Chapter Thirty-Six
Maddie
I’m in a zombie movie where the flesh-eating monsters are seagulls and the flesh is actually the chicken spread across the floor right next to our bench.
There’s a beat of silence before chaos descends, and more seagulls nosedive toward the chicken than there were before.
I’m convinced their numbers have doubled, more birds descending on the fallen food like they’re starved and only cannibalism will sate their hunger.
I actually worry that it’s I who has made the most fatal error by overestimating what kind of lure spoiled food would be to the beaked trash that look like they form gangs and bully people for shits and giggles.
There are so many of them, and so suddenly, that people are now giving our bench a wide berth.
Some are hiding their ice creams as though the violent pigeons would ever be tempted when there’s now a feast for the taking right there on the floor.
Some are taking photos, and I understand instantly what kind of person they would be in a horror movie.
Caid and I can do nothing but stare in terror as the birds draw closer, gobbling the chicken and single nacho chip like vicious carnivores, while Ryan stands…
Wait, where the hell did Ryan go?
Peering around, I find the traitor standing at a safe distance near a food truck that sells tacos, one of which is planted on the table that doesn’t feel so safe to sit at anymore.
Not with the Bird Mafia drawing nearer, the food on the floor disappearing faster than I’ve seen anything vanish before in all of my life.
“I think I fucked up,” I mutter to Caid, who chuckles nervously, keeping his eyes on the birds but otherwise remaining as calm and cool as a cucumber in a fridge.
Nodding, he says, “I’d call it a pretty big blunder. But maybe if we stay here, they’ll be too scared to get any closer.”
I’ve never heard anything so stupid before, and this is coming from a woman who listened to her best friends when they told her to have a wank and ended up using lube that damn near simultaneously froze and burned her labia clean off her body.
“Are you new to the ways of seagulls, Muscles? Because I assure you, nothing is going to scare them. Their numbers have grown too much. They can sense our fear, you know,” I whisper back, not really sure why, but feeling the situation calls for it.
It’s as though I’m afraid to raise my voice any louder in case it startles the sky rats into action.
In fact, I’m so worried that I might lure them over with just my breath alone that I place my hand over my mouth, watching them closely as they hop around in search of more fallen victims.
Behind my hand, I accuse, “We’ve been left to rot, too, if you didn’t notice. So if we die from a freak bird attack, we have to haunt Ryan, okay? Also, next time, stop me before I do something so ridiculous.”
Caid chokes on his laughter, leaning his elbows against the bench as though he isn’t afraid of the loitering seagulls. “How was I to know you were going to try to prove me wrong?”
I shake my head. “You should have seen it coming. I’ve been told I get an almost crazy look in my eyes when I think of something I shouldn’t be thinking. You should have seen the crazy, Caid. Now look at us.”
“Blue,” he laughs, dragging some of the plates away from the edge of the table when a particularly brave bastard waddles up to the bench, curiously looking for scraps. “Everything is fine. We can move tables, don’t stress about it.”
Easier said than done, because I’ve come to realize I have a funny little fear of birds with large wingspans and beaks that could peck my eyes out if I don’t abide by their laws.
And there’s one in the bunch that looks particularly menacing.
I’m talking, he looks like he’s plotting all of the ways he can kill me just to steal a single loaded fry from the tray to my left.
Instead of blurting all of that out, I ask, “And how are we going to do that when we’re a man short?
We’ve been abandoned and left to perish.
Out of the four of you, I never would have expected such a betrayal from the man who spends most of his time at work with me. It’s always those closest to you.”
I jerk my thumb over to a different truck where, sure enough, Ryan stands with two plastic bags in his hand while he watches us from afar like a betraying spectator.
I narrow my eyes on him, and the bastard sends me a charming smile that does nothing to elevate the nervousness thrumming through me, the feeling only doubling when that same brave seagull flaps its wings and hops onto a nearby wall.
Oh God, it’s the nasty one. The one that will kill me and my entire family for a lick of a delicious potato-based snack.
Why did I have to throw that goddamned nacho chip?
My mother has always warned me, she really has.
She has told me time and time again that being curious isn’t a bad thing until it puts you in a situation where it might cost you your life.
Well, mama, it looks like my life is very much on the line. I never thought I’d die via birds. I would have taken the stairs over this.
I flinch hard when the bird lands so close that I feel the gust of wind that comes when it flaps its wings again.
The moment it turns its head, I just know we’re fucked before anything even happens, because one moment the bird is simply standing on the short wall, and the next he’s screaming like a man who just saw a Victorian woman’s ankles.
It’s like a call to war, the screech for his people spreading far and wide, and my fears are verified when the swarm descends like bloodthirsty vultures.
Wings are flapping, beaks are pecking, feathers are ruffling, and I’m screaming like a raving banshee and scrambling from my seat when the table is suddenly overrun with seagulls all beak-fucking the feast of food spread out before them.
It’s like they know they outnumber us, know they have the upper hand, and decide to act on their newfound confidence rather than cower on the sidelines.
“Oh, shit,” I hear Caid exclaim, a freshly developed fear in his voice when I spy one seagull peck at him in warning right before it screeches in his face.
Now isn’t the time for “I told you so,” but it’s written all over my face when I glare at Caiden before backing away from the table and the glorious selection of food I didn’t even get to try.
Instead, the daylight robbers scarf it all down like the greedy bastards they are, leaving nothing behind but torn napkins and shredded paper plates.
Caid looks over at me, face slightly ashen, and he nods at the look on my face before turning to watch the birds devour everything that was on our table. “Okay, yep. Valid. That look is absolutely valid, even if you’re the one who caused this.”
I’m turning my head when his words sink in, and I snap it right back over to him, glaring harder because my life just flashed in front of my eyes and I do not need his blame-pushing right now.
Even if it was my fault. It’s not the kind of negativity I need in my life after I just witnessed a food genocide and considered myself already dead before the flock attacked.
Holding his hands out in surrender, Caid chuckles, the sound a little strained. “Yep, my bad.”
Nodding as though it is his bad, I send the table one last look of bone-deep sadness before carefully sneaking back to snatch my purse from the bench and skittering away when a nasty fucker snaps its beak at me before it continues to devour my food.
“Greedy assholes,” I whisper as I walk toward Caiden, keeping an eye on my surroundings just in case the seagulls develop a hankering for more than chicken, burgers, and nachos.
As soon as I’m close enough, I reach for his hand, fumbling for it before linking our fingers.
The moment the warmth of his fingers and palm surrounds my smaller hand, I grumble, “If reincarnation actually exists and I come back as a seagull, I need you to promise that you’ll put me down immediately. ”
Once again, Caiden loses his mind to his laughter, apparently recovering quickly after the great bird attack.
I turn to look at him, only to find myself pausing as I gaze at him in utter awe, the beauty of this man something to be painted and hung in an art gallery somewhere famous.
The light hits him just right, highlighting the lighter strands of blond in his honey-colored hair.
His green eyes look brighter, more vibrant and popping, while his smile looks as though it was created by the sun itself.
I don’t even care that he’s laughing at me and my ridiculousness, because he looks so breathtaking right now that I can do nothing but scramble for my cell phone and snap several quick shots before he’s done.
Blinking rapidly, I shake my head and look down at my cell, heading straight for my photo album to look over the photos while I distractedly reinforce, “I mean it. That is not a life I am willing to live. So put me down and cook me into a Thanksgiving dinner, okay?”
“Whatever you say, Blue,” he laughs, and I go to smile at him at the exact same time he glances down at my cell and catches me scrolling through the photos I’ve taken of him with a small smile on my face.