“We can’t balance three people on a bike!”Eddie yelled, over the engine.
“I know!We just need to put him somewhere safe.”
“Stacey, this is insane,” Eddie said.
But the issue solved itself for us.The man tripped over his own feet, rolling, and the pack fell on him.He screamed.I can’t describe the rest of it—the way they tore into him.
“Let’s go,” I whispered.
Eddie revved the handlebars, and we squealed out of there.
The truck was headingdown another avenue.The roads were nearly empty.Whatever this was, it had taken people by surprise, in their sleep.Diaz and Mercury were at 9 and 3.I wondered how long it would take for Grynfelda’s spell to wear off…
A great number of somethings unfurled themself from a nearby building eave, diving past us in streaks of black and green feathers.They hit Diaz with all the force of a tractor, as if in a suicide dive.Spots of gore and flesh from where they hit concrete splattered the street like gory paintballs.He swerved, over-corrected his fall on the other side, and lost control of his bike.He slid under the van.There was a nasty thump noise as the truck ran over him.I turned, terrified, watching the flock descend upon his body.
“Oh, fuck.Diaz!”Eddie cried.
“What are those things?”I asked.
“Not sure,” Eddie said.“There’s a crowbar in my sidepack, and a sawed-off shotgun a little ways behind that.Have you ever used a shotgun before?”
“Yes,” I said.Well, it was a hunting rifle, and it was nearly a decade back, but a gun was a gun was a gun, right?
“If those feathery bastards come back around, aim that shotgun and get as many of them as you can.”
“There cannot be more of those,” I said.
“Duck!”Eddie hollered.
I did so.The bike wobbled.Something feathered hit a billboard near me.
It was a duck.Literally.
“They’re exploding kamikaze ducks,” I breathed.
“No shit,” Eddie said.“Keep that gun aimed, girly.”
He sped up and took the 3 position where Diaz was.The van window rolled down.Vic leaned out, staring.
“What happened?I couldn’t see in the rearview mirror.”
“Exploding ducks got Diaz,” I yelled.
“Stacey?”Vic asked.“I thought you were in the back!”
“Long story,” Eddie shouted.“If you guys take the expressway entrance up here it’ll be easier on everyone—it heads right over to Hartshome.”
“Aleister is going to be pissed,” Vic said.
“Just focus on putting a shield up,” Eddie said.“Or whatever it is you do.”
“Got it,” Vic said.“Stace, you look great with a gun.”
“Are you into it?”I asked.
“Maybe there’s a better time for this,” Eddie screamed into the wind.“Duck!”
I turned and hit both triggers on the shotgun as a malignant mallard grew in my sight.The gun jerked and knocked me right in the chest.Next thing I knew, I was ass-over-end, rolling, the whole street revolving around me.My wrist was aching.I tried not to scream.My ankle throbbed—the skin on my legs was screaming at me, and hot gun metal was touching my face.
