It’s their footsteps on the roof that scare me. I don’t know how they got up there or how many of them there might be, but I know they’re pissed off at me. I’ve treated the dozens of wounds they’ve already inflicted and gathered anything I could use as a weapon. Currently, I’m holding this butcher knife tight. I’m ready to slash the first body I see crawling out of the ceiling.
Perhaps I should back up some.
About a week ago, I accepted a job offer that moved me to a new state. The organization desperately needed analytical help, and they offered a moving bonus if I could come right away. Not having any connections to my previous home and only my dog Mookie to bring with me, the decision was easy.
When I arrived, I had nowhere to stay and ended up booking an Airbnb until I could find a place to call my own. I assumed I’d be able to do that within a few days, but the new employers tossed me into the job as soon as the plane wheels touched down on the tarmac. I’ve barely had time to think, let alone apartment hunt.
I was okay with that, though, because the place I was staying was charming and looked like it had been pulled from a home design magazine. The best part was that it was in an old neighborhood that butted up against the foothills of a mountain range. From my bedroom, you could see the peaks. I had moved from the flattest part of the country, so the mountains were still a marvel to me.
Every night, Mookie and I would walk through the neighborhood and into the fields that led to the small foothills. Once we got there, I’d let him off leash and let him run around. There were a lot of rabbits and squirrels that he would chase after but never catch. Mookie is a lot of things, but graceful is not one of them. I was content to let him run off some energy at the end of the day.
I had done this for four days with no issues, and then I met Jake. Jake was, conservatively, nine hundred years old. I was sure he was the settler that planted the ancient oaks and pines that dotted the field. This wasn’t the first time I had seen Jake – he usually sat on his porch and smoked from an old pipe. But he had never interacted with me before but not for my lack of trying. I waved at him every time we passed, but he never responded.
This time, though, he waved back and yelled for me to “halt!”. Even more, he grabbed the sides of his rocker and slowly raised his body out of the chair. Then, with the pace of an arthritic sloth, he made his way down the porch steps and up the sidewalk until he was a mere five feet from me.
“You new?”
“I am,” I said, “to both the city and the state. My name is Donny and this is Mookie.”
“Don’t care much for dogs,” Jake said. “And you can’t let him run in that field. They don’t like that.”
“The HOA board?” I guessed.
“Don’t care much for the HOA board, neither,” Jake spat literally and figuratively. It nearly hit my shoe. “I’m talking about the field dwellers.”
I was officially confused. “The rabbits?”
“Those ain’t rabbits, boy,” he said, “Those are the lil’uns, and they don’t like you or your pooch.”
“I’m sorry, the ‘lil’uns’?”
“You heard me. People the size of Coke cans. Been here since before humans existed.”
“Ah ha,” I said, unsure of what to say.
“They told me to tell you to not let that damn dog chase them anymore. He’s ruining their homes and causing chaos.”
“Jake, are you telling me that soda can sized people live in that field…and they talk to you?”
“Don’t be an asshole, huh?” he said, shaking his head, “Of course they talk to me. Been doing so for years, and this is the maddest I’ve ever seen them.”
I wasn’t sure what to do. Jake was clearly losing it and angry. I didn’t want to make things worse. I decided the best course of action would be to placate the old coot and hope he’d forget we ever talked. I gave him a half smile and nodded.
“Okay, Jake. I’ll make sure Mookie is better behaved.”
“Don’t give me that namby-pamby bullshit. Just don’t have ’em bother the lil’uns. They’ll bother me all night complainin’ about it. I’m old. I need to sleep!”
“Okay. He won’t bother the lil’uns. Your sleep is guaranteed.”
I held out my hand to shake his, but he had zero interest. Instead, he turned around, mumbled something, and made his year’s journey back to his porch. I looked down at Mookie and shrugged. We continued our trip.
The little talk had delayed our walk enough for the sun to start to slip below the horizon. I’m not opposed to walking Mookie at night, but he’s not a fan. He moves at half speed in the nighttime – I think his eyesight is starting to fade. Worse, I wouldn’t be able to let him run off some energy if it was dark. I wouldn’t feel comfortable doing it, plus I’d have the image of Jake’s sour face in my mind.
Instead, I just walked Mookie to the field and paced around with him for a while until he did his business. While he did his best to work up the urge to go, I kept my eyes peeled on the field. Jake said the creatures I saw running around the field weren’t rabbits, but I knew he was wrong. I had seen rabbits, for God’s sake. Not to mention the idea of wee little people living in a little city in a grassy field seemed, ya know, insane.
Mookie finally did the deed, and we started our trek back. The sky had turned from a fading orange and red sunburst to a bruise colored purple and black. I didn’t have a flashlight on me, so I had to use the one on my phone. It was weak and didn’t light up much in front of me, but it helped let oncoming traffic know someone was standing in the dark.
