Salt of the Earth

By Erik Johnson

The sun doesn’t give life, Fiona thought. The sun takes it away.

The sunlight stripped colors from billboards, bleached buildings bone white, and spirited away youth and beauty. Fiona always wore a hooded jacket and gloves when she was outside, even on the hottest days. The other waitresses made fun of her, but she would smile, knowing that she would keep raking in the tips. Even Mike, the guy who owned the diner and did most of the cooking, gave her a hard time, asking her at least once a week if she was cold.

If they only made something to shield me from time. The face in the rear-view mirror was still pretty, but every year, Mother Nature redrew it a little less accurately. Fiona finished checking her makeup, pulled her hood over her chestnut brown hair and briefly touched the pistol in her hip holster before getting out of the car.

It was going to be busy, judging by the number of cars in the parking lot and the fact that none of them belonged to Brittney or Sophie, the other waitresses. Sure enough, when she opened the door, nearly every booth and table were full and Dylan the busboy was running food out to the guests. He passed by her, his arms loaded with plates.

“Watch out. Big Mike’s got his manager pants on today,” he said. Dylan had long black hair which he kept pinned up but seldom washed and his sideburns were always straying towards the borders of acceptable length. At any given moment he may or may not have been able to pass a drug test.

Fiona lowered her hood. “Big Mike is putty in my hands,” she said. “Watch me.” She flashed him a smile.

“Where have you been?” Mike bellowed from the kitchen’s service window. The grill sizzled, the fryers hissed, and the radio played something, the details lost in the din. Big Mike was, as his nickname implied, huge. He’d supposedly been fit once, in the Army, but that had been twenty years ago. Mike had filled out in every direction since then, resembled a bear, and was just as surly.

“I’m scheduled for 11, Mike. It’s 10:57.” Fiona said as she walked past him. She clocked in, unfastened the top button on her blouse, and headed back to the window.

“You know, in Japan, workers show up an hour early and stay an hour late, and they do it for free,” Mike snapped at her, a metal spatula in each hand as he worked on two different dishes.

“Well, why don’t you hire some Japanese people, then?” she shot back, and began loading plates on to her forearm.

“I might just do that. Probably get less lip from them, too,” Mike grunted.

“You love my lips, Big Mike,” she teased.

“I love your backside, because if I can see it, it means you’re working,” he said.

“Please let that be harassment. So I can retire.” Fiona grinned and whisked the plates away before he could reply. She waded out into the customers like a nurse on a battle front, meeting their cries with soothing care.

Mike’s restaurant was called The Royal Fork. One time, he overheard Sophia calling it “The Greasy Spoon.” “What’s wrong with that?” he retorted. “Grease makes food taste good. You ever go into one of those places where it’s as clean as a hospital? That’s what the food tastes like. If you think this place is so filthy, go clean something.”

The Royal Fork was an oasis for people on a long, barren stretch of Highway 50, which a magazine had once called ‘the loneliest road in America.’ For years, the customers had been same; truckers, park rangers from Great Basin, tourists on the way to Tahoe.

The customers were different now.

In the first few days after The Event, it had been fire fighters and reporters. Then came the scientists in their horn-rimmed glasses and soldiers to keep the peace. But they couldn’t be everywhere, and that’s why Mike had bought all his girls guns and took them out behind the diner to shoot at bottles. Mike always took care of his employees, and Fiona was grateful that she didn’t have to pay him back with any more than hard work.

Fiona awoke from her work-induced trance to realize that two and a half hours had passed. Only a few customers lingered, staring out the window at nothing. Fiona took a moment to lean against the wall next to the kitchen, and Mike handed her a fresh cup of coffee. She nodded her thanks.

The door opened, and a man walked in with two young girls. Fiona put down her cup.

“I can take this one,” Mike offered.

“No, I’ve got it,” Fiona said. She picked up three menus and a fresh smile and met them at the cash register counter.

“Hello,” she said brightly. “Is someone else joining you today?”

The tall man looked unwashed and underfed and wore old jeans, an army jacket, and a baseball cap pulled down low. Two blonde girls, whom Fiona guessed to be about eight and thirteen, were also dressed down, tired and dirty.

The man raised his eyes to look at her. Each of his hands went to one of the girl’s heads and lightly touched it, while at the same time drawing them a little closer to him.

“No,” he said quietly. “It’s just us.”

Fiona nodded and pushed her smile wider. “Right this way. I’ve got the perfect table for you.” She led them to a corner. The girls sat down silently and stared at the table. The man hesitated before sitting.

