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Tommy darted around the corner of the barn to catch his breath. He peeked around the corner to see if the roosters were still after him. “Whew.” He gasped aloud. I don’t know why they chase me every time I’m outside. He quietly snuck around the other side of the barn towards his house. The roosters were just around the other side, waiting for him to walk out. He jumped and ran away, but the roosters followed closely, stabbing at his shins with their pointy beaks, and ripping chunks of already infected skin off, piece by piece. Tommy let out a scream and sprinted back to his house, roosters nipping at the back of his legs the whole way there.
Tommy barged in the front door and slammed it shut. He slowly limped over to his dad, pus draining down his infected legs. “Tommy, what’d I say about hurtin’ yourself? It’s already infected; it’s only gonna get worse if ya keep pickin’ at it like that.”
Phil stepped in closer to look at it. Tommy looked down at his infected wounds, cringing when he saw the pus coming out of his freshly removed scabs. “But daddy it’s not me! It’s those dang chickens! Every time I go out they chase me and peck at me!”
Tommy began to cry, knowing that his father would never believe him. He hadn’t believed him when they previously attacked, why would he now? Phil knelt down, and then looked up at him. “Sure Tommy… You can’t keep doing this to yourself. You’re gonna lose those legs.” Tommy moped up to his room. He hated when his dad didn’t believe him. As soon as he lay down on his bed, his teeth began to vibrate. One of his headaches attacked, sending Tommy into another dimension of pain. He slipped off his bed, onto the floor, gripping his head, trying to squeeze the pain out.
After his headache, which nearly knocked him unconscious, Tommy walked downstairs, but stopped halfway at the sound of his parents talking. Phil was leaned against the counter, arms crossed over his chest. “We need to find why he keeps hurting himself. He could lose his legs if they get any more infected.”
Tommy’s mother pushed the bills out to the middle of the table where she was sitting. “I know you don’t believe this has anything to do with it, but ever since we sold the land for the cell phone towers, he’s started hurting himself. And that’s when his headaches started.”
Phil chuckled and looked at the ground. “You know that’s ridiculous. There’s no way the towers could have any affect on him.”
Cathy thought about his statement for a few seconds, and then pushed the chair back from the table and stood up, stepping closer to Phil. “But the way they’re in a triangle around the farm, don’t you think that could have something to do with it?”
Phil scratched the patches of hair under his chin and along his jaw, stepping away from the counter. “No. Them towers don’t do nothin’. There’s somethin’ wrong with our boy.”
Tommy snuck back to his room, looking out the window when he got there. Three crows sat on the edge of the roof, staring at him with full black eyes, giving Tommy chills up and down his spine as he made eye contact with them. Tommy opened the window and hurled a baseball towards them. “Get outta’ here!” He screamed at the creepy black creatures. He turned away from the window to turn on his T.V. He heard the distinct fluttering of wings, and shot his eyes back to the window. The crows were now sitting on his window sill. Tommy stared at the birds, who were staring straight back at him. He looked over to the corner of his room towards his Louisville Slugger. Right as he lunged for the baseball bat, all three crows launched up towards Tommy. The small black monsters pecked at his face so fast that he could only see waves of black feathers, and flashes of shiny black beaks, like thousands of needles stabbing into his face. At the sound of Tommy’s blood curdling screams, his parents ran up the stairs to find Tommy lying on the ground, holding his face, streams of blood passing through his fingers.
Phil ran over to him, prying his hands away “What the h*ll did you do to yourself now?”
Tommy tried, but couldn’t open his blood filled eyes. “It was the crows. They came in through the window.”
Phil picked Tommy up to bring him to the bathroom. As he walked past Cathy, she held up a handful of black feathers, which were scattered across the room.
After a few weeks, the wounds on Tommy’s face started healing, and he could see again. Tommy wasn’t going to let himself fear the birds anymore. He went to the freezer, and grabbed a package of ground beef. He went out side when the meat thawed, and scattered them around, being careful not to be seen by the roosters.
The next night he snuck outside. The air was filled with the stench of rotten meat. He quietly snuck over to the chicken pen and unlatched the door. He could hear the coyotes coming in towards the scent of the meat. He darted back into the house, quietly tip-toeing pasting his father, who was sitting at the kitchen table, with a glass filled with whiskey gripped in his hands.
He went up to his room and swung a chair over to the window to watch the demise of the evil roosters. At the sight of movement out of the corner of his eye, Tommy shot his eyes over to the left, to see five coyotes slowly creeping in for the kill. As the closest one was about ten feet away from the chickens, Tommy heard a booming gunshot, and the closest coyote dropped to the ground, and the others immediately turned and sprinted away, shots following them as they disappeared into the dark. Tommy slowly and hopelessly dragged his feet over to his bed and went to sleep.
