This is a draft version of a chapter from John Saye’s book, Longevity and Other Stories. If you are daring, why not subscribe to my newsletter (they come few and far between), and I’ll send you a PDF copy of the book?

“So, are you ready then?” said Arthur from the roof of our townhouse. Mrs. constellation had a foot in Mr. Curtis’s back, cinching a leather strap tight to keep him and all the holy water tied to his body. It looked like he had an extra leather jacket worth of bags strapped to him. Tying the cinch off made his tongue lash out and almost hit me in the face.

“Curtis!”

“Sorry,” his tongue was still recoiling into his mouth,

His arms bulged out over the bags and he checked the hound could get could reach into the strange pockets.

“Yes, Arthur,” I said, as Mrs. Constellation yanked a strap and pushed her foot into my back, causing me to add an auuuggghh to the end.

“Indeed,” said the owl, looking more at the moon, and raising a wing to judge the air. “Let’s get this over with. You say you can get these things to vacate, then?”

“Yeah, I think so,” I said.

“Good, then let’s get on with it.”

Mr. Curtis reached up and pulled a coin from Arthur’s ear, and smiled.

“See there?” said the frog. Even covered in strange bags of holy water, I can still do magic.

“Nice. You know I’m an owl, right?”

“Well, yes.”

“And I have a superior hearing?”

“Well yes, okay.”

“I could hear you flip the coin out from between your fingers.”

This stopped my friend for half a second.

After a moment he bowed, and said “magic!”

Mrs. Constellation pulled another strap holding in a half a pound of salt under my arm. It made me wheeze and my eyes bug out.

“Just about there,” she said.

She did it again before I could say anything.

“Thank you,” I said in a whisper.

“Let’s get on with it, then. The bakery is only a couple of blocks away.”

“Yeah, let’s get out there.”

He swooped up into the air and crossed in front of the moon in a great shadow.

“Arthur?”

Then he came down swiftly, and I felt like prey, open talons coming for us, Mr. urticaria and my vagabond to run life or lives depended on it. It wasn’t rational; it was just moon, owl, talons, run! And off we went, with Mrs. Constellation watching us, disapproving with her hands on her hips.

Then he grabbed us by the big leather bags strapped to us, and talons closed silently over our shoulders, strong and snug, but not tight enough to kill us, and we were airborne.

Above us, we could see nothing. Everything was feathers, down and to the sides of stars and rooftops. He was still keeping low, mostly gliding, with a few beats of the wings to get where we were going.

Below us, the streets were empty except for the occasional staggering person possessed by one creature. What was I doing, even fighting this? I struggled, pulling at Arthur’s foot, and trying to drop my salt. I was going to climb up and I don’t know escape. Land on a roof nearby and skitter away?

Arthur just gripped him harder and said none of that, squeezing an “Okay” out of my lips.

Mr. Curtis hat his arms out wide, his eyes slightly loses and his tongue hanging out just a little. I think he was having airplane putter noises, but I couldn’t tell you for sure because I was still so afraid for my own life at the moment.

The second time I looked, he had three playing cards in each hand, acting like they were flight feathers of his own, I expect.

“Isn’t this outstanding!” He yelled.

“Yeah, great.”

Arthur swooped, and I held onto my hat, pulling it over my eyes, and felt the rush of the wind until the gravelly texture of the roof over the bakery was under my feet trying to tear my furry toes off.

He laid us down as gently as he could, and I thanked him by hugging his leg in desperation. He kicked me off. I rolled to the side and got up sharply, dusting myself off. One of my salt bags started leaking, but that was okay. I’d run and create a trail, anyway.

Mr. Curtis popped a cork out of one of the holy water bottles. I don’t know how h did it with a mouth devoid of teeth, really, but it was done. Maybe he grabbed it in there with his tongue or something, but quickly he was spitting two corks out and smiling.

“All right then?” said the owl.

“We’re good from there.”

“All right then. Later.”

He flew into the air.

The main chimney was there. Now that I could see Arthur flying off into the distance, I was happy it wasn’t too tall for us to climb.

I scrambled up it, and Mr. Curtis jumped to the top in one leap.

“Ready?” said the frog.

“Not really,” some came out of my mouth.

“Good,” he said, then he pushed me in and jumped behind me.

We slid down the chimney and landed in a hornet’s nest.

They surrounded us, covered in soot, and we rolled into the middle of them. Mrs. Smith was there, her face open, and the tentacled creature clearly in charge, with several of who looked like other folks from town, also being operated in line, they were little vehicles for yellow squid guys. They were loading something into bags, and it looked like they were putting them into the dough for tomorrow.

“To effect, infect more?” I said without thinking.

They stopped everything and dropped what they were doing and got holy water in the face from Mr. Curtis. Who said “Tally-ho!”