“Is everything okay?” Fiona asked.

“Miss,” he said. “Can you take the condiments away, please?” Fiona saw fury circling under the calm surface of his politeness.

Fiona looked at the table in confusion. Each table had a portable metal rack that held basic flavorings for customers; ketchup, mustard, soy sauce, sugar, and salt and pepper. Why would someone not want—?

She understood.

“I’m so sorry,” she said. She picked up the rack.

“Not your fault,” he said, and sat down. His anger had disappeared.

“You have a look at those menus, and I’ll be back with you soon, okay? Can I get you started on some drinks?” she asked.

The younger girl looked up. “Daddy, can we have Lemon Coke?”

“Not today, baby,” he said. “Bring them some orange juice and just some water for me, thanks.”

“Sure. I’ll be right back,” Fiona said. She walked quickly from the table, her cheeks burning. Mike stopped her on the way.

“What’s going on?” he asked.

“That table of three asked me to take this away,” she said, holding out the condiment rack.

“That’s because my food doesn’t need any spices,” Mike said, but stopped when he saw that she wasn’t in a joking mood. Suddenly, he got it.

“Why? Because of the—”

Fiona nodded.

“I never even thought about that before. What do we do?”

“If we take it off all the tables, people will be forced to ask for it,” Fiona said. “That might make it worse.”

“Nobody else has ever reacted like that,” Mike said.

“Mike, I think these people were there.”

“There weren’t any survivors. We would have heard about it,” he said.

“Something happened to them. They’re in pretty bad shape.”

“The guy probably just lost his job in the crash,” Mike said. “Don’t go around talking about survivors. I don’t want the attention.”

Fiona sighed and took the condiment tray to the kitchen. She filled up two glasses of orange juice, poured some ice water, grabbed three straws and set all on a round cork tray. She picked up the tray and almost collided with the tall man on his way to the bathroom. The drinks wobbled but didn’t spill.

“Oh my gosh, you almost gave me a heart attack,” she said, touching her chest with one hand.

“I’m sorry. Are you alright?”

His eyes are very blue, she noticed. He was a bit worn around the edges, but then so was everyone these days. This man looked haunted, though, in a way she hadn’t seen in others. He might have been called handsome once, even with his thinning black hair. That just means higher testosterone. This guy’s probably a tiger in the sack. She cleared her throat.

“I’m fine. Uh, these are your drinks. I’m on my way.”

“Thank you, um, Fiona,” he said, reading her name tag. “Also, sorry if I was rude earlier. It’s just, you know, the girls. They lost their mother in the—”

“The Event,” Fiona finished softly.

“Yeah,” he said.

“I’m so sorry. You were there, weren’t you?”

“What makes you think that?” he asked, his eyes narrowing.

“Well, one of your daughters is wearing a USC hoodie, so you knew someone in that area. And you don’t have tans, so you’re not tourists. And they only sell Lemon Coke in one place the world anymore. Well, they did.”

The man looked stunned. His eyes flicked to his daughters. He looked back at her with an intensity that made her falter.

“I read a lot of Sherlock Holmes,” she said.

“Well, that’s amazing, Fiona. Listen, if you could keep this between the two of us, I’d appreciate it. I’ll make your tip even bigger than I was planning,” the man said.

Fiona grinned. “Now I know you’re from L.A.,” she said.

“Why?”

“You think you have to buy my loyalty,” she said. “What’s your name?”

“Tom,” he said.

“Go to the bathroom, Tom. I’ll keep an eye on your daughters. For free.”

“Well, if you can’t trust a waitress with a gun on her hip, who can you trust?” Tom joked half-heartedly. He disappeared into the restroom. She approached the girls carefully.

“Excuse me?” she said. “Hi, I’m Fiona. Here are your drinks.”

The younger one glanced at her, and then went back to staring at the table.

“Um, we have Coke,” she said. “And lemons. I could make you a lemon Coke if you want.”

The older girl looked at her coldly. “I’m sure you heard my father. He said no.”

“I’m sorry,” Fiona said. “I was just trying help.” She turned away.

“Is that a real gun?” the younger one asked.

“Shut up, October!” her sister snapped.

Fiona turned around. “Your name is October? That’s so cool,” she said.

“October Sunrise—ouch!” the younger girl said. “Stop kicking!”

“Can’t you remember a simple instruction?” the older girl hissed. “What did Dad say about talking to strangers?”

“She’s not a stranger. She’s Fiona. And she wants to bring me a Lemon Coke. Because she’s nice. Not like you.” October stuck out her tongue.