We were about to walk past Jake’s house when Mookie stopped cold. He turned his attention to the field and tried leading me in there. I held the leash, but he was really pulling. He started whining, too, which is something he never does. He had locked onto something in the grass and insisted we check it out.
“Mookie, let’s get going,” I said, gently pulling him away. He protested, but eventually, the leash won out.
As we walked away, I glanced back out into the darkened field. There was nothing out of the ordinary that I could see. It was the start of summer, and the fireflies started emerging from the ground. You could see their little glows winking in and out. It was serene. I turned the flashlight off on my phone and snapped a photo of the field.
Behind me, I heard a grizzled voice say, “They don’t like that, neither, new guy.” It was Jake, and he had somehow managed to sneak up on me. I didn’t jump all the way out of my skin but it was close.
“Jesus, Jake,” I said, “What the hell?”
“They don’t like photos.”
“I was taking a picture of the emerging fireflies.”
“Those ain’t fireflies. Those are fires.”
“The little guys, right?”
“Lil’uns,” he said, clearly annoyed. He leveled a hateful gaze at me and asked, “You take that mutt into the field?”
“No,” I said, feeling my anger rise, “and Mookie isn’t a mutt, thank you very much.”
“Dog is a dog,” he said with a dismissive wave. “Don’t be taking photos of the lil’uns either. They don’t like it.”
“Is there anything they do like?”
“Being left alone. Like me.”
“You came out to speak to me, Jake.”
“I came out to warn ya, idiot. I like my peace and get very little when the lil’uns get disturbed.”
“Maybe you should go back inside and take your meds,” I said out of frustration.
“Ain’t on no meds. Don’t trust ’em or need ’em. Your whole generation does, though, ain’t that right?”
I could’ve stayed and railed against Boomers all night – there’s plenty of ammunition, believe me – but I had better things to do than argue with the meanest old man in existence.
“Have a good night, Jake,” I said and walked away.
Mookie must’ve sensed the mood because his tail wasn’t wagging. We headed towards home when something again caught Mookie’s attention. He turned toward the grass and started sniffing like mad. He tried pulling me again, but I held firm.
Then he yelped in pain, and I heard something dashing through the dense grass. Mookie jumped back and hollered like I’d never heard him. I squatted down and started petting him to get him to calm down. He started pawing at his face like there was a burr stuck in his snout. I felt around, and I noticed blood when I pulled my hand back.
“The hell?”
“Goddamn mutt! Now the lil’uns are never gonna leave me be!”
I ignored the crazy man yelling and gave Mookie a reassuring hug. I needed to get him home and in the light to take a better look at his wound. He whimpered the rest of the walk back.
Once inside, I was able to mollify Mookie with a few treats. While he munched on bone marrow, I looked closer at the cut on his face. It was just above his nose and had already crusted over with dried blood. It didn’t look too deep, and I wasn’t going to mess with it. I gave him a good pet along his neck when something pricked my palm.
I pulled my hand back and noticed a small splinter in the dead center of my lifeline. Mookie is a bit shaggy, and it’s not uncommon for burrs to stick to his fur – especially when he runs around in the fields. I sighed and hauled myself to the bathroom for a better look.
This was unlike any splinter I’d ever had before. It shined in the light like it was made of metal, which seemed out of place. I poured hydrogen peroxide into the cut and felt the bubbles roil in the wound. I grabbed a pair of tweezers and went to work pulling out this irritant.
I started prodding my skin to work the splinter out. It was deep, and I would need to pull away bits of skin to dig it out. When the tweezers finally caught the end of the splinter, it didn’t feel spongy like wood. It was firm, like a metal shaving. After a bit of ripping and tearing, I could yank the splinter out.
I held it up to my eyes to better see what had been jammed into me. I was right. It was metal. I know this sounds odd but…but it kind of looked like an arrow. It couldn’t have been an arrow because arrows weren’t the size of splinters. I brought the tweezers closer to get a better look, but I squeezed too hard, and the shard spun out of the tong’s grip and fell into the sink. Before I could stop it, it slid down the drain.
I returned to Mookie and gave him some rough pets against the grain to see if anything else would fall out. Nothing did, but Mookie was grateful nonetheless. He curled into a ball on his bed and fell asleep shortly after. I was about to follow suit when I had the urge to check my front porch. A tickle in the base of my skull compelled me to fight sleep and go look.
It was almost eleven at night, and the outside world was silent, save for the nocturnal animals scurrying about. I opened my front door and looked out into the darkness of the suburban street. The glow from the streetlights cast halos of white light every fifteen feet on the road. A slight breeze blew, and my skin instantly pimpled from the cold.
