The flapping of wings brought Clarence out of a good dream, one where he wasn’t being attacked.
He searched in the darkness for his family, but they were long gone. Alone at the bottom of a mineshaft, as well as a bourbon bottle, Clarence didn’t know what time it was. What day it was. Night or day? He had no clue.
To step outside was to invite certain death.
Death by a thousand beaks, he’d always remembered the news reporter say live on television, seconds before she’d been ripped apart. Live on TV, before all of that went away.
There was no more social media. No radio, no news programs, no vehicles. The power grid had gone down months ago.
Clarence and his family had been on vacation in West Virginia, a trip to see distant relatives, when the world had gone south.
He heard beating wings again and knew they were back.
He’d found several bags of rice a couple of weeks ago, when he’d slipped out and crawled nearly a mile, covered in three blankets, inch by inch, to a gas station.
The inside had been gutted, most of the shelves cleared out. People had panicked and taken anything they could get their hands on. So had Clarence.
Inside the mineshaft, he had a lot of odd items: an empty gas can, Christmas ornaments in a box, half a can of cheap coffee, various plates and cups but no utensils, and four bags of rice left.
He’d built a small fire, which he’d used to cook whatever he found even remotely edible. The smoke and smell brought the terrors back, but they couldn’t get through the makeshift wooden walls he’d erected.
Clarence was always in darkness unless he lit the fire, but he knew he’d run out of flammable items soon and have to venture out for more wood.
It hadn’t been so bad in the beginning, a sighting here and there. Maybe half a dozen above, riding on the wind. As time went on, they grew in number. All kinds, too, not just one specific kind.
Hundreds and thousands of them. All attacking anything that moved.
Clarence hadn’t been struck yet, although he’d been attacked a few times. He’d gotten away once because he had a pocketful of change his son had given him, and he tossed quarters into the air and distracted the winged nightmares.
He was out of quarters, though, and nearly out of food. He’d found a drip of rainwater further down the tunnel, but it wasn’t enough to fill more than an inch or two of a cup each day.
At some point, he knew he’d need to take his chances and see what was left of the world.
A couple of nights ago—if it was night or day, he didn’t really know—he’d dreamed of making traps to catch them. A few placed around the entrance to the mine might snag several, and he could roast them properly. Tasted like chicken, right?
Clarence decided to at least peek outside and see what was happening—just a quick look. He wished his phone still worked so he could snap some pictures and take his time studying them, but it was long gone.
When he pulled the wooden blockage from the tunnel mouth, all was quiet. He didn’t see anything in the sky; nothing perched on nearby trees. From this angle he couldn’t see up overhead on the rock wall, but he thought if they were up there, he’d hear them.
Clarence spotted a tree, the closest, and several large branches had fallen off and littered the ground. It would be enough firewood for a few days.
He closed the door behind him and went inside, grabbing a blanket to cover himself. It wouldn’t keep him safe, only a bit safer.
When he stepped outside, he left the wooden door open a crack so in the event he got into trouble, he could easily rush inside and pull it shut.
Clarence took a few steps, eyes on the sky. The rock over the mine was empty, which he took as a good omen.
He rushed to the tree and began picking up branches.
A shadow crossed the ground, and Clarence ducked down, covering up with the blanket. Wondering if he was about to be attacked and die out here, in the open.
When he didn’t feel anything on him, he looked out and saw he was alone. Perhaps it had been passing too far overhead to see him, or he’d covered up in time.
He gathered as much wood as he could carry, tossing the remaining branches in the mine’s direction so next time he’d have a shorter distance to cross, then rushed back to the wooden barricade.
It was open at least another foot than he’d remembered leaving it.
Clarence closed the door behind him and listened for anything inside the mine now. Maybe another person had been hiding nearby, and when he’d covered himself with the blanket, the person had run inside.
It made no sense, but right now, neither did what was happening.
Clarence stoked the fire and piled the new wood so it was within easy reach.
He thought he heard maybe a footstep down the tunnel. He lifted a piece of wood to use as a club. “Hello? Anybody there?”
After half an hour, he put the wood back on the pile. The sound could’ve been anything, from dripping water to the rocks above his head shifting naturally.
He reached for a bag of rice, but the spot was empty.
Clarence was confused at first. He’d definitely left it near the fire, also within reach. It was the last of his food.
“Hello?” There had to be someone else in the mine with him, and that someone had stolen his food.
Clarence walked a quarter mile down the tunnel but didn’t see new footprints in the dirt, although he stooped down a couple of times and picked up grains of rice. Was this person messing with him?
He went back to the fire and took a seat, back against the wall so he could see both the tunnel and the entrance.
His stomach growled. Clarence knew he’d need to leave the safety of the mine in the next couple of days and forage for food. Maybe he could find his way back to that gas station and there’d be a hidden stockpile of candy bars.
Clarence closed his eyes and settled in for some sleep. He never waited for darkness or daylight, since he couldn’t see either of those things here in the mine.
The sound of fluttering wings woke him from a nightmare and into a real one.
All around Clarence they circled overhead, a lot of the winged devils landing on the wood pile and at his feet. Hundreds. Thousands.
Clarence looked for his blankets, but they’d been taken away, and now he saw them drop from the ceiling and into the fire, covering and extinguishing it.
Plunged into darkness, Clarence tried to run, not knowing if he was heading further into the mine or toward the wooden barricade.
Not that it mattered, because tiny claws raked his head and arms, driving him to the ground.
Beaks pecked at his exposed flesh, and he felt his left eye sucked out of its socket.
Clarence opened his mouth to scream, but claws and beaks tore at his tongue.
He hoped to die quickly, wondering if anyone else was still alive out there, somewhere.
