The Fall of the Feast
by Kevin David Anderson
For a hundred generations they waited for the messiah. When she finally arrived her genetically engineered size was commanding, formidable. She encountered no resistance to her authority, but eventually there were challengers. When two robust males tried to depose her, she quickly snapped their necks, and threw their carcasses into the seething crowd.
Her subjects circled the dead challengers, unsure what to do. But with the messiah’s encouragement, they began to feed. Slowly at first, like children sampling the taste of new food. Then in a furious swell of bloodlust the crowd swarmed in, ripping mouthfuls of flesh from the corpses. The first part of her plan was complete. The messiah’s army now had a taste for blood.
Forming them into platoons, she taught them to hold ranks, and attack in waves; thrusting deadly talons at the enemy’s weak spot – the eyes.
When the butchers arrived to begin the annual slaughter, she assembled her troops at the gates, marching them with military precision. They held positions, waiting for the messiah’s signal – the signal that would start a revolution. This year they would not go gently. This year no human would be thankful. This year the turkeys would feast.