Bernice Summerfield stepped out onto the front porch and stared at the blue sky with bleary eyes.
"I've got to stop the excesses," she said. She pushed her hair out of her face and gave her temples a vigorous rub.
"Fifteen shots of tequila, sure, no problem."
Bernice tossed her hair back and checked her watch. Three more minutes before she could pump some coffee into her system and feel alive. She turned and went back into the tiny house and made her way to the kitchen through osmosis, more than anything else.
Bernice took a chair by the formica monster of a kitchen table and pushed a week's worth of San Francisco Chronicles out of her way. She grabbed her journal and thumbed through a few entries, some left in their unexpurgated form, others covered with multiple post-it notes.
"What would Orwell think?" Bernice said to no one as one entry caught her eye. The one that talked about her arrival in Bodega Bay - five variations on the subject.
She thought about what the Doctor had told her before dropping her off.
"Now, Bernice, remember that although this is a vacation, I need you to keep your eyes on things in Bodega Bay."
"If this is one of your top secret missions -"
"Bernice," the Doctor said, his forehead a mass of wrinkles, "just keep an eye on things. It's important."
That was six months ago.
"Little bastard," Bernice said, loud enough to disturb the cat on the window sill. The cat stretched, yawned, and gave Bernice a sharp look before returning to his dreams of worldwide domination.
"Sorry," Bernice said. She closed her diary and poured herself a huge mug. She decided to sit back out on the porch. Too nice outside not to, Bernice thought. She paused at the floor to ceiling mirror by the front door and stared. The eyes were bloodshot, the hair long and bed-wavy, the shirt buttoned and sleeves rolled to the elbows and the jeans faded and broken in. Not bad for someone who spent their days doing very little and their nights defeating the crushing boredom by getting drunk and into little misadventures with the locals. The hair caught her by surprise, she hadn't cut it since arriving in Bodega Bay and was now taking on a life of its own.
"Omigod, I look like Stevie Nicks," Bernice said, smiling.
It took her a few minutes for Bernice to arrange the chair and table so she could prop her feet up on the rail and still reach her coffee. With a pen cap clenched in her teeth, Bernice collected her thoughts before describing last night's challenge.
She didn't see the seagull.
Not a surprise since the bird was soaring high above the house itself. The seagull took a wide turn before changing course and diving. It gathered speed with a series of quick wing beats and locked onto its target, which was sitting on the porch in deep, hungover thought.
Bernice was on the third paragraph when she heard the seagull screech and slam into her right ankle. She let out a yelp and tumbled out of the chair.
"What the-"
The seagull screeched and dove again, this time connecting with Bernice's thigh, gashing her jeans before flying back into the sky above the house.
"Time to go," Bernice said, wincing as she saw the trickle of blood from the second attack. She hopped on her left leg and stumbled into the house.
The seagull was on another strafing run, whooping and screaming toward Summerfield.
Bernice slammed the door.
The seagull's cry was interrupted by a dull thump.
Bernice hobbled to the bathroom, grunting with each step. She took a seat on the edge of the tub and examined the wound on her leg.
"Just a scratch," Bernice said. She reached into the medicine cabinet and pulled out some peroxide and gauze. The cat had strutted in, purring, sat down on the toilet.
"It's nothing."
The cat nodded and gave Bernice a sympathetic head butt.
Bernice cleaned the long scratch as best she could, then slapped some gauze and tape on it. She checked her ankle, saw nothing but a tiny red mark and let it go after noting she needed to paint her nails again.
Bernice scratched the cat under the chin and sighed. The cat responded with another head butt and louder purring.
"Want to earn your keep?" Bernice asked the cat.
The cat ignored the question and decided it wasn't clean enough, started licking its chest.
"Right." Bernice left the bathroom and headed for the front door. She looked around for a weapon, settled for an umbrella hanging next to the mirror. She placed her ear to the door, listened for her seagull enemy.
Silence. Nothing but the reverberating purrs of a contented cat in the loo.
Bernice opened the door a crack and saw feathers on the ground, opened the door wider and saw her attacker had broken its neck on the door and was no longer an issue.
