detailing the nurse’s utter incompetence.
Red Feather hears a twitter from above. Looking up he sees the fourth survivor perched atop the closet door, her feet and hands clinging to the frame like a canary on a swing. Close cropped bleach blond hair, ethnically mixed features, a tall frame hunkered into a squatting position, all elbows and knees. Red Feather suspects she’s half white and South Asian. Pakistani maybe?
The bird girl opens her mouth and twitters again, the sound of a mockingbird in a tree. She titters and leaps across the room, landing on the top of the bathroom door, as if to better gaze upon her visitors.
A startled Günn calls out and Red Feather balks, not expecting a human to be able to leap quite like that.
“When she thinks nobody is looking she flies,” Nurse Pratchett says not batting an eye. “Although she does use the toilet when she needs to go.” Pratchett’s shrug says Go figure.
“Um, is she human?” Red Feather asks.
“Her bloodwork looks like someone put fowl DNA in a petri dish with human, so I don’t really know how to answer that question. How much Homo sapiens blood makes one human? A question that I’m sure will plague science for years to come.”
“Does she speak?” Red Feather meets the bird girl’s eyes and smiles, trying to be friendly. She shudders and chatters, jumping and turning her back to them, but craning her neck so as still to see.
“Not that we’ve heard. She makes those bird sounds. She does indeed seem to understand what we say, but without a way to communicate back…” Pratchett shakes her head. “Must be lonely.” She thinks of her son who drifted into what will likely be the coma from which he’ll never awaken just a few days ago. What she’d give to hear him say “Mummy” just one more time.
Red Feather walks further into the room. The bird girl shudders as if ruffling her feathers. “Can you chirp once if you understand what I’m saying?”
The girl shudders again. Eyes Red Feather as if considering his request. Chirps once.
Red Feather smiles wide, which makes her jump back across the room to perch atop the closet. “My name is Detective Red Feather, this is Detective Günn.”
The bird girl settles down.
“Chirp once for yes, twice for no.”
Chirp.
“We’re here to ask you some questions about the rave last night.”
The girl shudders and shakes her head. Chirp chirp.
“You don’t want to talk about it?”
Chirp.
“We really need your help.”
Chirp chirp.
“You won’t help us?”
Chirp.
The girl chitters away in a volley of sounds.
Red Feather winces. “I am so sorry, I don’t understand what you’re saying.”
She’s angry, yammering away in rapid-fire birdspeak.
“Can you write?”
She stops her unintelligible barrage, cocks her head to the side and shrugs. How the hell should I know?
Red Feather’s phone rings, startling the bird girl who squawks in protest. He hands the phone to Günn who answers it and leaves the room.
“Nurse, can we get a pen and a pad of paper in here?”
“Right away.”
The bird girl sniffles.
“This all must be really scary.”
Chirp. Sniffle.
Nurse Pratchett returns with a legal pad, the yellow lined pages almost the same color as the bird girl’s hair. Red Feather reaches out to hand it to her. She shrinks further back into the corner. Tattering, she gestures her head toward the door.
“You want us to leave?”
Chirp.
“Okay, miss, we’ll go, but I’m just going to write some questions on this pad for you and if you can answer them that would be great.”
Chirp.
Red Feather sits on the bed and begins to write, his peripheral vision keeping an eye on her as she looks on, nattering to herself.
Günn returns, eyes wide and flustered. “We need to go, partner. Now.”
Red Feather nods and finishes, looks up at the girl. “I’m going to leave this right here and I’ll be back in a few hours to check in on you. Sound good?”
The bird girl
Red Feather hears a twitter from above. Looking up he sees the fourth survivor perched atop the closet door, her feet and hands clinging to the frame like a canary on a swing. Close cropped bleach blond hair, ethnically mixed features, a tall frame hunkered into a squatting position, all elbows and knees. Red Feather suspects she’s half white and South Asian. Pakistani maybe?
The bird girl opens her mouth and twitters again, the sound of a mockingbird in a tree. She titters and leaps across the room, landing on the top of the bathroom door, as if to better gaze upon her visitors.
A startled Günn calls out and Red Feather balks, not expecting a human to be able to leap quite like that.
“When she thinks nobody is looking she flies,” Nurse Pratchett says not batting an eye. “Although she does use the toilet when she needs to go.” Pratchett’s shrug says Go figure.
“Um, is she human?” Red Feather asks.
“Her bloodwork looks like someone put fowl DNA in a petri dish with human, so I don’t really know how to answer that question. How much Homo sapiens blood makes one human? A question that I’m sure will plague science for years to come.”
“Does she speak?” Red Feather meets the bird girl’s eyes and smiles, trying to be friendly. She shudders and chatters, jumping and turning her back to them, but craning her neck so as still to see.
“Not that we’ve heard. She makes those bird sounds. She does indeed seem to understand what we say, but without a way to communicate back…” Pratchett shakes her head. “Must be lonely.” She thinks of her son who drifted into what will likely be the coma from which he’ll never awaken just a few days ago. What she’d give to hear him say “Mummy” just one more time.
Red Feather walks further into the room. The bird girl shudders as if ruffling her feathers. “Can you chirp once if you understand what I’m saying?”
The girl shudders again. Eyes Red Feather as if considering his request. Chirps once.
Red Feather smiles wide, which makes her jump back across the room to perch atop the closet. “My name is Detective Red Feather, this is Detective Günn.”
The bird girl settles down.
“Chirp once for yes, twice for no.”
Chirp.
“We’re here to ask you some questions about the rave last night.”
The girl shudders and shakes her head. Chirp chirp.
“You don’t want to talk about it?”
Chirp.
“We really need your help.”
Chirp chirp.
“You won’t help us?”
Chirp.
The girl chitters away in a volley of sounds.
Red Feather winces. “I am so sorry, I don’t understand what you’re saying.”
She’s angry, yammering away in rapid-fire birdspeak.
“Can you write?”
She stops her unintelligible barrage, cocks her head to the side and shrugs. How the hell should I know?
Red Feather’s phone rings, startling the bird girl who squawks in protest. He hands the phone to Günn who answers it and leaves the room.
“Nurse, can we get a pen and a pad of paper in here?”
“Right away.”
The bird girl sniffles.
“This all must be really scary.”
Chirp. Sniffle.
Nurse Pratchett returns with a legal pad, the yellow lined pages almost the same color as the bird girl’s hair. Red Feather reaches out to hand it to her. She shrinks further back into the corner. Tattering, she gestures her head toward the door.
“You want us to leave?”
Chirp.
“Okay, miss, we’ll go, but I’m just going to write some questions on this pad for you and if you can answer them that would be great.”
Chirp.
Red Feather sits on the bed and begins to write, his peripheral vision keeping an eye on her as she looks on, nattering to herself.
Günn returns, eyes wide and flustered. “We need to go, partner. Now.”
Red Feather nods and finishes, looks up at the girl. “I’m going to leave this right here and I’ll be back in a few hours to check in on you. Sound good?”
The bird girl
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