I walked out onto the front porch and glanced down the street. Given the time, I didn’t see anyone, which wasn’t a surprise. I did see a bunch of fireflies in the front grass. I hadn’t seen any in my yard up to this point, so I assumed these guys were finally just emerging. After two years of waiting, these guys finally broke through the soil and took flight. It was inspiring.
Deciding that everything was fine, I turned and headed back into the house. As I did, a pop next to my head sent me scrambling to the floor. I hit the ground hard and thumped my head against the front door. I could already feel the egg swelling above my eyebrow.
When I finally got my bearings, I noticed the light bulb on the front porch had burst. The ground near my feet was littered with glass shards. The half-broken bulb was still screwed into the socket, but now it looked like it had jagged teeth. I slowly pulled myself off the ground and was planning to head back into the house to get a broom when I saw a figure standing near the edge of the street light.
I could barely make out the person standing there, but I knew someone was there. Suddenly, the light bulb exploding didn’t feel like an accident. “I can see you,” I yelled.
The figure slowly started shuffling away. I started off my porch to find them when I heard the crash of glass from my kitchen. I ran back inside and saw shards of broken glass in my sink. The window over it had been shot by what looked like buckshot. I picked up one of the tiny projectiles rolling around in my sink and held it up. Where had this come from? I would’ve heard a shotgun blast a mere thirty feet from where I stood.
The house had a heavy-duty metal Maglite that was so bright you could see it from space. I was bound and determined to find out who the hell was outside. Any fear I had dissipated with each step I took toward the outside. Ideally, I wasn’t spoiling for a fight, but if one came my way, I’d be ready.
As soon as I touched the cold cement of my front porch, I clicked on the flashlight. The ultrabright LED beam sliced through the night like a sword. I shined it between the two lampposts near my house, but the person had moved on. They couldn’t have been too far.
I crossed my lawn, and when I did, I heard some kind of frog squeaking. It was loud enough to catch my attention but not important enough to stop me. I hit the street and flashed my light down the road to see if I could catch anyone.
I did.
A sloth-like man was opening the gate to Jake’s front yard. I started running towards the house, yelling at Jake to stop. But, much like the turtle in Aesop’s tale, he just kept moving. I caught up to him just as he opened the door to his house.
“Jake! Jake! I know you can hear me, you old bastard! What did you do to my window?”
Jake ignored me and slammed the door shut. I heard him turn the deadbolt closed. I didn’t care. I ran up to his door and started banging on it. “What the fuck were you doing outside my house, Jake?”
“I wasn’t doing nothin’,” the mean old man spat back.
“I saw you! Did you shoot out my lights? My window?”
“I didn’t touch your window,” was his response.
“What about my porch light?”
There was a pause. “The lil’uns made me. Told me they’d leave me alone if I helped them send a warning to you.”
“Are you senile or what?” I screamed. “There are no such things as the lil’uns!”
“Yes, there are, and they’re furious with you! If you knew better, you’d apologize to them and bring them a cake.”
I started laughing. “What?”
“They like chocolate. It’s rare in their world. A sheet cake keeps them happy for years!”
“You owe me for the window.”
“I don’t owe jackshit. Now get out of here, or I’ll call the cops.”
“Call them!” I said, “I’m sure they’d love to hear about mythical little people. They’ll do me a favor and lock you up.”
Now it was Jake’s turn to laugh. “Hardly. I know all those boys. I support the local police! They’ll take my word over a stranger’s any day of the week and twice on Sunday.”
I didn’t doubt that. Jake very much had the “Blue Lives Matter” vibes about him. If the cops did come, nothing would happen. If I wanted to press charges, I’d have to fill out paperwork and do a bunch of nonsense that would amount to a hill of beans. I conceded he had me there.
But I couldn’t let this stand.
I swung my Maglite at his porch light and shattered it. In a second, I was standing in the dark again. I gave his door three last good whomps and yelled out, “Now we’re even!” before turning and heading back for my place.
Or I would’ve had Jake not cracked his door and yelled, “You’re a piece of shit. I hope they gut you!” He slammed the door shut again. I could feel him giving me the finger behind the wood.
The fuckin’ lil’uns. The imaginary little imps he kept going on and on about. I had a thought that, in hindsight, I should’ve ignored. If only I had listened to my better angels, I might not be in the mess I am. But the devil was making some good points, and I was tuned into the right frequency to hear them.
I ran back to my house, grabbed my car keys, and drove down to the field across the street from Jake’s house. I honked the horn to get his attention, flipped him off, and then pressed down on the gas. In seconds, I was doing donuts in the fields. Ripping up the little haven across from his house as revenge for him breaking my window.
His door opened, and I saw Jake stumble out and collapse to his knees. He was screaming and pleading, but I didn’t hear anything but the hum of my engine and the squawks of the unfortunate frogs meeting their end under my goodyears.