"Now what?" Bernice asked, eyes now checking the sky for birds.
***
The open road, Chrissy Hynde leading the Pretenders, a convertible, a breeze and bright sunlight.
Ace was into it. Into it more than combat. She punched the accelerator and headed up the Pacific Coast Highway, ready to collect her comrade-in-time-travel and get back to San Francisco in time for a seafood dinner on the Professor's dime.
Ace was shocked when the Professor told her that nothing had happened in Bodega Bay, that it was just a way to give Summerfield some time off after... Well the Professor wouldn't say, and Ace didn't ask.
"Just pick up Bernice and meet me at Fisherman's Wharf at 8pm."
"Why not take the Tardis?"
"Because I need to do some work on the old girl."
"Professor?"
"Ace, I'll rent you a Corvette," the Doctor said.
"Got a woman on the side?"
Ace thought the expression on the Professor's face priceless. Cute too.
"Just a wind-up," she said.
Ace slowed the Corvette down. No sense getting into it with the local cops. She checked the time, saw that she still had an hour to go before reaching Bodega Bay, rescuing Summerfield.
Up ahead, about a quarter mile, Ace saw the pickup truck and tapped the brakes. The truck was under the speed limit, locked in the travel lane. Probably checking out the view - cliffs and the Pacific Ocean crashing into it - while making its way up the highway.
It was then Ace saw something out of the corner of her eye, small, black, diving toward the truck. It missed the top by inches.
The second object landed in the bed, hard. Ace sped up and saw a third object, a crow, crash into the passenger window. The truck swerved right, but stayed on the road.
"What the-"
Something struck the side of her head. Ace flinched, cut the wheel, spun out, and came to a stop in the passing lane. She felt a trickle of blood run down her cheek. Ace looked up, saw two crows already heading her direction. She swore, covered up as best she could. The blows to her back were swift, painful. One of the crows gripped the back of her collar and pecked her back. Ace reached up and swatted the bird.
A car horn blasted through the cawing crows. Ace, panicked, grabbed the wheel and punched it. She kept her head low and peered through the wheel while she negotiated the curvy road at top speed.
The truck was in the passing lane, a flock of the birds covering the vehicle. Ace swerved out of the way and kept going. She wiped some blood out of her eye, swore for the hundredth time in the last few seconds.
Overhead, crows hovered above the highway, then headed for the woods.
***
"Summerfield, what are you yammering about?"
"I was attacked by a seagull this morning," Bernice said over her blueberry pancakes and weak coffee.
"Summerfield, you didn't eat the worm last night, did you?"
"Shut up, Lou. I'm serious."
Lou laid his ham hock fists on the counter. "The cat wasn't messing with it?"
"Since when do you know that prima donna furrball to leave the house?"
"Summerfield, cats are cats, even spoiled brat indoor ones."
The waitress refilled Lou's coffee cup. "What's going on?"
"I got attacked by a gull, Flo," Bernice said.
Her leg throbbed. She shifted in her stool.
"A gull?" Flo shook her head. "Doesn't make much sense."
"You're telling me," Bernice said.
"Probably just a freak occurrence, Summerfield. Don't sweat it," Lou said. He dismounted the stool, placed a hand on Bernice's shoulder. "You coming out tonight?"
"Call me later. I'm not sure right now." Bernice went after her pancakes with a vengeance. Lou ambled out of the diner.
"Did you get hurt?" Flo asked, further down the counter.
"Just a scratch."
"You should get a shot. You don't know what diseases it might have been carrying."
"I should be all right, Flo," Bernice said. She didn't want to discuss healing Nanites or 26th century medicine. It had taken long enough for the residents of Bodega Bay to get used to her as it was.
Flo came back to Bernice, smiled. "Don't mind me, I'm just the mothering type."
Bernice smiled back. She hoped there weren't bits of blueberry on her teeth.
"It's okay, Flo. I appreciate it."
"Any plans today, Bernice?"
"Get on with my writing."
"How's the novel coming along?"
"Almost done." If you count three reams worth of scribbled, incoherent notes on various archaeological sites on Mars almost done.
