Owloween
VIII
OCTOBER 30
We returned to town around seven that morning. I went in to the O’Neil place to see if Grandpa Joseph was there. Cedar stayed outside. General Greer and Captain Terrell were standing around a map of the area. Prof. Klemm was talking on the phone, his eyes red and his energy agitated. Donovan sat on the couch in the living room watching television. His head was on his hand and he wore a disgusted expression on his face. Prof. Klemm got off the phone when he saw Dr. Veggente.
-We’re calling in an air strike, he said.
-What? Where? Said Dr. Veggente.
-We are going to incinerate the forest to the North of town from where the owls attacked the other night; it is obvious that is where the nest is. And then we are going to drop a few up in this area, he reached over and pointed to the map just North of the forest, but not as far north as we were last night. The farmers in that area have been evacuated.
-Why is that?
-Based on the size of these owls, which is around 5 or 6 times larger than a normal great horned, we figure their range is about 5 or 6 times larger than a normal great horned at most. So this area has a lot of bluffs and is forested and probably a good place for their nest.
-I have some information for you before you do that, said Dr. Veggente.
-What is that? Prof. Klemm was impatient.
-We were out there last night, it seemed that they were coming from about here, Dr. Veggente pointed at the map. But I can’t be certain. It is just based on the position that we found them in. I urge you to postpone until tomorrow night.
-Until tomorrow night? Piped in General Greer. Dr. Veggente, we lost two more men last night.
-I’m very sorry to hear that General Greer, but you don’t want to antagonize them further, or you’ll lose a lot more men.
-Based on your research Dr. Veggente, we need to kill the lead owl, to cause them to disperse, so they are no longer a threat. And we also need to kill the lead owl to break any spells, or whatever you call them, to find out if any of us have been compromised. Now, before nightfall I sent two soldiers east of town, to hide out in an abandoned house. And I told all you guys that they were going to have anti-aircraft missiles to take out some owls. But I told them to just stay in the house and not make a sound. They didn’t have a missile. All they had was a deck of cards to waste the night away. The owls attacked them, destroyed the house and dragged the bodies out before flying off with them. Now, how did these owls know they were in there?
General Greer looked at everyone’s face one by one.
-I am in agreement, General Greer, someone has been compromised, that’s why we cannot antagonize them further.
-Maybe it’s you! He said pointing at Dr. Veggente.
-I’m not sure they can be antagonized further, said Capt. Terrell making peace. They terrorized the area last night – they were in the sky swirling around. It was horrific.
-I just talked to one of my colleagues, said Prof. Klemm, the genetic testing was completed on one of the owls and it seems they have a strange number of chromosomes. Not typical for a great horned.
-That is incredibly interesting, said Dr. Veggente rubbing his hand through his beard.
-What does that mean? Asked General Greer.
-Oliver can take this one, said Prof. Klemm going back to the map.
I wasn’t sure if he didn’t know what it meant or if thought he was in charge by ordering Dr. Veggente to answer.
-It means they are sterile, said Dr. Veggente. The same thing happens with mules – when a horse and a donkey mate, they create a mule. The mule is completely sterile.
-Sterile? What does that have to do with anything, said Captain Terrell. If they are sterile, why are there so many of them?
-They are a crossbreed. The original owl that mutated must have lost an entire chromosome. Likely, it bred with regular owls to create the ones attacking you. I implore you to halt the air strike until we understand what is happening.
-I’m sorry Dr. Veggente, said General Greer. We’ve already called it in and it is going to happen this afternoon.
-Fine – but I’m letting you know that I was out there last night and saw them here, he said, pointing to the map where we saw the owls flying out of the bluff.
General Greer looked at Prof. Klemm.
-Oliver, Prof. Klemm said stepping forward, you were not the only one out there last night too. We have to go based on what we saw as well and the coordinates are locked in to the best possible area. We will try and drop one near that area if it makes you feel better.
-It does.
I couldn’t believe it. I couldn’t stand there and listen to it anymore. So I left the house and went outside to get Cedar and head home.
-What happened? She said.
They are going to send in an air strike and blow up this whole area north of town. Probably going to destroy the Steiger house and a few other houses in the back down there. But I don’t think they are going to get where we saw them last night. Man, I’m tired, I said, I need to head back home and sleep.
When I looked at her face, I noticed that she never seemed to get tired. She kissed me again, said goodbye, and I watched her walk down the street back to her house.
Back at the farm I related my exploits to Grandpa Joseph as he sat outside in his chair smoking a cigarette. He just nodded his head.
-I thought you were going to be back in town today, I said.
-Nope, was all he said.
-I’m going to go up to my room and go to sleep.
My mind needed to shut down its bizarre owl-seeking urges. Sleep seemed to be the cure to get that notion out of my brain, and blast some fireworks to me in crazy dreams.
-Have a little breakfast first, he said.
I could tell he was worried like crazy about me. He had large bags under his eyes. He would never admit it, but I could tell, and I felt bad about it. Grandpa Joseph tossed his cigarette and went into the kitchen. He made a huge plate of scrambled eggs with mushrooms in them. It was fantastic. I don’t know if you’ve ever had one of those meals that go right to your heart and muscles, but it was like that. Grandpa Joseph could make some eggs.
