Page 10 of Barbi and the Villain

With PomPom in my arms, I start walking. The green field stretches as far as I can see. There is not one soul in sight. We walk like that for minutes on end before I spot some houses in the distance.

“There, PomPom!” I exclaim, running toward those houses.

Good thing I was wearing socks and slippers when I died, otherwise my feet would have hated me for running barefoot across wet grass.

The village comes into view and my lips tug up into an optimistic smile. At this point, I’ll take any type of food they have to offer. I’m sure PomPom will agree, too.

Yet a trail of smoke stops me in my tracks.

Now that I can get a better look, I see that some houses are damaged by fire. Some have been broken into, the windows and doors destroyed to get inside.

Worst of all, I don’t see any movement.

“PomPom… Heaven shouldn’t be this bleak,” I whisper as dread envelops me.

I tentatively move forward, walking slowly into the village.

There’s destruction right and left. The houses have been broken into and robbed. Some have already burned to the ground, and others are in the process of doing so.

But someone must have burned them. And if the fire is fresh, then someone must have been here recently.

As I continue, however, a sound comes from one of the buildings, so I stop, looking around.

“Help.”

It’s a voice—a human voice.

Immediately, I dash forward, looking for the source of that voice.

“Where are you?” I call out. “I don’t see you.”

PomPom slips from my arms, barking at me to follow her as she runs into one of the houses that’s still standing. I’m right behind her when she stops in front of a door, sniffing at the ground and bumping her head against the wooden frame.

Taking her cue, I push the door open, but it doesn’t budge. It’s locked.

Yet right at that moment, the voice speaks again, another low cry for help.

“We need to get them out, PomPom,” I murmur, wildly looking around for something to help me break the door.

I spot a chair by the side and grab it, throwing it with all my might at the door.

My strength is not the best, but a few attempts later, I manage to crack the wood. The chair breaks, too, and I keep hitting the door with pieces of wood.

Eventually, I manage to break the door enough that it slides open.

But as I see what’s inside, my eyes widen in shock.

There are at least four people, all piled on top of one another. Blood is everywhere. Coming out of their mouths, their eyes, and ears—from all orifices.

A small movement grabs my attention. A woman is stuck under two men, her hand dangling as she tries to move but lacks the strength to do so. Her eyes are bloodshot, her pupils enlarged.

“My God,” I mutter. “PomPom, step aside,” I demand sternly. The last thing we need is for her to step into the pool of blood and stain her white coat.

She whines but does as told.

I jump over the first puddle, then the second, doing my best not to step into it either. By the time I reach the woman, she’s no longer moving, her eyes dead.

“Hello?” I call out. Reaching with my hand to check her pulse, I’m not surprised to find that it’s gone.

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