Killer Koala Bears from Another Dimension

by P. A. Douglas

He was so elated with the odd and unexpected creature and the lights still flickering in the yard that he felt like it was all a dream. Any minute now, he would wake up in his king size bed fit for two all alone, ready to face a new day. Alone. He was too busy staring at the thing lying in the grass before him, contemplating this crazy dream he found himself in. Too busy in fact, he didn’t hear the window in the living room break. Or the intruder climbing into the house. He didn’t hear the footsteps drawing closer, creeping up behind him. His eyes were wide, his mind flustered with questions. Namely, where the hell this thing came from… It could be big boot, maybe… and what where those lights in the—”

  When Terry Wilson heard the thing step up behind him in the kitchen and felt it breathing down the back of his neck, it was too late. He didn’t even have time to spin around. He felt a sudden sharp pain in his back, and in that same instant, just like the kitchen window, a long slender spear punctured his chest. Only this time it wasn’t glass that shattered to the floor. The creature jabbed it further and Terry watched it extend farther out before him. Meat and blood covered sinew clung to the sharp tip of the spear. Terry couldn’t breathe. He looked down at his chest and realized then that the chunks of meat and muck on the end of the sharp object were his own internal bits. He coughed, trying to gasp for air. Crimson spewed from his lips as his mouth filled with the iron taste of warm blood. He gagged swallowing most of it down. His left arm fell limp to one side, dropping the shotgun. It clinked, coming to a rest in the grass. His other hand grabbed at the rod sticking out of his sternum. His hand slipped on the wooden pole and came away red. His vision wavered and his knees buckled. For a second or two he even felt as if he were floating in midair. It was then that he realized that the creature holding the spear was holding him up. His legs and arms were just dangling, limp and lifeless. The creature must have let go, because Terry then fell to his knees. Everything started to go black. He thought of his ex-wife and how he missed her. Remembered what it had been like all those years ago to share that big bed. It had been lonely without her. Just as he started trying to remember her face, something out in the yard distracted him.

  Something was coming out of the floating lights.

  More monsters.

  Terry Wilson fell forward, the spear still shoved through his midsection. He was dead before his corpse even hit the grass next to the creature he had just killed.

  2

  Lewisburg was a charming little town and that’s how the towns-people liked it. Great coffee. Food enriched with character. Shop owners dedicated to the customer. And yes, the Victorian look that couldn’t be found in any other place. Houses in the town were classic Victorian-era two and three story variety, and quaint one story cottages. Of course, like any other small town, it had its share of dilapidated mobile homes. The grass was kept trim and tight in the areas where it grew, which wasn’t much of anywhere. Most of the land was dry sands and thick clay. A small town like Lewisburg is usually lucky if there's a decent one-screen movie theater, maybe a community dance troupe. But a bowling alley? This speck on the map in the Greenbrier River Valley laid claim to one of the first bowling leagues in the country. But a claim to the past is about all it held. The lanes were long torn out and thrown away. Erected in 1902, the building now served as Lewisburg's creative control tower, attracting an unlikely band of artistic characters, back-to-the-land types, and retirees.

  The large mountains that nestled around the valley and the river, in truth, were what kept the economy going. With only one way in and out of town on Highway 105, it was easy to show up and never leave. That’s how most locals got to be locals. Visited and decided there was no reason to go. It was a perfect slice of heaven. The tourist attraction of mountain climbing, hiking, and whitewater rafting was a staple to the small community. Without the spring and summer seasons of great outdoors, things would have definitely been different.

  Right after dusk, before the night took hold, things always quieted down. Aside from occasionally hearing Frank Edelman’s four-wheeler wreaking havoc through the many trails surrounding the town on the weekends, all that could be heard was the wildlife. Owls hooting on their perch. Wild dogs howling in the night, communicating with one another from long distances. Crickets and frogs got so loud at night that, at times, they would drown out Frank and his four-wheeler in the woods.

