James Smith - The Flock

"It's too late for that kind of thing, Adam. We can't keep it a secret any more. Ron and Niccols know about the Flock, now. Dodd apparently knew about it, and I strongly, strongly suspect that Berg Brothers know about them, too."

Mary, listening, spoke up. "Did you say flock? There are more than one of these things?"

Levin stared at him, his face blank with what remained of his rage, the panic and shock just beginning to rise. Kate rubbed a thin-fingered hand across her brow, wiping sweat and her auburn hair out of the way.

"Yes," Kate admitted. "There's a flock of them out there. We're not sure just how many. But maybe twenty or so. That we know of. Could be more."

"More?" Ron squeaked.

"Holcomb even thinks there are more than one flock. At least two, he thinks. Again…maybe more. There's almost half a million untouched acres of woods, swamps, and savanna out there." She waved a long arm in the general direction of the wilderness.

"Jesus," Ron swore. "How…how can things like this exist with no one knowing about them? How?"

Levin backed up a few steps and collapsed into a wheeled office chair that he seemed to have detected behind him with some sort of radar. He was wearing a blue flannel shirt, jeans, boots. He'd been out in the field when Kate had contacted him via radio. Each of the ATVs was equipped with the communications systems, for emergencies. This, Kate had deemed a dire emergency. Levin and his fellow crewmember, a very quiet Japanese ornithologist introduced to them merely as Kamaguchi had returned quickly. So far, there was still no sign of Holcomb. Apparently, Holcomb and the four employees now at the compound were the only people who were in on the discovery.

Kate walked over to a desk and grabbed a chair for herself and sat back, relaxing. Briefly, she buried her face in her hands, then looked toward Ron. He saw, for the first time, that she was already in tears. Moisture streaked her cheeks. "This place has been, for all intents and purposes, a wilderness area for the last seventy years, Ron. You know that. These birds apparently have been living here all along, hiding."

"Hiding," Mary yelled. Her strong arms went up. "You can't hide something that big. How big is that thing, anyway?" She stood there, shoulders squared, facing the seated figures of Kate and Adam.

"That one was Big Red," Adam muttered. "We've estimated he stands about ten feet. Weighs around nine hundred, maybe a thousand pounds. But he's the biggest. Most of the other adults are no more than eight feet tall, maybe six hundred pounds. Chicks and young are much smaller, but we don't know since we've only gotten a glimpse or two at the young."

"You can't hide anything that big. I know what I'm talking about," Mary insisted. "Nothing that big can live in these woods and not be discovered by men. Nothing."

"You're wrong," Kate told her. "In the past twenty years, man has revealed the existence of a number of large mammals. A while back, an unidentified species of peccary was found in South America. Just five years ago we discovered a new type of deer living in the rain forests of Vietnam. It's rare, but it happens."

"But we're not talking about South America, and this isn't some rain forest in Vietnam," Mary yelled. "This is Florida, one of the most populous states in the east. Drive an hour and a half north of here and you're in Orlando with about ten jillion people. This ain't the same thing!"

"You weren't listening to us," Kate said. There was a barely perceptible expression of arrogance tilting her lips. "I said they were hiding. You get me?"

Slowly, Ron stirred and retrieved a chair for himself. He rolled it across the tiled floor until he was sitting a few feet in front of Levin and Kate. "What are you saying, Kate? That these things can think?"

"Yes."

Ron turned to look into Mary's face, and then he was talking to Kate again. "So. They've always lived here, since even before this place became a military base, and they hide from us. You're saying they think. Plan." He paused. "Right?"

"Yes. That's exactly what I'm saying."

Ron looked Adam directly in the eye. "Are these things something Holcomb bio-engineered? Because if they are, I want to know right this minute. At least one person has been killed over this, and someone was going to put me six feet under because of it, and I want a straight answer. Right now, goddammit."

Levin drew in a breath and sat up. "No. They aren't bio-engineered. You've been reading too many science fiction books. That's just in the movies and the ess eff mags, pal."

Mary stepped up, finally grabbed a chair of her own and straddled it; pushing off and rolling up until she was level with Ron, facing the other two. She didn't know where the quiet Mr. Kamaguchi was, but she was beginning to be worried about it. "I've heard about this kind of thing. I once saw a show where that paleontologist…whatsisname…the one who wears a cowboy hat…"

"Bakker," Kate said. "Robert Bakker." She followed that with a definite sneer.

"Yeah. That's him. I saw him talk about how you could take the DNA of a hornbill and mess with it. Tell it to turn off the feathers, turn on teeth, make a tail. Then you'd have one of those raptor dinosaurs. Maybe you guys did something like that. Huh?" She was looking at Ron, for support.

"That kind of stuff is fairy tales," Adam screamed. He went rod straight in his seat. "These creatures have survived here on the last remaining expanse of savanna on the Gulf Coast. The last expanse of any importance, anyway. They know what they're doing. They hide from us. They've been doing it probably since the first Indians came down from the north fifteen thousand years ago."

"How can you know that?" Ron asked.

Kate rubbed her hands across her face, through her hair, as if taking all of the tension from herself and pushing it away. "We've been studying them," she said. "We've seen them do things. Things that only a sentient, thinking creature could do."

"Such as?" Ron asked.

"Such as detecting our video monitors and cutting the power supplies to them. Such as locating hidden cameras and stealing them. Things such as altering their hunting patterns and movements to avoid us. We've only logged maybe six hours of actual sightings in the last four years of intensive observations. They leave absolutely no sign of their passing. Apparently, the flock has at least one member whose job it is to hide all sign of their presence."

"Hide sign?" Mary looked at her, the question painting her face with a frown.

"We think he picks up feathers, bones, that kind of thing. We think he scratches out their tracks, covers fecal matter, and consumes leftover prey. Things like that."

"Give me a break," Ron said.

"It's true," Levin told him. "We've got tape of the flock moving through the edge of a savanna about four miles north of here. They move almost as a single unit. Adults in the front, along the periphery, with young in the center. And behind them is this large individual, walking backwards and scratching in the grass, running from one side to the next. We got about ten minutes that time, with a night vision camera. But the one who walks backward found it, found the camera. Tore right into it. Cut through the cables like they were made of butter."

Ron and Mary stared at one another.

"What? What?" Adam repeated. "You guys know something we should know?"

"Yeah," Ron told him. "One of the dogs missing from Salutations. We found some remains. A paw and a chain, just like I told Kate. The chain looked like it had been cut right through. Same with the dog's paw. We figured some kind of saw."

"Their beaks are adapted for slicing," Adam said. "They're very narrow. In place of slicing teeth, they've gone with large beaks that are slimmed down like a pair of razor knives, one sliding inside the other. We estimate a pressure of eight, maybe nine thousand pounds per square inch, all along a pair of edges maybe one hundredth of a millimeter wide on the surface area. You can imagine the cutting power."