Chicken Run: Ginger Wants Babies

By Michael Carruthers ©

CHAPTER 9: All That's Left - Part 1 of a Conclusive 3 Part Chapter

It was hard to look straight, his vision was blurry and he had been concussed for a couple of days. When he could get his eyes fully open, Fowler found he was looking at a beautiful chicken - Ginger. She was caring for him, gently dabbing a cut on Fowler's forehead.

"Ginger…" Fowler stirred.

"And so he awakes," smiled Ginger.

"W-what happened…" said Fowler weakly, blinking several times, his vision still slightly blurred.

"A little to your left," Ginger said somewhat sarcastically. Mac turned his throbbing head to the side and saw, in full view, a large bottle of Friskey Chicksey.

"Oh, alcohol," Mac said. "I remember alcohol."

"You got conked out for the past two and a half days, Fowler" Ginger said disapprovingly. "You've missed out on a lot of the things that've gone on here." Mac looked up at Ginger, now worried. Ginger soaked the flannel she was using in a nearby bucket of water.

"Ginger?" asked Fowler. "What's gone on here?"

Ginger looked lost. She did not know where to begin, or how to even tell the story of deception and horror. She summed it up rather quickly, and did not go into details.

"Mac has betrayed us. After stealing everyone's chicks, she left Chikin Park and is working for someone named Alastor."

A look of genuine terror crossed Fowler's face.

"Ginger…did you say Alastor?" asked Fowler.

"Yes…why? Do you know something?" Ginger said, now intrigued.

"You must be absolutely sure that the name was Alastor!" said Fowler, now alarmed.

"I AM!" screamed Ginger.

"Okay, calm down…by crikey!" Fowler said sternly, reminding Ginger of his RSA days. "Alastor is the Tweedy's pit-bull dog."

Ginger now wore the same terrified expression.

"The big one?" she said foolishly.

"No, Ginger, the small one!" replied Fowler sarcastically.

"God, hold your horses, calm down," Ginger said, shrugging. She buried her head in her palms. "Oh God, what are we going to do!"

***

"WHAT?!" screamed Bunty. "WE'RE…LEAVING!?"

"It's only best," said Ginger, trying to talk over the loud masses of chickens screaming angrily at her and Fowler, who were standing at the front of the Chikin Hall.

"BEST?" roared Bunty. "BEST? AFTER WHAT WE'VE BEEN THROUGH TO GET HERE, AND FOR FREEDOM? NOW WE HAVE TO SEARCH FOR THAT ALL OVER AGAIN!"

"Well, what do you propose we do, Bunty?" Ginger threw back. "Me and Fowler can't think of any other resolution!"

"Oh, but of course it was you and FOWLER who had to decide!" said Rocky in an envious tone. Ginger was surprised.

"Rocky…I'm sorry, but we…"

"Oh, shut up, you twirp," interrupted Bunty yet again. "You can sort out your love life later! Right now we have to decide what all of us are going to do!"

"I don't see why we can't just stay here," said Paula, who was rubbing some mud around in her hands.

"Oh, shut up you seed-brain!" shouted Fowler.

"Hey, tommo!" said Maria in Paula's defence. "She has a point. This is just ONE pit bull dog. We can take ONE."

"We have no proof that it is just one, Maria!" retorted Fowler. "Alastor could've gathered together over TEN dogs…we can take three at the most!"

"Well, why is Alastor even attacking us? What did we ever do to him?" said Rocky. "Apart from piss him off a whole heap when we were at Tweedy's."

"I'll tell you whose fault it is, Rocky!" shouted Bunty. "It's that BLOODY MAC! Always gettin' her face in the dirt, ain't that right? I say we go after her and be done with it! Negotiate with the dogs!"

"Have Mac's head!" said a random chicken from the right side of Chikin Hall.

"WE'RE NOT GOING KILL MAC!" screamed Ginger. Everyone went silent for a few seconds, as Ginger spoke. "That would be murderous…against one of our friends!"

"EX-friends!" said Paula, playing with an empty bottle of Friskey Chicksey. Fowler looked a little concerned.

"Who gives a flying tub of bird seed!" roared Bunty. "Mac plans to kill us!"

"You can't fight fire with fire!" replied Ginger.

"Says who!?" retorted Ginger.

"BLOODY BIRDS!" a voice came from somewhere above the chickens. Every chicken looked up.

"Who is that?" called Rocky. Out of the shadows came Nick and Fletcher. They were standing on a wooden plank holding up Chikin Hall.

