By Eric Neher
Harriet, the Rhode Island Red, looked at Maple’s empty box from across the room. She was gone, taken the night before by the masters of the feed. It was a sinister trade-off. A life based on production, but once time caught up, and the laying was no longer possible, you were sacrificed. Maple’s time had run out, and Harriet knew that she would be next.
It was strange how quickly they could forget, pretending that the symbiosis shared between the flock and their masters was meant to be a lasting partnership. Young Nora was the worst. She remained in denial even after Maple’s sudden squawk brought them out of the evening trance.
“Maybe they moved her,” said Nora, a silly Silkie whose cuteness guaranteed a long life. “It is getting crowded in here.”
“Where would they move her to?” said Myrtle.
Myrtle, a fellow Rhode Island Red and part of production, was nobody’s fool. She knew the score and was often chastised by Rocky for upsetting the other girls.
“Maybe she was taken to another farm,” said Lala, the newest member of the flock.
“Tomorrow, close to evening,” began Myrtle, “you might notice an interesting fragrance in the air. That will be Maple.”
“Enough of that,” said Rocky, his bronze-colored feathers ruffled. “I won’t have you talking like that.”
Rocky would never know the fear that Hariett and the other girls faced. His life was one of pointless breeding and blusterous ego. Even when the others were taken in the night, the rooster would pretend not to notice. Like Myrtle, he knew the score, just from a different angle.
The sound of crunching leaves brought Harriet back to the present. One of the masters was approaching, most likely coming to shut the door of their coop. A sudden fear gripped her, causing a soft cluck. Surely, they wouldn’t be coming for her yet. It was too early, and she still managed to drop an egg every other day. Her heart slowed as the panel swung shut. The oncoming darkness worked through her system, producing an all-encompassing relaxation that led to the only joy left to her.
*****
Harriet had dreamed before, but they were mostly fragments of memories. One that she could still recall was when she had saved a small clutch from a rat snake, valiantly fighting the serpent until it retreated into the tall grass from which it came. This was different. In this dream, an eastern breeze lifted her from the enclosure, carrying her high into the sky like the taloned killers she so feared. Below her were flames and the distant, wild screams of death. Further, she travelled until all she could see was water, but it wasn’t clear or blue. The surface held the stagnant hue of her master’s waste bucket, and floating within the filth were lifeless, scaled forms. On she travelled, the water gave way to land until explosions filled the air. Below, monstrous metal creatures rolled, releasing thunderous balls of fire. A flash came from one side. Harriet tilted her head just as brilliant light filled the sky, destroying everything as it spread. All she could do was bury her head into her breast, hoping the pain would be brief and the end quick. The pain never came.
*****
Hariett opened her eyes and found that she was resting in her box. The room was shrouded in darkness. Across from her, something moved from where Maple used to sit. A shadow within the shadows. It dropped to the dirt floor and began to stumble towards her, coming to a stop, tilting its head up to where Hariett now sat shivering. She must still be dreaming. How else could you explain Maple standing there?
“You must come with me,” said Maple. “We don’t have much time.”
It was her voice, the same voice that Hariett remembered from her youth. The voice that had saved her from so many horrible fates.
“How are you here?” said Hariett.
“That doesn’t matter. We must go.”
“Go where?” said Hariett. “We are locked in.”
A grind came from the panel of the hutch being opened. A massive silhouette filled the doorway. Hariett felt her heart race and tried to let out a warning cry, but barely managed a cluck. Yellow eyes flashed from the shadow, followed by a low growl. It was a wolf. She looked around, expecting to see panicked scattering, but nothing moved. The others either couldn’t see the monster at the door or Hariett was still dreaming.
“Don’t be afraid,” said Maple. “He’s with me.”
“I don’t understand,” said Hariett.
“You will,” said Maple, limping over to stand beside the wolf. “We have to go.”
Hariett watched the wolf and Maple turn and head outside. She didn’t want to follow them. Wherever they planned to take her would not be good. But this was only a dream; it had to be. Hariett jumped from her box and followed.
The wolf led the way. Hariett walked beside Maple, watching her friends’ head bob up and down. She wanted to say something —tell her how sorry she was for not trying to save her. But what could she have done?
Maple looked at her as they walked and said, “Nothing, sweetheart. There was nothing you could do.”
“Why am I having this dream?” said Hariett. “Why is there a wolf?”
“As for the wolf,” began Maple. “He is here to guard us, for even here there is danger. As for the dream and why it’s you, I cannot say. I don’t even know why I was picked.”
“Picked for what?” said Hariett.
“To bring an end to a mistake. Reset and rebalance. It will begin with you, Hariett, and will spread far beyond sight.”
“How?”
“A screeching box with spinning stars will swallow the masters. It will take them away and begin our salvation.”
