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curiosity; like it didn’t know what to make of me. Its beak opened slowly, almost as if it was gently yawning. But what came next wouldn’t be gentle. I’d seen it enough times to know. It would flash forward, its beak sinking deep into the soil. The jaws would snap shut then I’d be sent tumbling with a load of earth and seedlings down into the bowels of its stomach.
    I glanced sideways, to make sure my timing wasperfect. The other two Catchers lay still. They’d already been dealt with.
    My Catcher seemed to notice this at the same time I did. It stopped moving, its eyes frantically revolving in their sockets with tiny squeaking noises. But it saw the trap coming far too late.
    Blake sprinted out from where he’d been hiding beneath one of the defeated Catchers, next to the suddenly calm Sally. He slid on his knees when he got to me, like a striker after scoring a spectacular goal. His hand arched up and over, the net he’d been holding there unfolding gracefully. It spread through the air and came down over the Catcher’s head.
    And that was it. When I’d first tried out the nets I’d expected a few sparks, maybe a thump or something. But no. Without a fanfare the chicken’s signal was cut off and it became just another useless lump of metal.
    “He shoots, he scores!” Blake crowed, getting to his feet and dancing around with his arms in the air.
    I breathed out sharply before hauling myself to my feet. “You took your time,” I told him.
    “You were such good bait. I was enjoying your performance.”
    “Well next time enjoy it less and act quicker.”
    “Alright. Though I don’t know why you were worried. That was pretty easy.”
    “Yes. It was easy…” I frowned. “Blake, get your people over here right now.”
    “Why?” he asked, though he was sensible enoughto begin beckoning them over before I answered his question. The farmers had already left and just us and Sally remained.
    “Because that was easy. Too easy. The chicken piloting this thing was good. Too good to fall for something we’ve done so many times. Look at these Catchers. They’re so basic. And look – there are dents from bullets and stuff. We shouldn’t have been able to take them down so quickly.”
    “Which means…” Blake’s eyes narrowed as he got it too “…that wasn’t an attack.”
    “It was a diversion.” I nodded, as a scream, quickly silenced, sliced through the air.
    “That was Benny,” Blake said. “It came from over there.”
    We moved as one in the direction of the scream, Sally still clutching her trusty shovel. When we got there we found a crumpled body beside a bush. Benny lay still, not moving.
    “Is he alright?” someone asked, but Sally was already rushing forward. She bent down beside him, smoothing back his hair and checking his pulse.
    “He’s breathing normally,” she told us, the confidence in her voice reassuring. “But he’s unconscious. I don’t know what could have cause—”
    Sally was cut off by a second scream as something enormous, black and chicken-shaped burst from the bushes beside her. It was on to her in a second, moving oddly. Parts of it seemed to open up and flow over her, sucking her into its cavernous gut. She was draggedbackwards into the bush, which rustled a few times and was still.
    A second after getting over our shock we tore in after her, brushing leaves and twigs away from our faces.
    “Sally!” I yelled. “Sally!”
    “What happened? What was that?”
    “I don’t know, Blake. But make sure it doesn’t get away with Sally.”
    We hunted around for a while, calling her name, but we all knew it was no good.
    Sally had been taken.
    We finally made our way back to the main battleground and found the Catchers also gone. Our nets lay shredded on the ground. Beside them was a single black feather.
    Ever since the beginning of the chicken apocalypse I don’t think I’d ever felt so defeated.
    I looked at Blake and saw that he was feeling the same way.