Walking frames were oiled and fresh tennis balls were attached for extra grip. Reading glasses were swapped out for distance glasses. There was a hurrah as a group of ladies completed the crossword. Deadly weapons were packed into the vans and their wielders filed in after.
Barb remained behind with Miranda, going over their plan for the final time.
“So you’re not going to electrocute yourself with that thing?” Barb asked. She looked over the contraption Miranda had scraped together. It looked like something that OSHA would have a field day with.
“I think I’ll be fine,” Miranda answered, looking none too sure herself. “Though I certainly wouldn’t advise my kids to conduct this little experiment.”
“You’ve got kids? Goodness, maybe I should be the one to stay behind just in case it goes bang. There’re more years left in your tank than mine.”
Miranda wagged her finger. “Nonsense. It’s my job to look after you. With any luck I’ll even get hazard pay for all this.”
Barb placed her hand on the nurse’s. Her hand was cold, and the nurse clasped on with her other hand, covering Barb’s.
“You do your job very well. Thank you.”
***
Barb requested that Rory play Fortunate Son by Creedence Clearwater Survival on their drive north to the construction site. The ladies in the back sang along, though they struggled to belt out the chorus in the same croaky shout as the lead singer. Rory remained quiet, traversing the roads at a more leisurely speed than his prior rescues.
They didn’t have enough space in the vans for the entire community, so the drivers had already taken a round of residents to a well-secured home a couple blocks from the construction site. It was far enough from the main building that they would not be at risk, however still close enough that the fighters could retreat to there if needed.
For now, retreat was at the back of Barb’s mind. She only thought of the upcoming battle, their chances of winning, and how she would never let Jeff go on a golf trip without her ever again. She would take her camp chair and sit in the sun with a good book, listening to the thock of golf balls being whacked along the green or the thud as a stray swing picked up a clod of dirt.
And we’d never be apart again.
“There they are, Barb,” Rory said. “Need a couple Panadol before you go in? I noticed your hip seems to be troubling you.”
“No, that’s fine, Rory. Thank you. I think it’s best for me to keep a clear head. Have you still got that megaphone?”
The driver nodded and pointed at the plastic box sitting on the floor of the vehicle between their seats. “Underneath some other bits and bobs, yep. You really think I’m the guy for the job, though?”
“Without a doubt. You’ve got a nice clear voice. Most of the time when the nurses talk to Jeff, he just nods along and pretends he hears what they’re saying. He says he understands you, though.”
Barb was embellishing the story quite a bit in order to bump up Rory’s spirit. The truth was that Jeff struggled to remember the nurse’s names, and Rory was no exception to this rule. He had however commented on ‘that nurse’s big voice.’
Rory seemed to sit a little straighter.
The convoy parked on the road, not far from Robin’s letterbox. The women filed out and formed a picket line that faced the rows of goblins gathered at the construction site. Barb took one look at her soldiers and decided that the goblins were in for a rough ride. Stern faces glared at their foes, some gripping their weapons so tight that purple-blue veins stood out on their scrawny hands. She laughed when she looked further down the line, towards Mei’s house, where four women were struggling to restrain a warrior who couldn’t wait to lay waste to the miscreants that ravaged their home.
On closer inspection, Barb noticed it was Florence. Her attitude towards fighting had changed swiftly once she learned that her mansion had been ransacked.
Rory’s voice rang out over the megaphone. The goblins flinched, startled by the brief moment of piercing white noise.
“All fighters, advance!” He was out of the van now, following a few paces behind. He and the other drivers spread out along the line of fighters, standing by as the emergency medical team in case things went wrong. Some of the nurses (at least those who someday wished to swear the Hippocratic Oath) had refused to participate, mentioning that sending nearly a hundred old ladies into battle did not qualify as ‘doing no harm’. When Rory saw the sheer number of goblins before them, he started to think they might be right.
Barb’s cut-throats stepped forward, crossing the road one step at a time. They stretched the entire length of the construction site, no more than a foot or two between each woman. A cantankerous yowl tore from the throat of a front-running goblin, echoed by the assembly of angered monsters behind it.
The grannies threw out their own war-cries, and charged.
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Kind of.
At a combined eight hip-replacements, seventy-six titanium bolts, and just under a decade of physical rehab between them, the band of fighters mustered a max speed of about five kilometres an hour. It was a mighty effort, especially for those whose bone structure was — in some places — more metal than bone.
“That’s it, let’s take the fight to them!” Barb yelled, caught up in the excitement. Shouts of exhilaration rippled down the line as they helped each other up the kerb and thrust their weapons at the mobilising goblins. The first wave hit them almost immediately, driving sections of the line back to the road. Rory caught one lady as she fell back, supporting her while she hollered and jabbed at the monster that had nearly tipped her.
“Hold on for a second, Mrs Haller!” he cried. “Think of your rotator cuffs! The physio will kill me!”
His efforts were useless. The swarm of grannies were as ferocious as the goblins. They pushed forward, savagely defending their homes. Monsters seethed from the tunnels, hundreds of them crawling out like ants from a flooded nest. They were met by fierce cries and sharp points, falling before they could form up any kind of counterattack. Dentures flew. Shoes were tossed. Barb could’ve sworn she saw a prosthetic whack a goblin on the head.
