Egg Suckers

Others Stories | Oct 17, 2016 | 10 min read
16 Votes, average: 4 out of 5
"God dammit!"
Milk dripped down Ross's chin as he popped his head up from his bowl of cereal. His father had barged into the house and he was pissed. It was 6:00 a.m., early by most of the world's standards, but his dad had already been up a good hour and a half preparing for a long day in the field. Ross was gulping down some Frosted Flakes before heading out to do his morning chores.

"Something got into the coop again!" His father shouted. "All but a dozen eggs were eaten. Nothin but a pile of empty shells."

Ross's father placed an intact egg shell on the dining table. It had a small hole on one end where the contents of the egg had been sucked out. The question was "Suck out by what?" Nobody in the community had ever heard of such a thing. The coop had been raided nightly ever since Smokey, the family dog, had mysteriously disappeared. That was almost two weeks ago. Their sixty hens could lay roughly six dozen eggs a day and now they were lucky to get a dozen.

"Did you remember to put out the traps?" Ross's mother asked.

Ross's father smashed the empty shell against the brown tablecloth and yelled, "Jesus Christ woman, do you think I'm an idiot! Of course I put out the traps. Have been for a week and still haven't caught a thing."

Ross's dad sat down at the opposite end of the table. The frustrated man hung his Dekalb Seed cap over his knee and rubbed his temples. Grease and dirt already filled the cracks of his rough, hard-worked hands. Ross's mother brought his father a steaming cup of coffee.

"Hear ya go hun."

She placed a sympathetic hand on her husband's shoulder before sweeping the broken pieces of shell into her palm and walking back into the kitchen.

"So what are you going to do?"

While waiting for his father's reply, Ross raised his bowl and slurped down the sugary milk. He would have preferred eggs for breakfast.

"I'll tell ya what we're going to do. Ross is going to finish his morning chores then check every inch of that coop for holes."

Ross's father paused for a drink of coffee.

"After he's done patching up any possible way into that damn hen house, he's going to get his butt in bed and take a nap."

Ross choked on his last gulp of milk and gave his dad a confused look.

His father pointed his oily fingertip at Ross and said, "That's right boy. I need you rested if you're going to stay up all night guarding them chickens. You're gonna find what's taking our eggs and you're gonna kill it."

The man smiled at his fourteen-year-old son and then took another sip of coffee.

***

Ross set off to do his morning chores with a little more pep in his step. He couldn't stop thinking about tonight. Finally, something to do besides the same ole' boring routine. Ross had been assigned a special mission. An assassination to be exact. And his father was the one who gave him the order.

"Ho-ly shit!" He exclaimed.

Ross had a permanent grin carved into his face. At the pace he was going, he'd be done with his chores by noon. Plenty of time to fortify the coop and get his shotgun ready. Ross even played with the idea of using buckshot shells but figured that might be overkill. Whatever was draining the eggs was probably small. No bigger than an opossum for sure. There wouldn't be anything left but clumps of guts and fur if he used ammo like that.

"I'll stick a couple in my pocket just in case." Ross thought.

The boy whistled as he rushed off to complete his next chore.

***

"Ross! Lunch!"

His mother's call echoed through yard just as he finished forking hay for the cows. It was his last chore for the day.

"Noon on the button. Not bad." He thought.

Ross dusted himself off and headed for the house. He opened up the screen door and was delighted by the smell of cooking pot roast. The scent of savory meat made his mouth water. Tonight he would have a delicious dinner before heading out to catch a thief; no, kill a thief.

After slipping off his work boots and placing them on the foyer rug, Ross sat down at the table. His mother brought him a bologna and butter sandwich, Pringles, three, mini Snickers, and a can of Dr. Pepper. Not quite as satisfying as a heaping plate of roast, potatoes, carrots, and onions all smothered with gravy but it would do.

"After you finish fixin up the coop, your father wants you to rest up for tonight." Ross's mother said. "No arguments."

"Alright." Ross replied before taking a huge bite out of his sandwich.

Ross's dad would not be joining them. Most likely his mother had packed him a cold lunch. The boy knew he wouldn't see his father till dusk. That meant he had ample time to find the perfect spot to ambush his prey. Besides, he was too damn excited to take a nap. After lunch he would gather some brush and limbs for a hunting blind. As the idea flourished in his mind, Ross took a big chug of his pop. A thundering belch quickly followed.

