A Mile in His Shoes

Warren gasped as he lurched upward, and the sheet fell off his chest. His punch had been perfect, and he had countered with a left hook that was aimed directly at its jaw. His fist had connected with nothing, and the momentum of the swing sent Warren sprawling off the bed onto the floor. His right hand flailed against the bedside table and sent the lamp and clock tumbling.

“Wha...what the hell?” Linda yelled from her side of the bed.

Images and memories grappled in a maelstrom, and Warren squinched his eyes closed to sort them out. He groaned.

Linda’s head appeared above him. “What happened? Are you okay?”

“I...I think so. I had a dream.”

“That must have been one hell of a dream.”

“It was. I was in a land that was controlled by giant lizards. They roamed the streets like soldiers and used humans as slaves and experiments.”

“Honey, if you’re gonna wake me up screaming, please make it a little more interesting.”

“More interesting?”

“Go back to sleep. Dream of something better than the shit we live in, okay?”

Her head disappeared. In seconds, he heard her steady breathing. His heart was pounding so fast, there was no way he was getting back to sleep. He decided to get an early start on the day. He went quietly into the bathroom to take a shower and finish his morning routine as it it were seven o’clock instead of five.

As the hot water engulfed his head, images from his dream snuck into his brain. He was part of a rebel group that opposed the evil lizard people. The details drained away as he rinsed the shampoo. By the time he dried his hair, they were gone. He dressed in the dark, trying very hard not to wake his wife. He closed the door silently behind him and headed down the hall.

Far enough away from the bedroom, he flipped on the kitchen light. While the coffee brewed, he grabbed some eggs, ham, and bread and put them on the counter. He took his favorite pan from the cupboard and placed it on the stove. He dropped the bread in the toaster and pushed the lever down. He cracked the eggs into a bowl and set them aside. He dropped a slice of ham into the pan and it sizzled gently.

He walked to the front door, hoping the morning paper had been delivered. He opened it and looked down at the welcome mat. Nothing.

“Hey!” a nasty voice barked from down the hall his left. “You aren’t authorized to exit until oh-eight hundred!”

Warren turned, screamed, and banged his head against the door jamb. He tried to make another sound, but his lungs had seized, and he could do nothing more than shiver and squeak. A large lizard was walking toward him on two feet at an angry pace, wearing a grey uniform and holding an ugly rifle at the ready.

“I said get back inside!” it roared as it stepped within inches of Warren’s face. “Come out when it’s time to go back to work.”

Warren didn’t--couldn’t--move.

“Now!”

The eight-foot-tall creature swung a scaly claw and batted Warren’s head, sending him tumbling back into his apartment. It reached in and pulled the door shut with a loud slam. Warren lay on the floor in the dark, shaking uncontrollably.

“I’m still dreaming,” he whispered.

“What did you do?” Linda’s voice pierced the darkness.

“What? I..I was making breakfast and I…”

“You want to get us both sent to Convulsions? What were you thinking, opening the door yourself?”

“There was a giant lizard. It had a gun. It hit me.”

“No shit, Sherlock. You’re damn lucky he didn’t shoot you where you stood. I thought you knew better.”

“Knew better? I didn’t even know...Linda, what was that thing?”

“What do you mean? That ‘thing’ is Gronku. He’s the son of a bitch mosaur officer that got demoted to Night Guard for ‘accidentally’ killing three specimens on their way to the lab, remember?”

“No. I don’t.”

Linda was silent except for a quiet hitch in her breathing. “Then you can go to hell, too,” She walked back down the hall.

Warren stayed on the floor. His head moved slowly back and forth, like a poorly constructed animatronic toy. He turned with a slight jerk from the front door, then into the kitchen, then down the hall where his wife had disappeared in a huff. The smell of smoke--a reasonable, sensible, familiar smell--broke him from his daze.

“The ham!” He jumped up and hurried into the kitchen. A pillar of black smoke was erupting from the pan as the slice of meat danced and curled. He picked up the pan from the small stove and tossed it into the sink with a clank. On impulse, he turned on the faucet. The explosion of steam and grease shoved him back against the counter with a shout.