The next morning, Tommy decided he would spend the day up in his room. While looking outside after lunch, he watched his father stumble down the porch steps and trip over Tommy’s bike. He got back up to his feet and leaned over to the bike, picking it up in his hands. Tommy heard him yell a slurred accusation, and then he threw the bike away from him, not seeming to aim at anything. As he was making his way towards the barn, a shadow passed over his head. Tommy looked over him to see four vultures circling high above. He felt tingles going up and down his spine, making him glad he as safe up in his room. He looked away for a second, horrified by what could happen if it were him out there. When he peered back over to his father, he saw the vultures right above him, swooping down for an attack. Tommy watched in muted horror as the vultures knocked his father to the ground. All he could see was parts of his father struggling to get free of the giant birds’ grips. Tommy was frozen in place, and watched his father struggling slowly cease. Almost as if they planned it in synchronization, the vultures slowly turned their heads up towards Tommy. He instantly halted his breath, and watched as the vultures turned back towards his father, and began feasting on his dead body.
Tommy didn’t think the birds would ever go after anyone else besides him. Something must be done.
Tommy’s mother tucked him in for the night, wiping tears away from Tommy’s cheeks, then to her own. After she left the room, Tommy crept out of bed, and quietly pushed open the window and climbed out to the roof. He climbed down the tree next to the roof then snuck over to the garage. He quietly climbed up into his dad’s truck, and flipped down the sun visor, like he had seen his father do many times before. The keys dropped into his hands. He put the right one into the ignition, and twisted the key. He put the truck into drive and then made the realization that it wasn’t going to be as easy to drive as his father had made it look. While pushing over the gas pedal, Tommy couldn’t see over the steering wheel, so he had to switch between accelerating and barely poking his head over the steering wheel. He knew his mother would hear the truck start up, so he pushed pedal as far down as he could make it go, making his way towards one of the cell phone towers. He was doing pretty well, until he felt the truck begin to shake. He peeked over the steering wheel to find out that he had started drifting off to the side of the road, almost into the ditch. He tried to steer back onto the road, but the ditch had already gripped the tires of the truck, and he veered off the road, colliding into a tree.
After getting his bearings back together, he tried starting the truck. The only noise he got out of it was a slow chugging, and then nothing. He peered out of all the windows to make sure that none of the birds were following him. Since it was night time, he figured he was safe. After he made sure the coast was clear, he stepped down out of the truck and made his way towards the lights of the utility shack connected to the bottom of the closest toward, only forty yards away. Taking peaks over his shoulder, Tommy quickened his pace, thinking of the possibility that the birds might not be asleep. Soon his pace had morphed from a quick walk to a speedy jog.
When he was about half way to the shack, he heard a swoosh behind him. He turned around just fast enough to see a monstrous grey owl needling down at him. He tried to dodge out of its way, but it clipped his left shoulder, ripping his skin and knocking him to the ground. He let out a scream and scrambled to get to his feet. The owl was too fast for him. It turned quickly and hit him directly in the middle of his back, which knocked him back to the ground.
He watched the grey blur fly away, and struggled to his feet. This time he sprinted to the shack. With less than ten yards to go, Tommy thought he was safe. Just then, the owl flew by, grabbing at his right leg and ripped a piece of flesh clean off. Tommy crawled the last ten yards, unable to make it to his feet. The owl came around again; landing on Tommy’s back, gripping its claws through his shirt and into his skin. The owl started stabbing at Tommy’s head. He grabbed a jagged rock, and clubbed the owl off of his back.
When he got closer to the door of the shack, his stomach seemed to drop to the ground. There was a padlock on the latch of the door. He tried yanking on the lock, which didn’t budge. He grabbed the same heavy rock used to defend himself from the owl, and smashed it over the lock. Sparks flew into his face, and the lock dropped to the ground. When he got inside, he flicked the switch on the wall to his right. Inside, there were tools left by workers, and a large, loud machine to his right. Tommy examined it, trying to figure out a way to shut it off. His eyes met with a group of slowly rotating gears. He reached behind to where the worker’s tools were and grabbed a crowbar. He took a step back, and then speared the crowbar as hard as he could directly into the heart of the spinning gears. They locked up, with the crowbar stuck in the middle of two of the gears. The machine made a loud noise, and then went silent. Tommy fell to his knees in relief. After a few moments of silently celebrating his victory, Tommy got up and started back home. As he walked down the dirt road, he looked up into a tree on his right to see a group of crows perched on a branch, staring past Tommy, directly at the cell phone towers. He marched down the road victoriously, and behind him, the crowbar slowly shifted out of place.