Saturday

Susan preferred to complete her daily errands just after sunrise, before the hustle and bustle of the day begins. The coffee maker had just finished dripping as she padded quietly downstairs, just enough for one cup as usual. Her favorite mug and spoon had been laid out the night before, waiting for her two pumps of hazelnut flavoring and a splash of milk. Susan thrived on routines. 

That morning began the same as all others: her gentle alarm humming it’s normal tune at 6 am on the dot, a quick shower, and down stairs to listen to the news and drink her cup of coffee. She’ll be out the door by 7 am sharp and not a minute later. Today she thought she might take her coffee and listen to her radio outside on her porch to watch the summer sun rise over the horizon. 

The ocean was calmer than usual this morning, almost completely still. There was no breeze, which made the air feel thick and heavy, even at this time of morning. Susan settled herself under her porch fan and brought her solar radio up to the top of the small table beside her rocking chair. As she fiddled with the antenna, she noticed the butterfly bush at the foot of her stairs rustle. “Good morning, Cat,” she called. She turned the dial and was met with a loud flash of angry high pitched static. Cat hissed. “Hush,” she admonished, “I’m trying to catch the signal.”

It was unusual that a windless day was making the signal so difficult to catch, and Susan did not like the tenseness that was building in her shoulders because of it. 

“Ah, there we go,” she muttered and brought Cat up to her lap as voices came through the radio detailing the day’s weather, tides, and fish catches. “I would like to get some more shrimp for this week, don’t you think?” She said as she was stroking Cat’s back. He purred in agreement. As the news cycle made its way back around to the beginning, Susan gently took Cat off her lap and began to turn the radio off as the signal cracked and all of a sudden a voice came through screaming “THEY’RE COMING. THEY’RE COMING. THEY’RE COMING.” Startled, Susan knocked her cup of coffee over, the mug shattering as it hit the ground. She felt her shoulders lock as her spine sent tingles down her arms. She wrung her hands to soothe herself. “Nothing I can’t fix! I’ll just go clean it up,” she said to herself. 

A neighbor walked by with his dog and waved, and as Susan looked up, she noticed he was mouthing something she couldn’t quite make out. She shook her head and went inside to grab a towel and clean up her mess before she left for the day. 

Back inside, Susan was wiping her hands on a dish towel by the sink and practicing her deep breathing to help loosen her shoulders from earlier today. “It didn’t mean anything, probably just someone in their basement messing around.” She told herself. A loud bang on the window shook her out of her trance and she whipped around to look out of the window over her kitchen sink, noticing the streaks of bright red blood streaking her window. 

She grabbed her car keys and purse and went outside. She has tasks to complete, afterall. “This will not stop me,” she uttered as she locked her door. Cautiously she walked around to the side of her house where her kitchen window is and saw the bird, its neck broken from the force of hitting the window. She made a mental note to pick up a shovel on her outing today so she could dispose of it. 

“They’re coming, I had one do that to my window yesterday,” her neighbor said behind her. Susan turned around slowly, her hands in tight fists at her sides in order to hide her fear. 

“Do you have a shovel I can borrow, Mitch? I’d like to dispose of it before Cat finds it,” Susan asked, ignoring what he said entirely. Nothing will stop my day, she told herself. She unclentched her fists slowly and wiped them on her shorts. 

“They’re coming,” Mitch responded, “Susan, they’re COMING.” His eyes widened and Susan stepped back, nearly stepping on the bird’s carcass. 

“I-I-I have to go, before the vacationers clear out the shelves,” Susan stuttered. She pushed her way around Mitch and got into her car. “Of course the vacationers are coming, Mitch, it’s the beach.” she said as she got into the car. “Idiot.” Her hands were shaking as she turned the key in the ignition. She backed out of the driveway and gripped the steering wheel tightly. She turned the radio on and found NPR’s Newsbreak and smiled. 

“Reports indicate that winds have ceased in other major cities including Washington DC, Spokane, Chicago and New York, increasing temperatures across the United States.” the radio said. 

“Well it’s the middle of summer, not totally unexpected for there to be a heat wave,” Susan said back to the radio. She rolled her eyes and continued listening. 

“Speaking with locals here in Washington, many are reporting finding bird carcasses scattered around their properties and on the sidewalks. Their necks are broken from force.” The leather of the steering wheel shifted and squeaked under the tightening grip of Susan’s hands. She shook her head, “Coincidence,” she uttered. 

As she pulled in to the grocery store, she motioned to turn the radio off just as the signal broke and through the screaming static she heard “THEY”RE COMING.” She pulled her hand back as if she had been shocked, she turned off the car and pushed the button turning off the radio. She grabbed a cart and headed inside, wiping the sweat from her brow that had formed almost immediately after stepping out of her car. 