"Ross! What do you say?" His mother scolded from the kitchen.

The boy chuckled and replied, "Excuse me."

***

Ross sat in the dark shadows of his hastily constructed blind. His belly was still bloated. A couple of rogue farts reminded him that he had ate way too much. Gluttony seemed to be a common occurrence with his mother's homemade cooking. To top it off, she had even made his favorite pie; sour cream and raisin. His stomach would have normally settled by now but they had waited to eat with his father. It was past eight when his dad had come in for the evening. Now it was 10:13p.m. In about fifteen minutes or so his parents would turn-in for the night. Soon, Ross would be the lone soldier on the battlefield.

It was a cool night with a small breeze out of the north but Ross had been smart enough to wear lined jacket. His crude dwelling was surprisingly comfy. During the day he had also rounded up a few supplies. A blanket, a flashlight, and a thermos full of coffee, all sat within reach. Of course, he also had his shotgun. It was loaded and resting on his lap.

"If you see something nosin around, shoot it. Don't worry about waking us up." Ross's father had instructed. "Just make sure it isn't that damn dog."

Ross had assured his father that he would do his best. That was over an hour ago. Enough time had passed for his eyes to adjust to the moonlight. Although his vision was limited, Ross had a clear view of the front entrance and the east and west sides of the building. The south end was butted up next the shop and the boy had made sure there was no way into the coop on that side. With all the chickens shut inside, there was nothing else to do but wait and watch.

After about an hour of nothing but chirping crickets and clattering branches, Ross's eyes began to feel heavy. His mother's meals were known to be sleep inducing.

"Come on you son-of-a-bitch, get here already." He cursed at the unknown bandit.

Ross wished he would have listened to his father. A nap would have helped. Now, he was fighting to keep his eyes open. If something got into the coop on his watch, there would be hell to pay. His father's angry face was the final image on Ross's mind before he fell asleep.

***

Ross's eyes shot open. It took him a moment to remember where he was.

"Shit!"

The whispered curse was more of a flinch than an audible word. Ross checked his watch. He cupped his hand over the digital face to block the light up display. It was 2:06a.m. He'd been asleep a little over three hours.

"Mother fuc..."

The sound of flapping wings seized Ross's attention. He grabbed the shotgun and peeked out of the blind.

"What the…" He mouthed.

The door to the coop was closed but a dozen or so chickens were in the yard.

"How'd they get out?" Ross thought.

As the boy watched them wander around the front of the coop, he noticed how strange their movement was. It seemed more deliberate, more coordinated. It was almost like they were searching for something. Ross stayed perfectly still and didn't breathe.

All of a sudden, things got really weird. The chickens huddled together into a pack and then scrambled up the short ramp that led to the front door of the coop. Ross couldn't believe his eyes as he witnessed the birds jumping onto each other's shoulders, creating two, wobbly, stacks of chickens. Dumbfounded by this bizarre performance, the boy could only watch as these acrobatic hens lifted the steel latch and unbarred the door. One-by-one they hopped down onto the ramp and ducked though a narrow gap in the doorway.

"I've got to be dreaming." Ross thought.

The boy pinched the skin on his arm. It hurt. Ross wasn't sure if that trick really proved he was awake but it was the only thing he could think of. His mind tried to comprehend what he had just seen. Chickens had just broken into the chicken coop. It made no sense. And blasting away the birds he was trying to keep safe didn't seem like a smart thing to do. Ross's father would kick his ass if he'd shot their own hens. Finding out what the hell was going on seemed to be his best option. The boy quietly crept out of the blind and tiptoed toward a window on the east side of the coop.

Doing his best to avoid his father's traps, Ross approached the window. The glass was coated with a layer of dirt and grime making the view cloudy but still visible. Luckily, the interior lamps had been left on to keep the hens warm in the cooler weather. The yellow glow allowed Ross to see the commotion inside. What he beheld, was an unbelievable scene.

The flock of mysterious chickens that entered the coop were not chickens at all. The feathered creatures possessed birdlike features: wing, legs, feet, but they also had skinny arms, clawed-tipped hands and gaunt, disturbing faces.