Ahead of them, the wolf had stopped. Maple again came up to its side, her eyes locking onto something in front of them. A small ringed wall of chipped rock stood before them with a rotted beam running over its center. Water scented the air, coming from an ancient structure.
“I don’t like this place,” said Hariett.
“It is a place of death,” said Maple.
“Why are you showing me this?”
“Because you are next for the oven,” said Maple. “And you will change everything.”
“What do you mean?”
“Wait here,” said Maple, making her way to the weathered well. After reaching the base of the wall, she leapt, her wings awkwardly fluttering, and landed on top of the broken brick. She gazed down at Hariett, her small eyes flickering in the moonlight. The wolf stepped forward, and it was then that Hariett saw the hole in its chest. Matted blood surrounded the wound, crusted over with time. This should have been a relief, one less killer to be killed by, but there was something wrong. Hariett felt in her heart that the murder of this creature went beyond protection. What she was seeing was death for death’s sake. A game invented by the masters for no other reason than they could. She realized then that the screams as she flew that night were the innocent victims of the masters, dying for reasons that they would never understand.
“The masters are monsters,” said Hariett.
“Yes,” said Maple. “And they must be stopped.”
“But how?” said Hariett.
“If you could stop them, would you?” said Maple.
Hariett remembered barely having enough time to make a sound the night the master twisted Maple’s neck. Even in the low light, Harriet could see the violent death playing out before her as her closest friend lost her life. What was her crime? The answer was simple: Growing old.
“Yes,” she said. “I would stop them.”
Beside her, the wolf lifted its head and let out an ear-splitting howl. It carried far into the night, echoing off distant canyons.
“Then it’s the beginning of the end,” said Maple.
Suddenly, she began to shudder, her feathers igniting into a ball of orange flame, intensifying until Hariett was forced to look away. Then the light was gone. Hariett turned back and saw that where Maple once stood was now only a pile of ash. A familiar feeling of sorrow gripped her. Not only had she lost her friend, but she had now lost her again. From the south, a breeze filtered through, striking the pile of ash, causing it to rise. A sound, like buzzing whines of pain, erupted as the ashes swirled in the air. They darted up into the night sky, forming a straight line, and then shot to where Hariett stood frozen. They raced around her like a September dust devil. Hariett realized that it was not ashes flying around her, but mosquitoes, more mosquitoes than she had ever seen. She tried to run, but her legs refused to listen. Hundreds swirled around her in waves, then began to land, digging into her feathered body until she felt the bite of countless needles.
Were they poisoning her? The blood thirsty insects continued the assault until only her eyes remained uncovered. The last thing she saw before they enveloped her completely was the wolf still standing near and watching.
*****
Rocky crowed just as the eastern sky was beginning to brighten. Hariett opened her eyes with the nightmare very much alive in her mind. Of course, had it been real, she would have been dead from all the bites. And yet, there was a burning itch deep within her breast, and she found that her breath came with a wheeze.
The panel to the coop was flung open. Hariett tried to jump from her box but caught her toe on its edge and fell to the dirt floor. She quickly recovered, hoping that the master with the basket didn’t notice. The master continued to the boxes. There was no egg in Hariett’s, and she was sure that it would be noted. After the eggs had been gathered, the girls followed Rocky outside. Hariett watched Nora and Lala chase after grasshoppers as Rocky strutted around the perimeter of the coop.
“He’s an idiot,” said Myrtle, coming up next to Hariett. “It’s amazing he’s lasted this long.”
“Well, at least he’s safe,” said Hariett. “They won’t come for him, as long as he doesn’t attack anyone.”
“He’s too much of a coward for that,” said Myrtle.
“Or maybe he knows better,” said Hariett.
“Maybe he does,” said Myrtle, pecking at a seed. “Maybe he’s not such an idiot after all.”
“Let’s not go that far,” said Hariett, offering a weak laugh that turned into a rasping gasp for air.
“You don’t sound good,” said Myrtle. “You should go back inside.”
Hariett gazed at her friend and could see the concern decorating Myrtle’s face.
“I think I’ll stay in the sunshine while I can,” she said.
Myrtle continued to pick away at the grass for a little longer and then said, “How long do you think?”
There was no reason to put it any clearer. Hariett knew what she meant. She was spent. Her body could no longer produce what the masters wanted.
“I don’t know,” said Hariett. “Soon, I think.”
*****
That evening, the master shut the panel. Hariett’s body felt warm, and yet she shivered as if in a winter wind. The darkness provided some relief, providing a getaway. However, the vacation was brief, as she was awakened from her sleep by the sound of something dragging across the floor. Maple had returned.
“I can’t go with you tonight,” said Hariett. “There’s something wrong with me.”
“I know, sweetheart. That’s not why I’m here.”
“Then why are you here?”
“Because tomorrow night they will come for you, and you will be scared. But when they come, I want you to remember something.”
“What?”
