Bone Harvest by Mary Logue Read Free Book Online Page A

book. She always got mad at him, asking him why he had to sneak up on her. He didn’t mean to. He just didn’t like to make noise. And he found that he learned a lot by being quiet.
    He had been up to this farm recently to buy vegetables and eggs. He knew where all the outbuildings were. He knew that this family was trying not to use any pesticides. He thought that wasn’t a bad idea. But he had to go ahead with his plan.
    It would happen quickly, while they slept. It would be over before they would wake, he hoped.
    He had made the mixture himself. Grain and some Parazone.
    He turned on his special flashlight. A very strong but narrow beam of light cut through the darkness. He held it like a sword in front of him and began to walk. These steps were new for him, but, as always, he counted them. When he got to the door of the building, the number was 107. The right number. He felt like someone had patted him on the back.
    The feeder was right in the middle of the yard. He poured his mixture into it. He went back to the door of the building and shone his light around the inside. The birds slept with their heads tucked into their wings. Some of them lifted up and looked at him, jerking their heads and making a low clucking noise.
    “You are the next step,” he whispered to them.
    He left them to their sleep and carefully walked out the way he came. He hoped it would happen quickly and was glad that he would not be there to see it.

CHAPTER 6
    Whirling chicken, whirling chicken. Jilly Daniels stood in front of the chicken coop with the egg basket in her hand and watched the fluffy chicken they called Lupita whirl in front of her. The brown-striped chicken kept turning as if she were trying to look at something behind her.
    Two other chickens were sleeping by the door. Usually they went into the coop to sleep. Jilly walked up to one and touched it with the toe of her shoe. It didn’t move. So tired. She walked around it and went into the dark chicken coop. She used to be scared to go in alone, but now she was used to it: the dusty smell, the dark, small room, the hay all over.
    She made the rounds of where the chickens left their eggs and didn’t find very many. Only seven. Maybe the chickens were too tired today to lay eggs. Usually she found between fifteen and twenty. She was only six, but she knew how to count up to a thousand.
    She went back out into the sun and looked at Lupita. The chicken had stopped whirling but was still walking funny. Tilted to one side.
    It reminded Jilly of how she felt when she had the flu last winter. Like her head was on crooked. Maybe the chickens were sick. The two by the door hadn’t moved at all. They should be out pecking at the ground.
    What was the matter with them? The chickens were mainly her responsibility. That was what Dad told her when they came and they were only little fluff balls. She had begged him to let her have chickens and he had made her promise that she would take care of them. That meant she had to feed and water and gather their eggs every day. Sometimes when she was reaching under the hens to get the eggs, they pecked her, but it didn’t really hurt. She had learned a lot about chickens, but she had never seen them behave like this before.
    Lupita went head-down into the dirt. Now look at what had happened. Her chickens were falling over.
    Maybe she’d better tell someone, Jilly thought.
    Her mother was out in the backyard, hanging up the sheets.
    “Mom,” she hollered.
    Her mother looked over and waved.
    “Mom, the chickens are acting funny.”
    Her mother didn’t seem to hear her. Maybe she was too far away. Maybe it wasn’t important.
    Jilly looked back at the chickens. Lupita rolled onto her back and started to shake. Jilly had never seen a chicken do anything like that before. It reminded her of Henny Penny, the little chicken who thought the sky was falling. Maybe Lupita was scared and that was why she was shaking.
    “Mom!” Jilly heard her voice rise