“Your name is stupid,” the other girl retorted. “Everyone thinks so.”

“They do not! Don’t say that!” October wailed, tears forming in her eyes.

Fiona bent down and lowered her voice. “I won’t tell anyone your names. I can keep a secret. I have a secret too.”

“You do?” October asked.

“Fiona is not my real name.” Fiona said.

“What is it?” the girl asked.

“Promise you won’t laugh?” Fiona said, looking around.

“Yes.”

“It’s Ophelia Longnose.”

October burst into giggles, hiding her mouth behind her hand. The older girl rolled her eyes, sat back in her chair and crossed her arms.

Just then, Tom returned. “Well, I see you got one of them to laugh,” he said.

“I was just saying I could make them a Lemon Coke, if it’s alright.” Fiona offered.

“You know, it’s fine, you’ve already poured the juice,” Tom said. “I don’t want to make extra work for you.”

“It’s no problem,” Fiona said. “When I’m in a new place, I like to eat my favorite foods. It’s like taking a little piece of home with me wherever I go.”

“Oh, that’s nice. Really homespun,” the older girl said with venom. “Dad, do you think you could take us to a real restaurant and not some hash house where the help doesn’t know their place?”

“Phoenix!” Tom snapped. “Apologize!”

“For what?”

“That’s disrespectful, and you know it. Apologize, right now.” Tom said.

“No! I’m sick of living like this! Why can’t we be normal again?” Phoenix said.

“Car. Now.” Tom pointed.

Phoenix pushed away from the table and stomped outside.

“I’m really sorry,” Tom said.

“It’s okay,” Fiona replied. “I was 13 once too.”

“She’s just sad because our Mommy died,” October said.

“October,” Tom warned.

“I’m very sorry to hear that,” Fiona said. “She must have been beautiful.”

“She was!” said October with surprise. “How did you know that?”

“Because you and your sister are so beautiful.”

“Do you really think so?”

“I do,” said Fiona.

“But my hair is so messy and dirty. We’ve been sleeping in the car. Daddy won’t—”

“Oc, we talked about this. We’d go to a restaurant if you didn’t talk to people. That was the deal,” her father said.

“Listen, if you don’t have enough money for a hotel, you can take a shower at my place,” Fiona said. “I’d be glad to help.”

“That’s nice of you Fiona, but we’ve got to get going soon.” He glanced out the window, checking on Phoenix, who sat in the car, visibly fuming. “Can you watch her? I’ve got to go talk to my other daughter.”

“Sure, Tom.” she said.

“Thanks. I’ll be right back.”

Fiona took the juices away, grabbed two Cokes, a knife and a bin of lemons. Mike watched her. “Don’t forget your side work,” he said.

“I won’t.”

“How’s our refugees?” he asked.

“They lost the mother. They don’t have anywhere to go,” she said.

“You still think they were there when it happened?”

“I know it. The father looks familiar. I’ve seen him on TV, I think.”

“There’s a sentence we won’t hear for a while,” Mike said grimly. “Look, make nice if you want. Just be careful with them, okay?”

“Got it, Mike, thanks,” Fiona said.

Fiona delivered the drinks to the delight of October. Then she went around the diner and retrieved several bottles of ketchup. She sat at the table next to October, opened a bottle and placed a funnel on top of it, then opened a second bottle and turned that upside down. October watched her with interest.

“What’cha doing?” October asked, her chin resting on her hands.

“I’m marrying the ketchup bottles,” she said.

“Why?” October asked. “Are they in love?”

Fiona laughed. “Maybe they are,” she said.

“Are you married?” the girl asked.

“No.”

“Are you a furry?”

“What’s that?” Fiona asked.

“It’s a fetish. I saw it on TV. It means you like people who dress up like animals.”

“Wow, that’s weird. No, I’ve just had regular boyfriends. Too many boyfriends. Boys, not men,” Fiona said. “I was engaged once…it’s a long story.”

“What makes a man different from a boy?” October asked.

“A man takes charge. He leads. He’s tough, but he takes care of you,” Fiona said.

“That sounds like my Daddy!” October said. “Except we sleep in the car now.”

“You know, I was serious when I said that you could come to my house. Just for one day. Sleep on a real bed, take a shower.”

October shook her head. “Daddy says we have to keep moving, or they will find us.”

“Who?”

“I’m not supposed to tell, Fiona.” October said.

“It’s okay, October. We’re friends, right?”