“Aah!” he screamed as his hand pressed against the side of the hot toaster. He rolled to the side and whacked his thigh against the table. The salt and pepper shakers tipped over. He spun and stumbled back through the door into the family room. He aimed for the couch and landed on it with a thud. He grabbed the cushions beneath him, more to feel something sold than to keep from actually falling to the floor. He was still in that awkward position when Linda came down fifteen minutes later.

“It’s time to go,” she said flatly as she walked past him. She almost reached the front door when she stopped, put her arms to her side, and stood still.

“What are you doing?” Warren asked.

“Just get up here so you’re not late. You’re already gonna get a demerit. Don’t give Gronku another excuse. He’ll take you if you give him just half a chance.”

“But--”

“Half a chance! Get over here!”

Warren stood and walked over and stood next to her.

Without taking her eyes from the door, she hissed, “What are you doing? Get in front of me!”

Warren slid in front of her, standing “in line” at their own front door. He turned his head so he could see her. “Listen, Linda. Something really weird is going on. Why--”

A loud alarm began echoing in the hallway. Warren saw Linda straighten. Suddenly, their door burst open. Linda slapped his right shoulder to turn him around. He faced forward and glimpsed the backside of a lizard man--she had called them mosaurs--passing by. A overly tanned, wrinkled man with no hair and a pronounced curved posture waddled past. Behind him came a teenager who was probably related. He had the same shaped head and walked with a younger version of his posture. The young man did nothing to help his grandfather, but just stayed with him.

Linda shoved Warren hard and he stumbled into the hall. He collided with someone who pushed him to the right--into line following the two men. Warren followed without thinking. Nothing made sense, and staying with the one person he knew--his wife--seemed the smartest course of action. She wasn’t making any sense, either, but he still felt compelled to not let her get away. He glanced behind him once, but her scowl told him that was not allowed.

The mosaur was leading the parade down the hall. He..it...Warren wasn’t sure...was walking from door to door, opening each and moving on. As soon as the door opened, one or two people came out and joined the line. No one spoke. Everyone kept the same distance between them. The line walked through heavy double doors, down three flights of concrete steps, and outside to the sidewalk where it merged with two other lines of the same length. Still no one spoke.

At the end of the walkway, the line split. The men turned left and the women right. Warren panicked. He could tell he was supposed to leave Linda, but she was his only connection to the reality he knew--that he thought he knew. What was his life supposed to look like if it wasn’t this? He suddenly realized that he couldn’t remember. He twisted around as he walked to plead with Linda to give him some clue about what was going to happen when he turned left.

He was rewarded with another painful swat to his head from another guard. Hands pushed him back into position, and he quickly joined the rhythm, marching away from her and toward his unknown destination.

His destination was a swamp.

After marching in silence for thirty minutes, the men arrived at the edge of a muddy bog. The others--in silence--walked to a pile of shovels and grabbed one. Without any instructions, they walked directly into the quagmire. Five minutes into this bizarre trek, Warren had decided that his best course of action was to simply follow and do what the others did. He took a shovel and soon found himself in a knee-deep bog.

He watched as some of the other men bent down and brought up handfuls of muck which they spread on their faces and arms.

His look of revulsion must have been obvious because the old bald man quietly said, “You better cover that pasty skin of yours if you don’t want to look like a lobster by lunchtime.”

Sunscreen. Of course.

Warren was soon covered in rancid gunk which immediately began to dry and harden in the harsh heat. He glanced along the shore of the swamp and saw at least a hundred men, each standing in the stagnant water, most covered with mud and all holding a shovel. On the sold ground stood a string of small hopper cars. An alarm identical to the one in the apartment building sounded. In perfect unison, shovels disappeared into the water and emerged full of mud. With graceful arcs, the muck was flung into the wagons. The men plunged the shovels underwater and repeated the process. It took Warren no time to understand what was expected of him, and he matched the cadence of the others.

He shoveled swamp mud for nine hours.