"Glad to hear." Flo smiled and moved over to the next hungry local.
***
The Doctor had his head wedged into the base of the Tardis console (parked in Coit Tower Park) for the moment. He'd been overcome with a desire to fiddle about with the dear old thing, something he hadn't felt in ages.
Most of the time he had been playing God, saving the universe by any means necessary. Move the pawns into position, wind up the toy soldiers and watch them march.
The Daleks called him the Ka Faraq Gatri, so he was told.
Ace called him Professor; he preferred that. Ace also told him about the dream where he made a deal with Time to be her Champion. As if Time was some Godlike figure who needed a champion....
But he'd started referring to himself as Time's Champion, first as a bluff, a way to scare the natives. He could have called himself anything - Keyser Soze, or Lord Rassilon - but somehow Time's Champion stuck. He used it like Linus's security blanket, a way to cover up his fretting and fear.
Romana would have told him he was overcompensating for perceived inadequacies.
The Doctor frowned among the wires and circuit boards.
"Time's Champion, my arse," Iris told him the last time he'd seen her. He scowled and bellowed, but deep down, he was thankful that at least one person could see through the facade.
There wasn't anything wrong with the old girl. The Doctor could have picked up Bernice right at the house in Bodega Bay. He just wanted to be alone, fiddle with his Tardis, try to figure out a way to stop the monster he'd created.
"No more," the Doctor said to the Tardis, who hummed and bleeped in response.
"Now, this won't hurt, old girl." The Doctor went after a small circuit with his sonic screwdriver, one that was part of the recall device.
The Doctor wanted nothing to do with home. Goodness knows what 'they' would do to him if they found out about his new, self-proclaimed, fictitious title. Ship him off to Shada, in his own private stasis box.
The Doctor shivered, finished his work on the recall circuit.
He finished his tinkering a half hour later. He spent a couple of minutes cleaning up, changed his dirty linen suit for a fresh one.
"San Francisco, hmmm? I think I'll treat myself to a walking tour," the Doctor announced to the Tardis.
He opened the doors, walked outside, turned to shut them and froze. His eyebrows arched skyward.
The Tardis was covered with birds: sparrows, finches, doves. All clamouring for space on the stacked roof of the police box.
"Hello," the Doctor said, doffing his hat. "I'm the Doctor."
The birds stared back. No cries or whispers, just the adjustment of wings, the scrabbling of claws.
"What brings you here?" The Doctor tightened his grip on his umbrella.
He saw a flock of seagulls to his right, one collective eye on him, the other on their fellow birds perched upon the Tardis.
The Doctor took two steps back, raised his umbrella.
There was a soft coo, one of the doves. Then the air exploded with cries and beating wings.
The Doctor opened his umbrella, dropped to his knees. The birds tore the umbrella to shreds in seconds.
His hat flew off his head. The birds came from all directions pecking, scratching, biting, slapping the Doctor. He threw his arms over his face, dashed for the Tardis. Bird calls drowned out all other sounds. The Doctor slammed against the Tardis door. The birds flew and fell off, then restarted the attack.
The Doctor plunged the key into the lock, pushed the door open and fell into the Tardis. He scrambled to the console, closed the door.
Somehow, the birds didn't follow the Doctor into the Tardis. He looked down at his tattered suit, the bright orange-red blood oozing from scratches on his hands, arms, and legs.
"Okay, Ka Faraq Gatri, now what?" the Doctor said. He flipped on the scanner, saw the birds leave Coit Tower Park in a huge flock.
***
North of Bodega Bay, the birds gathered. Seagulls, terns, wrens, sparrows, doves, crows standing beak to beak, wing to wing on a large meadow. There was no leader organising the mass flock, no rituals being performed by feathered priests.
They all knew the objective.
Survive and multiply. Kill or be killed.
The birds didn't gain intelligence, or self-awareness. There was no explanation that the human mind could grasp.
The birds, through bird-think, decided to fight back.
In the meadow, the birds waited and gathered numbers.
***
Bernice took the shortcut back to her house, one eye looking out for any more rogue seagulls. Make a right at the post office / general store, up the hill past the school, cut across the park, hop the fence by the softball field and a quick jog to her back door.
