Gone Goose

3 0 0

I don't need a degree in occultism to know what's going on: that's Ñox Cayu in front of us. In the flesh.

I do mean flesh quite literally: its giant mass seems to be made entirely of indistinct strips of flesh. In places they're still together enough for me to know that thing is build with dead bodies in place of building blocks. Lots of poultry there, it makes sense for it to be his prime material, but I think I see human remains as well. All if it is shifting and moving like the creature is still shaping itself.

Of course I think of all of that later, when I'm done panicking and we're all in the truck at a fast enough speed that it couldn't possibly follow us. First we face that ugly mess rising from where the meat chute stood and we just run. Domenica grabs Nathan like she's gonna score a touchdown and she bolts towards the pickup. She left it open. Dave is already at the door, ready to get in and drive. I have three confused and afraid people depending on me.

The broken container helps me out: bits and pieces still restrain the headless thing like a metal cage. Instead of charging at us, it fights against its restraints, ripping through it like it's made of cardboard. The chute isn't gonna last long.

The woken up town folks use that time to stumble away and most likely pee themselves in fear. I'd do that too, but I have three people to shove in the back of a truck. Now that we're here, I don't feel so guilty about not saving everyone: I mostly wanna live.

It's pretty hard to strap them in, they won't stop asking questions. The boxes filling the trailer are also not helping. I hope there's nothing too fragile in there, because this is no time to be delicate. We're just stepping on stuff.

"We don't have time for that now!" I say to the tenth 'what's going on' I hear. I'm gonna have to stay with them or they might do something stupid. My dad in particular looks like he'd jump off the truck to get away faster if he could. I hold his arm tighter and knock on the rear window. No point in calling them out: the rotten giant shape is still letting out that unhinged howl, I'd have to scream to hear myself. I haven't realized the sheer volume of its yell yet, nor have I questioned how it can even have a voice while being headless. All things in due time. The sound is not the most shocking of what's happening here.

I knock again. They hear me this time and we maneuver towards the exit in a fashion that makes me think I'm not the only one panicking. As we accelerate I get a clearer view of the mad god than ever before, its shape unmistakable: it's a giant plucked chicken with a sort of face on its belly. So that's a thing? That's reality now? We drive faster, putting coops and buildings between it and us. The wind hits my nape and face. I feel like giving up on a lot of things right now. I don't wanna have time to think about all this. Can't I go into shock again? Please stop flipping my world upside-down.


***


A few kilometers down the road towards the town, we pause on the side of the road. I requested it: Tig has started puking. The poor thing seems to be really unwell, not like I can blame her. I'm trying to bandage my dad as well, he's the most hurt of the bunch. His left arm is in a pretty bad shape. Thankfully it seems to be on a surface level. They have stopped asking questions, probably realizing I have no answer to offer them that would make sense. They saw the oversized raw chicken just as well as I did.

Domenica gets down the cabin. "Deb, we can take a few minutes here but I think we should hurry," she says. I nod in agreement while I hold up Tig's hair. How could I not see what a mess you've become? I'm a really shitty friend. It's a good thing now is not the time for self-loathing, because I got bucket-loads of it at the ready. Domenica must have sensed something because she walks up to me and simply places a hand on my back to support me. It makes me feel so accepted.

Cock-a-Doodle-Doom ☑️Where stories live. Discover now