As the shadows were beginning to lengthen, The alarm sounded, and each man returned to the shore. They stacked the shovels and recreated the line from the morning in reverse. Some signal was given, and everyone began marching back. Ten minutes into the hike, everyone walked between two mosaurs who wielded fire hoses. The intense pressure of the water stung and battered them, but they emerged completely mud-free. They had the next twenty minutes to dry off in the approaching dusk.

When Warren returned to his apartment, there was a sandwich on the kitchen table. The burnt ham from that morning had been joined with one slice of cheese and two slices of cucumber. He wolfed it down and drank three glasses of water. He put the plate and glass in the sink and slowly headed for the bedroom.

Linda was in bed, asleep. Warren got undressed, leaving his clothes on the floor next to the bed, and climbed under the covers. He gently shook his wife.

“Honey, I need to talk to you.”

“In the morning,” she said groggily.

He leaned his head on his pillow to get comfortable, but kept his hand on her shoulder. “No, This is important. It needs to be tonight.”

“What is it? What’s so important?” She didn’t look at him.

“It’s this...this place...these things. I don’t understand…”

Linda was quiet for a full minute and Warren did not continue. She turned her head to look at him and asked, “What don’t you understand?”

But he had fallen asleep.

The crash startled him, but the scream brought him fully awake. He could see nothing in the darkness, but he leapt out of bed and ran into Martha’s room.

“Daddy!” the young girl bellowed between gasps and sobs. He threw his arms around her and held her tightly. When her wailing had quieted, he heard the engines outside. Angry voices were yelling and something heavy hit the side of the house.

“Warren, What’s happening?” a voice squeaked behind him.

“I don’t know,” he said. “Call the police, then come back here and take care of Martha.”

“I’m too scared.”

“Dolly! I need you to keep it together. I will handle it, but you’ve got to…”

“Okay. Don’t yell. I’m going!”

Warren heard her voice on the phone, a little louder than it should have been. When she returned, he asked, “What did they say?”

“They said they didn’t have any patrolmen nearby. I said we were being attacked, and he told me to calm down.”

“Come here. I’ll go outside.”

“No! They’ll kill you.”

“No they won’t. They’ll learn not to mess with me.”

The parents changed places, and the young girl began wailing again.

“Daddy! I want Daddy!”

“It’s okay, Baby. Daddy will be right back. Shh…”

Warren headed for the front, stopping by the bedroom on the way to get his shotgun. He loaded it, cocked it, and flung open the door. Chaos reigned on his front lawn. Three motorcycles and a pickup truck were being driven in circles, destroying his grass and landscaping. They were being driving by angry dogs who snarled, barked and howled amidst their melee.

Dogs? The absolute bizarreness of it flashed through Warren’s mind, but quickly vanished. The attackers were practically invisible in the darkness, but he could see their silhouettes and hear their barks.

“Get out of here!” he bellowed as loud as he could.

One animal, a mangy cur riding nothing more than a dirtbike, saw him and snapped his teeth, but kept following the truck. No one else noticed. Warren aimed his gun into the air and fired. The report of the 12-gauge shotgun was earth shattering. Everyone but the driver of the truck, a dirty pitbull with one eye missing, stopped. The others aimed their bikes at the porch. The pit continued driving around until he had to veer to miss hitting one of his comrades.

Suddenly, it was very quiet. The only sound was the unhealthy idling of poorly maintained engines.

“Get the hell out of here!” Warren screamed. “I won’t tell you again!”

“No, you get out of here,” someone yelled. “Your kind don’t belong around here.”

The others took courage and joined in the taunting.

“Get back to your cave!”

“Keep your spawn away from our kids!”

“I warned you,” Warren said, and he aimed his gun at the truck.

Police blues and reds erupted like fireworks as a cruiser pulled into a space between two bikes. A spotlight flicked on and was aimed at Warren, blinding him.

A distorted voice blared from a loudspeaker, “Just hold on there, son. This is the sheriff. Put the gun down.”

Warren raised one hand to shield his eyes, but kept the gun level. Behind the glare of the light, engines roared to life and sped away.

“These...people were destroying my house and terrorizing my family. I’m defending myself.”

“What you are doing is threatening a citizen with a firearm, which is a felony in these parts. I said put the gun down. Now. Before I have to make you.”