The throb in her leg diminished to an itch. Bernice made a note to change the bandage as she crossed the softball field.
A seagull's cry froze her. Bernice scanned the sky, saw a loose flock of gulls heading north. She let out a deep breath.
"Good. Fly out of here, or I'll set my cat on you," Bernice said.
The gulls ignored her, continued on their course.
A few minutes later, Bernice was on the back porch. She saw her cat in his windowsill, ears down and tail fat.
"What's wrong?"
The cat hissed. Bernice shook her head, reached for a gun in her waistband that wasn't there.
"Sod it," Bernice said, and opened the door.
On the kitchen floor, the remains of three wrens coated the floor in feathers and blood.
"Shit." Bernice checked on the cat, who wasn't hurt, just angry. The windows in the kitchen were intact.
"All right," Bernice said to the cat, "How did they get in here?"
The cat growled. Bernice rubbed its head. She grabbed a broom and made her way into the living room.
Same as ever: comfortable couch, video and telly in their cabinet, coffee table filled with notes, fireplace filled with logs ready to light and covered in feathers-
Covered in feathers?
Bernice nodded. The cat joined her and wove a figure-eight pattern around her legs.
"Stay here," Bernice said, broom in hand. She stepped out of her shoes and padded to the fireplace. She had set it up last night, but was too drunk to remember to light it.
Bernice placed the broom on the ground, picked up the lighter and ignited the balls of paper. She picked up her broom and backed away from the hearth.
"Now, if you're smart," Bernice said.
The logs caught and blazed away, filling the chimney with smoke. The feathers popped when they flared up.
There was a whistle, a few squeals, and the chimney rained feathers for a few moments. Bernice heard beating wings and screeches as the winged invaders beat a hasty retreat out of the fireplace.
"I'm beginning to take this personally," Bernice said to no one.
The cat stretched out by the fire and cleaned himself.
"Well, you're going to be a happy cat," Bernice said, "now, where did I put that recall thingy?"
***
Bernice heard the car pull up in front of her house. The cat beat her to the front door and meowed. Bernice recognised the tone; visitor for the little furrball to charm. She checked the window and saw a Corvette.
"It's not Lou," Bernice told the cat. It didn't seem to care. When Bernice saw who popped out of the car, she smiled.
"I think you'll like her."
Bernice placed the broom within arms reach as she opened the door. Except for the bomber jacket, Ace had made an attempt to blend in with the peasant blouse and elephant bells.
"Oi, Summerfield," Ace said, "I got a story for you."
"Does it have to do with birds?"
Ace stopped short. "You too?"
"Come on in first, then we'll trade stories."
Ace jogged to the door, gave Bernice a crushing hug. They stumbled inside and disengaged themselves.
"So, where is he?" Bernice asked as she closed the door.
"Farting around with the Tardis, so he says."
"Probably coming up with a master plan of some sort."
"Of course. Now, how are you doing, Summerfield?"
"Until this morning, all right."
Ace tossed her jacket onto the couch, saw the roaring fire. "Bit hot, isn't it?"
"Defence."
"All right, you go first."
Bernice told Ace about her two encounters on the way to the kitchen. Ace then related her attack on the Pacific Coast Highway.
"Alien invaders?" Ace asked.
"Don't think so. Why use birds?"
Bernice fired up the coffee maker, took a seat on the kitchen counter. Ace found a chair for herself.
"Who would think of birds as aggressive creatures?"
"That's true." Bernice crossed her legs, pushed her hair out of her face.
"Grew your hair?"
"Just trying to blend in," Bernice said, pointing at Ace.
"The Professor talked me into it," Ace said addressing her Haight Ashbury-esque outfit. "Part of the rental price."
"Back to business. It's been quiet for an hour."
"You think they're getting ready for another attack?"
"A safe assumption, Ace."
Ace got up, kicked off her platforms. "You got a pair of boots?"
Bernice hopped off the counter. "What for?"
"I can't climb ladders and scale roofs in heels, Summerfield."
***
The Doctor stood over the console, eyes glued to the scanner.
No birds in sight.
