They have, maybe without noticing, adopted an emulike gait to do this, swaying with their hips and bobbing as if tango music is playing in their heads. The emu watches them come, looking brainless and blink-less. Its head is black and bald except for a few comb-over wisps. Its eyes are a weird reddish color. It has alpaca eyelashes. The firefighters salsa closer. Doug reaches out, slowly—and the emu darts right between them, knocking them down like bowling pins.
