They're coming for one of us.
Burt leaned on his hay fork and looked at his girls, neatly lined up along the two strands of
barb-wire fence. He pulled a thin red bandanna out of his Carhartt overalls,
inspected it until he found a clean spot, and wiped dirt from around his eyes.
"Okay, kids, you're all acting strange. What's the matter?"
The Jerseys broke
rank and surrounded Burt, slime-covered noses probing his hands. A few licked
his fingers with broad curling tongues, and he laughed. "Sorry, no snacks
until after you're milked." Several of the cows tilted their heads, looking
like half-ton Labradors. Burt scratched their
noses and shooed away the bottle flies.
"Time to get
some udder relief." Three of the younger cows crowded the chute leading
into the milking barn, but the rest lingered, surrounding an old milker named Glenda.
They're coming for one of us.
Burt stopped trying
to sort the eager cows and turned towards the herd, his head tilted, one bushy
eyebrow raised, not realizing he was imitating their peculiar behavior. "What?
You girls trying to tell me something?"
"Yo, Milkman!"
Burt jumped
backwards, dropping the hay fork.
"You okay?
Didn't mean to startle you." Dean, the dairy owner, hopped over the corral
gate leading to the pasture.
Burt blushed and
picked up the hay fork. "Sorry, Boss, I guess I was lost in thought."
Dean clapped him on
the back. "I don't pay you to think, old man." The laugh lines around
his eyes bunched up as he smiled; he liked teasing Burt when they talked.
"How are the girls doing today? You pick one out to marry yet?"
Burt shook his head,
"Nope, I haven't. I can't afford the dowry anyway, not on your wages."
"We're paying
you? I need to check with accounting."
They stood together,
watching the cows watching them, when Dean's demeanor changed. "We need to
cull Glenda."
The herd crowded
tighter around the old cow, who burped up an extra-large lump of cud. Her grizzled
head turned to the left, and she stared at Burt with her one good eye.
"I know you
like Glenda, but it's her time. I've sent for Sam to take her the
butcher."
Burt nodded, and was
surprised to discover his eyes watering. "Yeah, I guess we all knew it was
coming sooner or later."
"Okay, then. Go
ahead and get the girls going on the milking machine." Dean didn't look at
Burt's face, out of respect to the old man's feelings. He patted Burt's
shoulder, and left through the pasture gate.
"Stupid old
git, I can't believe you're bawling over walking hamburger." Sam, who had
been eavesdropping, limped through the milking barn door with his hand on an
old six-shooter tucked into his belt, scattering the three young cows from the
entry chute with a string of curses. "You people make me sick."
Burt could see the
contempt and gleam of cruel death on Sam's face as he sized up Glenda.
"She looks a bit like the bull that gored me. I'm gonna enjoy this
one."
He began to push his
way through the herd, smacking the offended cow's noses when they refused to
move. When he reached Glenda, she stood calm and proud.
"I'm sorry, old
girl," Burt whispered.
It's fine, she seemed to say, that's
life. She broke eye contact to give one last glance at her numerous
daughters. They mooed goodbye in unison.
Sam scowled and
kicked at the cow. Burt heard the distinct sound of leg bones breaking. Glenda
went down fast, mooing in agony. Before he realized what he was doing, Burt
lunged at Sam, swinging the hay fork in a wide arc. The flat side of the tines
caught Sam on his jaw, knocking him backwards while he spit out some of his
remaining brown teeth.
Burt looked down and
saw Sam's revolver. He picked it up, and fired one shot.
Glenda exhaled, the
spark leaving her eye as she passed on. Burt tossed the gun at Sam's feet.
"You're done
here, Sam. I'll make sure Dean fires you." The herd crowded around Burt
and bumped him towards the milking barn.
They're coming for one of us.
Burt, still fuming,
tried to direct the cows into their milking stalls, but they kept nosing him.
"I know girls, but Glenda is gone, and I don't have any snacks."
They're coming for one of us.
Burt couldn't get
the cows to move. He didn't notice Sam's silhouette by the door, pistol in
hand.
(First appeared in Every Day Fiction)
Appears in Odd Places, ISBN 978-1-62225-040-0
13 O'Clock: The 2013 Halloween Horrorquest