He'd tended to his wounds, changed into a third linen suit, found a replacement umbrella, programmed the coordinates for Bodega Bay, and froze.
Was the bird attack a freak effect?
If not, then who, or what, would use birds as predators?
Was it specific to him?
Would he be bringing the menace to Bodega Bay if he left San Francisco?
Why use birds in the first place? Wouldn't Daleks, or Raston Warrior Robots be more efficient?
Why ask so many questions?
The Doctor pondered these questions and many more. He reached into his pockets and found his juggling balls. Soon, his hands and the balls were a blur of motion. The questions disappeared as well.
"There's no big secret, no arch criminal behind it all," a voice told him in mid juggle.
The Doctor frowned. He caught the balls and returned them to his pockets. He closed his eyes and switched to a Time Lord's thought patterns. Linear thinking wasn't helping the problem.
While in trance, the birds returned. Thousands of them. Covering the grass, filling the trees, converging on Coit Tower as if it was the birds' personal nesting area.
The birds watched the Tardis, waiting for the right time to attack.
Once again, a few soft cries, then an explosion of wings. An army of birds descended on the Tardis. Some broke their necks crashing into the police box at full speed. Others landed and pecked away at the wooden exterior. The assault didn't damage the ship, but the birds didn't care. Wave after wave crashed into the box, tore into the surface, pressed the assailment.
The Doctor emerged from his internal conference and saw the scanner covered with wings and beaks. He set the controls and the Tardis tore into the vortex with its familiar trumpeting.
The birds found themselves attacking the ether. They took to the sky en masse and headed out of San Francisco.
***
Down the road a bit (a Bodega Bay expression meaning too long to walk, but a waste of gas to drive) from Bernice's house, Lou walked out of his barn and noticed the crows.
The crows had decided to have a sit in around his house. Lou thought this odd, until he remembered what Summerfield told him, about the gull attacking her.
He turned back to the barn and found that the crows had claimed it as their new home as well.
"This is not good," Lou said.
The crows barely moved; they seemed to size him up, see if he was worth the effort of killing.
Lou hoped he wasn't. He noticed the predator look in their eyes.
The truck was on the other side of the house. The only other cover was a storm shelter his old man had built, and that was a couple hundred feet away. Neither the house, nor the barn were options; he'd be torn to shreds even if he could get inside...
They're crows, dammit! Crows don't attack humans. They're probably just resting here for a few minutes, maybe scoping out the area for seed to eat.
The crows didn't let their intentions known.
Lou shuffled sideways toward the storm cellar, eyes locked on the birds. He told himself to move slow until he got past the end of the house. Running too soon might panic the crows, and then he'd be toast.
The crows kept their eyes on Lou, bobbing a head or three, shuffling on their perches.
Only when he cleared the house did the birds attack, a screaming, feathered and taloned assault from the air.
Lou broke into a run, stumbled over an unrolled hose, hopped and maintained his footing.
The crows hit him in the legs, back, chest and head; again and again and again.
Lou threw his hands over his face and kept running.
The birds kept up the attacks, slashing, pecking, beating Lou till he collapsed only a few feet from the storm cellar doors.
Ten minutes later, the birds flew off, leaving a bloody rag of a body and feathers as the only evidence of what occurred.
***
Ace jumped off the roof, landed grunting.
"You ever heard of a ladder?" Bernice said.
"Well, all the windows are boarded up. Did you close the shutters?"
Bernice nodded. "I've upset the cat."
"What's his name?"
"It doesn't have one," Bernice said.
"It? Do you know if it's a he or a she?"
"No. I respect its privacy." Bernice turned her attention skyward. "They've been quiet."
"Not for long. At least we've battened down the hatches."
Ace followed Bernice into the house. Once through the front door, Ace took the remaining timbers and barricaded the door from the inside.
Bernice picked up the phone, frowned, put the receiver down. "Phone's out."
"Not a good sign."
"I can't find my recall thingy either."
Ace swore.
"What?" Bernice asked.
"Mine's in my backpack."
"Which is?"
"In the Tardis." Ace punched a nearby wall. "The Doctor made me leave it behind." Ace swore again.
