D:L&L - Part 17 | Dot: Friend & Foe

Munchkins were scrambling out of their seats trying to push to the entrance and into the purple fog. Still others broke windows to climb out, letting more of the purple fog in as they attempted to escape. The reaction of their bodies to the fog was almost instantaneous, and I sat there dumbfounded, watching as more and more munchkins dove into the fog. They screeched and screamed, clawing at their throats, tearing their clothes, but it was over in seconds, and I watched as one after another, those trying to flee through the main door, fell down dead.

I was frozen to the spot, my hanging open with the others at my table, when suddenly the pile of tiny bodies began to writhe. And rise.

“What is this,” Melsha hissed. “What’s happening?” She reached for me, and I hopped back out of her reach, suddenly unsure of who and what I was seeing.

“Barkey?” I said, but Barkey was staring, too. He hadn’t moved a muscle, other than to down his beer. Melsha was under the table for the time being, and I had one foot on the floor and one hand on Toto When the bodies began to twitched, I stood, following Barkey, and we backed away against the bar. I felt the bartop shifted against my back, and Barkey lifted it and pulled me to the other side.

“Barkey?” And suddenly, as if I hadn’t had enough nightmares in Afghanistan, one by one the little people climbed to their feet, their faces twisted, eyes black as coal. They groaned and growled, blackened skin drawn against their skull like horrifying, tiny zombies in colorful garb. It was a freakshow, if I’d ever seen one.

“Dot. Dot,” whispered Barkey. “This way.” And he eased the countertop back down, behind us, as if everyone in the bar couldn’t just run underneath it. He waved me in the direction of the back hallway, and we crept toward the door I could see in the distance. I eased my grip on Toto, leaving the holster snapped closed, but all those years of tire hopping and wall-scaling in the Marines were going to help me now. I could see it coming. Hear it, too, as the growling and groaning grew louder.

And then Melsha screamed.

I turned, knowing she was right behind us, sure she’d climbed out from under the table when we’d crossed to the bar, but she wasn’t there. Not her rose-pink cheeks or her little yellow dress. I pushed Barkey’s hand away and took a tentative step back the way we’d come, in the direction of the screaming. And then it stopped, and a dozen monsters came barreling our way.

”Run!”

We crashed through the door, the burly little man and I, hand-in-hand. He pulled me right, towards the back of the bar into an alley. Buildings all around us, but snarling and snapping and screaming and moaning in every direction, too. Stumbling into the street, I whipped my t-shirt up over my nose and ran on, pulling Barkey and his little legs behind me. I had no fucking idea where I was going, but I was faster, and I could see the purple fog rolling up the street behind, hear the Munchkins and humans alike screaming. Straight now, then a zig to the left as figures appeared in front of us. A zag to the right as the purple haze swept through Bright Lettins, threatening to swallow us.

And then it did. Or the Munchkins did. Barkey, his little legs still churning but too slow. He screamed when the first zombie grabbed him, and I spun around, yanked back by his tight grip, Toto coming up. The safety off, I fired three rounds into the two things that leaped on the little bartender, but they tore into him as if my bee stings were nothing more than a nuisance.

“No, Dot, go,” he screamed as the first one tore into his throat, bright fountains of blog leaping out into the dust. “Go, go, go!” And then he was gone, and so was I.

I didn’t wait. I’d already lost Melsha, and now the only other soul I’d spoken to, someone who’d actually heard of grandma. Poor Melsha, but there was nothing to do about it now. I’d lost friends in the Panjshit Valley. Some we saved; some we lost. Some of them we were able to carry home, even when there was no life left in them, and some we’d left behind. Poor Melsha. I couldn’t go back for her. There was only forward, my legs churning, lungs burning, the growls and screams growing distant. But the fog — it was right there.

And so was the river, as I wound around the side of small shack, finding myself at the edge of town and nothing but strawberry red grasses in front of me, just the other side of river.