Economy Class Boogie

[Menagerie of Voices]

The plan was almost flawless; a slice of brilliance, pure genius. The only thing that he’d not thought out was how fucking hard it was to ride one of these massive, hairy, stinking fat chickens, and how damn stubborn they were.

A massive cloud of dust was being flung up behind the remaining Squawkers, and Gunther – barely holding on, and with a prize winning expression of oh fuck! on his face, watched the ground get eaten up by those massive scaly claws beneath him.

Funfun, yes?

“Oh, piss off!” Came the mournful howl back.

All around them was chaos; some of the lizard people had gotten the same idea he had and had tried to catch a chicken for their own use to escape across the desert – but once Cinnamon materialized in front of half the flock on one of the larger caravan islands, it had been panic stations for everyone. There were birds everywhere fleeing over the rolling golden sands beneath the afternoon sun, their shadows criss-crossing weirdly and making Gunther feel dizzy. It was hard controlling his charges, Held together by old rope and their harnesses, harder still by the crowd that decided to follow them once they broke away from the main flock. Not so genius anymore – the cover was kind of cool, the destruction that followed? Kind of not.

A Squawker cut in front of the ever-expanding cloud of feathers and dust all around him, a shrieking lizard-man attached by its foot to the traces of the beast. He felt Cinnamon’s alarm before she even voiced it – very odd – and pulled hard on the loop of rope around the Squawker’s beak. The bird squalled, twisting it’s head this way and that but it followed Gunther’s directions, and just in time – the ground was suddenly boiling, and the hapless bird and lizard were suddenly gone in a puff of dirt.

That, dear friends, is the sound of several sphincters tightening in unison.

The second Squawker, tied to Gunther’s with a piece of rapidly fraying rope, tried to run forward despite it’s heavy load of loot and supplies, quite comical to say the least if it hadn’t been a life and death situation. Which it was; their cover was thinning out

“Isn’t there anything you can do to make them go after someone else?!”

Your birdies slower!

“I know! But can’t you-” That odd feeling again. This time Gunther found it easier to guide the bird away; breaking almost completely and hanging a tough right to glance a massive beak that was almost their collective grave. “NICE TO SEE YOU LISTENING TO ME, YOU STUPID BIRD.”

His stomach dropped as the Squawker – Stupid, he decided, the other one could be Idiot – hurtled down a dune that made the hills of home look like flat ground. This wasn’t going to end well – behind them the slope exploded again and he only just saw the shadow out of the corner of his eye – “OHGODOHGOD-” and he managed to drag both birds out of the way of the ten meter long slug of doom that came crashing down. Of course; since it’s prey was not underneath it, the creature gave a hapless moan as gravity kicked, plunged headfirst into the dirt and it’s body followed; a slow agonizing flip that would break the creature’s spine if it had one. It’s head out with an audible pop as the arc was completed, and Gunther caught it’s expression as it went rolling down the hill, complete disappointment and embarrassment. This was followed by an odd glngglngglng as the fat white sausage tumbled into the waiting jaws of the welcoming committee down the bottom who in turn was equally confused when it got a beakful of angry fellow-worm.

The pressure of Cinnamon at his shoulder was a surprising comfort, if a horrible surprise over the angry squealing below them. Sideways!

“On it.” Stupid was pulled up, eyes rolling in anger, but Idiot caught on and began to lead, putting on a fresh burst of speed to outrun their pursuers. With all this running – especially over shifting sands – Gunther knew it was only a matter of time before the birds were tired out, and after that…

The ground rumbled. His furry radar had dematerialized again and now continued to scan from the shoulder of Idiot, and Gunther looked over his shoulder to watch the rolling one burying itself in the sand along with – wait, the bottom one had gone. Which meant-

“Shit.” Unbidden, before Cinnamon could even warn him, Gunther pulled Stupid across the lowest part of the dune, heading up the next one. The panting and sweat beneath him was disgusting, disheartening and full of panic he didn’t want to feel, but two sandworms surfaced a moment where he’d been and a third where they’d planned to go, further up the ‘ravine’.

Then the ground opened up, roaring and stinking like dead flesh.

Stupid and Idiot flew off in different directions, the cord was caught between the beak of the biggest sandworm he’d ever seen, and Gunther didn’t even have time to scream as Stupid went airborne, slapping against the pale, leathery side of the ugliest creature he’d ever seen. But the weight of not one but two Squawkers on the rope was enough to cut it against the razor-sharp beak above them, and Stupid opened it’s stubby wings as it fell, providing just enough of a soft landing to land safely. They reached the edge of the dune and sped off along the 'ridge'.

“Cinnamon!” His brain buzzed with confusion – his own – over this sudden need and hatred of the disappearance of his companion. A moment later he felt her, a silent reassurance – and allowed Stupid to do the driving. Big Momma was still in the air, and there was a satisfying wet smack as she, he, it, whatever the hell it was, rolled into the still-working-other three – all of which were still on, or half on the surface and completely unaware.

Eh, perhaps not. He spied a few seeker-eyeballs coming out from their mouths widening in terror as the sky was blacked out.

Their insides were apparently orange. Bright, ugly orange. A gust of wind made him want to hurl with the smell. Gunther turned away, terror written all over his sunburned features, and he winced as he heard the rumbling of the largest making it’s way back into the dirt, leaving a trail of slimy innards from the unfortunates who had been beneath it. One was still alive, he heard it screaming, half squished and half alive, writhing in agony. This turned out to be the saving grace – rather than chase hard-to-catch-moving-stuff, something stationary and screaming was easier – and unbidden, Stupid put it’s head down and managed to push itself that much faster to put the distance between the feeding frenzy. Good thing too. Apart from the unholy noise, guts were sent flying high in the air, slapping wetly against the sand behind them. Paranoia made Gunther feel for the back of his hood and shoulders, hoping like hell they'd missed.

Behind them some of the other birds – and possibly riders – had survived. For now Stupid and Idiot were slowing to an easier pace to maintain, and Cinnamon was actually hanging onto Idiot’s head traces, peering over it’s head with great interest, her ears pricked and whiskers bristling.

“Are we clear, Cinn’?” Cinn, sin, hahahahaohmygod the sun’s getting to me again.

Some follow, some not. Hungry-hungry.

“They can’t burrow through stone, can they?” Cinnamon shrugged at this mentally, and Gunther repeated the motion almost unconsciously. “We’ll take our chances. Keep an eye out for them if you can; uh, I don’t know how much power you have left…and make sure Idiot there doesn’t run away.”

Cinnamon glanced at him, tongue lolling in enjoyment, almost wagging her tail. Again, no words, just a firm affirmative before she turned back to watch the horizon.

I’m hallucinating. I have to be. I did not just do this.

Tightening his grip on the leather straps, he gave Stupid what he hoped was a nice pat on the side of the neck, pleased the creature hadn’t tried to take his head off yet with that massive beak, and slowed to a trot. As long as they kept going, there had to be an end to the desert somewhere. It could not go on forever. Right? Right. Science proved that. How else would they get storms over the mountains, storms were weather thingies and weather needed water and…

Shut up, think too loud! Can’t hear things!

“URGH.” Was the protest. It was accompanied by annoyed chirps from the two birds which amused Cinnamon no end.

:D :D :D