You've Got Another Thing Coming

“Duck, goddamnit! Duck!”

A bullet whizzed pass my ear and I tossed myself to the ground. A bomb exploded somewhere nearby, the shock-wave pressing all the air out of my lungs. Feathers showered me from above.

I had been walking aimlessly through more doors, ignorant to the things that went on around me and in dire need to find someone whom I could express my tormented conscious to. Without knowing much of how I had ended up here, I had suddenly walked into a WW2 kind of battle in the middle of a burnt down city.

“Get the grenades!” an officer shouted from somewhere behind me, or so I thought, and out of the blue came four grenades flying, launched at my cowering self.

The alarm was deafening; the sound of airplanes, guns, screams and howls of agony – commands and bombs succeeding each other.

I was crying. There’s no point in denying it; I was scared shitless.

I heard a soft thump as something landed near my cheek, and as I glanced up I saw the famous outline of a grenade without its splinter. It was wheezing.

I whimpered.

From the corner of my eye I could see a pair of army boots clamp around. They were getting closer, and I felt the need to scream out; to warn them about the danger.

Though, it was too late.

The grass folded underneath the thick sole of the shoes, and a pair of well-shaved legs stuck up like two flag poles from their concrete holding.

“Run,” I whispered hoarsely.

“From what?” a light, soft voice wondered. “There’s nothing in here to be afraid of.”

I looked up. My eyes met a pair of grey orbs, concerned and a bit confused. A hand reached out and grabbed me, pulling me off the ground.

“Wow, you look a mess!” the short woman exclaimed. “…And what are you doing in the kitchen pantry?”

I glanced around me. I was now standing up straight on wooden floors, with a baking towel clutched in my hands, staring in wonder at the enormous pantry filled with food and kitchen supplies.

“I’m…in a…pantry?” The words left my mouth with the same amazed, slightly dozed off tone that I felt inside my head.

I knew I had been walking aimlessly, but this was a bit too far-fetched! I think I would have noticed going into a kitchen!

“Uhm, yeah?” the woman before me looked at me, uncertain what do to or even think of me. Her apron-clad stance was defensive.

“Marlin!” someone then oh-so-conveniently shouted in the kitchen, and the woman before me started.

I knew that voice; I had heard it before!
“Egon?” I croaked, relief flooding through my veins.

“Callie?” she wondered, sounding a bit surprised as she rounded the doorframe and stood before us. Her short, messy hair was even messier than it had been the night before, and she was staring at me and the other woman with slightly dazed eyes. “Aren’t you supposed to be in bed?”

I replied by staring back with even more slightly dazed eyes. “Wha?”

Egon glanced at the other woman, picked up said woman’s arm and glanced at her wrist watch.
“It’s 7:15 in the morning,” she informed me. “Most of our guests usually sleep until 9, or so. Which reminds me,” Egon tugged a little at the arm, “Marlin, is the breakfast done, yet?”

“Of course,” the woman replied, sounding almost insulted. “Lynnea and I have been working since 6 am, like always!”

“Good,” was Egon’s only reply.

She then turned to me, wide-eyed.
“Oh, Callie!” she exclaimed. “I’m so sorry; I forgot to introduce you two to each other!”

She grabbed my hand, and yanked at the other woman’s hand a little more, and then she entwined our hands, pumping them up and down.
“Callie, this is my older sister Marlin – she works in the kitchen together with Lynnea, and Marlin, this is Cherokee’s companion: Callie!”

Marlin and I smiled politely at each other, and continued to be forced to shake hands.

“Nice to meet you,” Marlin stated and released my hand, forcing her sister to let go of us. “But I am still wondering what you were doing amongst my ingredients.”

“Ah, you see-,” I began, but immediately closed my mouth. I tried to figure out a way to explain what had happened, without me sounding like a completely crazed lunatic. However, I felt myself come up short. I sighed.
“Well, I suppose you’re all going to think I’m totally insane now, but okay…”

And so, I explained to them everything from the doors, to the magical rooms and Cherokee’s and my own little argument in the hallway, and how I had wandered off aimlessly after that.
Egon and Marlin listened, nodded and ‘aaah!’ed at the right moments, and looked heart-wrenchingly disturbed after I told them about the reason Cherokee and I fought.

“So, that’s it,” I breathed, my throat a little sore from all the talking.

Marlin patted my head in an emotionally patronizing – but well meaning – sort of way.

“You’re really upset by this whole thing,” Egon, very obviously, stated.

“Well, yes,” I admitted, flattening my hair as Marlin had ruffled it up a bit. “I mean, it’s rather emotionally scarring walking in to all these spider-rooms and the turkeys and whatnot.”

Egon shot me a look. “I was referring to the row you had with Cherokee; but okay?”

“Hm. I suppose that was a bit emotionally scarring, too.” I shook my head. “But really – what was the room-switching, multi-spider-y thing all about? I’m kind of curious about the hospital scene as well.”

I looked up expectantly at the two sisters, only to notice they were both staring pointedly at each other. Apparently, Egon won what ever staring contest they were having.

“Ah, all right!” Marlin threw her hands up in exasperation. “I’ll go get them.”

Egon high-fived herself and grinned widely. “Good. We’ll assemble in the basement.”

Marlin sighed; she practically tore off her apron and stomped her way out of the kitchen, muttering incoherently under her breath.

“Good,” Egon repeated, grinning wickedly. She grabbed my arm and dragged me up from the chair they had previously positioned me on.
“Come on,” she then ordered and pulled me towards a different door which I had yet to notice before.

“Where are we going?” I managed to inquire. “And where did Marlin go? Who’s assembling?”

We were walking down a flight of stairs. The space was so badly lit I could barely make out my own feet against the surface of the wood I was walking upon.

“We’re going to the basement,” Egon dutifully responded to my questions. “Marlin went to get the others, and we’re all assembling in the basement.” She turned her head and smiled at me, as she led the way. “See? It all fits together.”

“What about the rooms?” I suddenly thought of to ask. “Do they always do things like these?”

“Not normally,” Egon answered, looking somewhat discouraged. “Actually, this has only happened to you. That’s why Marlin and I are gathering the family witches: we want to figure out what’s wrong.”

I thought I caught a strange tone in her voice, but we reached the bottom of the stairs, and Egon immediately bounced off, eagerness tinkling her voice as she called out: “Convenimur! We are now gathered!”