“Look to the opening.”
“I’m going to die.”
“Yes, but we all die.”
Hariett was about to reply, but saw that her friend was gone, if she had ever been there at all. Darkness filled the room, and she found herself falling back into a restless slumber.
*****
The door was flung open. The master scattered seeds and then extracted the children from the boxes. Hariett pretended to pluck the grain from the floor, although her appetite was gone. She watched as the master stopped at her box. The master then turned his gaze to her. There was no sympathy in those eyes. Only the sharp glance of a predator that is calculating. Yes, it would be tonight, there could be no doubt. Hariett watched as the killer left the coop. She went to Myrtle, who was scavenging the ground.
“I need to talk to you,” she said.
Myrtle followed her away from the others.
“What is it?” she said.
“They’ll be coming for me tonight,” said Hariett.
Myrtle looked at her with astonishment. For a moment, she considered arguing, then realized that what Hariett had said was most likely true. She came over and nuzzled her sick friend.
“They are monsters,” she said.
“Yes, they are.”
“I’m so sorry,” said Myrtle. “I wish there were…” but her sentence died. It was a useless wish so many had made in the past.
“I want you to listen to me,” said Hariett. “They will come for me and then something will happen.”
“What?” said Myrtle.
“I don’t know exactly,” said Hariett. “I only know that a screaming box with stars will eat the master.”
“What are you saying?” said Myrtle.
“I’m not sure,” said Hariett. “I only know that it’s true.”
“How do you know this?”
Trying to explain would be pointless. Myrtle would never believe it.
“Okay,” said Myrtle finally. “If it does come, what then?”
“Once they are gone, you must take the others and leave.”
“And go where?” said Myrtle.
That was the question. Maple had only said that they must leave, but she never mentioned where they should go. Perhaps it didn’t matter.
“I don’t know,” said Hariett. “Far from here.”
It was a ridiculous request. Myrtle wanted to tell her friend that the idea was crazy. To leave the safety of the master’s farm was an invitation to a painful death. Instead, she gave Hariett a loving peck and said, “I will try.”
*****
The panel was flung open just as the quarter moon cleared the eastern horizon. Hariett watched from her box as the shadowy master came towards her. Any chance at a panicked response had been dulled by the overwhelming heat burning within her body. She made no sound as the hand reached out and gripped her neck. Hariett was lifted out of the only home she had ever known, and just before the final twist came, she managed to look at the opening. Standing there within the doorway was the familiar figure of the one she considered mother.
“Maple,” she managed to say just before her neck was snapped.
*****
Little was said the next day. Rocky strutted as if nothing in the world had changed. Nora, the little Silkie, tried to make conversation with the others, but even Lala, the newest member, could feel the invisible weight that had settled on them. Perhaps she had finally received the wake-up call, and whatever doubt she might have managed to keep was erased later that night as the smell of roasting meat filled the coop.
“It’s her, isn’t it?” she said, roosting in her box.
“Yes,” said Myrtle, her voice heavy with grief.
At that moment, the terror was overwhelming. Myrtle realized that what she was feeling, what they were all feeling, was always there. It rested deep within each of them, mostly ignored until eventually accepted. This was, after all, their life, the only life any of them would ever know. Hariett’s words played back in her mind. She should take the others and go. That sounded good, like a dream. But where were they supposed to go? And would any of them follow her? Rocky certainly wouldn’t. He would call her an idiot and then demand she shut her beak. But what of the others? Maybe they would if they saw the shiny screaming box, whatever that was. Should she tell them? They would think she was insane, and who could blame them? Still, she had to try, and so she did, hoping that they would at least consider what she said.
*****
The master opened the door, with stringy liquid streaming down his long, curved nose. The feed was dropped, and the master began to make his way to the large house where he dwelt. Myrtle watched as he suddenly stopped, doubled over, and released a deluge of sickness onto the grass.
“That was gross,” said Nora.
“Serves him right,” said Lala. “Poor Hariett.”
“Enough of that,” said Rocky.
The rest of the day was spent chasing grasshoppers and trying to forget. It occurred to Myrtle at one point that the master had not taken the daily offering that morning. She allowed herself a momentary fantasy, one where they hatched. Together they wandered over the tall grass. And they were happy. The fantasy, as well as the joy it brought, was short-lived. Maple and Hariett were gone, their boxes empty. It would be temporary. Their replacements would be found, and the cycle would continue. Soon, the stench of the unfortunate would again contaminate the air. Perhaps it would be her. Could she face it as bravely as Hariett? She could only hope.
A strange and unheard-of thing happened that night. The master didn’t shut the panel, leaving them all vulnerable. The enclosure would stop any predator on the ground, but there were still the silent killers from the sky, with round eyes that saw when others couldn’t. Could Rocky stop one? Would he even try? Myrtle didn’t think so. Sleep still managed to find her, enveloping her in its comforting refuge.
