Chapter 2: Monday
London awoke. The taxis started rolling along and terse businessmen were seen rushing to underground stations to catch the train to work. They knew not that this was to be the last workday of their lives. Something was missing this Monday morning. The skies were clear. Not a pigeon was there in sight. Until eleven o' clock. Then, as a flock, the birds attacked.
With absolute disdain for personal life, they were killed in their thousands. But always there remained more. And this was not because of their sheer multitude in numbers. No, it was far more sinister than that. It was a well known fact that nobody ever saw a dead pigeon. Oh sure, you could hear the odd tale about this guy that found one all squashed on the road, but there has never been a reputable witness saying that they have seen a dead pigeon.
Strange theories has been hinted at in the offices of the FBI and Scotland Yard. Tales of longevity and of madmen who collected the corpses abounded, but they never fell close to the truth. The truth was sinister. Pigeons were not many smelly birds. They were, rather, an entity. This entity lived as an entity imperceptible by our senses. However, many times have people seen dogs and cats acting strangely when the human eye saw nothing. That was the presence of the Pigeon. The birds that we see as pigeons are only the physical manifestation of the Pigeon.
Children screamed as pigeons attacked. Pretty soon, everybody noticed that this was something serious. The police and the fire brigade were called. The mass of the pigeons was so great that by swooping en masse they managed to overturn double-decker buses. The fire brigade arrived and started to pump water onto the birds. However, the birds not being drenched soon put a stop to that by ripping the hose pipes and attacking the firemen.
The army was called. It arrived with its tanks, but found little to protect. The straggling survivors of the attack were being rapidly picked off by the murderous birds. The tanks shot shell after shell at the birds, but never seemed to hit one. The sheer battering force of the birds against the tanks reduced them to lumps of scrap metal, and the soldiers bailing out met their doom at the beaks of the pigeons.
Over the Atlantic, bomber planes were already rushing. However, their mission was not to attack the feathered menace. Their mission was to control their spread…at all costs. As they came in sight of Ireland a specific order came over their headphones. With heavy hearts, the pilots flew on. At noon, the first nuclear explosion on an inhabited area since 1945 was seen flowering across the skyline of London. London had been destroyed.
Next day, some radio ham enthusiasts crept out of an old nuclear shelter. They had intercepted the final order. They did not see the body of a single pigeon.
Read Chapter 3 of this fantastic epic