Susan was relieved to hear the usual easy listening tunes playing overhead in the grocery store, and she made her way through the aisles to complete her weekly shop. As she made her way to the deli counter, she noticed that the employees were huddled around the radio and didn’t notice her immediately. She cleared her throat and said “Hello!” to get their attention. 

“Good morning, Susan,” called Ron, as he stepped away from the radio huddle and put on gloves. “Have you been listening to this stuff? Birds all over the place.. No wind.. Weird stuff, huh?” 

“Hi, Ron. You know I don’t listen to anything but the local weather reports,” she said, hoping her nerves weren’t coming through. “Can I have a pound of turkey please?” 

“Sure, you got it.” Ron said, turning back to the meat shaver. “How’s this?” he asks, holding up a piece of turkey. 

“Perfect, thanks.” Susan smiled. 

“Yeah, Jan and I counted this morning we had 3 birds dead around our house, can you believe that?” Ron said, making conversation. Susan swallowed and chewed the inside of her cheek. She didn’t want to talk about this, even though she too has a bird she has to get rid of back at her house.

“I guess it means you’re just an expert glass cleaner, haha,” Susan answered. Change the subject, Susan. “Hey, do you know if you have shovels here?” She asks. 

“Oh yeah, over by the charcoal and outside needs.” Ron answers, handing her her pack of turkey. As Susan reached over the counter to take the pack, he whispers “They’re coming, Susan.” Susan grabbed her turkey and walked backwards. 

“No one but the renters are coming, Ron.” Susan said, gritting her teeth. She pushed her cart away quickly. 

“They’re coming!” she heard him call out after her. Susan walked immediately to the outdoor needs aisle and picked up a shovel and lighter fluid. 

“Got a bird problem too, huh?” a woman said next to her. Susan didn’t recognize her immediately. Must be from the other island, she thought to herself. The woman picked up a shovel. “They say that’s the first sign, you know. The wildlife always knows.” Don’t engage, Susan. Don’t do it. Susan smiled, “hmm.” she responded. “Excuse me,” Susan said, as she tried to navigate her cart around the woman. The woman grabbed the cart to stop her, and Susan tried to pull away to free it from her grasp. 

“They’re COMING, Susan! They’re coming!” the woman screamed. Susan finally pulled the shopping cart free, and ran down the aisle as the woman screamed after her, “You’ve been warned!” 

Susan turned into the next aisle and slowed down, and started her deep breathing practice again. Her hands were white and the tingling spread from her fingertips to her ears. “I have to finish, I have to go to the fish camp, I have to go home.” she repeated. As she continued to walk, she felt herself calming down. She gathered the final items she needed and made her way to the checkout counter. She started putting her items on the belt, hoping no one would feel the need to speak to her anymore. The teenager working the cash register didn’t bother to take out his headphones, much to Susan’s delight. She put the cart back in the vestibule and grabbed her items and walked quickly back to her car. 

She placed the shovel in the trunk of her car and put the bags of food in the passenger seat. As she made her way around to the driver side, she noticed a note underneath the windshield wiper, and as she looked at the other cars surrounding hers, they, too, had notes. She grabbed it, knowing what it would say before she looked. “They’re coming,” it read. Susan crumpled it immediately and left it on the ground. She got in her car and peeled out of the parking space, speeding towards the fish camp. 

She reflexively turned the radio on, only to be met with screaming static. She adjusted the frequencies but found the same on the AM stations and the FM stations. “Fine,” she said. “No radio anymore, that’s fine.” she assured herself. She felt the tingling sensation again, but this time it was behind her eyes. She clamped her eyes shut to calm herself. 

As she pulled into the fish camp, she noticed only one other car in the parking lot. “Perfect,” she said. “Early enough for the first catch.”

She walked in, and the chimes on the door alerted the fishmonger to her presence. He was listening to the radio. 

“Ugh, I had to turn mine off–just static!” Susan reported, she hoped calmly. “What does the catch look like today, Bill?” she asked. He hadn’t turned around yet. She heard muttering, and the sound of the cleaver coming down onto the chopping block. Susan winced. She could never be a butcher of any kind. 

“Bill? Fresh shrimp today?” Susan called again. She stood up on tip toes and craned her neck to see what he was preparing. 

It was a bird. “Damn things won’t stop flying into the windows.” she heard him say. “Gotta get rid of them before they come.” 

“Bill. Bill, no one’s coming. BILL.” Susan yelled as the cleaver came down once more. He turned around, wiping the knife on his apron which was already splattered with various fluids. 

