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the elastic bands over my head, adjusting the length until the breathing pad was tight over my mouth and nose. After Dad had done the same with his, he nodded to go inside.
    Straight away I wished that we’d thought of bringing earplugs as well. Next, the heat of the place hit me, followed quickly by the stink, which somehow managed to filter through the dust mask. It was more than the smell of chook poo; at a higher level again was the stench of death. We soon found out why.
    The cages were stacked four-high on either side of the aisle, staggered so that the droppings fell to the floor and not on the chooks below. It was hard to say how many birds were in each cage, because they were so tightly packed they scarcely had enough room to move. Some had their heads through the front netting, feeding from a trough that ran along all the cages. Below that was a wire net to catch the eggs.
    Those that still had feathers were a pleasant brown colour. Many were unfeathered, with pink skin. Then there werethe ones blackened by death. They were mostly stuck to the bottom of the cages. Some were so rotten that body fluids dripped onto the floor.
    Not all the birds were making a noise. There were those too sick to do anything except wait for death. Soon they would be trampled down by the remaining birds, who, no doubt, would welcome the extra space. That was until they, too, got sick and died.
    And the chooks were not the only dead birds. Shreeves might have cleaned up most of the dead sparrows outside, but nothing had been done inside the shed. They were all over the floor. Some still lay in the food troughs where they had hoped for an easy meal; instead, they’d ended up with a deadly disease.
    We had walked almost the entire length of the first aisle before I remembered why we were there and began looking for Nick. Unless he’d climbed under the cages, he wasn’t on the aisle we were in. When we got to the end, Dad and I split, taking half of the shed each. My aisles were a repeat of the first — each one a nightmare of misery and death. Plus there was no sign of Nick, which meant we would have to do the same thing all over again in the other shed.
    I was following Dad out through the door when, suddenly, he pulled back, almost knocking me over. Before I could complain, he had his hand over my mouth.
    ‘Shhh,’ he said into my ear. ‘People! Security guards!’
    Cautiously I peeked around the edge of the door. There were two of them: big, overweight men with a swaggering walk, heading for the other shed.
    After they’d gone inside, I turned to Dad. ‘What now?’
    ‘We find somewhere to hide — and quickly.’
    The somewhere was behind a small metal shed that sat between the two chook houses. From the shadows, we would see the guards when they moved from one place to the other. That’s if they ever did. If they found Nick inside, then no doubt they’d take him back to their office. What would happen after that was too unpleasant to think about.
    But clearly they didn’t find Nick, for a couple of minutes later we saw them swaggering across to the shed we’d just left. We stayed hidden until, a while later, we saw them heading back to the administration building.
    ‘Where’s Nick?’ I asked.
    ‘Must have gone back to his bike while we were looking at the chooks,’ Dad replied. He thought for a time. ‘Still, I think we’d better take a look in there, just in case.’
    The second shed had the same layout as the first — and the same chamber of horrors. Again we split up in order to search the place quicker. I was the one unlucky enough to find Nick.
    It happened as I turned into my third aisle. Part-way down was this creature, covered in chook poo. Black slime was dripping from its hair. The only hint that it was human was the face that had been wiped clear of poo and slime.
    ‘Hi, Danny,’ he said cheerfully. He held up his phone. ‘I got the evidence.’
    ‘How did you get like that?’ I asked.
    ‘Aw