It was nearly an hour before the first van arrived back at the main building. The driver, a stout nurse named Rory, had eyes like dinner plates. He walked around the side and opened the sliding doors with shaking hands. While the stunned passengers disembarked, he opened the rear of the van and pressed a series of buttons that would allow those in wheelchairs to get out.

Once he was done, he came to the front desk.

“No one warned me,” he said.

Barb nodded along with Mei, who had returned with her thermos. Miranda was using the computer behind the desk, pulling up a list of all the residents. She looked up when Rory made his ominous statement.

“Warned you of what?”

“Those things. They swarmed the van and…it was like driving along the sidewalk in Grand Theft Auto, except the noises they made…” He shuddered and looked at Barb. “What are they?”

“Goblins,” she answered. “Did they all come out of their holes?”

Rory shook his head. “God, no. They were all over the street, but there were just as many eyes watching from beneath the construction site. Way more, actually. I gotta lie down.”

The nurse shuffled off in the direction of the break room. Those he had rescued were slowly taking their seats and accepting paper cups filled with water from the team of carers who had remained behind. There was a mound of brooms, mops, paint rollers and even some leaf scoops in the corner of the lobby, which the residents frowned at and gesticulated about.

Five more vans arrived and deposited Sunny Hill residents. The seats filled. Water was served. Barb waited impatiently for the final van to arrive. They’d sent out seven in total, and only six had made it back.

“Miranda? Do you have a moment?”

“I do. How can I help?”

Barb tapped her fingers on the desk, keeping an eye on the large glass windows in case the final van appeared. “We’ve lost a van, but I don’t know where it might’ve gone. I don’t see Helen Forester anywhere, and I think she’s on the west side of the village. Do you know?”

“Give me a moment.” Miranda clicked around some more, rapping on the desk and doing circles with the cursor when the lethargic computer delayed her search. “Helen is from House 41, pretty much south-west from here. Anyone else missing?”

“Bertha Portaca,” Mei chimed in. “And Mi-Jung. She’s definitely near Helen.”

There was more tapping from behind the desk. “Houses 43 and 46. Something’s happened down there. What do we do? Send out another van?”

“Give me a moment,” Barb replied. She walked over to a raised platform in front of the rows of seated residents. Even with the assistance of the extra foot of height that the platform gave her, some of the lankier nurses still stood taller.

“Excuse me!” she called, her vocal cords protesting at the strain. “Can I have your attention?”

The audience was already quiet, but now it stilled. In the silence, Barb noticed a new sound. It was a low hum, like some far-off cellist tuning their instrument. She thought it might be the dome, and imagined it cooking them like frogs in a pot, turning up the temperature one degree at a time.

She shook away the nasty thought. “As you know, Sunny Hill has been encompassed by this barrier. Some of you also saw the…goblins…on the north side of the village.” This was met with scoffs, and she felt her grip on the audience slipping. “I know it sounds ridiculous, but you must believe me. Can someone pass me one of those brooms?”

Several of the spritelier retirees lifted themselves from their seats and began asking around for a staff member who might drive them out of the dome. A posh lady named Florence caterwauled and threatened lawsuits. Finally, a nurse retrieved a broom and leaned it against the platform where Barb could retrieve it.

She took a deep breath and hoped for the best.

“Look here!”

The crowd gave her another few seconds of attention. She grabbed the broom and raised it above her head, ignoring the cracking sound her shoulder made. A jolt of energy travelled through her as the broom obediently transformed into a long, lithe spear. About sixty pairs of greying eyebrows immediately knitted themselves together.

“What the hell?” uttered one lady. She clapped a palm to her mouth and made a cross over her body.

“What the hell indeed!” called a less God-fearing resident. “How’d you do that, Barb?”

“Yeah, how?!”

Barb latched onto the arm of a nurse and stepped off the platform. She went to the bundle of implements that the staff had gathered for her. Despite her silence, the crowd watched her, rapt.

The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

“It’s the dome, I think. It gave me some kind of power. I need you all to grab one of these weapo— tools, and see if it happens for you, too.”

Mei walked over, less shocked than the others since she had already seen Barb’s ability. She selected a long pole with a net fixed to the end. It was an awkward thing to wield, especially for a woman of her age, but as soon as she touched it, the change began. Seconds later, she held an easily manoeuvrable weapon just as fierce as the three that Barb had created.

That got the crowd moving. Even Florence the wailer seemed interested in the magical demonstration before her. She dabbed the tears from her face, smudging the light layer of makeup she’d applied before being rescued (‘abducted’, if you asked her) from her home. Some of the nurses walked forward, too, taking an implement and waiting for the mystique to descend upon them.

In the nurses cases, nothing happened. Each of the grandmas tottered around with their weapons of destruction, but the staff members just held mops.

“Um, Barb?” Miranda asked, holding a paint roller of her own. “Is there a secret phrase or something?”

“I don’t believe so. You don’t feel the energy?”

“Nothing.”