  A lot of the townsfolk would argue the town was dying. With the sudden economic recession and the election in full tilt, many would say that Obamacare was to blame for all of the problems. That wasn’t the case. Every business had its slow seasons and Lewisburg, West Virginia was run like a small business. Things would pick up. They always did.

  Some would even venture to say 3,830 is a pretty large number. Well, it would be if we were talking about the number of light bulbs Frank Edelman changed at the bowling alley-turned Recreation Center every month. But that wasn’t what they’re talking about. That was the town’s population. Sure, there are a lot smaller towns in America, mind you. However, compared to the census taken back in 1902, that number had surprisingly dropped rather than increase. Although a lot of visitors would drop in and never leave, this was more of a retirement town. The death rate just never did seem to even out with the new arrivals. You would guess that was to be expected. It was in the middle of nowhere.

  Frank had worked at the old Recreation facility almost his entire life. Well, his adult working life that is. With his 22nd birthday only a few months away he had already put in more than five years as the janitor. No matter how often he tried to argue that he was the custodial staff, his friends would just remind him what that meant: Janitor. So what if he cleaned the bathrooms, mopped the floors, serviced the AC until nearly as old as the building, and changed the light bulbs? Someone had to do it. He enjoyed the job and made good money, too. At least that was what he told himself on nights like tonight. Tomorrow was to be some big local art opening for some of the retired folks. They already had the inside transformed into a gallery of sorts. It was his job to make sure everything else was in working order before the big opening the next day. Check all the lights, change any that were blown, clean the bathrooms extra well, mop and wax the halls, and take out the trash.

  He hated it when they had big events like this coming up. Especially on such short notice. He was finally down to the last item on the list, which was taking out the trash.

  The back door to the Center swung open. Frank strolled out with a full bag of trash slung over each shoulder. The MP3 player in his back pocket was on shuffle. Wish You Were Here by Pink Floyd blared through the ear-buds. Although small, the headphones could crank out some noise. He had to walk about twenty paces before reaching the dumpster at the back of the building. Once there, he dropped both heavy loads of trash at his feet. His head bobbed in rhythm with the music. The night sky was clear and the moon high overhead. The moon was bright tonight. The mountains that wrapped around the Lewisburg valley were illuminated in its wondrous glow.

  Unlike a lot of friends his age, Frank loved it out here. It was quiet and a lot of times, breathtaking.

  He stretched his back and pulled out a pack of smokes from the front pocket of his blue coveralls. He wore the bulky jump-suit looking outfit when he worked to keep his actual clothing clean. The building was so old and dusty that every night after work his coveralls were generally in bad shape.

  The song by Pink Floyd ended, giving way to Jesus Freak by DC Talk. He laughed out loud at the memories that the song brought to the surface. He hadn’t listened to it in ages. With enough songs on his device to last a decade, he hardly ever heard the same song twice in a given month. He lit up a cigarette and stuffed the pack of Lucky Strike’s back in his front pocket.

  A plume of smoke fluttered from his lips. He lifted the sleeve of his coveralls checking the time.

  “Fuck, man…” He cursed at the time, aggravated that he hadn’t finished all of this up hours ago. “Kathie is going to have a cow.”

  At least he was of
f tomorrow and currently getting paid time and a half. If he had it his way, he would spend most of the afternoon running around on his four-wheeler.

  He smiled at that and stood there by the dumpster enjoying his little smoke break. It felt good to finally be done. Dump the trash, lock up, and then he could go home.

  With the last drag of the cigarette pulling deep into his lung, he held it in to savor the taste. He dropped the butt to the cement and looked down, stomping it with one steel-toed boot. Just as he was about to reach over and heave one of the hefty bags of trash into the dumpster something caught his attention from the corner of his eye. Something blue flickered a few feet away in the darkness. When he looked up it was gone. He pulled the left bud from his ear and looked out past the dumpster for a moment.

  “Ehh… your mind playing tricks on you again, man. These long nights are getting to you.” He shook his head putting the ear-bud back in place, reached down, and tossed a bag of trash into the dumpster.

