Planet of the Turkeys

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11/29/19 SCREAMS!!! Contest WINNER!!! on

I, like all of the other CIA operatives, had been dispatched immediately when the White House had notified the nation's strategic defenses of the first ever DEFCON 1 alert.

It had been too late.

An army of turkeys 100,000 strong had launched a ferocious assault, organized in retaliation for years of Thanksgiving atrocities. It had attacked the capital of the United States and left no one alive. The Pentagon? The Capital? The White House? Everyone dead, eviscerated in avian fashion, the entire nation's capital devastated beyond recovery in that initial assault.

I was an assassin, a sharpshooter who specialized in wet work abroad for the intelligence agency. I was the first woman ever to hold the role. I had received orders to assassinate the first available target between Gobble, the organizer of the turkey sleeper-cell network throughout the world, and Begawk, the general that was in charge of the enemy's U.S. operations. I intended to carry those orders out, regardless of the chaotic state of U.S. resistance to its greatest-ever threat. I always completed my orders, and, by God, I would complete these.

I stalked the perimeter of the turkey army that night, every stray cluck and cry sending a pulse of terror through my normally cold-blooded veins. I stopped and hid behind a downed tree for cover to rest and eat an energy bar.

One hundred yards before me, I saw two turkeys drag an injured woman by each arm to the open field. The two held her down while a third walked up, clucking evilly as it went. It came to a stop next to the poor woman's neck and stared at her for a horrifying eternity, its dark eyes promising a dark fate. Then, it struck. It slammed it's sharp, bloody beak down into her carotid, spraying a burst of blood across the field, nearly to my hiding place.

Take your stinking beaks off her, you damn, dirty turkeys! I thought.

I looked away as the foul things continued to peck her face into mush. I couldn't watch. Even to me, the atrocities that these turkeys were capable of performing, desecrating an already dead body--it was sickening. These turkeys were inhuman, remorseless killers that could never be redeemed.

I began to move again, deeply disturbed at the foul behavior of the turkeys, despite my familiarity with blood and death. These turkeys were heartless at a level that even a coldblooded killer couldn't handle. Their beady little eyes--their cold, calculating gazes--would haunt me for the rest of my life, a life that was likely to be very short based on my current mission.

I tried to push the fear from my mind, taking deep breaths to slow my racing heart. I had been in Afghanistan, Iraq, and Syria. Those had been afternoon picnics when compared with this. God help me. God help us all.

I spotted another gaggle of turkeys and dropped, trying not to breathe. Luckily, the little, clucking monsters didn't notice me, so I began to crawl, taking care to stay within the long grass of the field and out of their line of sight.

Finally, I spotted it! The head turkey encampment! Bags of grain were lined up along the encampment, filthy beak holes in every one. The nasty buggers were not even concerned about supplies, having massacred the population of the greater DC area now. They were probably massing for an attack on New York next and no longer needed a Washington area supply channel.

I tried not to think about the millions of New Yorkers fleeing in terror before the overwhelming military might of the turkey army, but it was difficult not to. I wouldn't sleep tonight, even if I managed to survive--that was certain. The image of the destruction of New York would haunt me too much.

I continued my stealthy approach, when suddenly, a turkey leapt on me, pecking at me with the feral joy of an insane killer. Thankfully, my body armor provided enough protection to save me from its horrible blows. I drew my knife and stabbed. A puff of feathers told me that my aim had been true, and a splatter of blood and a soft thump informed me that I had brought down one of the wretched beasts.

I paused for a moment to catch my breath and compartmentalize the horror that would forever be etched on my psyche from the brutal surprise attack.

When I continued forward, I experienced my first turkey IED. My hand came down into brown, fecal mush, which blew apart with explosive force, splattering onto my face and chest. The fetid odor wafted to my nostrils, and I retched. Was there no end to the nasty tactics that my hideous enemy was willing to employ? When this was over, if they weren't already dead, Gobble and Begawk were certain to face the death penalty at the Hague for war crimes beyond anything the world had ever seen.

Finally, I was to the turkeys' leadership tent, a downed billboard that had collapsed when a truck driver had veered off the road and smashed into it with three turkeys hanging from his bloodied neck.

A turkey emerged, and I readied my pistol, taking aim. I recognized the turkey's red markings just behind the eye. It was Begawk! Maybe I could end this relentless reign of terror in one shot? I aimed and began to squeeze the trigger, when suddenly a dozen turkeys, maybe more, attacked me. One of them wrested the gun from my grip with a victorious *gobble*. I don't even know how he managed it with his bony wing, but he did. Had humanity's last hope died in that moment? Was I responsible for making this a planet of turkeys? A massive wave of guilt crashed over me. I had cost my entire species on this day. I cried out in horror, tears bursting from my eyes, as the turkeys ripped my flesh apart. I deserve this death, this agony, I thought.

When I was about to lose all hope, I heard the roar of a jet engine, of air support. Could it be? Could humanity really be saved?

The jet streaked overhead, flying low, readying missiles to thin enemy numbers.

A gaggle of turkey rocketed into the sky, on a suicide mission to take down the fighter. Their bodies slammed against the cockpit, like avian rain. Others clogged up its engines, causing explosions to rock the sky.

The fighter jet spun as it descended until it crashed... directly into the White House in a massive fireball as its armaments were triggered by burning fuel.

I looked on in horror, turkeys biting flesh from all of my limbs. I cried out.

"They blew it up! God, damn you, turkeys! Damn you all to hell!!!"

They pecked out my eyes and the world went black.

I had failed. The earth was destined to become a planet of turkeys after all.

Happy Thanksgiving? Pfffft. Right.

1,165 words

*Gobble* *Goggle* *Bugawk* ! 1,165 words for the SCREAMS!!! Thanksgiving Contest on
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