Then, as the fighters edged their way closer and closer to the embankment which the goblins had made their base in, there was a deep whirr behind the fighters and a pop like a bucket of firecrackers all exploding at once.
Miranda had blown the transformer.
The dome shifted and twisted like curtains in an earthquake. Barb saw pink evening sky above them, then wispy grey clouds. The fizzing and popping died out as the electricity stopped arcing and the whole thing shut itself off.
The dome fell away, a blanket of blue light caving in on itself and dissipating before it touched the tip of the main building. The noises of the real-world flowed in. Barb hadn’t realised just how quiet it had been without them. The hum of cars on the highway. The thumping of the construction equipment on the block adjacent to Sunny Hill. Police and ambulance sirens, too, no doubt sitting idle all day, trying to enter the dome.
And Jeff. Somewhere out there with them, waiting for me.
Barb stepped forward, spearing a goblin through its midsection. She tried to pull the weapon back through, but it wouldn’t obey her. The fighters around her were having similar issues, it seemed. She watched Mei thrust her broom-turned-tenderiser toward an enemy, only for the metal spikes to revert to straw bristles and splay out ineffectively against the goblin’s skin. At best, it might have tickled the wretched thing.
“The dome!” Barb yelled. “It’s gone down too early!”
Her voice didn’t carry far, only reaching the confused ladies next to her. Everyone understood the important part, however, regardless of if they’d heard Barb or not.
Their weapons were now ineffective.
“One more minute!” Barb yelled. “I have an idea, just hold them back! Rory, with me!”
The young nurse broke through the line of fighters and rushed onto the embankment with Barb in tow, batting away a goblin as he ascended. Using his megaphone, he’d communicated Barb’s order to the fighters, but it was completely contradictory to the situation at hand. They couldn’t hold back the goblins. Their most deadly weapon was the metal rake that Loretta wielded, a far cry from anything that could do damage.
Rory scooped up Barb and rushed along the embankment, nearly tripping as muddy green hands groped through the dirt ceiling and scratched his ankles.
“The excavator!” Barb cried. “Take the box from the bucket!”
They reached the radiating box. The diamond still spun, but now it flashed red. The tiny goblin figurine holding up the diamond looked miserable. Barb was sure it was glaring at them.
“We have to crush it! Find the keys!”
“Won’t the builders have them?” Rory replied.
“Try!”
He rushed around the hulking piece of equipment. He checked the tops of the tires, hoping one of the construction workers had taken the risk.
Nothing.
He hopped into the cab and pulled down the sun visor, dust sprinkling into his eyes. Again, he was disappointed.
“Under the mat!” Barb yelled. She was pointing at her feet and nearly hopping out of her skin.
Rory lifted the heavy rubber matting. Hidden in a divot on left edge of the compartment, just under the seat, was the keys.
“Found them!”
He took a moment to find the ignition, then turned on the excavator. There was no way he’d be able to drive the thing, but he had another idea in mind.
“Put the box below the bucket!” he called. “And get away!”
They hadn’t much time. The goblins were leaving the residents alone, scrambling toward Barb and Rory like some kind of hive mind directed them. Barb placed down the box and faced the horde, wincing as they surged toward her.
The first goblin to reach her brushed her arm, its claw catching on the fabric of her shirt and tearing a small hole in the sleeve. She closed her eyes, waiting for the rest of the stampede, nearly losing her balance.
But after the first contact, there was nothing.
Instead, monsters rushed onto the excavator, clawing at the machine and trying to get to Rory. He pulled levers. One tilted the bucket forward. Another put it back. His second try made the whole machine lurch forward before he let go and it rolled back. Finally, he pushed forward the correct lever. The bucket jolted down.
Barb could only watch and pray as it approached the box one centimetre at a time. Goblins thumped on the cab, covering the excavator like ants festooning a carcass. There was a clank as the hinges of the door were ripped off, and then a shout. They’d made it to Rory, but the bucket kept lowering. It touched the top of the box, pushing it into the dirt. The roof of the goblin’s hideout held as if supported by concrete, and as the dirt packed in hard, Barb heard the box crack. The goblins screeched, one united cry that rang in her ears.
Then the bucket pushed further, the full power of the excavator’s hydraulics behind it. The object that Barb once thought was some strange souvenir left behind by the tradesmen finally collapsed, the pseudo-diamond shattering and sending sparkling fragments out over the dirt.
The goblins collapsed, then began to fade into the dull evening light. By the time Rory hopped down from the driver’s seat, they were gone.
*******
*******
Barbara Jollymont was enjoying her retirement. She spent the first two decades at home; a cosy little bungalow near the beach with a few gardenbeds and a friendly tabby cat. She named him after the tenor, Pavarotti, because of his big voice that yowled at their doorstep each morning. The cat wasn’t theirs, but it may as well have been.
Her third decade was spent at the Sunny Hill Retirement Home. Although there were no cats like Pavarotti, she had plenty of other things to keep her entertained. She enjoyed doing the crossword with Jeff each morning. She read a lot of good crime-thrillers while lounging in her chair at the Golf Trips. Most of all, she just loved being here.
This was the place where she discovered that old age didn’t have to be boring. She had forged friendships, faced hardship, and discovered things about herself that she’d never known.
This was the place where she had fought goblins.
END