Birds With Open Mouths

Who would have thought that the end of the world would be so boring. So blasé. I continued walking, anxiety ebbing and flowing but for the most part subsiding.

If I just stared at a tree, or a bird, or a part of town that wasn’t completely demolished, it really felt like before. My feet walking down the sidewalk, the sun hitting my skin, my mind sorta blank.

The birds all had their mouths open. It was weird, so I looked it up on my phone.

By this time the internet had been back for about a month. The service was extremely slow, so I kept on walking as I waited for it to load.

I was getting closer to the heart of town. It was extremely humid so barely anyone was out, which again didn’t seem that out of the ordinary. Nothing really seemed different.

I checked my phone, still loading.

Then it dinged with a text but I was crossing the street, so I jogged until I reached the next sidewalk. I felt the bun on top of my head sag from the movement, sweat dripping onto my shirt.

“Where did you go?” It read. It was my mom. I wasn’t in the mood. I wished it was a guy. Or my ex. Just something.

He was probably dead, though, and I sidestepped around a little garden.

My ex was probably dead, the world had “ended,” and now I was walking into town so I could get a hot glue gun for my younger brother’s anxiety-induced arts and crafts.

I didn’t feel anything as I put my phone into the back pocket of my jean shorts. I didn’t respond to my mom. I needed a minute.

The blinking pedestrian crossing signs were working again even though there were practically no cars. I pressed the “walk” button, saw another person across the street and smiled at them.

It felt nice. An older lady, maybe around fifty-five or sixty. She smiled back as we passed one another.

My phone rang.

I got it out of my pocket, the humidity making my movements pretty slow, and I wondered if the bird answer had loaded. I couldn’t see past my mom’s incoming call.

“Hey Mom,” I said, voice pretty flat. I ducked under the canopy of what used to be a hair salon.

“You didn’t respond to my text, I texted you,” she said. She sounded like she did before all this too. Nothing had changed.

“I didn’t see, sorry,” I lied. It was basically the truth – I’d only seen it a few minutes ago.

She talked, saying I can’t just leave without saying anything, and I told her I yelled up the stairs before leaving – she didn’t hear me. She said I should have texted her before she texted me. I agreed, and then I just felt dizzy.

“I’ll be back in like 25 minutes Ma,” I said. I was kinder now that we were getting off the phone. I loved my mom. I was just tired.

I hung up, slipping the phone back in my pocket and looking around.

I’d seen this all already.

Burned buildings, streets torn up by the explosions, windows blown out. Remnants of municipal tape everywhere.

Some stores were back up again, though. Small economies were coming back. I was just glad electricity was restored for the most part.

Because I hated those nights in the dark.

An entire year in the dark.

I couldn’t open the fridge, I was hungry.

No internet, no phone chargers.

No service.

No Jeremy. No Jeremy. No Jeremy.

Where was he?

Was he dead?

Was he still mad? Was I still mad?

I can’t sleep I can’t sleep I can’t sleep—

“Welcome!”

The Italian man behind the counter smiled at me. I smiled back, genuinely. It was nice meeting someone’s eyes.

“I’m looking for a hot glue gun,” I told him, glancing around. “Wasn’t sure if you guys had those.”

“Hot glue gun, huh? Nah, I don’t think we have that. Anything else you’re looking for?”

I didn’t want to be rude.

“I’ll look around,” I replied, and scanned the contents of the glass counter in front of him.

It was full of jewelry. Kinda cheap looking, but nice.

“Perfect for a gift,” he said, and I nodded. I pretended to be interested.

My eyes overfocused on a few pieces. I could feel him looking at me, wishing I’d buy something. I was a young woman looking at jewelry – surely I’d want something here. Why wouldn’t he think that?

I pointed to a butterfly necklace.

“How much for that one?” I asked. It had blue wings that separated so when they opened it was sorta like a locket.

The man slid open the back of the counter and pulled it out for me, and I think he was proud of his store’s selection. He seemed to be, anyway. For a second I thought of my uncle – like a flash of a memory, barely there. He’d died before all this happened. Maybe this man reminded me of him somehow.

“Only twelve dollars, but for you I’ll make it eight.”

I laughed, enjoying being out of the house.

“It’s a really nice necklace.” My eyes went back to the other pieces. “How about this one?”

He went and reached for the gold, heart-shaped locked.

Then I covered my ears, the town-wide emergency alarm sounding so insanely loud and so much like it did in my nightmares, and I barely remember him running around the counter and guiding me to the back of the shop and into the safe room down the stairs and below the earth.

Everything was blurry, and then I was crying uncontrollably, and it all happened so fast that it was like someone transported me from here to there – from the counter to the little dark sanctuary, a room in the basement – and I reached for my phone, I had to call my mom, where was my mom, this man’s arms were around me holding me up, who was he –

I saw the search for the bird answer had loaded but it was in the way and I went for my contacts, but I clicked the wrong app, I always did that – but now it mattered, and I couldn’t get my phone to work.

Actually it was working fine but I wasn’t working, I couldn’t find my Mom’s number, my hands were tingling and everything was in slow motion, and was I safe with this man? I was crying so hard.

And then the alarm went silent.

And I sank to the ground, the grey concrete of this basement behind the general store so uninviting, and I heard the man let out a relieved and strained sound. Like he was just glad it was over but so incredibly frustrated it had happened.

“Are you okay?” He said gently, crouching beside me and taking a hold of my hands, they were shaking and I couldn’t get my phone to work –

“Yes, yes, thank you so much, yes I’m fine,” I said. My voice sounded weird. “My mom, I’m calling my my Mom,” I stammered. “It’s not working, though,” and I dropped my phone, picking it up abruptly and wiping it off.

“Here, I can dial it for you,” he said, and he took it slowly from me.

“The contact says ‘ICE - Mom,’ it’s stupid but the ‘ICE’ means…”

He caught me off.

“In case of emergency, I know,” he smiled, navigated to it, and clicked it. He handed the phone back to me, ushering me back up the steps. “The signal is better up here.”

We were back at the counter when my Mom picked up, and I sobbed.

She was okay. My brother was okay. Nothing had happened to them. Could have been a false alarm, too. We didn’t know. I hung up, said I love you, I’d be back as soon as I could, sorry I didn’t text before leaving, I’m sorry.

For a few moments that man and I just stood in the store.

“Here,” he said eventually. “The heart locket you wanted to see.” He handed it to me, it was nice to feel it with my fingers. It was sorta cheap.

“I really like this one,” I smiled, “better than the butterfly.”

“Take it, for your Mom.”

He wouldn’t let me pay him.

And then I was walking home, the humidity still so overpowering, but now my nerves shot. I felt numb.

The sun was going down so maybe it was slightly cooler. Lately it felt like the world was angry, the sun raging, but after a tantrum it would give us a little reprieve – the moon somehow still on our side. Still hadn’t betrayed us, like everything else had. But it was still hot.

My mind was blank.

Then, Jeremy. Jeremy. Was Jeremy okay?

I reached for my phone, ready to type in “West Coast list of survivors” like I’d done every day since the internet started working again.

But I still hadn’t read about the birds, and why their mouths were open. They’d looked so weird.

By this time I was in front of my house.

I sat on the stoop for a second, reading the little snippet that the search engine found for me.

I read it silently, inhaling the stagnant air:

“What does it mean when a bird won’t close its mouth?

It’s not a good sign.

It means they’re dehydrated, in shock, or traumatized. It’s a sign of massive stress – basically they’re not happy, and they don’t know if they’re going to be rescued.”