“Bring your birds here, I’ll get rid of ‘em.” He said, plainly. He looked like he hadn’t slept in days. His eyes were bloodshot, he was rubbing his face, not realizing he was wiping bird mess on his cheek. Susan closed her eyes and shook her head, she was not going to bring anything here thank you. She exhaled and smiled, “Thanks, but I think I'll just take a pound of shrimp.” she pointed to the shrimp sitting on ice behind the glass counter. Bill seemed to snap out of it, dropping the cleaver on the counter. He washed his hands, Thank God, Susan thought. 

He collected the shrimp and put them in a bag for her. The exchange was silent, until Susan was walking toward the door to leave and they both jumped as two more birds plowed into the glass door. 

“THEY’RE COMING!” Bill yelled. Susan looked back and shook her head as her had searched for the bar to push the door open. She stepped out, and made sure to avoid the bodies that had just fallen beside the door. She looked up and noticed the sky had changed. When she left this morning it was a clear, blue sky. No clouds, no breeze.  The air was still thick and heavy, but the sky had changed to a dark gray, but not because of clouds. It was as if the sun had been blocked by a larger object. 

“Storm’s coming, surely,” she said to herself. Putting the shrimp in the cooler in the back of her car, she reassured herself that she was done with her errands and could finally go home. Cat was waiting for her, after all. And she needed to dispose of the bird from earlier this morning before Cat found it. 

She turned on to her street and noticed everyone was outside, looking at the skies. Just park the car, get your things and go inside. Don’t worry about everyone else. She pulled into her driveway and shut her car off. She got out and collected the bag in the front passenger seat first, slamming the door shut. “Sorry,” she winced, to no one in particular. Nobody turned around. She made her way to the trunk and got the shovel and lighter fluid and took the shrimp out of the cooler. She closed the trunk door, slightly less aggressively this time and made her way up the stairs. 

There were 4 more birds, this time on her front porch. She noticed Cat pacing back and forth from behind her glass door. A wave of nausea traveled up to her throat. She swallowed and turned around to see if anyone was watching. She fumbled for her house keys and turned the lock. “Cat,” she crouched to pet him. He arched his back to get away and tried to scratch her. She pulled her hand back in surprise. “Okay, fine. You can’t eat the birds, though. You’ll get sick.” Susan said as she stood up straight. She placed the shrimp and other food in her refrigerator and grabbed her gardening gloves and a trash bag. With the shovel in hand, she headed back outside to dispose of the carcasses. 

“Once I clean up the yard, we can get back to our book,” she said to herself. “Just get this done, and you’re all set.” She took a deep breath and pushed her front door open. She made sure to pull it closed behind her, she didn’t want the cat to sneak out this time. She closed her eyes and took some deep breaths to help keep the nausea at bay as she picked up the birds. Using the shovel, she placed them into the garbage bag quickly. Having picked up the birds on the porch, she walked down the stairs and headed around the side of the house. The sky had gotten darker, like night, even though it was only 9 am.  “It’s going to be a rough one, it seems.” she said to herself, about the impending storm. 

She reached the side of the house where she saw the first bird earlier this morning, and Susan crouched down to get a better look at it. As she began to pick it up with the shovel, she felt someone behind her. 

“Mitch, I found a shovel at the store, I’ve got it handled.” she said, sighing. She shoved the bird into her trash bag and tied it off. She stood up and turned around, nearly running into the man that was behind her. 

“Mitch, what are you doing?” she put her hands on his chest to push him back, but he wouldn’t move. “Mitch. Please move, I want to go inside now.” 

“It’s them, Susan. They’ve been throwing the birds. They’re already here.” Susan walked backwards to create space, dropping the bag by accident.

“Sometimes birds get confused, it happens,” she said, quickly. She wasn’t sure if she was trying to convince herself or Mitch. It wasn’t working. Mitch grabbed her hand and tried to pull her to the street, where the others were. She tried to free herself from his grasp but she couldn’t. 

“Let GO.” she said, her voice cracking. “I just want to go inside, please let me go.” Mitch pulled her, as if being pulled by an invisible string that connected him to the street. She pulled her arm the other way, trying to break away. She noticed Cat had pushed the door open and was pacing the porch back and forth. “It’s okay, Cat!” she called behind her, “I’ll be right back!” she reached the street as Mitch placed her next to him. He had let go of her hand, and she rubbed her wrists to lessen the redness. She began to turn around and run back to her house, but was immediately dragged back by multiple people. 

“It’s no use- they’ve come for us.” the neighbors said. 

“Who? WHO?” Susan screamed. “There is no one here. We’re alone here, there’s a storm coming and I want to go inside.”

“Oh Susan, don’t you see? We’re not alone.” As Mitch turned his body to face the sky, Susan screamed as she saw a beam of light land on the main road in front of them. 

They had come. They were here. The residents of Oceanside were not alone.