“Yeah, I guess.” She took a deep breath and blurted, “Daddy made friends with the black- eyed people. The ones who turned everyone into salt. He tried to get everyone to listen to him.”

Fiona sat back as her hand flew to her mouth. “That was your Dad? He’s the—”

“The Prophet of Melrose Avenue,” Tom said behind her.

She turned to face him, her eyes wide. He stood there with a scowling Phoenix in tow.

“Are you going to shoot fire out of your mouth and kill me?” she asked. Her hand moved towards her gun.

“I never did that. They gave me this…charmed amulet, I guess. It automatically protected me. Shot beams of light,” Tom said. He pointed to a circular, silver ornament on his necklace.

“Beams of light that turned people to salt!” Fiona exclaimed. “Just like everyone else in L.A.!”

“Ssshhh!” Tom said, looking around and then sitting next to her. “Those people that died were going to kill me. And it didn’t change them to salt. It just vaporized them and left only salt behind.”

“Oh, that’s so much better,” Fiona said. “Why were you on the side of the black-eyed people?”

“I was on humanity’s side. They chose me to try to get people to change their minds. They said I was different than other people in that city.” Tom said.

“They just showed up and said ‘We’re gonna destroy Los Angeles?’”

“I might as well tell you the story since you know we’re here. And maybe, just maybe, you’ll have a little sympathy and let us walk out of here without calling the government or the press. But first, my daughters are hungry. Can you please bring them some food?”

Fiona nodded and stood slowly, then started to back away. “Are hamburgers okay?” she asked.

“Yes, fine.” Tom said.

“Coming right up,” Fiona said faintly, and restrained herself from bolting to the kitchen. She put the order in with shaking hands and took a deep breath to calm herself. Her heart began hammering, and the tinkle of the bell on the front door made her jump.

“Why don’t you take a break, Fiona? You look a little tense,” Mike said.

She turned her head and affected a smile. “I’ll be fine.”

“Something has you spooked. It’ll be alright. See?” He pointed, and she looked up. The customer who had just walked in had a badge on his belt. A Federal Marshal.

“Take a break,” Mike repeated. “I’ll get his order.”

Fiona nodded, got herself a cup of decaf, and went back to Tom’s table. It was foolish to be afraid of him, she thought. He was a nice man. A regular person who had been drawn into a bizarre situation against his will. And you should talk, Fiona, with what you’ve got in your trunk...

“How’s it going?” she asked.

“We’re fine. The girls love their lemon Cokes. Don’t you girls?” he said.

“I don’t want to alarm you,” Fiona said. “But there is a Federal Marshal sitting right over there.”

“Got it,” Tom said.

“Tell me everything,” Fiona said.

“All right,” said Tom. “Girls, go wash your faces.”

His daughters groaned but obeyed. Tom took a sip of water and began.

“It started when the doorbell rang. We were just having dinner. I answered the door, and it was these two kids. Well, they were short, like kids. One male, one female. But their eyes were totally black.

‘Are you Thomas Toll?’ the boy asked.

‘Yeah, that’s me,’ I said. ‘Aren’t you a little early for Halloween?’

‘May we come in?’ the girl asked.

‘Did Frank send you? That’s a great effect. Are those color contacts?’

‘Thomas Toll, we are from the Shadow World. It is urgent that we speak with you,’ the boy said. He had this weird, stilted way of talking.

‘Well, speak on,’ I said. ‘Deliver your message from the shadow world. Are you guys a singing telegram? I hope you’re not strippers, because I’ve got the kids here, and—’

‘Thomas Toll, in 21 days, we will rid this city of humans,’ the girl said.

‘Why are you going to do that?’ I asked. I was still playing along, wondering how far they were going to take this.

‘May we come in?’ the boy said.

I looked them over. They were tense, but they didn’t seem dangerous.

‘Yeah, come on in.’ I said.

They came into the house, and the effect on them was immediate. They seemed to completely relax.

‘You don’t have the receiver here,’ the girl said.

‘I knew he was the right choice,’ said the boy.

‘What are you talking about? What receiver?’ I asked them.

‘Nearly every house in your world has an image projection device. You do not.’

‘Oh, you mean a television? No, I won’t let that in my house. I know, I’m a hypocrite, since I work in that industry, but…’

‘You are not like the others, Tom Toll.’ the boy said. You make good programs that give us happy thoughts.’

‘I’ve never gotten a review like that before, but thanks. Hey Jane? Girls? Come in here. Some fans of mine dropped by and they are tripping me out.’

