff nodded. “My guess is someone took a big bird. Cassowary or Emu, then turned on the teeth genes, and then spliced in other genes. A vulture or raptors gut for one. Turned on the tail … a snip of genes here, a snip there and ….”
“Oh. Oh that's just …,” Bobby shook her head. She rubbed her brow.
Shirley frowned, crossing her arms.
“Yeah. Frankenstein bird.” Doctor Rowland shook her head. “Don't expect it for Thanksgiving. Or chicken nuggets.”
“It's a bit more then that really. They turn to see a woman being escorted into the room through the open doorway by Jeff, the dispatcher. “Sorry to eavesdrop. My name is Doctor Sandra Waltz. Please call me Sandra,” the doctor said. She held out her hand politely and shook hands with the deputies and sheriff. She was an average looking woman in her mid-thirties with black hair and modest looks.
“These,” she indicated the screen grab on the main screen, “are my creations unfortunately.” She pointed to the images of the corpse as well.
Shirley blinked at the admission. Her eyes narrowed. The woman seemed genuinely contrite. “Oh.”
“Well, I wanted to make herbivores, but I was overruled,” Sandra said, adjusting her glasses.
“Oh great, just great,” Doctor Rowland sighed. “Let me guess, someone with a lot of money but not a lot of sense watched waaay too many horror movies and didn't get the part about how you thought about how much you could instead of should?” she demanded.