I went upstairs afterwards and cuddled into bed, with owl images flitting through my brain as I tried to go to sleep. It was like shadows on a wall in a dark room. I tried to think about pleasant things like Cedar’s poetry and baseball, but nothing would keep the images away. I think I fell asleep because my mind outraced reality. Or vice versa. I mean, I was tired, and would have sleep anyway, but not the way my mind raced. Then my mind flipped like a fish, and I fell into a deep sleep and didn’t wake up until that afternoon.
When General Greer called Grandpa Joseph and sent word that the jets would be approaching. I could smell that he was making coffee. He usually didn’t make coffee unless some big event was happening, like planting or harvesting or a big sale or the Fourth of July. I walked up to the Crow’s Nest. I almost forgot about the air strike completely as I daydreamed about Cedar. I didn’t know if it was the sound of the jets coming over the hill or what. It got louder and louder, the high-pitched roar began to shake the windows and I snapped out of it.
The wall of fire and smoke exploded and rattled the window. When the jets flew over, the rush of their speed stormed area and the large flaming cloud lifted up in the sun over the trees. The blast of the heat blurred my vision and the smoke tumbled up, obscuring the blue sky. I went downstairs and saw Grandpa Joseph sitting in his chair on the porch, drinking coffee and smoking a cigarette. I wanted to ask him what he thought about the destruction, but he didn’t seem like he wanted to talk, so I went back upstairs. Grandpa Joseph sat in the chair the rest of the afternoon, rocking. If I pressed my forehead against the window of the crow’s nest and looked down I could see him.
When I came down for supper that night, the bombed out area was still smoldering – smoke wafted through the sky. We could see the blue sky now. And the colors from the sun through the smoke as it was setting. Grandpa Joseph still wasn’t in the mood to talk much. When we were finished, Grandpa Joseph put his plate in the sink without washing it and went outside for a smoke. He sat in his chair, rocking back and forth. I went upstairs and read national geographic in the crow’s nest. But I couldn’t keep my mind on the words. I got out a deck of cards and tried to play a little bit of sheep’s head with imaginary partners but that was no fun.
The sun had completely set and only a glimmer glowed in the west. To the east it was grey and dark and the stars started to twinkle in areas were clouds weren’t gathering. The clouds were pregnant with rain and the front of the clouds slowly draped the stars. I took out my phone, and was about to call Cedar when I saw them.
Owls zoomed across the field about a mile away. The large owls flew faster than a crop duster – swooping low with purpose across the fields directly towards town. I stared at them in awe as they swiftly crossed the sky opposite the pink and amber of the setting sun. I counted dozens of them. I had an insane need to be flying in the air with them. Then a couple swirled up into the sky, one of them broke off from the formation and headed towards the house. I leaned forward but Grandpa Joseph didn’t seem to see what was happening. He sat on the porch as he smoked a cigarette. They were on the move. I’d never seen anything so spectacular.
I could hear the rusty squeak of Grandpa Joseph’s chair as it rocked back and forth and knew that sound might have attracted the owls. That’s when Grandpa Joseph stopped rocking. He saw them.
I ran down the windy stairs from the crow’s nest into my bedroom as fast as I could– then reached for my trombone and stumbled downstairs. When I got into the kitchen, I was too late and craned my neck to see out the front door. Grandpa Joseph braced himself as the owl arrived. He picked up his gun. The owl soared over the grass and cows right towards him, as if on a demonic propeller with dead souls in his wake. Suddenly the yellow eyes were in his yard. The figure towered over the farm. It’s wide wings spread out as it’s demonic face and body landed. A shadowy mass engulfed the yard. Grandpa Joseph fired straight into the air before I had a chance to get the trombone to my lips. The owl stopped.
Grandpa Joseph stood on his porch and lowered the shotgun at the owl’s face. He stared at the owl. The yellow eyes glared back at him. The desire for the kill was in its every movement.
It was obvious this owl intended to attack but Grandpa Joseph wasn’t going to let him. The owl moved towards him again and he fired the gun into the air again. The owl halted. It’s head rotated slightly.
-That’s right, Joseph said, let’s go back to being civil.
Grandpa Joseph looked back at the owl. The owl thought to move. But stepped backwards. Then lifted off the ground and flew back to meet up with the rest. Grandpa Joseph lit another cigarette and sat back in the chair, rocking.
I ran outside at that instant.
-Grandpa Joseph – are you all right?!
He nodded his head.
-Why didn’t it attack?
-I don’t know, I guess it didn’t think I was very appetizing.
I laughed, it seemed that even the owls are aware of Grandpa Joseph’s fortitude.
-Why do you have your trombone in your hand? He asked.
-Long story, I said.
-Well, said Grandpa Joseph, suddenly standing up with conviction, we better get into town to warn everyone, even if it is too late.
We ran out to the truck, Grandpa Joseph with the shotgun and I had my trombone. Grandpa Joseph was usually a slow steady driver who backed out of our lane at a snail’s pace. He stomped on the gas, spitting up gravel and expertly doing a donut to face the truck forward and then slid down the lane at a 90 degree angle out onto the pavement, laying rubber as we headed to town as fast as the old truck could run.