‘We do not have time for meeting your kinfolk,’ the girl said. ‘The programs that this city makes are destroying our world.’

I could tell that they were completely serious. I know acting when I see it, right? So that made me think that they were crazy. I reached for my phone, and they both changed. They passed their hands over their faces and their eyes went from black to shining with light. It filled up the whole house.

By this time, Jane and the kids had come out of the dining room. They started screaming, and the visitors put their hands in front of their faces and their eyes changed to black again.

My wife spent some time calming the girls down while the visitors told me their story. It was a little hard for me to accept at first. They were the original inhabitants of our world, but as man took over, their people left to live in an unseen realm. But our TV signals breach a gap in the worlds, and the images go right into their minds.

At first, it wasn’t bad. They liked our shows. It was like dreaming for them. Then we started doing broadcasting around the clock, and they were getting the images all the time.

They adjusted to that, but then the programs started getting violent and explicit. They have nightmares all the time and can’t sleep. We’re driving them insane.

I was horrified. I apologized for being part of the industry that was hurting them. They told me that they like the shows I direct because they’re so calm and peaceful. It’s one of the few times they get relief.

Of course, I asked them why they couldn’t block the broadcasts. They said that the magic required to do that would scramble their minds even more. They get some relief from these helmets that they’ve built, but they’re made from a rare element and there isn’t enough for everyone. 

‘Turn it off,’ they told me. ‘Turn it off, or we will.’

I told them that it would be impossible. No one was going to listen to me. I suggested that they find some way to get their message out. “Like what?’ the boy said. ‘Television?’ I knew that everyone would just ignore it unless I got out there and created some interest.

So I started walking up and down the streets with a sign. People thought I had either gone insane or it was a promotional for something. And of course, the studios laughed at my message.”

“So what happened with those two guys that got killed?”

“I think they were trying to rob me. People saw it happen, but the cops didn’t believe them. So I never got in trouble for it.”

“I don’t understand,” Fiona said. “Why couldn’t the Shadow Worlders just target the TV studios?”

“Hollywood is like a hive. If you wanted to stop TV, you’d have to make sure that everyone was dead, make such a big impact that no one would ever dare to try it again,” Tom said. “And I guess that’s what they did.”

“So you decided to leave,” Fiona said.

“Jane thought I was insane. Even if it was real, she said, she didn’t want to leave our house behind. I begged her. We left in the middle of the night, and the next morning, everyone was gone. We’ve been on the road ever since. People probably think that we died along with everyone else, and I’d like to keep it that way.”

“You poor souls,” Fiona said.

“You don’t think I’m to blame? That’s what the papers were saying. That I was working with them, and that I made it happen somehow. That I’m a monster,” Tom said.

“Of course not,” Fiona said. “It wasn’t your fault. You tried to help. You’re a good man. That’s why they chose you.” She paused and then added, “It’s not your fault about your wife, either.”

Tom stared at her, and then looked down at his hands. “I should have carried her to the car and put her in it. I could have tied her up, given her sleeping pills. Maybe I wanted her to stay.”

“She made her choice. When she chose not to believe in you and stand by you at your darkest hour, it was already over,” said Fiona. She stopped, covered her reddening cheeks with her hands. “I’m sorry. That’s a terrible thing to say.”

“The girls will be back soon,” Tom said. “Let’s not talk about this in front of them right now.”

“Let me go check on your order,” Fiona said. From the corner of her eye, she saw movement. A large, red-haired woman in a pink dress with white polka dots and a faced pinched in anger bore down on her.

“I heard what you said!” she bellowed. “He’s the one who took away TV!” She pointed at Tom with fingers as fat as sausages.

“Ma’am, you’re mistaken,” Fiona said.

“Don’t try to defend him! I heard him say it.”

Across the diner, the marshal looked up from his steak. He had a walrus mustache and a white cowboy hat, which he had taken off.

“He didn’t take away TV, ma’am, the Shadow Worlders did,” said Fiona. “They also killed a lot of people,” she added, under her breath.

“He was with them. He helped them. That’s why he’s alive,” the woman insisted. She shoved past Fiona to stand next to Tom’s table. Then she pursed her lips and spat on him. The saliva hit Tom in the forehead.

The marshal stood up. “That’ll be enough of that,” he said quietly, but every eye in the diner turned to him. He slowly began to move towards Tom’s table.

“I want you to arrest him, Officer! He’s a terrorist.”