Warren slowly lowered the shotgun and laid it on the floor. The spotlight turned off, but the colored lights continued strobing.

A car door opened and closed. Warren was blinking to restore his sight when he heard footsteps on the stairs. He bent down toward his gun.

“Now, I wouldn’t do that if I was you,” the sheriff said. I’m just here to maintain the peace. I just want to know what happened.”

As he came into view, Warren saw that he was a some German Shepherd mix, wearing a police officer uniform and walking on two legs.

“I woke up to someone throwing something through one of my windows and my daughter screaming. I came outside and they were trashing my lawn.”

“Any idea who they were?”

“I didn’t get a good look at them. They broke my porch light.”

“That’s a shame. I can’t really do anything if you didn’t see who they were.”

“They were destroying my property!”

“And you fired a shotgun in city limits, and you are here, and they are gone.”

“Why did you let them go?”

“I let them go because I was facing a man who was threatening me with a gun.”

“I wasn’t threatening you, I was--”

“I saw a man with a gun who was certain to fire it if I did not intervene. That was a higher priority than capturing five men who may or may not have been dangerous.”

“May or may not have been dangerous? They were threatening me and my family.”

“What did they say?”

“They said that we didn’t belong here and that we should leave.”

“Hmm,” said the sheriff. After a calculated pause, he continued. “Maybe they have a point. Maybe this never would have happened if you and your kind stopped drifting into this part of town.”

“What?”

“You have your own people and a nice place to live on the Southside. Maybe if you had kept your family there, these hooligans wouldn’t have had cause to air their grievances.”

“I see,” Warren said as he realized what he was up against. “I guess it was a good thing you showed up, then. It might have gotten ugly.”

“Well, I was in the area and heard the ruckus.”

“In the area, huh?”

“Tell you what, boy. I’m gonna ignore your mishandling of a firearm, but I want you to seriously consider what happened tonight, and think about what I said. I would hate to have to come out here again. I don’t think I would be as forgiving a second time.”

“I appreciate your concern,” Warren said flatly.

“You get yourself and your family back to sleep. I don’t imagine you’ll have any more trouble...tonight.”

The dog walked back to his car, turned off the lights, and drove away as calmly as if he were driving away from an I-Hop. Warren watched him go.

He picked up his gun and turned to go back inside when a voice behind him said, “You fire a gun at us, boy? That ain’t right.”

Warren turned to see four black shapes emerge from the side of his house. He tried to raise the gun, but someone grabbed his arm from behind and wrenched it free. He struggled to get it back when the others converged on him like wasps. In his peripheral vision, he saw something swing toward him. A searing pain gripped his skull and everything went black.

He sat up with a scream, tangled in his sheets. He wrestled until he was standing, the bedding in a heap on the floor.

“What’s wrong? What’s wrong?” Dolly said, clutching her nightshirt for warmth.

“I was...There were...Martha!”

Warren sprinted to his daughter’s room and forcefully opened the door. The noise woke her.

“What’s wrong, Daddy?” the groggy girl said.

“Nothing. Nothing. I’m just checking to make sure you’re okay.” He tried to sound as casual as possible, giving her no hint of alarm.

“I’m okay,” she said, obviously a little confused.

“That’s what I wanted to hear. Go on back to sleep, Baby. Good night.”

Dolly had found a robe and followed him into the hallway. “What is wrong with you?”

“I had a dream. A horrible dream.”

“Well, you’re awake now, and so am I. You scared me to death.” “I’m sorry. I was so scared. There were these dogs. They were threatening us. Told us we didn’t belong here.”

“Come back to bed. Maybe we can find something to do since we’re both awake.”

She turned and walked toward their room, waving her hips in an outlandishly suggestive way. Warren detoured into the bathroom before returning to their room. By the time he climbed in next to his wife, she was fast asleep. He was relieved, since he was not in the mood for lovemaking.

He lay there for three hours, flashes of dogs and lizards, mud and motorcycles flashing through his mind, making no sense. He felt as if he had been thrown into a maze with no directions and no understanding if he wanted to escape or find the center. When the alarm clock announced the morning, he had decided the simplest explanation was that he was going insane.

