Barb and Mei rested on the porch steps until Barb’s hip stopped screaming at her. Once the adrenaline wore off, the dull ache that ran down her hip and leg had turned into a bolt of pain. She hadn’t experienced sciatica before, but something told her this was pretty close to it.

“Does this mean lawn bowls is off?” Mei asked. “I could’ve done with a bit of exercise. My hubby won’t go walking with me, you see. Says I stop and start too much.”

“Do you?”

Mei balked. “I suppose I like to inspect a front garden here and there. But I’m old! I can’t walk very far without a rest anyway. And I certainly couldn’t wield a broom like you’ve just done. What’ll we do if more of those creatures come?”

“Goblins,” Barb said, enunciating the word and pointing at what was left of the one she killed. “Calling them creatures isn’t right. And if more come, we’ll be in trouble. We need to tell everyone who lives around the construction site to leave their homes. Can I come in and use your phone?”

Mei grabbed the porch railing and hauled herself up. “Absolutely. But be warned, it’s one of those eye-phones. I’ve no clue how to use it.”

***

Once inside, Barb sat at the dining table and navigated Mei’s phone. There were pages and pages of apps, ranging from puzzle games to cloud storage services to fitness trackers. It was like Mei had visited the App Store in a frenzy and simply downloaded all of it. Barb cut through the chaff and used the search function to find the ‘Phone’ app, then plugged in the staff number from memory. She had the number ingrained in her brain, courtesy of a fridge magnet at home where it was printed in bold letters.

The phone jingled twice then cut out. There was no ringtone or scratchy computer voice urging her to leave a message. She tried again and got the same result.

“Mei? Are you able to call people on this?”

The slightly older woman looked up from where she was pouring two mugs of tea. “My daughter said that I can, but I’ve not worked out how. She can get through to me, though. Calls on Thursdays and Sundays if she doesn’t have time to drop by.”

Barb returned to the conundrum. Something told her that Mei’s inability to make calls was not a fault of the device. No, this was new. This was the work of the goblins, or that blasted dome surrounding their village. It was blocking her calls, stopping the micro waves or radio waves or whatever they were from bouncing around where they needed to go.

This discovery cemented the next step of her plan. Escaping the dome had always been a priority, but now she had another reason to do so. Someone needed to call the Army and tell them to bust in here with their shotguns and explosive ordinance to take out the encampment of foul monsters hiding under Sunny Hill’s newest development. The carers were probably on it already, but Barb wasn’t going to sit tight and wait.

“Mei, we’re going to have to walk to the main building. Someone there might know what’s going on, and we’ll at least be further from the goblins. Do you have another broom?”

“Out in the garage, yes.” She was nibbling at one of the cucumber slices that formerly covered her eye. Barb was a firm believer that no amount of eye cream or moisturiser could ever hope to win the battle against old age, but she had to admit that Mei’s face was decidedly youthful, at least considering her age.

“Come with me and bring the garage door ditter, then.” She strode down the short hallway, steeling her nerves. “And would you mind putting that tea in a thermos? I’m parched.”

***

Mei fumbled around in the garage for a few minutes, tiptoeing around a jungle of old furniture (‘for entertaining’, she claimed) and lifting up stacks of old newspapers as though a broom might be hiding underneath. Eventually, Barb peeled a decaying mattress away from the wall and found a broom lying behind it in the dust.

“That’s the one,” Mei admitted, looking none too proud of her unbecoming trove of goodies. Barb didn’t judge — her garage was just as chaotic, though most of her and Jeff’s belongings had a purpose, she told herself.

The broom had short straw thistles jutting out from the end, all stitched together with tight strips of blue twine. The wooden handle showed the usual chipped areas of heavy use. All in all, your usual straw broom. But once again, when Barb shoved her arm down the back of the mattress and touched it, the broom transformed. The handle turned to silver, though with a new addition of red flecks dotted throughout. The short thistles merged together into a wide piece of metal, like a thoroughly sharpened snow shovel.

Mei goggled at the transformation and accepted the weapon, holding it out from her body as though it might infect her with something.

“You’re not suggesting I use this, are you?” she asked.

The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

“I hope we don’t have to,” Barb replied. “But we might not get a choice.”

Mei looked less excited about their departure. She unscrewed the lid from the thermos and downed a gulp before looking over her weapon once more.

“This isn’t lawn bowls, Barb. I didn’t sign up for this.”

“I know, Mei, I know.” Barb took the thermos and side-hugged her for support. “But my Jeff’s gone, and so is your husband. A lot of the brawnier nurses went too, lugging around golf bags and chairs and whatnot. Besides, I think you and I are better situated to fight these things than some of the staff. Can you imagine that receptionist, Timothy, out here facing them down? He’s about as thin as these brooms.”

Mei laughed. “Scared of insects, too. I was in there waiting for a taxi the other day, had to scoop up a moth that landed near his tablet-thingy.”

“Exactly!” Barb smiled at her. “Age is experience, I say. And we might not know much about goblins, but we’ve been overcoming hardship since even young Timothy’s father was a twinkle in his father’s eye. So? Are we doing this?”

Mei rolled her eyes, but a smile crept onto her face. She looked down at the bathrobe cinched tight around her waist and the hot pink jacket she’d pulled on over it. Her bones and her joints told her ‘No, definitely not’, but to hell with them. She’d been old for far too long. It was time to be young again.