“Let’s get one fact perfectly clear, Ma’am,” the marshal said. “I’ll arrest whomever I see fit. I know you’re upset. We’re all upset. But let’s not make the situation worse by spitting on people. Why don’t you have a seat? Finish your lunch before I have to take you in for assault.”

The woman’s eyes nearly popped out. “You’re going to arrest me? He’s the one you should be arresting!” She picked up Tom’s water glass and flung it in his face. Tom stood up. The marshal stepped forward and put a hand on her arm.

“How dare you touch me!” she screamed.

The marshal seized her wrist and rotated her arm while stepping behind her.

“Police brutality! Help!” she screamed. She turned, and with her free hand clubbed the marshal on the side of his head with one her meaty fists. He collapsed to the floor like a cow at a slaughterhouse.

The woman lunged across the table at Tom, her hands reaching for his neck.

“I must have TV!” the woman snarled.

“Who cares about TV?” Phoenix yelled. “Our mother got turned to salt.”

The woman laughed, the motion making her entire body ripple and jiggle.

“I used your mother to flavor my eggs,” she said, and she waved her hand in front of her own face. When she took it away, her eyes were lava red.

“We must have television. Our race requires it,” she said, her voice lapsing into a deep, guttural growl.

Fiona drew and cocked her pistol. Her hand shook as she pointed the barrel at the big woman. “I don’t know what you are, lady,” she said, “But you need to back off, right now.”

A voice whispered in her mind: You know what she is. And who you are.

The red-eyed woman’s hand darted out to seize the gun before Fiona even knew what had happened.

“Get down!” said a voice from behind her. Tom’s eyes went wide, and he dived to the side. Fiona turned to see Mike holding one of his big, black, scary guns. Fiona tried to move, but it seemed like it took forever for to get out of the way.

Then a jackhammer exploded in her ears as she hit the floor. It went on and on and she thought he has to run out of bullets soon. And then it stopped, except for the roaring in her ears. She turned over and struggled to her knees. Tom’s daughters held each other; their mouths open in a scream she couldn’t hear.

Mike changed magazines. The large woman continued to stand despite numerous wounds and her eyes burned like comets.

Fiona grabbed October and Phoenix’s hands and pulled them towards the door. Behind her, the woman screeched, and Fiona risked a glance. The world split in two as Mike’s gun ripped again, and still the monster lurched forward, hunks of flesh falling from her bullet-ridden frame.

Fiona burst through the door with the squirming, screaming kids in her arms. Phoenix punched Fiona’s arm hard. Fiona released her, and the girl started back inside. Fiona said the only words that she could think of to make her stop.

“Your dad’s dead.” She hated herself for it, but Phoenix froze in place. If Fiona were wrong, she’d apologize later.

“We have to go now, or we’ll die too,” Fiona said. She fished her keys out of her apron pocket and jingled them. “Let’s go,” she said. “Get in the car.”

Both girls stood still.

“NOW!” Fiona shouted. The girls snapped to attention and began to walk towards her. She ran to her blue compact car and unlocked it. The girls piled in, still too shocked to even cry.

“Stay here. Don’t get out of the car. And whatever you do don’t turn around,” Fiona told them.

“Where are you going?” October asked, and her sweet face lined with grief put a sliver of glass in Fiona’s heart.

“Don’t leave us!” Phoenix begged.

“I’ll be right back,” Fiona said. She locked the door and slammed it. From the trunk, she fetched a stained, burlap bag. She reached in the bag while making sure the trunk lid blocked her from the girls’ view.

Fiona held a man’s head by its long, white, straight hair. His matching beard and stately nose gave him a dignified and wise bearing. Except for the fact that it did not bleed, his head might have been freshly severed.

“Ambrosius, wake up,” she said.

Slowly, the man’s eyes opened.

“I’d really like your help,” she said.

“I’d really like it if you would take me out of the trunk sometime,” the head said. “It’s boiling hot in there.”

“We’ve been over this,” Fiona said. “I don’t need everyone thinking I’m crazy.”

“No, you just talk to a wizard’s head that you keep in your car. One that talks back to you and no one else can hear. Nothing crazy about that at all.”

“Listen! I’ve got a serious situation here. There’s no time.”

“The maladanti,” the head said.

“Yeah. Can’t you do something?”

“Oh, now you’re interested in using magic. What happened to ‘I’m a modern woman and I don’t need superstition’?”

“You know, most girls get money for an inheritance. I got a dismembered wizard.”

“Most girls aren’t the daughter of Shadow Worlders,” Ambrosius observed. “Your decision to live in this realm has brought much shame and grief to the Longnose clan.”