“Time to get up,” Dolly said cheerfully. She slid out of her side and left. Three minutes later, she returned. “Your turn.”

He walked to the bathroom and took his time completing his morning ablutions. When he was dressed, he went into the kitchen where Martha was busy eating cereal and Dolly was holding a cup of coffee out for him.

“You’re going to be late. I don’t know how you expect to pay the water bill you just enjoyed. That’s the longest shower you’ve ever taken...by yourself.” She winked at him.

“You are incorrigible,” he said and kissed her. “Thanks for breakfast. I’ll be home by seven.”

He took the coffee.

“Don’t forget this,” Dolly said, holding out a paper bag.

“Bye, Daddy!” Martha said.

Warren leaned over and kissed her head. He left the house and stopped on the front porch. The lawn was intact. There were no tire tracks no broken windows. It had been a dream.

He walked three blocks until the road emptied onto an avenue. When he passed a barber shop on his right, a dog wearing a brown suit walked out. Warren stumbled backward, spilling his coffee.

“What’s your problem, Boy?” the dog growled. “You got coffee on your shirt.”

Warren looked down at the brown stain and closed his eyes. When he looked up, the dog was walking away.

“All barbarians,” it said loudly. Shaken, Warren dumped the rest of the coffee into the street and continued walking. There were dogs all along the street. Some were dressed well in suits or dresses. Others wore jeans and t-shirts. One or two wore short skirts and high heels. Whenever they passed him, they each gave Warren an angry stare and a quiet snarl. Warren did his best not to stare, but his head was in a whirl. Obviously, he had completely lost his mind.

He turned into the general store and was met by Mr. Higgins.

“You’re late!” the Scottish Terrier said tersely. “And look at your shirt.”

“I had a bit of an accident on the way in,” Warren said meekly.

“What am I supposed to do about that? I can’t have you serving customers looking like you walked through a swamp. If you go home to change, it’ll be another hour before you’re back.”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Higgins.”

“I am too. Mildred said I shouldn't have hired you in the first place. I guess she was right.”

“Mr. Higgins--”

“Don’t Mr. Higgins, me, Warren. It just isn’t working out. I’m sure you can find a job someplace else. Maybe you can work in Southside. I hear there are plenty of places there.”

Mr. Higgins turned and walked to the back, ending all discussion. Warren took a very deep breath and went outside.

The door had just closed behind him when a short haired bulldog in a varsity jacket stepped in front of him. “What’s your problem?” the dog said, leaning into Warren’s face. “I was walking here.”

“I guess I didn’t see you. My apologies.”

“My apologies? Hear that? He gave me his apologies!”

Three other dogs appeared and circled behind their leader.

“Seems to me that you ought to learn to be more careful in the first place so you don’t have to give your apologies. What ya think about that?”

“Not today. I was just fired, and I need to get started on finding a new job.”

“That’s a great idea. You start finding a new job. In a new town. And we’ll start your education on how to be more careful.”

A fisted paw swung from his left and struck his face. Something hit him in his gut and he bent over. A crack against his skull sent him into darkness.

He woke slowly. The light was painfully bright. He heard voices, but couldn’t see anyone. His head rang with pain and he moaned.

“Doctor, it looks like John Doe is awake.”

“It’s about time. Let’s go have another look.”

Shadows moved around him until two warthogs dressed in medical scrubs approached his bed. Warren whimpered.

“I see you have not died,” one of the warthogs said.

“Where am I?”

“You’re in Medical General. Your friends pulled up, dumped you at the front door, and drove off. Very rude. Our new progressive administration has recently demanded that we give medical attention to anyone who happens to show up, so we had no choice but to tend to your wounds.”

“No choice? Why wouldn’t you?”

“Because your kind belong at St. Francis across town. If you had arrived here last year, you would have been sent straight there. They are better equipped to deal with your special issues.”

“What happened to me?”

“Apparently, you offended someone pretty badly. You were beaten within an inch of your life.”

“I don’t remember.”

“Of course you don’t. You also should get some sort of identification. Do you know your name?”