"The loo is over there, if you want to clean yourself up."
Ace nodded, left for the bathroom. Bernice curled up on the couch and pulled up a stack of notes. A few seconds later, the cat took its customary place behind her knees and fell asleep, unfazed by the current situation.
Bernice scratched the cat's head. "You have the right idea, furrball."
***
Bodega Bay was buzzing at sunset. The stories of bird attacks came from different sources, mangled in retelling until one fisherman said he saw a army of hawks and eagles heading for San Francisco, blood in their eyes and on their talons.
No one thought to look above the centre of Bodega Bay itself.
If they had, they would have seen the mass of gulls coming in from over the ocean, voices at full volume, wings spread, talons open.
They might have seen the crows, coming at full speed from Lou Barlow's farm, appetite whetted.
And then the wrens, catbirds, doves, finches, coming from every direction high above the town, in chaotic formations.
There was no signal, no attack cry.
The birds circled above Bodega Bay, and then swooped down as one.
The gas station went first. A hose was knocked off a pump, then shredded by beaks. The gas flowed out in all directions.
Then one river turned into flame. The gas station exploded moments later. Smaller fires erupted along Main Street. People who fled the burning buildings were swamped by the diving birds. The fire truck was assaulted by crows and crashed into a hydrant, spewing water into the twilight sky.
Some of the gulls hung back, observing the chaos below.
Inchoate keening from the attackers and victims scored the fight, a symphony of primal violence.
Some of the people grabbed their guns. For every bird they shot down, hundreds took their place.
Cars stuffed with fleeing people, and scratching, clawing birds drove away from the battle, crashed into buildings, flipped over and burst into flame.
And as if a switch was flipped, the birds took to the sky once more and went back to their resting places.
Bodega Bay was a flaming battlefield of corpses, both human and avian.
***
The Doctor landed the Tardis in the softball field by Bernice's house. He checked the scanner and saw no birds skulking about in the dark.
Umbrella hooked on his wrist, the Doctor left the Tardis and headed for Bernice's house, unsure why the birds had attacked him, not knowing if any other attacks had occurred, hoping Bernice and Ace were okay.
The moment the Doctor saw the boarded up windows, he feared the worst. He was at the back door in seconds.
"Ace! Bernice!"
Muffled footsteps slapping across linoleum.
"Go to the cellar door, Doctor," the Doctor heard Bernice say. "It's to your right."
He heard the door creak open. "Over hear, Professor."
The Doctor jumped through the doors and helped Ace reset the barricade.
"Birds?" he asked.
"Yeah. What's going on?"
"Not sure Ace. That's what frightens me."
Bernice greeted the Doctor in the kitchen. "I waited six months for a bird revolution?!?"
The Doctor winced. "Bernice-"
"Don't ‘Bernice' me, Doctor." Bernice stuck a finger in the Doctor's chest. "If this is one of your little plots-"
"No it isn't Bernice." The Doctor leaned up against the refrigerator. "In fact, I have no idea why this is happening."
"But it is, Doctor," Bernice said. She balled her hands into fists.
Ace came up the cellar steps and saw the anger on Summerfield's face, the fear on the Doctor's.
"Ease up Summerfield. He isn't scheming, not this time," Ace said.
The cat trotted in and jumped into the Doctor's arms, purred.
"I think it's time we got ourselves up to speed," the Doctor said, rubbing the cat under its chin.
***
"...reports indicate that a blaze in Bodega Bay was caused by a large flock of birds landing on the town at dusk. There are reports of casualties as of you-"
Bernice flipped off the radio. "If it's any consolation, we're not being targeted."
Ace dragged a kitchen chair into the living room, straddled it. "What's the plan?"
The Doctor set down his mug. "Plan?"
"Yeah, Professor. Your secret master plan that works, but pisses everybody off," Ace said.
The Doctor shook his head. "I don't have one."
Bernice suppressed a chuckle. "No master plan."
"No Bernice, I do not."
Both Bernice and Ace stiffened. The Doctor sat down on the couch. "What if I were to tell you something fantastic?"
"Ali Baba and the Forty Thieves?" Bernice asked.