After a few minutes, I burst out of the field and returned home. As I drove away, Jake was clambering back up to his feet. His face had a look of fear, and I remember thinking, that’s what you get, asshole.
Fuck them lil’uns.
I pulled into my driveway and shut off the car. I felt a calm wash over me. Had I done something extremely done and mean-spirited? Absolutely, but in that moment, it had felt righteous. I could atone for my shitty actions later. I thought I had earned a win.
When I opened the front door, I spotted Mookie lying on the couch and wagging his tail furiously. He was stressed. I called him over, and he damn near leapt into my arms. I started petting him to calm us both down. My adrenaline was spiking, and I needed to reign myself in. I still had a broken window to attend to. All I could think about was the massive fee I’m sure the homeowner would charge me for the window.
I spent the next fifteen minutes cleaning the glass and taping cardboard to the window frame to create a temporary barrier. I’d have to call the owner tomorrow and explain what had happened. Maybe they’d know about Jake and go easy on me. I somehow doubted it.
I lay on the couch and closed my eyes when I finished cleaning. The adrenaline that had sustained me finally ran dry, and sleep overtook me. Mookie curled up next to me, and within ten minutes, we both were sawing logs.
Until the fire truck came screaming down the street.
I woke up with a start. A cursory glance told me it was still dark out, but why was there a pronounced glowing light outside my window. I dashed open to the door and ripped it open. Outside, I saw a small gathering of neighbors standing outside Jake’s burning house.
I stumbled out into the yard. When I did, I felt a burning sensation in the arch of my foot. I yelped and fell down, holding my foot. A gash along the bottom, and blood was starting to leak out. I heard something scurry away in my grass but couldn’t see anything.
Pulling myself up, I hobbled down the street to join the waiting mob of people. An ambulance came screaming up just as a firefighter was hauling out a badly hurt Jake. The paramedics sprung into action and had Jake on his back on a stretcher in a flash. They snapped an oxygen mask on him, and it instantly started fogging as he sucked in the life-saving air.
As they rolled past me, Jake and I locked eyes. Any animosity that had been between us was gone in that fleeting moment. He pulled down the oxygen and yelled, “They blamed me! The lil’uns are coming!” before the paramedics put the mask back on his face. They wheeled him into the back of the ambulance, and seconds later, they were just a memory.
A few people in the crowd were murmuring about Jake’s parting words. What the hell was he talking about? He was ancient. Maybe his brain was going? He probably accidentally started this fire himself. He was an odd guy. Then a big guy standing next to me let out a little yelp of pain and clapped their hand on his leg.
“What the fuck was that?” he asked no one in particular. He looked down and saw a trickle of blood oozing out of a tiny hole in his leg. Then four more appeared. He slapped at them like they were little bugs, but I knew in my gut what they were.
Lil’uns.
“Fuck,” I said out loud to confused faces, “Mookie!”
I turned and ran back as fast as my cut foot would allow. Each slap of my feet on the street sent ripples of pain through my body. I could feel more blood seeping out as I sprinted home. If these things had burned down Jake’s house for just failing to stop me, what revenge would they take on me…the guy that drove over their homes and probably killed dozens of them.
When I got to my house, my jaw dropped. There were hundreds of lil’uns marching toward my home. It was hard to make out any one of them, but they moved in a mass like a battalion. I was knocked out of my stupor when I heard a faint crack and then felt the stinging of dozens of little pellets rip into my body.
I stormed past them, taking more blows to my feet as I did, and dashed into my house. Mookie was terrified and crying. I slammed my door shut and put on my shoes while Mookie tried to climb into my lap. “Not yet, boy, hold on.”
I knew we needed to go. I grabbed my car keys and scooped Mookie up in my arms. He’s not a little dog by any means, and I strained under his weight. I kicked open my door and saw the mass of lil’uns still marching for my porch. I stomped on as many as I could and heard their death rattles as I did.
I yanked open my car door, and Mookie jumped in. I slid into the car and slammed the door shut behind me. I cranked the key, but nothing happened. I tried again and again with the same result. These little fucks had cut the wires in my engine. I glanced into my yard in time to see dozens of flaming balls flying toward my car. Most bounced off harmlessly, but a few caught and started smoldering.
I was gonna have to run for it.
I grabbed Mookie and kicked open my door. I stepped out and was ready to run but was met with a wave of tiny buckshot. Mookie cried in pain and bolted from my arms. He ran past the marching little bastards and into the house. I followed after him and slammed the door shut.
That was thirty minutes ago. The battalions in the front yard have since dispersed, but I know they’re still out there. My car is damaged and smoking, but thankfully, none of those fires grew into a Jake’s house-sized inferno. I’ve armed myself to the teeth and closed off all the rooms. If they want me, they’re gonna have to follow the bottleneck to where I am to fight me. I am ready. I am Rambo.
God willing, I’ll murder each and every last one of them.