A Flock of Ill Omens by Hart Johnson Read Free Book Online Page A

instructions had been given to people about the avian flu.
    Sid found Carina Costas on Facebook and gave her a watered down version of what she was looking for and why. Carina's family was mostly still in the Astoria area. Carina was the first college graduate in a line of hard-working immigrants, so had been the first to seek a job outside the thriving blue collar life Astoria offered. At least, it did when the economy was good.
    She seemed happy to help. “I have a cousin on the docks and an uncle who manages a warehouse. I'd have to call my mom for my uncle's phone number, but I can hook you up with Gianni here on Facebook.”
    Sid let her connect them, and in spite of her discomfort, agreed to have a Skype chat with Gianni. He was a flirt in a backward baseball cap and a wifebeater tank top. Sid had to roll her eyes at the pickup lines, but he did tell her about an incident that would be good for her story, should she get to a story.
    “I got called in at 6 AM last week. Thursday, I think. I work the swing, see, but my supe called at five and said we had an issue. He was calling a bunch of us in. I get there and the freaking river is clogged. I mean not completely, but thick enough nobody could miss it. We had to dredge fucking seagulls to clear the mouth so they could get boats up the river without dragging along a ton of those dead birds. I've never seen anything so nasty!”
    “And what did you do with them?” Sid tried to wipe the disgust off her own face, but it wouldn't go.
    “Gasoline and a blow torch!” He laughed, acting it out with sound effects.
    “Great. And did they close the port?”
    “Twenty-four hours—and they've had us wearing masks all week. There are some kinds of stuff they won't let in, or actually, they confiscate, because now that it's been exposed, they don't want it sold, but I don't know what. My uncle might know.”
    That had been one of her questions—if his father was the uncle Carina had talked about. Apparently not, but it was a shared uncle and he knew the man was in the Astoria phone book. She probably should have thought of that—white pages weren't very helpful with her generation, but for older people, they were still pretty reliable.
     
    Sid decided to contact the uncle on her own the next day. Gianni had given her the experiential side for an article, but a manager would be more helpful for actual facts. What were the authorities being told? And what, in turn, were they telling their employees? Were they passing out the advice to get a flu shot like the law officials in Lincoln City? Was that just so people felt like they had something to do? To avoid panic?
    Astoria was just over an hour from Portland, so it wasn't a bad drive, even if Jeff had told her to avoid the places with the birds. She bought some Airborne and took that prophylactically, hoping it would boost her immune system. She asked Sarah for a face mask, which Sarah, as a nurse, always had. Finally she made an appointment with Mr. Costas' secretary. She was sure he wouldn't be thrilled to see her, but she could convince him.
    When she got there she found the county offices on the northern side of the little peninsula that was Astoria. The buildings seemed so tiny compared to the buildings that housed Multnomah County's employees. The enormity of a water bird disaster in a city surrounded by water on three sides hadn't really hit her until she parked her car and looked around. Gianni had badly under-reported the problem. Astoria was a ghost town. Mr. Costas was in his office wearing a strained face when she found him.
    “Hello, Mr. Costas. Thank you for meeting with me.”
    “Who are you?”
    “Sidney Knight. I went to college with Carina. I'm a freelance reporter and last week I was down in Lincoln City and noticed the bird issue—dead seagulls everywhere. I was concerned about the health and safety here in a port town. I thought maybe it would be a lot worse here.”
    “It's pretty bad. I haven't had