Saturday, July 16, 2107
Burnaby, British Columbia
At 3:42 pm Pacific Time, preschool teacher Stephanie McMurtry arrives home from a student's birthday party. She takes two bites of leftover Italian cream cake and decides her waistline has had enough. She tosses the rest in the trash, ties the bag, and carries it out to the overflowing bin.
At 10:54 pm, Stephanie falls asleep reading her favorite romance novelist's latest book. Sixteen minutes later, a raccoon leaves a cake-crumb trail across Stephanie's yard and out into the woods.
Sunday, July 17
At 7:23 am, a group of cedar waxwings alights on a power line outside Stephanie's home.
Across the street, avid birdwatcher Alan Brewer, age 72, focuses the zoom lens on his brand new Nikon camera and taps the shutter, giddy with anticipation. Reviewing the images later that day, he will choose and edit a favorite for his young neighbor, Stephanie. Together, they will stand at her doorstep and laugh at the image of a small songbird posing proudly with a beak full of cake.
Within 72 hours, Stephanie McMurtry will infect 886 humans before ceasing to breathe on the floor of an overwhelmed hospital. Of those 886 humans, 74 will be preschool children at the desirable Horizon Hills daycare facility in Vancouver.
Those 74 preschool children will infect a further 18,026 humans over the course of 59 hours. Of those 18,026 humans, only 1,254 will survive.
Stephanie's neighbor, Alan Brewer, having infected 32 humans, will be discovered in his bed by his oldest son. A distraught Gerald Brewer, age 48, will go on to infect another 283 humans before succumbing to his symptoms five days later.
The 283 humans infected by ornithophile Alan Brewer's son will infect another 67,664 humans before succumbing—every last one—within five days of infection. Of those 67,664 humans, each of whom will infect an average of 104 humans, only 7,129 will survive.
But first, a flock of cedar waxwings takes flight.
Monday, July 18
Vancouver Island, British Columbia
The awakening hour. The lightbringer rises at the edge of vision. Soaring high above the forest canopy, Eagle's keen eyes scan the landscape for sustenance. Far below, it spots a flash of movement.
Eagle plunges from the sky, hurtling in near silence toward its prey. Deftly maneuvering its powerful wings, the hunter adjusts its trajectory with lethal precision.
Below, Cedar Waxwing flits nervously between branches, gorging itself on plump, juicy serviceberries. An Eagle-shaped shadow falls over Cedar Waxwing a split-second before the explosive, deadly impact.
In a blur of motion, Eagle snatches Cedar Waxwing and wheels around, ascending to a nearby perch. Two yellow-tipped tail feathers helicopter gracefully to the ground, marking the place of ruin for Cedar Waxwing's season mate.
The forest floor falls silent.
In a towering pine tree overlooking the beach, Eagle's razor talons rip at the delicious carcass. The meat is gone too soon.
Eagle hungers still.
Off the rugged shoreline near its estuary home, Otter floats effortlessly in the water, basking in the lightbringer's first golden rays. Otter dives, its streamlined body gliding effortlessly beneath the surface. Moments later, it emerges, fur glistening in the misty morning light.
Otter cracks open a shellfish, savoring the succulent morsel nestled within.
Hungering still, Otter dives again.
In the crystal-clear water, Otter spies a flash of silver and gives chase. As the trout darts and twists, Otter mirrors its movements, its lithe body cutting through the water with ease. With a deft flick of its tail, Otter emerges triumphant mere moments before Eagle's shadow falls.
Hungering still, Otter dives again.
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
Tuesday, July 19
The shadowless hour. Bear emerges from its den. All senses attuned to its ancient forest home, Bear follows the path of sustenance to the water's edge.
As Bear approaches a clearing in the thicket, its eyes alight on clusters of dark purple berries. With a huff and a gentle touch, the bear strips serviceberries from the bush, ruining two yellow-tipped feathers beneath one massive paw. The berries are gone too soon.
Bear hungers still.
Five miles away, Eagle perches high in a Douglas fir. It cries once, then again, and takes flight. Its insensate wings failing to cooperate, Eagle carves a circular path through the air as it spirals toward the underbrush below.
Eagle comes to rest in a patch of bleeding heart, where it flounders but eventually falls still. High the sky, the lightbringer witnesses. Eagle's chest rises and falls too quickly. Its golden eyes dart from one branch to another as Cedar Waxwing's family draws near. The songbirds pounce on the raptor from all sides, tearing its predatory head from its helpless body. Eagle watches in terror as the bloodied flock devours its body by degrees, exacting their revenge peck by miniscule peck.
The ants, unseen by Eagle's hallucinating brain, begin to feast.
Wednesday, July 20
The silent hour. Bear emerges from its den and raises its muzzle to the aromatic sky. The scent of ruin hangs heavy in the air. Bear's nostrils twitch, instinctively drawn to the source of delicious corruption. Bear follows the path of sustenance to the water's edge.
Emerging from the dense salal, Bear reaches the shore, where dead and dying water creatures have left their liquid home to be consumed. Without hesitation, Bear descends upon the feast, gorging itself on the effortless bounty.
The awakening hour. Bear hungers not. As it prowls the riverbank, protecting its rich store of sustenance, Bear detects a threatening ripple in the water. The disturbance beckons with the irresistible pull of raw instinct. Ears perked, nostrils flaring, Bear inches closer to the water's edge, its prodigious frame tensing with each tentative step.
Otter seizes again. Its tail spasms wildly, sending ripples far beyond its reach.
Bear draws near.
Otter's struggle fades into silence and ruin.
Saturday, July 23
The silent hour. Bear emerges from its den. Beneath its rugged exterior, a throbbing pain pulses inside Bear's head and bones. Bear follows the path of sustenance to the water's edge, its once-vigorous movements now sluggish and labored. Bear's senses blur and distort as the world around it loses its clarity.
Bear bellows. Around it lie the bodies of water creatures, air creatures, and burrowing creatures waiting to be consumed.
Bear hungers not.
The awakening hour. Bear emerges from its den and offers itself up to the lightbringer. Its limbs tremble uncontrollably as it follows the path, not to the water's edge, but deeper into the sanctuary of the forest.
The shadowless hour. Bear, 82 seasons, having infected 216 animals, closes its eyes in the shade of a pine tree and sleeps.