Knowing what i did about the super virus i had been transporting, I was pretty sure it was probably too late anyway, and when i saw the raven take flight from amongst the bits of broken glass, I was sure it was.

But the raven plummetted from the sky, looking for all the world like Harry Whittington, and landed not 50 yards from where we sat. Bessy Mae dashed toward the downed bird.

"Relent!" I commanded, and my beloved pooch halted in her tracks, open mouth mere inched from the infected bird.

It was then that Bessie's ears perked up, as she turned to look over my shoulder and into the sky...

The sky was filled with ravens! Either I had gone over the edge or the birds were organizing their movements.

As if to confirm my suspicions, the birds all executed a movement simultaneously. Alll over my car. And Bessie.

{Do sentence fragments count?}

A rain of black feathers poured down toward us. They gleamed blue-black in the sunlight and then were carried away with the passing breeze that was blowing right toward Philadelphia.


{sentence fragments are optional, I believe}

The birds weren't so much moving as in a flight formation , they were all practising the same movement of pulling their feathers from their bodies with their beaks as they flew - madness, but a madness imposed by the disease spilled from those broken vials - so not only humans were capable of becoming infected...

{Of course your post consisted of two complete sentences, with both subject and predicate (in fact one had two main clauses with a coordinating conjunction), rendering the issue of fragments rather moot. :-)}

Bewildered by the antics of the birds in flight, I glanced back at Bessie, still guarding the downed raven - only to see the bird struggle into the air, desparate to catch its fellow avians as they flew forever onward...

Suddenly, Bessy Maes' head jerked back into the direction of the forest, ... with ravens circling above, and within the trees, ... a strange erie mist, or smokey vale, surrounding an image of what looked like a primative witchdoctor, or shaman, standing with hands raised upward.

Elspode worked his theramin like a man possessed.

Confused, yet mesmerised, ...I again heard the Shaman says these words,
"Elspode worked his theramin like a man possessed", upon which I noticed one of the survivors at the SUV begin to wave and move his arms about, like playing an instrument of some sort.

It was UT playing the thick string guitar, and as his hypnotic melody swelled up to the heavens in conjuction with Patrick's playing:

I call to the East, the power of air
I call to the West, the waters of life
I call to the South, the power of fire
And to earth in the North in the pale moonlight...