I took the cue and started throwing handfuls of salt in all directions. I threw it at people, on-the-floor, in directions that made no sense, and off across the room where nothing but sweeping up would happen later, anyway.

I jumped over the counter. Salt in Mrs. Smith’s squid face. Everyone was wet. People were steaming. It was getting harder to see. I realized a second later that they were tossing so much flour into the air that everyone was getting pretty sticky.

Out came the first octopus. It slid off the face of one guy. There was holy water and salt all over the place. It scrambled. I lost track of it.

“The ovens,” I heard one say. “The bake,” I heard another one say, then more salt slinging. I was getting it everywhere. The bag at my side was leaking fast now. I got the rest in my hands and went after Mrs. Smith.

She scrambled in and over counters, and I got her from behind when Mr. Curtis turned to the oven and got her attention.

She turned in a split second to scream when he turned it off then I salted her probably a little too well.

The squid slid out and left her body behind.

It wasn’t a husk. She was breathing, but the yellow squid guy wasn’t happy either. Covered in salt that was destroying his body and holy water that was steaming, it could escape. It crumpled to the floor. The others we’d encountered were in similar shape. Now three left, stranded in seas of salt and holy water in little patches on the floor.

“Mrs. Smith?” I shook her gently. To my surprise, her eyes opened. Whatever the creatures were doing, it wasn’t permanent, at least at this stage.

“The ovens,” she said saintly, smiling up into my eyes.

“Yes, Mrs. Smith?”

“Incubators for their eggs.”

Then she passed out, unconscious in my arms.

“Mrs. Smith, I…” I laid her down, to rest on the salt and wet flour-covered floor. It was already in all the furs. I got one of the other guys, recovering to look for her while Mr. Curtis spread holy water and salt all over the counter.

“What’s up, partner?” I said.

“Here,” he said.

He took the largest squid and plopped it on the table. He and I followed with the others. They couldn’t move, and I dragged up a chair from the dining room and sat down heavily.

“What’s going on?”

“Invasion.”

“No need to possess people.”

“Our world is dying, dead.”

“Nice. We don’t want to be.”

“There’s more. We’re not alone.”

All his answers were coming directly into my mind. He didn’t seem to have a real mouth for speaking, just his beak.

The salt and holy water were melting them. They bubbled, then flopped. In the end, one of them said “ship.”

“They have a ship.”

“Come on, Dr. James,” Mr. Curtis grabbed me by the arm. I didn’t realize what he was up to until we got to the drain. The tentacles were there, drawing the boxes down into the tunnels.

“It’s the buns,” said Mr. Curtis. “The buns.”

“The buns what?”

“Incubators.”

“What?”

More boxes went down.

“They are growing their babies in the bread!”

“Oh god, and when we eat them,…”

“Then they take over.”

“Simple plan. Rake over enough to facilitate the work, and a few others, and get them down the drain.”

“What’s down there then?”

He smacked me behind my neck.

“The ship dummy! They are packing the ship with young, all warmly covered in a nice roll or donut to eat as they mature.”

“We’ve got to get down there,”

“Right!”

“In a box?”

We scrambled into boxes and sat by the others. Every few moments, another couple of boxes went down. Soon it was our turn, and everything turned upside down.

Tentacles grabbed us, and our boxes went flying. We tumbled, though carefully. The handlers didn’t want to disturb the contents. We sailed down, rocking against the sides of the box, sliding around like not a roll, but a large cake, maybe.

I held my arms out and tried to steady myself, knowing Mr. Curtis must do the same on his own, trying not to fall out before we get noticed.

Everything stopped.

My box stopped tumbling. It had set me down.

I lifted the lid on my box of donuts and saw it.

I was next to Mr. Curtis, who was also peeking out. We saw each other, which meant I needed to be a lot more careful.

We were in a cavern, large and lit with green and pink lights. The floor looked slick and stacked up were maybe fifty other boxes, just like ours. In the distance was the ship. The outside was stark white with silver highlights, and a day line of windows curdled circled the top.

Through the windows, I could see the big squid.

I wish I could stop calling them. Squid iron octopuses. They were neither, but I didn’t have a good name. It was large.

I quickly closed my box. Someone was going by. I felt like I wasn’t the only one moving. All the surrounding boxes were wiggling. One by one I could tear boxes opening and closing a few moments later, noon one at a time, maybe two or three at a time. Everything was jumping, so I started jumping. Why were we jumping?

It was feeding time. I was in a sea of boxes of vast creatures, and soon it would be my turn. What was I going to do? Crouch, okay, no. Act like a dinner roll? No amount of method acting was going to get me there.

They opened our boxes.

All eyes were on us. They were around us.

The big one in the ship trained eyes on us.

 I stood up, my fur still covered in flour.

Mr. Curtis took off his magic top hat. “Want to see a trick?”

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