"Come to offer some insightful suggestions?" asked Maria rudely. She had always hated Nick and Fletcher, for they set her hair on fire once.

"We've come to offer INTELLIGENCE, to you idiot CHICKENS," said Nick.

"Yeah!" cried Fletcher in agreement.

"Shaddup, Fletch you bugger," nudged Nick. "I told you to let me do to the talking!"

"Sorry, mate," said Fletcher, burrowing his face in his sleeves.

"Anyway, you birds have got to leave!" continued Nick. "We've seen these dogs - there are six at least, maybe more! You don't stand a flamen' chance!"

"What makes you think we should listen to YOU?" said Maria, who had just put on a hat.

"I believe he just said why, perhaps you should stop looking in the mirror and pay more attention," said Paula. All of the chickens, most of whom considered Paula to be the most brainless creature living on this Earth or the next, looked genuinely surprised and impressed with her boldness.

"This coming from the chicken who just argued why we should STAY?" spat Maria.

"This is BOGUS, you HACKS!" screamed Nick. "Enough of these little chick-to-chick arguments and unimportant mutterings! You all have to leave NOW…or you will all DIE!" This shut everyone up instantly. The bickering and arguments stopped. Every eye was now on Nick. "So what'll it be?"

***

"Comfy enough up there, pet?" growled Alastor.

"Quit', darlin'," said Mac, who was riding on Alastor's back as they walked to Chikin Park, the cool night air breezing through Mac's complexion.

"Coul' we hurry it up a bit, Alasta, mate?" said Umar, one of the nine pit bulls on the voyage to Chikin Park.

"There's no rush," replied Alastor.

"But we want some poultrrrrryyyyy," said Jakob, another one of the dogs, who seemed to emphasise the end of every sentence.

"You'll get plenty in time, I promise you," said Alastor. He was always very calm.

"Why can't we 'av her!" asked Umar, licking his lips.

"SHE IS NOT FOR DEVOURING, YOU FOOL!" shouted Alastor, very concerned and protective of Mac.

"Ai'ght, a'ight…" said Umar, backing away.

"Don't worry, buddy," confirmed Chip, a slender and kind-looking, but on the inside very hurtful and destructive, pit bull. "We'll be there soon enough, and there'll be panic, and ruin…"

***

"GEAR UP THE AEROPLANE!" shouted Fowler, walking down the centre of Chikin Park as the chickens were running frantically in and out of their huts, grabbing possessions and loading them onto the Chikin Express, an Aircraft created in Tweedy's Farm to get out Tweedy's Farm. Rocky had taken lookout and was sitting on top of the large tree that he and Ginger had decided they were going to have children on. Fowler and Fletcher were busily readying the control panel of the aircraft and making sure everything was in order, while Ginger and Nick were fixing an error on one of the wings. Ginger was using a screwdriver while Nick held a nail in place.

"You've really matured," said Ginger, randomly out of nowhere.

"Excuse me?" said Nick politely.

"Oh, I was just saying, you've matured," Ginger repeated.

"How so?" Nick asked.

"Just back there…you were really commanding and informative…really caring," Ginger said nicely. "Why?"

"Well…I guess I just like you chickens," said Nick in a joking way, but Ginger smiled at him and Nick smiled at her, and for a single moment she felt hope.

About 20 minutes later, Ginger had climbed aboard the Chikin Express along with every other chicken in Chikin Park, aside from Rocky, who was still on the tree on lookout duty.

"Are we ready to go?" Ginger asked.

"We are," said Fowler. He flicked a few switches and lights gave way.

"BEGIN PEDALLING!" called Fowler to the chickens. "HURRY UP TOO!" The chickens began to pedal and the express came closer to the runway ramp.

"So we'll just pick up Rocky and be off," Ginger said, sighing.

"No, Ginger," said Fowler sadly, not daring to look into her eyes.

"What?" Ginger asked hesitantly.

"Rocky knew what he had to do before taking the job of look-out manager," Fowler informed, as they neared the runway. "He'll find his own way home."

"FOWLER!" Ginger screamed. "NO!"

The aeroplane took off, and many of the chickens clapped as they soared over Chikin Park, leaving it behind. Ginger managed to run between the aisles to look out the very back of the aircraft and had one last look at Rocky.

"Rocky…no…" Ginger said as she cried, Rocky becoming a faint spot in the distance.

To be continued…

Stay tuned! Only two more chapters left!