The Doctor's dark look wiped the smile of Bernice's face.
Ace tapped the back of her chair and swore.
"What would be the most improbable scenario?" the Doctor said, his voice soft and desperate. "It's what I thought about on my way to pick you two up, after the birds attacked the Tardis itself."
The Doctor stood up. "What if the birds decided to go on the offensive?"
"Erm," Bernice said, "what?"
"On their own?" Ace asked.
"Yes. On their own, Ace." The Doctor walked to the kitchen. Ace and Bernice stared at each other for a moment, then followed.
"Time Lords are telepathic," the Doctor continued, "and I would have felt at least something if the birds were under any sort of influence, even if I didn't know what it was."
"Kind of a general bad feeling," Ace said.
"Yes. " The Doctor's face paled. "The only thing I felt was a sense of being prey."
Bernice reached into a cabinet, pulled out a bottle of bourbon and some glasses. "It's the end of the world as we know it, so why do I not feel fine?"
Ace swore. "Is there anything we can do?"
"I don't know if we can," the Doctor said.
"What about all that ‘I give monsters nightmares crap?'" Ace said.
Bernice filled three glasses with bourbon and ice. The Doctor took one, chugged it down.
"Now is not the time for that, Ace," the Doctor said.
***
The birds surrounded Bernice's house, landing on and around it in small groups. Some bared scars of the attack on the town. Others were new to the fight, ready to prove their mettle in combat. The ranks swelled to the thousands, filling the back yard, front yard, all available roof and tree space and covering the softball field and the Tardis parked in it.
Even with bright moonlight, the birds were mere shapes in the dark, shuffling in abstract, living shapes. They seemed content to dig the dirt, snack on grass, preen feathers for the moment. They did not care about how many were in the house.
There would always be enough to win this battle, like the one in the town.
***
"Sssh." Bernice said with finger to lips.
The Doctor and Ace had stopped their argument about what to do about the birds.
"What?" Ace asked. Bernice hopped off the counter and moved to the windows.
Ace opened her mouth to speak, but the Doctor raised a hand.
"Their turn, I think," Bernice said. She looked out between the boards barring the kitchen door and shivered.
Ace jumped up, sprinted to the door. "We're surrounded."
"I think the cellar would be the safest place," the Doctor said.
The cat was in his arms.
Bernice led the way. She grabbed a flashlight and some candles before descending into the basement. Ace closed the door behind her.
Ace took a seat on an old trunk, while the Doctor and Bernice grabbed spots on a couch that had seen better days. The cat found a place in the Doctor's lap and fell asleep.
It started with a muffled squeal.
Then the sound of a downpour on a tin roof, a million muted hammer blows.
The Doctor closed his eyes and petted the cat with deliberate strokes, marking the seconds.
Ace suppressed her combat training as best she could. She wanted to grab the nearest weapon and charge up the stairs, take the feathered menace head on. She stood up, paced, sat down, tapped her foot.
Bernice sat cross-legged on the couch and stared up at the ceiling.
Screams came in waves, a muddled cacophony of shrill whistles and throaty cries, muffled by wood and insulation. The relentless tapping as beaks tore into wood like pickaxes.
Glass shattered. Ace made for the stairs, but was grabbed around the waist by the Doctor and dragged over to the couch.
"Let me go!"
"Ace, you'll be cut to ribbons." The Doctor's eyes pleaded for understanding.
"Beats rotting down here!" Ace rose, but the Doctor shoved her back on the couch.
Bernice was frozen. She only half heard the fight between Ace and the Doctor. Her eyes were still on the ceiling. She ran through some old Martian prayers in her head.
The Doctor gripped Ace's shoulders. "Listen to me, Ace. I need you alive and thinking clearly."
Ace shoved the Doctor, who stumbled back, but didn't fall. Ace jumped off the couch, but the Doctor was already in front of the stairs, eyes large and dark.
"Ace, I won't allow you to kill yourself, and us in the bargain."
Ace took a step closer. The Doctor slapped Ace across the face. She staggered back, lunged forward, took another ringing slap.