“How is that important right now?” Fiona asked.

“You could have solved this entire problem long ago if you’d just paid attention to your roots,” the head said.

“What are you talking about?”

“Those people in Los Angeles aren’t dead. They just got sent to prison in the Shadow World. The salt is the residue from the transfer. Have Tom take off and destroy the necklace and they’ll come back.”

“Will that get rid of the maladanti too?”

“No. Get my left hand. Hurry up. The maladanti is just about to get Tom.”

Fiona obeyed. She rummaged through the bag until she found a severed gray hand, its fingers spread out like a starfish and long, yellow nails.

“Got it,” she said.

“Is it the left one?”

She checked by turning it around and matching it to her own hand. “Yes.”

“Okay, when you get inside, this is what you say:

'Blessed flames come,

Strike them with death.

Bring them down

With dragon’s breath.'

“Got it. Then what?” Fiona asked.

“Then point it at whatever you want to die. But make sure that you—”

Fiona slammed the lid of the trunk and raced towards the Royal Fork, praying that she wasn’t too late. She skidded to a stop, flung open the door.

The big woman had somehow doubled her width and her torso was now several times longer than before. Her dress seemed to have grown with her, and legs had become a serpentine pink tail that curled around the tables. In each of her pudgy arms, the monster held what remained of a human being. Her head had grown wider than taller, so it now resembled a hammerhead shark, with a row of yellow teeth like handfuls of scissor blades.

Fiona’s eyes darted around the diner, taking in turned over tables, dead customers and so much blood. Mike sat on the floor, holding his stomach, a red stain on his apron and a faraway look in his eyes.

She searched the human detritus for Tom. The maladanti caught sight of her, and with a roar, flung two corpses it was holding. Fiona screamed and dodged the grisly missiles. When she looked again, Tom and Cody were stealthily approaching the monster from behind. Tom had pulled the axe out of the fire fighting cabinet and even Cody had a butcher’s knife in each hand.

The maladanti saw Fiona looking behind it and swung its tail, knocking Cody off his feet. Then the monstrosity rolled backwards, its bulbous mass steamrolling Cody into the carpet. Tom swung the axe and landed a solid blow. The maladanti seemed hardly affected by the gash in its ponderous bulk, but instead, grew even larger. Its arms stretched out like the branches of a pink tree, its skin drooping and oozing and flowing to the floor.

The thing’s tail melted into piles of oily, salmon-colored glop that spurted across the floor like spilled pink paint. Fiona gaped in disgust a pool of greasy, porcine flesh rose in a tide around her ankles. Every place that the slime touched her recoiled at its warm gooshiness that caressed her even as it held her firmly.

The monster that had been the woman in the polka-dot dress laughed; a throaty rumbling that filled the diner and echoed in Fiona’s ears. A wave of pink bismuth, still bearing the maladanti’s hideous face, rolled towards Fiona.

Frantically scanning the room, Fiona saw Tom up to his waist in the coral slime. She shrieked as it schlorped past the hem of her skirt and began to constrict her thighs. It was then that she remembered the wizard’s hand. She raised the hand and recited the words.

A tentacle of the goo shot out and slapped at the hand, and she dropped it. It fell into the slime, fingers waving goodbye to her last hope.

“Oh, this is really good, Ambrosius! Lots of help you turned out to be!” Fiona said through her tears.

The pink mire pressed on her spine. The face rolled closer.

A lone finger broke the surface of the muck. The hand surfaced, using its fingers to propel itself forward like a sea creature. It swam for Fiona and she grabbed it at the wrist. Then each of the digits on the hand spouted a small flame, like a candle. Okay, but how does that—

Pillars of flame erupted from the fingers of the hand like hydrants spewing fire. Fiona fought to control the hand as it kicked and bucked. Blasts of fire scorched the ceiling. She lowered the hand, bringing it to bear on the slime. The rosy sludge recoiled, releasing Fiona and retreating like snow from a flamethrower. The fire roared across the diner, igniting tables, chairs and plates of food.

At least three of the beams blasted the creature, which had begun to coalesce to human form. One beam turned a corpulent arm into melted pink slag. Another set its legs ablaze. The third shot straight into its face, wreathing it in a mane of fire. A chorus of shrill screams tore from its throat before the flames silenced it, and Fiona winced.

“Sorry!” she called.

The maladanti collapsed, smoldering. Fiona dropped the hand and the flames immediately vanished.

