TYBEE ISLAND
By By Paul Paul Cales Cales & Becca
Continued from the March 2019 Beachcomber.
Catch up @ http://tybeebeachcomber.com/magazine
CHAPTER 21 – AVIAN FLU?
DAY 6.5
Doug is paddling as fast and hard as he can against the outgoing tide …
and is struggling to make any progress toward Tybee’s shore. He is heading
toward the tank that saved him from the zombies that took Lisa just a few
minutes ago. Above the tank a huge flock of birds are flying chaotically.
There must be at least a thousand of them, a huge mix of colors, sizes,
and species. They clearly weren’t flying together in an overlarge and loving
migration north for the summer. Their flight pattern looked more like bats
hunting than birds in flight.
“Holy shit,” Doug says under his breath, and pauses in his struggle to get
across the river. The birds are attacking each other… the losers beginning
to fall from the sky in the distance around the tank. He begins to weigh his
options: head toward the tank that saved him, and the murderous bird storm
surrounding it, or try to land somewhere else on Tybee and hope he doesn’t
run into any more of his neighbors that now crave human flesh.
“To hell with it,” he mutters, and begins pushing his kayak toward the
tank once again. Just as he gets close enough to shore to make the journey
across seem worthwhile, the birds are falling from the sky into the water
on all sides of him. Small birds are darting through the sky like arrows shot
from some horrifying medieval contraption, impaling the larger pelicans
and seagulls around them. Bird blood rains down around him. With it comes
feathers in a grotesque parade leading Doug to shore. He is soon covered in
the blood, guts, and feathers falling from above. This isn’t what bothers him
the most. The worst part of this trip, once it was clear that the birds were not
going to come swooping down upon him, is the screaming noises that the
birds are making. The shrieks coming out of their bodies is what brings out a
primordial fear that he doesn’t remember experiencing before.
As he approaches the shore he can hear the tank’s turbine engine begin to
whine to life.
“You have made a poor decision Douglas,” he says to himself. “Alfred
Hitchcock couldn’t have dreamt up something as deranged as this. That tank
better not leave before I get on board.”
A huge smoke plume bursts from the rear of the tank and fills the sky. The
whine of the engine increases and the amount of smoke triples in volume
and the tank, the birds, the whole shoreline disappears. The carnage stops
falling from the sky. The birds seem to have disappeared, not just into the
smoke, but entirely. After a moment Doug realizes that whoever is in the
tank has turned on the smoke generator. “Smart,” he mutters to himself and
paddles into the smoke, hoping that the beautiful beast of a tank appears
soon… and it does, along with the shoreline in a few short moments.
As he approaches he sees a familiar figure standing in front of the tank.
28 TYBEE BEACHCOMBER | APR 2019
ISLAN
“Joey? Is that you?”
“Damn right it is Doug!” Joey says, and approaches him with a smirk on
his face. “Well look at you! You look like you’ve been tarred and feathered.”
“You’re just lucky you were in a tank. Is the Army here?”
“Nope. Pretty sure they’re all dead. It’s just me and Tony.”
“Holy shit. Tony found himself a tank. Of all the people who could find a
damn tank in the zombie apocalypse, it’s the old tank commander himself.”
Tony appears from the smoke cloud. “Hey Doug!” he says. “Glad to see
you made it back across the river unscath… well, generally unscathed.
Damn man. You’re a mess.”
Doug looks down at himself. “Yeah. I know. I don’t know what’s gotten into
all the birds.”
“Avian flu,” Joey says, and chuckles.
“Always the funny man,” Tony replies before his face twists into a grim
shape once again. “I’m thinking the birds are getting infected too. Remember
the one we just found at Doug’s place, Joey?”
“You guys went to my place?”
“Yeah, man,” Joey says. “And there was a small cardinal with one wing
and red and yellow eyes in your kitchen. We got your note too. Thanks for
leaving it. That’s why we came down to Alley 3. Thought we would start by
scanning for you on Little Tybee.”
“Listen to you!” Tony exclaims. “Sounding more and more like a tanker
already.”
Joey puts his hand on his heart and bows his head in a show of mock
sincerity everyone has seen a million times in bars across the island. “You
taught me everything I know.”
“Dogs can get the sickness too,” Doug says, and the smiles drop from the
others’ faces.
“Yeah, man,” Tony sighs. “Sorry to hear about Nomi.”
“Faithful till the end,” Doug says, and shakes his head.
“Well,” Tony begins, “it’s going to be dark soon. I don’t think we have the
time to make it back to camp before dark and the tide has already started
rolling out.”
“Are we heading back to Doug’s place then?” Joey asks.
“Hell no!” Doug answers. “Why would we risk staying there when we have
a perfectly secure piece of armor right here? Y’all got some food?”
“We sure do,” Tony says, and begins to head back into the tank.
Once the hatches are closed, they settle in for the night and Tony and Joey
catch Doug up on what and who they’ve seen since they last saw each other.
Joey begins to tell Doug about their camp and Tony’s eyes double in size.
“Dude. They’re in the trees.”
“Yeah…” Joey says, annoyed at the interruption of the tale he is telling
Doug. “And it’s safe in the trees. Safe from zombies, safe from people…”
“The birds,” Doug interrupts. “Birds like trees, Joey.”
“The question is,” Tony says, before Joey can think of a response, “do
zombie birds like trees? And if so, do they like eating people?”
“Well they didn’t attack me, and I was vulnerable out in the water.”
“Yeah,” Tony says. “It seemed like they were mostly concerned with each
other. Have you seen any zeeks attack any animals? Hopefully zombie birds
will only attack zombie birds. Zombie people only attack zombie people.”
“Zombie dogs will attack people,” Doug put in. “Nomi tried to get at me
after she was bitten.”
“Yeah,” Joey began, “but dogs will attack people even when they’re not
infected. I used to have a cranky little dog who would attack people over
dirty clothes, purses, anything on the floor she wanted to claim as her own.
So that might just be a natural reaction to being sick and hurt.”
“Maybe,” Tony said, then turned to Doug. “There’s something we haven’t
discussed yet. What the hell was that with Brian? It looked like he shoved
you into the zeeks so you would get bitten. Do I have that wrong?”
“Oh, the next time I see that asshole he’s a dead man.”
CLANK! CLANK! CLANK!
“What the hell is that?” Joey says, and looks around the tank.
Tony looks up. “Someone’s pounding on the outside of the tank.”
To be continued…
/magazine