The enemy was moving in the night, and so were we. I led a small group around the periphery of a house just like the one on 39th and 10th, where we grew up, and the sand pit on the side was still there, and we fell into it. Dead deer! My sister yelled right as I felt it, below, struggling at my legs. It was hidden, mortally wounded, struggling beneath the shubbery rubbish that covers the sand pit. Not dead, but dying alone. Oh my god, Oh my god, I yelled, get me out of this, climbing out of the pit. And it wasn’t the only dead animal. I hit a wall of bushes a bit later and she yelled from the other side, You don’t even want to see what’s over here! And I didn’t. Just another grosteque display of life that got mangled and smashed by something unknown. As usual, I was trying to find a small weapon that I’d dropped out the window, but outside, the yard became the corner of 38th and Chicago in Minneapolis And a bunch of street folks, including killers and enemies, was hanging out there, so my partner said, fuck it, Let’s not worry about trying to get it back right now. It’s just a tiny pill, right? But I did find it, and I tried to light it. With this weapon (like a magical molotov cocktail) you have to light it around the enemy and then throw it at them, and it vaporizes them like witches melting into a puddle. But the fire just flamed and fizzled. It wouldn’t stay lit. I couldn’t throw it. Then we were walking along a highway, trying to walk on the shoulder. But the cars were unmanned, and they lurched for us like robot sharks. The last stressful things that happened were with my pets. I saw my puppy trotting after a group of big dogs, and I screamed her name to come back. I screamed so loudly my throat was hoarse. All she wanted to do was smell the bigger black poodle’s butt, but the moment was loaded with dread. She came back finally, no bloody dog fight. All’s well that ends well.