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Attack of the Ducks

The clock struck one; the fog rolled into the city. New York City was usually a pretty lively city at night. But tonight, it was dark and quiet. Emily and I, dressed in all black clothing, crept alongside the endless rows of buildings that lined the streets of New York City like traffic barriers that line the sides of highways. The thick fog coupled with the impeccable darkness of the night and thickness of the fog made it impossible for Emily and I to see more than five feet in front of us. No one dared to be out at this hour. Even the prostitutes, who were always out in droves by now, were nowhere to be seen. No one dared be out when the ducks began to attack.

The duck attacks began a couple months ago. What started out as a lone attack in Madrid, Spain, quickly increased to more attacks in many other major cities around the world, including London, Los Angeles, Paris, Beijing, and Hong Kong. The worst and most frequent attacks happened in New York City. Of course, the city I lived in.

According to local news reports and eyewitnesses, the ducks only attacked at night and seemed to prefer largely populated areas. The ducks used a dive-bomb technique when they attacked and they attacked in swarms by the thousands. So far, 150 people had died and thousands more had been injured as a result of these attacks. People began to think that this was the beginning of the end of the world and began to prepare themselves for the end.

Emily and I had always been environment-friendly savvy and had always had an interest in animals and their behaviors (we both held Master’s Degrees in Ecology and PhD’s in Animal Behavior), so it was only natural to expect that we would both want to study the ducks to see if we could figure out what had caused these cute, cuddly creatures to become such malicious beasts on the turn of a dime.

As Emily and I crept down the eerily silent streets of New York City, we kept scanning the thick wall of fog above our heads, searching for any sign that a duck might be swooping down to attack us. We were both on edge, and our own slight movements made both of us jump sometimes. We walked for two whole hours before we encountered the first duck or rather, the first duck encountered us. The duck caught both of us completely off guard. Emily and I had given up on the idea of seeing the ducks tonight and had let our guard down, so we shrieked and jumped in fright when the webbed feet of a duck brushed across the tops of our heads. Breathing heavily and trying to calm our racing hearts, Emily and I looked up just in time to glimpse another duck making a beeline for our heads. A little more ready this time, we dropped to the ground instead of jumping into the air. As we lay face-down on the ground, I whispered to Emily,

“This is it. The beginning of the attack. Let’s try to find where the ducks are coming from. Stay low so we’re not such an easy target for the ducks.”

The closer to the heart of New York City we got, the more frequently the crazy ducks attacked us. The sound of ducks quacking and wings flapping, which sounded a lot like gun fire, quickly became deafening and completely overpowering. High on the adrenaline coursing through our veins, Emily and I were about to go around the next street corner when a swarm of ducks starting dive-bombing Emily. They came out of nowhere and just attacked her, not me.

This is so weird, I thought to myself. The ducks were attacking both of us just a few seconds ago. I wonder why they’re not attacking me anymore.

I should have waited for Emily, should have done something to try to help her, but the ducks were relentlessly attacking her, and curiosity about what was around the corner got the better of me. I yelled to Emily as best I could over the overpowering noise of the ducks that I would be right back and pointed in the direction of the next street. I don’t know if Emily actually heard what I said. I thought I saw her do a sort of half nod, but it could have easily been Emily slightly turning her head to avoid a duck.

What lay before me as I crawled around the next street corner was like a scene out of a movie. I was in Times Square. I could tell because all the fog in this particular area had cleared and, even though there were ducks everywhere, I could make out some of the Broadway signs. In the very center of Times Square there was a large hole with a mellow yellow light emanating from it. A constant stream of ducks was flooding out of the hole. I stood there, completely speechless.

A loud rustling sound snapped me out of my daze and back to reality. All of the ducks were flying up into the air and disappearing into the thick blanket of fog above my head. Half hoping, half convincing myself that the ducks were going away for good, that they were flying away to attack other people somewhere else in the world, I started to walk towards the hole with the yellow light. As if on cue, just as I was about to peek into the hole in the ground, the ducks began to attack me. Turning my back to the hole, I attempted to fight the ducks off, but there were too many of them. As I fought, I caught glimpses of Emily out of the corner of my eye. She was standing against the side of a building, her eyes and mouth wide open, gaping, staring, doing nothing to help me. She was paralyzed in awe and fear of the ducks. She didn’t even notice when a couple of ducks started to attack her again.

I didn’t realize where I was standing until I started to lose my balance. Quickly assessing my situation, I realized that I was teetering on the edge of the hole that was emanating the yellow light; the hole where the ducks had come from. As I tried to regain my balance, a large group of ducks flew past me. The gust of wind from the ducks flying by sent me tumbling backwards into the hole.

As I literally tumbled into the pit of the unknown, I hollered to Emily, my voice ricocheting off the sides of the hole like one’s voice does when yelling into a canyon,

“Emily, this is where…..the ducks…………..come………………………..from!”

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