A scream burst through the night, coming closer. Blinding flashes of blue and red shot through the open doorway, filling the coop with dancing shadows. She and Lala jumped to the floor and made their way to the opening, stopping at the threshold.
“What is that?” said Lala.
Near the master’s home sat a giant box. At its top were spinning balls of light. A mouth suddenly opened from one end, and from it spewed three masters, and with them was a long platform on rollers.
“So, it’s true,” said Nora.
Myrtle turned to see her and the others. Together, they watched as the masters returned, and on the platform was the giver of the seed. They rolled him to the mouth of the box and then thrust him in. Trailing behind was the female master of the house, her distraught voice interrupted by a fit of coughing. She briefly stopped at the back of the box and then followed. The mouth was shut, and the box started to move. Soon it began to scream, filling the night with terror.
The shrieking continued to fade until only silence remained. The flock stood at the opening, each of them frozen in place. For the first time in their short lives, they were alone, their shelter left open, without seeds and very little water. From the east, the sky began to lighten. Rocky let out his morning cry, causing the others to jump.
“Shut up,” said Myrtle.
“You can’t talk to me that way,” said the rooster. “I’m doing my job.”
“And just who are you doing your job for?” said Lala.
Rocky ruffled his feathers but kept quiet.
“They’ll be back to feed us, right?” said Nora.
Myrtle remembered the ominous words of Hariett and said, “I don’t think so.”
“What are we going to do?” said Nora.
“We’ll starve to death,” said Lala. “Or die of thirst.”
“We have to leave here,” said Myrtle.
“That’s it,” said Rocky. “I have heard enough. You girls need to get back in there and sit.”
“Or what?” said Myrtle. “What are you going to do if we don’t?”
Rocky took a step towards her, but Nora and Lala cut him off.
“Fine,” he said, turning back to the coop. “Have it your way.”
They watched him storm off, enjoying the fact that at least they had won that battle.
“Where can we go?” Lala said, gazing out into the shaded open space. “We can’t survive out there. I don’t think we could clear the fence even if we wanted to. I know Nora can’t”
She was right. The enclosure was tall. Myrtle was sure that she and Lala could get over it, but it would be too much for the small Silky. Maybe she would want to stay. It was clear that Rocky had no desire to leave. Nora would be alright with him. The silky came to stand in front of Myrtle, her eyes hidden in plumage.
“Don’t leave me here,” she said, as if reading Myrtle’s thoughts. “I can make it. I know I can.”
Myrtle reached out her head and gave Nora a reassuring rub.
“We’re not leaving you,” she said. “We’ll think of something.”
“Look,” said Lala.
Myrtle followed her gaze and felt her skin go cold. A shape staggered out of a distant tree line. It moved slowly at first, but then picked up speed, coming right at them. Nora let out a squawk and rushed into the coop. Lala stood where she was, trembling.
“It’s a wolf,” she managed to say.
The beast was much larger than any dog. Its gray hide rippled with every stride, which was amazingly long. The wolf came to a stop at the gate of the enclosure.
“It can’t get in, can it?” said Lala.
“No,” said Myrtle, hoping it was true.
The wolf began sniffing at the gate. It then lifted a paw and struck at the wedged lock, flipping the device. A creaking grind came from the hinges as the gate slowly swung open. Lala broke away, rushing into the coop. Myrtle fought the urge to follow. What good would it do? She watched as the monster stepped into the yard, its yellow eyes locking onto her. Perhaps she could save the others, after all. If she could just put up a fight long enough, they might be able to get away.
A low growl escaped the wolf, becoming a pained whine. The animal took a step towards Myrtle and sat, its breath coming in heavy pants. It then shuddered and fell onto its side. Myrtle watched the beast’s chest heave for a moment and go still. She waited, expecting the wolf to jump up, but it never moved. With her legs shaking, Myrtle took a couple of steps towards the wolf and saw the wound. It was man-made, caused by a killing stick. She had seen her master carry one many times.
“What happened to it?” Lala said, standing at the coop’s doorway.
“I think a master killed it,” said Myrtle.
The rest of the flock left the coop, coming to stand beside Myrtle. Even Rocky joined them.
“Why would it come here?” said Nora.
Myrtle thought she knew, but was sure the others would never believe it. And in the end, it didn’t matter. They had been trapped, and the wolf had provided a way out.
“Where should we go?” said Rocky, his voice losing all authority.
Myrtle gazed at where the wolf had left the tree line. Glittering patches of blood from the wolf’s body reflected in the sunlight. Could it be the way? For Myrtle, it seemed as good as any other choice.
“I think I know,” she said.
As the disease began its journey, so did the remaining flock. They passed through the gateway, following the occasional splash of crimson on the grass, never knowing that they would outlive the very masters who had taken so much.
The End