Tom, still dripping pink gunk, stepped through the smoking battleground. “Are you alright?” he asked. She nodded and threw herself in his arms. After a few moments, she pulled back sheepishly.

“Thanks for saving us, Fiona.” he said. “I mean, wow. How did you…was that like witchcraft or something?”

Fiona was saved from comment by Phoenix and October, who burst in through the door. Tom rushed to them, tried to block their eyes from the horrors and hug them at the same time.

When they finished their happy, babbling reunion, they looked for Fiona and found her kneeling with Cody beside Mike. Cody shook his head sadly. Fiona closed Mike’s eyes with her thumbs and kissed each eye. Her tears trickled into her mouth and she tasted their salt.

“You loved him,” October said.

Fiona nodded, sniffing.

“That’s like, the saddest ever,” October said. She reached out and took Fiona’s hand.

“I’m sorry,” Tom said. “For what it’s worth, I know what it’s like to lose someone you care about. It’s so empty inside. But it gets a little better every day.”

She looked up with a start. “Your wife is alive.”

“What?” Tom asked.

“Your wife. All of them. The whole city. They’re just hidden. It’s that necklace.”

Tom touched the amulet, not understanding.

“Take it off. Destroy it,” Fiona said.

“How do you know that?” Tom asked.

“Mom’s alive?” Phoenix croaked.

Fiona cocked her ear, listening to something only she could hear.

“I've got an idea about how to help the Shadow Worlders,” Fiona said.

“I’m listening,” Tom said.

“When everyone comes back, they’re going to hail you as a hero for rescuing them, right? They’ll offer you any kind of reward.”

“I guess.”

“So tell them to make TV shows that will make the Shadow Worlders happy. And then you can charge the Shadow World for all this entertainment they’re getting. But don’t take any of their gold. It tends to not be there the next day, if I recall.”

“That’s not bad, Fiona, but I don’t think humans will go for it. They like their sex and violence.”

“It’s that or face the wrath of the black-eyed people. And this time, they might really kill everyone.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” Tom said. “I’m not even sure that they’ll know that it’s me who brought them back.”

“Sure they will. Film yourself taking off the amulet and destroying it. Do it in a place where a bunch of people will reappear. Then send the video to the networks.”

“You’ve got a good head on your shoulders, Fiona,” Tom said with admiration.

“And one who’s always on my back,” she said, and Tom gave her an odd look.

“Well, we’ve got to get back,” Tom said. “It’s been amazing. If I tried to put this in a movie, no one would believe me.”

“Can’t Fiona come with us?” October whined.

“Mommy’s waiting for us, sweetheart. Daddy bringing home a cute waitress would make Mommy upset.”

“Cute waitress, huh?” Fiona managed a grin, despite her pain.

“I’m sorry, that just slipped out.”

“It’s OK, I’ll take what I can get,” she said.

“Come for a visit anytime,” Tom said. “I’ll take you around the studio. It’s the least I could do.”

“Looking forward to it,” Fiona said.

In the distance, sirens blared.

“Well,” Fiona said, “Cleaning up after an interdimensional magic battle is not in my job description, so I’m gonna just go.” She stooped and picked up Ambrosius’ hand and quietly slipped it into her apron.

“Thanks again.” Tom said. “Girls, say goodbye to Miss Fiona.”

“Sorry about what I said earlier,” Phoenix said, dipping her head in embarrassment.

“It’s already forgotten,” Fiona said.

October gave her a sad little wave, and they turned away and walked out of her life. After they had driven away, she went out to her car, opened the trunk, and took the head out of the bag.

“Looks like it went well,” said the head. “You’re still alive, anyway.”

“You never told me that your hand shot fire, Ambrosius.” she said.

“Five fingers, five powers. And, as you’ve already discovered, my head supplies an endless supply of sparkling conversation.”

“Yeah, I kind of wish I could disable that feature,” Fiona said and opened the car door.

“You seem down,” Ambrosius observed. “Is it Tom? Do you wish to procreate with him?”

“Wow. You are going back in the bag. And I’m going to take a long, bumpy road.”

“You’re leaving the scene of a crime?" Ambrosius asked.

“Do you feel like explaining what just happened to the authorities?”

“Good point. I’m sorry about Big Mike.”

“Thanks. That’s decent of you.” She sighed. “All right. You can ride up front with me.”

Fiona set the head down on the seat. She started the car. Turned on the radio and found some good driving music.

“Where are we going?” asked Ambrosius.

“I’ll tell you when I figure it out,” Fiona said and pulled out onto the highway underneath a benevolent sun.

THE END