CRACKED: An Anthology of Eggsellent Chicken Stories by J. Posthumus (feel good novels txt) 📗

wall of the truck bed. “That don’t look right. You see what it is?”

“Nope,” I said, turning back to my Dirt Cheap toy clearance special. “I would kill for an actual telescope about now.”

“Is it a meteor? Is it… coming toward us?” I looked back at Merryl as he licked his bottom lip. Knowing him, he was calculating the amount it would be worth if we could find and sell it—and the portion we would split with Perry, whose sparse equipment we used to hunt for fallen sky-rocks.

I snickered. “Would we be so lucky?”

I turned my attention back to our falling rainy-day fund. It glowed brighter, and, it seemed, larger. I prayed to the gods of the stars that it landed nearby, close enough for us to locate and grab it. But, as the words left me, my mouth dried.

What was it? A satellite?

It was too small to be one, unless it was a broken piece of one, but no other visible debris accompanied it. Oblong in shape, it appeared to tumble end-over-end, like an egg rolling down a bowling lane, all the while growing in size… and getting closer.

“It’s speeding up.” Merryl said.

I sighed. “It’s not speeding up, Merryl. That’s physics. It appears that it is due to our angle of observation.”

“Good for you, passing freshman physics, sir, but that thing is moving completely outside of its trajectory.” He pointed to the sky behind me.

I turned, my smirk waning, to see the darned thing zig-zagging before my eyes. My hands trembled, possibly from the sight, or perhaps from the cold of the desert land that stretched out around me. Even with my less-than-optimal vision, I knew this was no normal meteoroid.

I blinked, and it changed course again, and this time, headed due South—directly toward the distant parking lot lights of our tiny main building.

“Holy shit,” I said, a more intellectual vernacular failing me. The truck door slammed again behind me, and the bed shook beneath me, as Merryl climbed into the driver’s seat.

“Hold on,” he yelled over the roar of the engine.

I white-knuckled the walls of the truck bed as we bounced through the pasture. A fishtail onto the meager dirt road connecting our pastures to our center, and we hit our shortcut down an “ATV/TRACTOR USE ONLY” marked path.

We raced the object, praying we could get Perry out before it wrecked the facility.

As we blew past the “All Visitors Check IN at Front Desk” sign and the dim parking lot lights, a flash of brilliance shot out around the object, blinding us.

Merryl slammed on the brakes, and I crashed into the back window, the thud of my head striking glass covered up by a louder plunk of something heavy striking dirt.

It hit and, whatever it was, it rested right in front of us.

“What on God’s green Ear—” Dr. Perry yelled, the bang of the steel entrance door ringing behind her. “Sounded like a demon tore through my roof.” She looked back at the roof and then turned to me. “Did a meteor just land in our parking lot?”

“That’s no meteor,” Merryl answered. He moved near it, the volume of his voice softening. “It’s probably an Air Force experiment or one of them Chinese satellites.”

I pulled myself up and peered over the roof of the truck. A hole, at least the height of Merryl, had opened in the dead center of the lot, and its edges glowed red with molten rock. Perry took a step back, a hand running through her long dishwater blonde hair, the other adjusting the black-rimmed glasses on her face.

“Can you see what it is?” I called out. Perry shrugged, but Merryl pressed on, kicking a path through the red-hot rocks with his boots.

“It’s small, whatever it is. JESUS BE WITH ME, HOT!” He shook his right foot in the air, and a string of liquid leather sole dripped from the bottom.

“Get away from there, dumbass,” Perry yelled.

Merryl ignored her, as usual, and walked until he stood at the edge of the crater.

“What the—” he said, and as Perry and I both yelled for him to stop, he jumped into the hole, and only the small tuft of his brown hair remained in sight.

“You okay?” I yelled as I clamored over the side of the truck. The heat of the Earth radiated through my boots as I trod toward Merryl.

“It’s an egg,” Merryl shouted. “Like a damned chicken or turkey. No, too small for a turkey. It’s got to be chicken.”

“What?” Perry walked near as well, her lithe limbs dancing around the debris.

We exchanged a look, wide-eyed and incredulous. Her brow wrinkled. “Wait, Merryl. Do not touch it!” She sprinted toward him, and I followed her lead.

We arrived in time to peer down on Merryl as he picked up the egg with his right hand. “It’s cold as ice. How could a chicken egg survive that kind of fall?” He lifted the object near his face, examining it. “No cracks, either.”

It moved, rocking in the palm of his hand.

His eyes widened, and I reached out for him. “Set it down and climb out.”

“I think it’s hatching,” he said, moving his face closer. A small tapping sound floated through the air. Merryl held it up higher, straining to see it without his eyeglasses.

A crack formed and splintered, until it stretched the length of the egg. A tiny, triangular piece of shell dropped onto Merryl’s hand, revealing a small black hole. Merryl brought it closer to his eye, and I shuddered.

“Hey, little guy. Where did you come from?” His voice was soft and baby-like. “It’s a little chick.”

“What?!?” Perry shrieked.

“Merryl, it can’t possibly be—” I started to reason with him, but words failed me.

Merryl smiled and looked back at the egg in his hand. It rocked again, and, this time, the egg splintered apart, leaving a scrawny brown chick standing on Merryl’s palm.

It chirped.

“Aw, what a cute little buddy,” Merryl said to it, lifting it to his eye-level. “How in the wor—”

The chick’s beak opened and a