I kinda figured as much when I saw sweet old Margie Goldman tear the door of my coworkers Chevelle clean off its hinges.
“God damnit dude, I just got the doors painted to match the body”, Sam said as the geriatric lady ravaged his car.
“I’m a little more worried about Margie than your car, man”, I replied, heading to the concession stand so I could call for help. I wasn’t really sure if I should call the police or the old folks home, she was just a decrepit, little thing anyways. I was a little irritated that it hadn’t even been an hour since I clocked in that some bullshit of this magnitude was already happening. For reference, I work at the park in our little town… grounds keeping and all that.
Before I could get to the small, brick building, I noticed Sam stomping over to the elder woman.
“Hey lady! Get your fu-“, he stopped, taking a couple steps back as she turned to face him. Her irises were noticeably dimmer, the whites of her eyes taking over like the gnarliest case of glaucoma one could imagine. If that wasn’t enough to send Sam and I scurrying into the confines of the concession stand, then maybe it was the demonic, guttural scream which emerged from her veiny throat shortly thereafter.
Sam took another step back as she got down on all fours, moving with more grace than I’d ever seen in any of the early morning walks she would take. Sam turned tail, darting for the stand as I stood waiting with the door open. He blew past me, the old woman mere feet behind him as I slammed the door shut in her face.
I think the debate on calling the police was over.
I ran over to the window of the concession stand and drew it shut, making sure it was also locked. I dialed the police as quickly as possible as Sam did his best to barricade the building… if she’s strong enough to pull a car door off then I’d hate to imagine what she’d do to us if she got through that door.
The police were slow to get there, even though the police station was less than half a mile down the road. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised, I’d be hard pressed to believe that Marge was capable of destroying a car if I hadn’t seen it happen before my very eyes.
“Dude, what the fuck is going on”, Sam spilled, his breaths falling out in short, rapid successions. I tried my best to explain the situation away, but there didn’t seem to be a reasonable explanation for anything we’d seen.
I’m not sure how long it was, maybe fifteen or twenty minutes, before the police finally arrived. I saw the cruiser lackadaisically cruise up to the building through the window.
“It’s all good man, the cops are here”, I reassured, patting Sams back as he nervously munched on a bag of potato chips. As I saw Officer Weaver (As I said before, we live in a small town and everyone was pretty familiar with one another) get out of his patrol car, I could see his demeanor immediately shift. Marge hadn’t seen him yet, her soft scratched perpetually emanating from beyond the door.
“Miss Goldman, are you alright?”, I could hear him say, the scratching stopping immediately. Officer Weaver took a step back, dropping to his knee as he unholstered his gun. Suddenly, Marge came into view, moving quickly on all fours once more.
I’m not sure how many shots rang out, but I wouldn’t be surprised if he’d emptied the whole clip into her. The last thing I saw, before dropping to my ass and covering my head, was bits and pieces of Miss Goldmans head taking up residence on the ground.
A little while passed before someone knocking at the door brought me out of my daze.
“Open up, it’s Officer Weaver, you guys alright?”, he called out. We made our way to the door, still shaken up from what we had just seen. The heavy set man was dripping with sweat, his bald head glistening in the morning sun. His training must not have covered old ladies with superhuman strength, his choppy breaths, and anxious demeanor was sorely apparent.
I hadn’t noticed an ambulance, along with our coworker Sienna, had arrived while we were shell shocked in the concession stand. I couldn’t make out what she was saying to the paramedic as he wheeled a gurney holding a body bag into the back of the ambulance, but I could tell she was in absolute hysterics.
“Boys… boys, I-“, I hadn’t noticed the officer trying to get our attention as we watched the chaos unfold all around us. “I’m sorry you had to see that, are you okay?”, he continued.
Sam and I exchanged glances, silently agreeing that we were not, in fact, okay. I didn’t want to keep him, or Marges corpse, here any longer than necessary, reassuring Officer Weaver that we were alright, just a little shaken up.
“Good, good… uh…”, he paused, choosing his next words carefully, “just a little flu going around, people are sick, yknow?”, he looked at us both awkwardly, seeing if we bought any of the bullshit that just spilled out of his mouth. We remained silent.
“Anyways, try to keep this quiet until we find out some more info”, he said, patting our shoulders before returning to his squad car. Just as quickly as they’d arrived, the ambulance and Officer Weaver cruised out of the park until the weeping willows swallowed them up in the distance.
Sienna ran over to us, her face wrought with worry.
“What the fuck just happened”, she cried, her hands outstretched. Sam and I looked at one another, then back to the road to make certain that the officer was gone.
We sat in the concession stand, recounting the story to Sienna who seemed to grow more incredulous with each passing detail.
“There’s no way any of that happened”, she said, her once worried eyes now seemed doubtful.
“Tell that to the piece of swiss cheese in the back of the ambulance”, Sam shot back, “I mean, you saw them throw her in the back of that thing… be a pretty expensive prank dontcha think”.
Sienna shot Sam a dirty look, returning her eyes to me.
“Please tell me this is all bogus”, she said, furrowing her brow.
We didn’t have anytime to convince Sienna otherwise, not that we would have to, as Officer Weavers squad car came rolling back into the park.