  As the bag crashed in notes of breaking glass, it echoed across the stillness and silence.

  Suddenly spooked, Frank took one more hard look out beyond what his eyes could see. He shook his head and reached down for the second bag.

  There it was again… only larger. Blue and purple. The light pulsated in the distance in midair for a second and then was gone. Just when he was about to pass it off as an acid trip flashback, the fluttering light returned and stayed. He watched as it grew with each pulsing throb. Like a vertical eye, it just grew and grew, lighting up the area around it.

  “What the fuck is that…” He stood curious with his brow raised.

  Oh yeah, he was definitely having an acid flashback. No question about it. Been a long time since one of these happened. He hadn’t been one to do a lot of drugs when he was younger, but that LSD, it stayed with you. Last time he saw hallucinations was when he accidentally cracked his back trying to lift a heavy box at his mom’s house. This was no different. He must have just lifted that garbage bag wrong or something. Pulled a muscle. As he watched the strobing light reach its max size his eyes grew wide. Someone or something was climbing through the light. Like it was some type of portal or something.

  He chuckled, straightening his spine while pressing one hand against the lower back. Funny thing was he didn’t feel like he pulled anything. He felt fine. Even so, he watched in awe as the bear-like man stepped out of the light. Then another, and another. Each stepped out and surveyed the area.

  Haaa… Franked laughed to himself. Looks like a fucking koala bear or some shit.

  He shrugged, still owing the occurrence to his old days of drug use. “I ain’t got time for this crap.” He reached out, grabbed the last bag of trash and tossed it into the dumpster.

  The sound of the heavy bag reverberated off the metal walls of the dumpster. What happened next, Frank would have never thought possible.

  “Ereht revo!” One of the creatures shouted, pointing its long sharp spear at Frank.

  Frank swallowed hard and gasped, expecting the visual relapse to have gone away by now. He stood frozen in shock and wonder as three of the bear-men started to approach. More stepped out through the blue and purple beam of light.

  “Kcatta!” One of them shouted.

  Instantly, the three approaching figures started to charge. Frank stepped back and almost stumbled.

  “Hey… I don’t mean to—”

  His words were cut short by a sharp pain in his right shoulder. His gaze followed the sensation and he promptly recognized the source of the pain. A short slender wooden spear was protruding from his right shoulder nearly three inches. He grabbed at it and almost felt to his knees from the pain. A deep red ran down the sleeve of his coveralls. The blue fabric had torn and his shoulder felt warm and wet on top of the pain.

  Frank screamed, stumbling and struggling to stand.

  His attackers’ pace quickened.

  Frank’s mind blurred. The koala-looking motherfuckers were only a few paces away when he felt his legs work against his mind. He didn’t realize it yet, but with the spear still lodged in deep, Frank was running toward the back door. His right arm wasn’t moving. As his body forced him forward, it slumped limp at his side. His mind caught up with his legs when his vision returned and he was pulling the door open and falling into the Rec Center.

  Throbbing pain bore down on him as he collided with the floor, the small wooden thing sticking out of his shoulder slamming against the floor where he fell. He heard something snap and for a split second was pretty sure it was his arm.

  With the adrenaline flowing, he pushed the sudden unbearable sound out of his mind and spun around on his ass. He slammed the door shut with his feet and pressed them against the door, still struggling to catch his breath. The door immediately jolted. The aggressors wanted inside. Pounding fists ensued. The door shook.

  “Fuck…” Frank barked, still seated on the freshly waxed floor. When he spun around on his ass he felt the MP3 player in his back pocket crack. The music resonating from his earphones was no more. With that, the pounding fists seemed even louder. “What the hell is going on?”

  He gasped, finding the energy to stand.

  Digging past his cigarettes with his left hand he pulled the keys from his right pocket and locked the door.