“It’s Warren...Warren...I’m sorry I am a little fuzzy.”

The doctor sniffed derisively.

“Mr. Warren, can you at least remember what you were doing before you were attacked?”

“I was coming out of a store.”

“A store? What kind of store?”

“A general store.”

“That’s quaint. A general store? Like in the Old West?”

“No, a real general store. I worked there. I think.”

“What did you do there?”

“I don’t remember. I had just gotten fired, and I was--”

“Fired or caught stealing? Perhaps you were running out of the store with your loot when someone tried to stop you.”

“No, I worked there. I think.”

It seems to me your memory holes are awfully convenient.”

The other warthog looked at the door and said, “Hello, Officer. Come in.”

“Officer?” Warren asked.

“Yes, we call the police if we suspect foul play. He is going to ask you some questions.”

“I don't need any police. I'm not going to press charges on anyone.”

The doctor chuckled. "You press charges? You should be more worried about who is going to press charges against you."

"I didn't do anything wrong!"

Warren twisted away from the creatures and swung his legs off the other side of the bed. His head screamed in torment and lights swirled all around him. He felt like he was going to throw up.

“Get back here, Boy. There’s nowhere you can go. We have the room surrounded.”

Warren shuffled his butt to the edge of the bed and slid off. Instead of his feet hitting the cold linoleum floor, they kept going down, and he fell. He fell through the floor into nothingness, into blackness.

He woke up with tears in his eyes, but was too afraid to move.

He sniffed. Everything smelled normal. He had never noticed what normal smelled like, but this was it. He turned his head to the right and saw the floor-to-ceiling windows covered by vertical blinds. He looked left and saw the shape of his wife, Lindsay, wrapped in the blanket. Kinky strands of her blonde hair stuck out onto the large pillow. He sat up and saw the door to the master bathroom, open, and the one to the hallway, closed. Normal.

The coffee was already brewing when he entered the kitchen. He had finally remembered to set the timer the previous night. He was pouring himself a cup when Lindsay walked in.

“You’re up early,” she said. “I can’t remember the last time you left me in bed instead of the other way around.”

“I had a dream. A really weird dream.”

“You can tell me about it on the way. Remember, we are going to take the Tahoe to the shop and go to the park while they changed the oil. Like a date.”

“A date? Not very romantic.”

“Charm’s never been your strong suit, Honey. Go get dressed.”

Forty-five minutes later, Warren and Lindsay were walking hand in hand in Main Park. They had an hour to kill and were just wandering around, enjoying the sunshine.

Someone from behind them yelled, “Hey!”

Warren turned and saw a policeman--a human--running toward them.

“Hey!” the cop repeated. “Stop!”

Warren’s heart stopped. His lungs convulsed. His feet moved. He ran. He ran faster than he had in years. He heard Lindsay yell something, but he didn’t stop. He dodged baby strollers and an older couple who seemed to be standing still. He leapt over a girl who was lying on a beach blanket reading a book. He didn’t know where he was going. He just ran.

The cop hollered. He was still back there. Warren was reaching his limits. It was getting harder to breathe. His heart was pounding now. He couldn’t go much further. Out of the park, he sprinted down Main Street. He saw a bricked alley and turned into it. It dead-ended at a chain-link fence. He slammed into it as he heard the footsteps of the cop behind him.

Warren spun around and put his hands in the air. “Don’t shoot!” He cried and closed his eyes.

The cop slid to a halt about ten feet from him. He was also breathing heavily, but was obviously in better shape.

Warren repeated, “Don’t shoot. I didn’t do anything.”

“Then why’d you run?”

“I thought...I just thought you were after me. I don’t know why.”

“Why would I shoot you? You got something to hide?”

“No, I don’t. I’m just...I’ve had a very strange night. Why were you chasing me?”

“I was chasing you because you ran when I told you to stop.”

“Why did you want me to stop?”

“I wanted you to stop because you dropped your wallet by the fountain and somebody gave it to me. I recognized you from your license,”

At that moment, Lindsay came around the corner. “Warren! Warren! What was that about? Why are you standing like that?”

Warren hadn’t realized he was still holding his hands up.