Barb paused and handed her the spear she’d created. As soon as Miranda grabbed the weapon, it reverted to a sad old broom that probably belonged in the bin. Barb took it back. Lo and behold, what was once a broom became a spear. She pawned it off to Rory, then another staff member, only to repeat the same unfortunate outcome.

“Only us oldies can do it,” she murmured. “It’s Grandmas versus Goblins.”

Barb resumed her place on the platform, swaying a little as the exertion of the day caught up with her. Her body and brain professed their desire for a midday nap, but she couldn’t abide by their wishes. There were people out there that she had to save. Whether she liked it or not, she was the Granny General. The only things missing were the four stars on her shoulder and the shining medals decorating her lapel.

If only Jeff could see this, she thought. We’d fight side by side, just like we always have.

She shook herself from her melancholy, realising that the lobby was silent, waiting for her to speak.

“Well, thank you for your attention. I’d like to allay your suspicions by confirming that this is not a dream. You’re also not dead. Last night’s chicken casserole wasn’t that bad.” A few residents shuffled in their seats and gave her a pity laugh. “I’m not sure what exactly is happening here, but I do know that at least three of our friends are missing. Helen Forester, Bertha Portaca and Mi-Jung all lived in the south-west area of the village, but the final van hasn’t returned from there. We’re going to save them.”

It was hard to tell if the rumble and grumble from the crowd was dissent or acceptance. About thirty of the assembled women held weapons, which Barb considered a good sign. It wasn’t quite a full battalion, but it was enough to guard each other’s backs.

“How?” asked a lady, holding a poleaxe twice her height.

“Let me tell you.”

***

Barb sat in the front passenger seat of the van, looking out for goblins while Rory drove at a breakneck pace through the lazy roundabouts and one-way lanes bordering the park areas at the south of the village. Seven of the braver grannies sat in the seats behind her, their weapons stashed in the footwells or along the length of the van if needed. Their van led a convoy of three others, two filled with just as many elderly soldiers, and the last one driven by Miranda. This final van was packed with sufficient medical supplies to operate a small hospital.

Rory took a hand off the steering wheel and pointed down the road. “There. Parked in Helen’s front-yard.”

Barb looked where Rory was pointing. She had to wait a few seconds while her eyes caught up with his.

“They’ve taken out the mailbox,” Rory said. “And look at that trench in her lawn! They must’ve crashed through the drainage ditch. Fucked up the van, pardon my French.”

The ladies in the back began chattering as they passed weapons between themselves. One expressed her desire to return to the main building, where the less able-bodied were standing guard (or mostly sitting guard) at the various entranceways. The staff were tasked with keeping them comfortable and watching for intruders.

Barb turned around in her seat and faced her gang of veterans. “It looks like they might be holed up in Helen’s house. I don’t see any goblins, but be careful. We can do this if we work together.”

Once more, she assessed the wrinkled faces before her and nearly laughed at the outrageous situation they’d found themselves in. They were at Sunny Hill because they needed the support. Most of them had their meals delivered. Nurses came around at mealtimes with their pills. There were handrails screwed into the wall next to the toilet, the shower, both sides of the bed, and anywhere else they might be useful.

Yet here they were, a group of grim grannies preparing to take down a horde. Protecting the nurses and other staff when it was supposed to be the other way around. Not their fault, of course. They couldn’t help their inability to turns brooms to battleaxes and mops to maces.

“Get us in the driveway, Rory, then spin out onto the road. I want you ready to drive when we come out.”

“Aye, Barb. I won’t make you run too far.”

She smiled at him and patted his shoulder. “Good. My hip is killing me.”

They screeched into the driveway and filtered out of the van like cops on a drug bust. Loretta rang the doorbell and rapped politely on the door.

“No one here,” she decided.

“Out of the way!” One of the rocks bordering the garden sailed through the air and smashed through the glass pane on the door. Barb nearly toppled in shock, spinning around to see who had done the damage. It was a relatively new member of the village, an ex-Olympic shot-putter named Kimberly. Old age had hurt her eyesight, but her shoulder muscles worked just fine.

“Apologies!” Kimberly called. “Still got a bit of kick in me, I suppose.”

A pack of goblins rounded the street corner, pulled by the noise. Loretta wasted no more time, reaching through the broken glass and unlocking the door from the inside. They packed inside, striding down the hallway and into the kitchen. An abandoned cup of tea sat steeping on the kitchen countertop, a saucer with some shortbread sitting next to it.

“Helen’s favourite,” one of the ladies said. “Macadamia shortbread, can’t beat it.”

They went further, entering the living and dining room. The dining chairs were scattered about, some tipped over and others crudely stacked against the side door that led into the garden. The pull-out sofa bed was assembled, blankets draped over the edges and cushions blocking the light like a child’s fort. Barb pulled back a blanket, revealing the frightened faces of their missing residents, as well as Nurse Marty.

“They’re coming,” Marty said. “They’re coming.”