Tick Tock

dazed and confused.
    Stalk-legged and ungainly in appearance, the giant blue heron was nevertheless a graceful creature—except in this instance. It tottered off the promenade onto the dining terrace, weaving around the boles of the palm trees, curling and bending its long neck as if the muscles were so loose that it couldn't hold its head up, in general performing as if inebriated.
    One by one the blackbirds stopped flopping on the concrete, hopped onto their feet, shook themselves, spread their wings, and soared into the air.
    The pair of gulls regained their composure. They also took wing and disappeared into the deep black sky above the harbour.
    Having regained its equilibrium, the heron sprang onto one of the tables on the dining terrace and stood erect, its head held high, surveying the night on all sides, as if surprised to find itself in this place. Then it, too, departed.
    Tommy sucked in a deep cool breath and blew it out and said, “What the hell was that?”
    “Birds,” Del said.
    “I know they were birds, even a blind man would know they were birds, but what were they doing?”
    The dog shook itself, whined, and padded to Del rubbing against her as if for comfort.
    “Good Scootie,” she said, crouching to scratch the dog behind the ears. “Him were so quiet, so still. Him good baby, him is, mommy's little Scootie-wootums.”
    Scootie wagged his tail happily and chuffed.
    To Tommy, Del said, “We better get out of here.”
    “You haven't answered my question.”
    “You have so many questions,” she said.
    “Right now, only this one about the birds.”
    Rising from beside the dog, she said, “Will you feel better if I scratch behind your ears too?”
    “Del, damn it!”
    “They were just birds. Agitated about something.”
    “More than that,” he disagreed.
    “Everything is more than it seems, but nothing is as mysterious as it appears to be.”
    “I want a real answer, not metaphysics.”
    “Then you tell me.”
    “What the hell is going on here, Del, what have I gotten into the middle of, what is this all about?”
    Instead of answering, she said, “It might come back. We better get moving.”
    Frustrated, he followed her and Scootie off the carousel and into the rain. They went down the steps to Edgewater Avenue along which the thousands of birds had flocked.
    At the end of the wall and the iron railing that defined the raised area where the carousel stood, they stopped and peeked out warily along the Fun Zone, east to where the demon had disappeared. The beast was nowhere to be seen. All of the birds were gone as well.
    Scootie led them onto the promenade.
    A few dozen feathers in different hues were stuck to the wet concrete or floated in the puddles. Otherwise, it would have been easy to believe that the birds had not been real, but a phenomenal and phantasmagoric illusion.
    “This way,” Del said, and she headed briskly west, the opposite direction from that in which the Samaritan-thing had gone.
    “Are you a witch?” Tommy asked.
    “Certainly not.”
    “That's suspicious.”
    “What?” she asked.
    “Such a direct answer. You never give them.”
    “I always give direct answers. You just don't listen to them properly.”
    As they passed between the Fun Zone Game Room and the Fun Zone Boat Company, between Mrs. Fields Cookies and the deserted Ferris wheel, Tommy said exasperatedly, “Del, I've been listening all night, and I still haven't heard anything that makes sense.”
    “That just proves what bad ears you have. You better make an appointment to see a good audiologist. But you sure do kiss a lot better than you hear, tofu boy.”
    He had forgotten the kiss that they had shared on the carousel. How could he possibly have forgotten the kiss? Even with the sudden arrival of the Samaritan-thing followed by the astonishing flock of birds, how could he have forgotten that kiss?
    Now his lips burned with the memory of her lips, and he tasted the sweetness of her darting tongue as though it was still in his mouth.
    Her mention of the kiss left him speechless.
    Maybe that had been her intention.
    Just past the Ferris wheel at the intersection of Edgewater Avenue and Palm Street, Del stopped as if not sure which way to go.
    Directly ahead, Edgewater was still a pedestrian promenade, though they were nearing the end of the Fun Zone.
    Palm Street entered from the left. Though no parking was allowed along it, the street was open to vehicular traffic because it terminated at the boarding ramp to the Balboa Ferry.
    At this hour