“We’re doing this.”

The not-so-dynamic duo stepped out from Mei’s garage and faced the goblin’s repose. A swarm of narrow yellow eyes peeked out at them, watching and waiting. Barb just hoped they’d wait long enough for her and Mei to escape. They did not dare place their backs to the construction site, instead crab-walking down the sidewalk with their weapons raised high above their heads. When they reached the edge of the block, Mei turned around and guided Barb as she walked backwards, still facing down the monsters. They held formation until the goblins seemed to lose interest, instead staking out the neighbour’s houses.

“What about Loretta?” Mei suddenly yelped. “And Robin!”

“I haven’t forgotten,” Barb answered. “Bonny lives a few doors down, too. It’s more important for us to get to the staff. There’re vans at the main building — they can drive around and collect everyone.”

“Are you sure they’ll be okay until then?”

Barb made a face that she was glad Mei couldn’t see. It made it easier to lie. “They’ll be fine. They’ll stay in their homes and wait for us.”

“I hope you’re right.”

***

The main building was called The Hub, but Barb didn’t like using that name. Amongst many other things, it contained a palliative care ward which housed those residents who needed a steady drip of morphine and IV fluids for their final few days or weeks. Once someone had ‘gone Hub’, their lawn-bowling days were over. When her and Jeff’s neighbour, Ezra, had come up on the end of his lymphoma prognosis, the other residents started saying that ‘Ezra is going Hub’, or ‘Ezzy’ll be Hubbing next’ as though they weren’t gossiping about the final travels of a dying man.

Either way, Barb abhorred the term, preferring to call the place the main building. It was a white, blocky structure, designed for long, straight hallways and easy navigation. The check-in lobby was the only flashy part; full of bright décor and criss-crossed wooden floors that made a delightful clip-clop sound when those with aging parents came to tour the place. Wheelchairs usually whizzed in and out like pedestrians at the Shibuya Crossing, each steered by a nurse or staff member. Only the appearance of a giant obfuscating dome could possibly slow down the traffic, as it had done now. The lobby was virtually empty.

“Barbara! Mei! What are you doing? What’s happening?”

They turned to the east wing, where a young female nurse was trotting toward them. Her moss-green scrubs matched her emerald sneakers and the flecks of mint-green in her hair. Barb did not know the names of all the nurses, but she knew Miranda. Some of the less genial gentlemen at Sunny Hill had made creepy comments guessing at whether she wore green underwear to match the rest of her clothing. An ancient man by the name of Arnold (recently ‘gone Hubbing’, thankfully) had asked Miranda directly if he could confirm their suspicions, to which the nurse smiled sweetly and made a disarming remark about how entertaining he was. Barb had been there, and she didn’t miss the stormy look on the young lady’s face when she turned away from the vile old man.

A girl with gumption, she thought.

“Miranda! Thank heavens! We don’t know what’s happening, but you must round up some drivers and get them to collect all the residents. Tell them to bring everyone here. We’ll need more seating, and some water jugs, too. And brooms! Get all the brooms you can find.”

The young nurse nodded, happy to have an order amongst the chaos. She ran to an intercom at the receptionist’s desk then turned back halfway.

“Are mops fine?” she asked.

“Sure! But brooms first. I don’t know if mops will work.”

Barb could see the questions rising to Miranda’s lips, but she kept them sealed until after Barb’s orders were sent across the intercom. Her clear voice rang through the lobby and echoed from the east and west wings, bringing confused faces out into the halls. Their numbers were few, diluted by the personnel demands of the Golf Trip, but if each took a van, they might be enough to collect the remaining residents.

The Sunny Hill staff collected in the foyer, looking to Miranda. The young lady simply pointed at Barb, who waved her arms and shooed them off to perform their requested duties. Soon, the sound of vans exiting the parking lot rumbled through the foyer. They were definitely surpassing the twenty-kilometre speed limit that was the norm at Sunny Hill.

“What’s happening?” Miranda repeated. “I can’t call anyone. My data isn’t working. Tony says he crashed his car trying to leave the forcefield. Is it locking us in?” She whispered the last comment, her resolve weakening as this nightmare became reality. Barb was feeling claustrophobic, as though she could taste their oxygen reserves dwindling. She told herself she was being ridiculous, but it didn’t remove the bitter taste from her mouth.

“The phones aren’t working, dear,” Barb said. “We’ll be okay, we just need to get everyone here and find those brooms I mentioned. The mops, too. Would you like some tea?”

Miranda accepted the thermos and sipped, inhaling the fragrant steam. “Thank you. I was worried it was my fault. I flicked off a power outlet and it kind of fizzed, like a faulty power board, you know? Then the dome came over. I thought I did something.”

Mei stepped forward and placed her hand on Miranda’s shoulder, subtly taking back the thermos and having another go at it herself. “Completely unrelated events. You did nothing wrong, okay? We’re going to fix this as soon as everyone gets back.”

Miranda seemed to relax a little and went back to the reception desk. Mei wandered off to find a coffee machine.

Left with nothing to do except wait for her orders to be fulfilled, Barb wondered if she could’ve had an illustrious career as some kind of manager. She had to admit that she’d done a decent job of organising everyone and whipping them into shape.

A general, perhaps?