I shot glances out the windows at any sight that could be construed as an owl. My mind was playing tricks on me now and I didn’t know what I was looking at. Grandpa Joseph stared forward, his face like stone. It was surreal – our minds drifted into that realm of heightened reality where we cannot determine if we are in a dream or not. My mind swam with thoughts about the craziness of our predicament. As we neared town, an explosion over the sky like fireworks ignited my thoughts back to reality. We slightly jumped the hill, catching air in the truck at the outer edge of the town. The light from the explosion exposed dozens of owls spiraling over the town while the gunfire sparkled through the night. The rain pecked the windshield at that moment. We watched in amazement over the tops of rain soaked trees at the scene below. The owls decimated everything, with the force of an elephant barging through a miniature army, and the dexterity of a hummingbird eluding a lizard. We slid up into the yard of the O’Neil place, and stepped out of the truck surveying the scene as the rain fell more steadily. Dr. Veggente was there to meet us – wild eyed and covered in mud. He had his trombone in his hand.
-Get inside! He yelled. Dr. Veggente guided Grandpa Joseph towards the front door. The rain was cold, and pricked my skin and hair in intermittent bursts. The spooky hoots flowed through my brain in the lull between explosions. The explosions seemed dull and insignificant in the background. I could feel myself drawn to the owls. In front of our truck an owl flew down and picked up a soldier with its claws, stabbed him the in the head and dropped him back down onto the cement road. The mutilated form of the man with his bones shattered lay in a pool of splattered blood.
Then an owl flew through the front door of a house across the street, smashing the wood and dragging a soldier over the splinters at the doorstep, clawing at the man’s head and puncturing his eyes. Blood squirted out of his skull as the owl shredded the man’s body.
I turned away to get into the house. Then I saw Capt. Terrell cornered under the front porch of another house by the police station. She was feeble and conquered. I lifted up my trombone and blew as loud as I could. I played the only thing he could think of. It was the trombone solo for I Cover the Waterfront by Louie Armstrong. The sounds floated over the town. The owls began to hoot in the rhythm. I’m ashamed to admit it, but I started to crying, but kept playing as tears streamed down my face.
-Captain Terrell! I yelled, putting the trombone down, hurry up over here. But she stood mesmerized. The song might not have worked. And before I could get the trombone to my lips again, the owl soon gathered himself from the song and advanced again towards her. The owl lifted off the ground. And clamped its claws on Captain Terrell’s shoulders, blood spraying over the front of the house. It zoomed up into the sky and flew out of sight.
The song was useless, there were too many owls. The aggression was overpowering. I ran for the O’Neil house just as a beak reached for me. I glanced over my shoulder and saw the piercing yellow discs of the owl face, it’s claws reaching up and its wings spread wide, blocking the rain. I dodged into the yard and then sprinted for the front door. The owl slid into the side of the house just as I slammed the door. My trombone skirted across the floor and crashed into the wall under the table with the scientific specimens. Prof. Klemm and Donovan hid behind the couch in the main room that faced the window. We crouched down beside them.
Then the owl that was chasing me banged the door with its massive skull. 1, 2, 3, 4 times. The door began to crack. A hail of bullets ripped through the door. The bullet holes spilled blood through the door like water through a sieve and the bullets lodged in the opposite wall above our heads. The owl shrieked. General Greer opened the door with a massive machine gun strapped over his shoulder. The owl lay at his feet in a bloody mess. He slammed the door on the owl and walked in front of the couch.
-We need to get out of here! he shouted.
Behind him, outside through the window, soldiers were dying by the dozens as the owls hovered over the town. The owls maimed man after man. They were angry and frightening. Above the yard a rocket blew an owl out of the sky. Blood and guts spilled into the yard and dropped in piles in the middle of the street. It was a rare victory for the National Guard.
Then an owl appeared at the large front window, obscuring the outside. It was bleeding from bullet wounds. It was the same owl General Greer shot at the doorstep.
-General Greer! Shouted Donovan, look behind you!
The glass crashed into the room, spilling on the dead dissected owls on table. We all scurried for the bathroom as the owl, blood soaked and ravaged, reached through the window and devoured General Greer’s head with its beak. It clomped down and blood and brains squirted throughout the room.
In the bathroom, we cloistered ourselves in the dark and watched the phantasmagoric scene out the small window. When no man was left to fight, the owls circled ominously afterwards in the dark and rain.
-You are right, Oliver, said Prof. Klemm, that one with the red-eyes, the other ones move at it’s call.
-Is it after midnight Lester?
-Yes.
-Happy Halloween, said Dr. Veggente.
Prof. Klemm shook his head in sadness and dismay.
-Quiet, said Donovan pointing out the window.
The owls moved over the house at the cue of the human whispers and circled more ominously.
Shocked, we stayed silent the rest of the night, shivering in fear and quiet. I held my knees against my chest in the corner, my hair and clothes damp.
Sometime in the middle of the night, the owls stopped their onslaught of Lake Bawshkinaway. But no one left the bathroom until daylight the next morning.