"This can't be happening." Ross thought.

The creatures worked together to gently remove the eggs from under the sleeping hens. It was obvious that they had no desire to harm the chickens. Ross could hear their raspy whispers to one another. It was unlike any language he'd ever heard before. Listening to them shot chills down Ross's spine. Within minutes, the group had gathered a pile of eggs onto the shit-stained floorboards of the chicken coop. Forming a ring around the pile, the creatures chittered with excitement.

"What are they doing?"

In perfect synchronicity, each creature grabbed an egg, punctured the end with their long, pointy nose, lifted it up, and began to suck. Ross noted how the curve of their noses perfectly cradled the eggs as they tipped back their heads in order to allow gravity to aid in the extraction. When the creatures' blood, red eyes rolled backwards in ecstasy, the boy cringed. Rich, orange yolk dribbled from corners of their mouths.

"Gross." He whispered.

While observing the grotesque spectacle, the boy noticed something around one of the creature's necks. It was a red necklace with a small, metal disc hanging from it. As he looked closer, Ross realized it wasn't necklace after all. It was a dog collar. Shaken by the realization, the boy stumbled back and unintentionally triggered one of his father's traps. The cage snapped shut with a loud clap.

"Dammit." He muttered.

It wasn't long before Ross heard the door of the chicken coop crash against the side of the building.

"Oh shit!"

Ross didn't bother whispering. He shuffled backwards as the creatures darted around the corner of the coop. They aggressively pursued the boy in a V formation. The one with the red collar led the charge. Ross panicked. Forgetting all about the gun in his hands, he turned to run. After only a couple steps, the creatures swarmed into his field of vision. Unable to see clearly, the boy tripped over something and fell face first into the dirt. The impact knocked the wind out of Ross and jolted the shotgun from his grasp. As he strained to fill his lungs with the cool, night air, a wad of feathers was jammed into his open mouth. The boy gagged and choked as bevy of talons dug into the flesh. His arms, legs, and back were on fire. Ross attempted to cry for help but another handful of feathers was forced into his maw. The boy recoiled as the red collared creature leapt in front of his face. Emotionless, red eyes studied the terrified boy. Baring a hideous scowl, the creature raked a claw across Ross's cheek. Warm blood oozed from the torn skin. Ross still couldn't scream. Tears filled the boy's eyes as he helplessly stared at the sliver tag resting against the creature's chest. When the moonlight struck the metal, Ross could read the engraved name.

"Smokey."

Fear ravaged his body. Not wanting to suffer the same fate as his dog, the boy struggled to free himself from his subduers. His efforts were answered with the paralyzing pain of constricting talons. The boy winced in agony. His tongue tried to force the feathers out of his mouth but they stuck to his taste buds like glue. Ross continued to cough and gag. Bile was burning his throat. Soon, the partially digested remnants of his mother's wonderful meal would be spewed onto the dry soil along with a wad of chicken feathers. As the urge to vomit swelled, the red collared creature uttered an incomprehensible command to its companions. Taking one last look at Ross, the creature smirked and then hopped onto the boy's head.

"Please stop."

The garbled plea fell on deaf ears. Ross whimpered and looked toward his house hoping to find salvation. In a way, he did. The glint of a steel barrel lie only a few feet away. He reached out for the weapon. Talons plunged deeper, scraping bone. Ross pushed through the pain and pressed his fingertips against the polished stock. Red collar jumped off the boy's head and onto his neck. Its claws pierced the thin skin and muscle. Blood mixed with the bile in Ross's throat. Urine soaked his crotch. White knuckled fingers managed to slide the shotgun closer.

"Almost… got…"

Ross's finger felt the familiar crescent-shaped curve. He pulled the trigger and the gun fired. As the blast flashed in the darkness, the boy was jerked off the ground.

"What's happening?" He thought.

Wings flapped furiously around him. Ross tried to shout but the feathers, bile, and blood encumbered his scream. The creatures carried him higher and higher. He had already cleared the peak of the roof when the porch light turned on and his parent's ran out of the house. They were calling for him. He couldn't answer. They looked so small from up here. He was above the treetops now. It was much colder up here. Ross was glad he wore his lined jacket. The boy listened to the eerie tittering of the egg suckers as they flew him away into the night.

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