Mongoose. The twin exhausts blew smoke like an all day smoker working on a pulled chicken feast. Three had suped up his ATV, and they tore across fields, heading northeast.
She thought she was hallucinating, but the sound grew louder:
“There was something in the air that night
The stars were bright, Fernando!”
Ben Bradley? She looked to her right and saw the full Alpha Team converging on her path. Ben’s ATV stereo was on full blast. That meant only one thing: big chickens ahead. She nodded at Three to keep going.
The pack was on them in seconds. Manic, stampeding Death Chickens cried out in blood lust. Death Chickens. They put their name to the test.
Her baster was hot from rapid fire. Death Chicken after Death Chicken charged and then collapsed in a blast of garlic and olive oil. The Italian restaurant market would get a nice choice of cuts thanks to her work today. She skidded past Kate Thornton who was taking down bird after bird with her full-auto baster. Grimironie smelled a hint of rosemary; it was a subtle, but nice touch on the marinade.
Haskins had jumped on the back of a vicious hen and fired his baster into her back. She bucked, but he had wedged his heels into her feathers. Crispy was working two Death Chickens that were taunting him in tandem. She sped to his aid, and fired a fatal blast at one as he took the other. He doubled back for a high five.
No time to waste! An over-fed super sized Death Chicken waddled to her, snapping her beak hungrily. Grimironie fired twice. Fat absorbed the shots. The Death Chicken waddled faster, zesty with garlic and white wine. She aimed the final blast at the head. It was a waste of good marinade, but it was necessary; the Death Chicken was about to sit on her and her new ATV, Mongoose. The headless bird struck the ground. Her wings kept flapping like a chicken with her head cut off. She was a chicken with her head cut off. Okay.
The Death Chicken Watch choppers roared overhead, and then retreated.
“You can dance, you can jive
Having the time of your life!
See that girl, watch that scene
Dig in the dancing queen!”
Grimironie scanned the horizon on all sides, and saw only carcasses. They’d gotten them all. What had made them stampede in such a hen-pecked frenzy? She met with larger groups, but this flock descended upon them with extreme fury. The pieces were adding up to something; she just had to sort the white from the dark meat to make sense of it all.
Three strolled over to her. “It smells like the San Gennaro festival over here. I see you’re taking chances with you spices. Maybe you’re ready for something new.” He continued on past to the camera crew, and left her staring and perplexed.