"Ace?" the Doctor asked, hand raised. His voice cut through the deafening chaos.
Ace blinked, fell into a sitting position by the door. The Doctor went to her side, placed an arm around her shoulder.
"I need you rational, and alive, Ace. I'm sorry for what I had to do," the Doctor said.
Ace touched the swelling mark on her cheek, let out a deep breath.
The assault reached its apex, the noise consuming the trio in the basement.
Then silence.
***
Ace checked her watch, which read six AM. Bernice had fallen asleep on the couch. The Doctor dozed on the trunk, cat napping on his lap.
She felt restless. There hadn't been a peep from the birds in hours. She'd wanted to check out the upstairs as soon as things got quiet, but the Doctor and a dazed Bernice talked her out of it.
"No harm now," Ace said to herself as she grabbed the torch. She took her time up the stairs, making as little noise as possible. She reached for the knob and heard a creak, hesitated.
"Sod it," Ace said under her breath and opened the door.
The kitchen was a mess, covered in splinters. The birds had managed to turn the walls into Swiss cheese. Bits of insulation had coated the table, giving it a pink, wispy hue.
Ace gripped the torch, made her way into the kitchen.
It was then she saw the giant hole near the fireplace.
And the flock of crows sizing her up.
They were on Ace before she could reach the door. Ace whacked one with the torch, pushed a second away with her hand. But two more came in behind the first wave, pecking, scratching, slashing. Ace lost the torch in mid-swing. It landed on the stove. More crows moved in, jabbing at her eyes, shredding her pants. She pushed them away as best she could, ignoring the stinging cuts in her palms, arms, legs. One crow managed to rake her cheek with a claw. Ace squealed, dove for cellar, tripped on a chair.
A new wave of crows, sensing the kill was imminent, swept in. Ace screamed under the relentless attack of the crows.
Two sets of hands grabbed her, dragged her down the cellar stairs.
The last thing she saw was Bernice slapping away a crow with a bloody hand before closing the cellar door.
***
"How is she?" Bernice asked.
The Doctor finished wrapping the last of her wounds. "The cuts are superficial. I don't know about the psychological damage."
"I think we need to get her to a hospital," Bernice said. She pulled her hair back and tied it off with an elastic.
"The Tardis is only a short distance away," the Doctor said.
"Why didn't you land it inside the house in the first place?"
"It wasn't for lack of trying, Bernice."
Bernice saw the strained expression on the Doctor's face and let the subject drop.
Ace cried out, batted away an invisible bird. Bernice grabbed her hands and whispered some reassuring words in Ace's ear.
The Doctor adjusted his linen jacket. "I'm going to bring the Tardis here. Be right back."
"What about the birds?"
"I'll have to chance it."
The Doctor walked up the short steps and cracked open the outside cellar door.
There were birds as far as the eye could see. Gulls, terns, crows, and pigeons all perched together.
The Doctor slid out the door, closed it behind him.
A single crow cawed and pecked at his leg. The others ignored him.
The Doctor took a single step. The birds parted, a living river of feathers and beaks. He took his time, slowed his movements and his breathing and he made his way toward the Tardis on the softball field. The birds eyed him as he made his journey, unsure whether or not he was worth investing time and energy in killing him.
The Doctor ignored the multitude of birds and continued. He reached the Tardis ten minutes later.
A couple of the seagulls perched on the police box protested his entry with cries, but nothing else.
The trumpeting sounds of the Tardis entering the vortex caused a slight commotion from the squatting gulls. However, there was a spot on the infield for them, which they occupied in seconds.
Inside the ship, the Doctor reset the coordinates, crossed his fingers, and tried not to dwell on what had occurred. The important thing was to get Ace better.
No secret master plan was going to solve the bird problem anyway.
He materialised the Tardis inside the basement.
Bernice already had Ace standing. The cat was impressed by the sight of the big blue box in the basement, but decided to go back to his nap.
The Doctor opened the doors and helped Bernice carry Ace to her room.
"What about the cat?" he asked.
His question was answered by a loud series of purrs. The cat was walking figure eights around his legs.
"He's housebroken," Bernice said, a sad smile on her face.
