An Equally Predatory Replacement

The Walmart and its parking lot were gone, replaced by a fleshy dome. Colors swam inside, alternating back and forth between contaminated white of curdled milk and the oily yellow of spoiled butter. It heaved and sighed and rippled with jellied motion.

We watched from a safe distance as Sheriff Briggs approached it. Her sense of duty pushed her into going and none of us had found enough courage to gainsay her.

At the base of the dome she slid her baton along the wall, leaving behind an indentation. Something thick and greasy smeared the length of her baton and when she pulled it away, sticky strings went with it stretching out like polluted cheese.

A quivering seam opened on the face of the dome above her.

I yelled, pointing at the separating folds of flesh. “Hey!”

She turned toward us and lifted her head trying to see.

The top of the dome rocked forward with a motion like that of a great sneeze and ropy tendrils erupted from the hole, slamming the sheriff to the ground and reeling her limp form inside.