  His heart raced and his breathing grew heavy. His arm throbbed. He couldn’t bring himself to look at it. He needed to keep those things from getting in. He looked around for anything to use as a weapon or to just barricade the door for more support. There was nothing.

  And just when the thought of ‘nothing’ danced around in his head, the pounding outside ended. The door became still.

  He stood there for a while, his one good hand shaking. It wasn’t until he looked down at his right shoulder that he realized what had happened was real. It had actually happened. The sound that he thought had been his arm snapping like a twig when he fell was in fact the end of the wooden spear. The handle was snapped to one side, still clinging by just a few loose slivers of wood.

  “Ahh… shit.” Pain surged though his limp arm as he grabbed the spear with his left. “What the hell is going on?” He winced, forcing himself to try using his right hand. The pain was excruciating. The hand flexed and his elbow budged just a little, but not much.

  He listened to the silence for a minute, but heard nothing outside. Nothing close to the door at least.

  “How the hell am I supposed to get this out of my shoulder? Fuck, that’s going to hurt.” Frank didn’t want to think about pulling the spear free. There was no telling how deep it was.

  Favoring his left hand, he used it to lean against the wall and started easing himself down the hall toward the front of the Center. With each step, the broken spear handle bounced up and down, reminding him each time how much it hurt.

  He needed to get to the doctor and get his shoulder looked at. Make sure his arm was going to be okay. His car was parked in the front and that was where he was headed.

  Still trying to wrap his mind around what had just happened, he reached the front double sliding-glass doors. In the glass he saw his reflection, the small broken spear dangling there just like his useless arm. The sleeve of his coveralls was soaked a dark crimson. At night the sensors were off because he had everything locked down. He reached in his pocket again. Awkwardly with his left hand he started fishing for the key in his right pocket and heard something out in the parking lot. He looked out. His white 1982 GMC Jimmy wasn’t even forty feet away. He could make it.

  Then he saw it. Out past his car. Another ominous light started to form in the parking lot. Same as before. It pulsed and grew. Before he even put the key in the front door, figures started to climb out stepping into the street.

  “Fuck this.” Frank spat.

  He zipped down his coveralls, reaching deep down to his actual jean pockets. Retrieving his cellphone, he called 911. With just the one hand, the task was hard, but he pulled the phone out just the same.

  The phon
e rang.

  “Thanks for calling. Please state your emergency.” The operator said calmly.

  “I need the police right away.”

  “Hold please…”

  Before Frank had a chance to say another word, the phone began ringing again. It rang several times before anyone picked up. He watched out in the street as the bipedal animals began to spread out, scanning the area. It was as if they were looking for something. Then he saw several of them point in a direction and start running that way. Frank tried to see but couldn’t get a good look from his vantage point. What followed told all he needed to know. The sound of someone screaming boomed across the parking lot, reaching his ears, even past the thick glass of the sliding doors. For a second he thought no one was going to answer the phone.

  “Lewisburg Police department.” The woman said, very mater-of-fact.

  “I need help! Something is fucking going down! We need all of the cops hitting the—”

  “Calm down… Who is this—Where are you?”

  “Frank Edelman. I work down at the Rec Center. Listen to me…” Frank started, panic setting in. “We need to get some cops down here right away. Bring guns. Lots of fucking guns!”

  “What is happening exactly, Mr. Edelman?” The lady on the other end was so relaxed that it was as if Frank was calling about an issue with the router from his internet provider.

  “Are you hearing a word I’m saying?”

  “Yes, but I need you to tell me what’s happened.”

  “You wouldn’t believe me it I told you.”

  “Well, I’m not just going to send someone down for nothing. I need you to—”

  “Hell, you’re going to need to send more than just someone. Send them all! I’ve got a fucking spear in my arm for crying out loud. A bunch of…” Frank paused, knowing the truth would sound silly. “A bunch of looters are loose over here. They tried to break into the Rec Center. Attacked the shit out of me!”

  The operator said a few things, but in truth, Frank wasn’t listening. His attention had been drawn back to the parking lot and beyond.