The Day the Music Died--Part 1

I awoke at the same time I do every morning. It was the end of March, and so the sun would not rise fully for another hour or so. I put on a long sleeve shirt and some sweats, tied my shoes and opened the door. I immediately felt the crisp, fresh air rushing into my lungs, stinging slightly from the lingering chill. It would have been the perfect morning to go jogging, but something was terribly wrong. At first, I couldn't quite place my finger on it. Everything looked normal, but the more I stood there on my porch wondering what could be off balance, the more I became aware of the almost deafening silence.

I'm not one who usually takes the time to discover all of the sounds around me, but the absence of what I simply took for granted was unbearable. I clapped my hands as hard as I could. I heard (and felt) that. I wasn't deaf. So, what was missing? I began to notice the sounds cars in the distance--the Apocalypse hadn't come and there were other people alive besides me. I thought and I listened for what seemed like an eternity. All the normalities seemed to be there--the occasional car horn, a dog barking, the sound of screeching breaks--and yet something was very obviously missing.

I turned and looked out into my yard. The sight was so horrific that I immediately wretched (I think my neighbor across the street saw me). My yard, and my neighbors' yards, and everywhere that I could see was covered in bird carcasses--every type of bird known to live in this city was dead in my front yard. And as the sun rose higher into the sky, so did the number of flies and the stench. I stared until I could look no longer. Only then did I realize what I had been missing--I had not heard a single bird chirp. The gay songs that usually accompanied me as I ran through my neighborhood and cheered me on when I thought about stopping early were completely gone, absent, finished, no more.

Instinctively, I ran back inside, turned on the TV and pulled out my laptop hoping for some news headline that would explain the nightmare that was my front yard. Every channel and website I could think of were all talking about the mysterious deaths of all birds worldwide. In a matter of 24 hours, it seemed as if every single bird had just dropped out of the sky. All birds were affected--wild birds, pet birds, birds in zoos, every bird. No one knew what had caused this sudden event, and everybody had their own theory (that of course conflicted with every other theory). But everyone seemed to agree on one thing--what happend was not normal, and people should not touch the bird bodies in case whatever happend was contageous.

It was noon before I realized that I had been sitting in front of the TV mesmorized and had not gone into work. That's I got a call from my boss saying not to worry about it. Not very many people came in anyway. I felt bad about not going into work. There was no need for me to stay home. No one had known anything new for hours, and it didn't seem like any useful answers would come until tomorrow. So I showered. About the time I was getting into my car, an unmarked van pulled up to my house. Several men in HazMat suits jumped out and began picking up the dead birds out of my yard. Each bird was put into its own bag and labeled. The man who had been driving came up to me and told me not to leave the house. He asked if I had enough food to last for a couple of days--they were quarentining my neighborhood. He then asked me if I were allergic to latex. When I answered no, he handed me a box of latex gloves and a box of surgical masks. I asked what they were for, and he just simply answered just in case.

I wanted to know just in case what. But he wouldn't answer any questions and asked me to kindly go back into my house. I looked up the street and saw the beginnings of road blocks. Knowing that I could be here a while, I took one last deep breath, almost choking on the stench of rotting bodies. Then, I went inside and sat back down in front of the TV. I began to feel hopeless, and I knew immediatly what would make me feel better. I began to dial his number, but then hung up, thinking that he would probably not want to talk to me. And so I sat, feeling hopeless. Wondering when I would see the city again. Wondering IF I would ever get to see it again. Regretting every word said and the thousands more left unsaid. Was he thinking about me? He wouldn't be my knight in shining armour. I knew that. Really and trully, I knew that he wasn't going to come save me. But I still hoped. In the bottom of my heart I dreamt that he would show up on my front door, ready to save me from this monster of a reality.

But then, it was morning again. The sun was rising, and the birds were gone.