Doc sat in the kitchen of the old farmhouse, sipping warm coffee, engrossed in a paperback book. Doc was seventy-one years old, retired Navy, and a widower. His hips hurt, his jaw hurt, most of the joints in his body hurt. For those reasons he often added Kahlúa to his coffee.

Thick reading glasses rested on the bridge of his nose. Doc was alone that day, quietly reading his book in the kitchen, sipping Kahlúa and coffee. The kitchen walls were covered by yellow flower wallpaper, and the kitchen cabinets were light blue. The floor was old white vinyl. Doc hated the kitchen but would not change a thing about it.

Doc enjoyed life on the farm, although most days he just fed the chickens by throwing food scraps out the back door. Nowadays his sons ran the farm. Doc just lived there.

It was a rainy day in Oregon, so Doc had only been outside to feed the chickens that came close to the backdoor that morning. At his age, he figured he earned staying inside where it was dry while his sons came by to do the farm work. Doc’s oldest son occasionally pestered him about selling the farm because Doc was too old to do most of the work. But Doc could not sell the farm. The farm belonged to him and his deceased wife of forty-eight years, Virginia. There was no way he was going to sell.

Doc looked up from his novel when he noticed something moving outside near the barn. He saw a huge man who could've played football. The big man was carrying a blonde girl. A woman walked next to the huge man, and they were both wearing sparkling golden armor. They were not wearing helmets, and their hair was getting wet in the rain.

Leading the small group was a woman dressed in blue pants, a blue jacket, and a white shirt. She looked like a lawyer who had just been in a car wreck because she had blood on her face, blood on her white shirt, and tears in her clothes. A girl with long, wet curly black hair walked next to the blood covered woman lawyer.

Doc took a long swallow of his coffee to finish it off, walked toward the door, and opened it. He waved at the small group.

"You all look like shit," Doc said, his voice gravely.

"We smell like shit too," Emily said. "Doc, we need your help."

"Help …" Doc said. His voice was dry, weakened by his age. "I think you need somethin’ bigger than my shotgun."

"You have a garden hose?" Emily asked. "We need to get cleaned up before we come in.”

“Doc,” Emily gestured to the others as she said their names. “I’d like you to meet Jack, his sister Jill, Kaya, and this girl ... Jordan. She needs a couch or bed.”

“You can use one of the boys’ old bedrooms,” Doc said. “Probably need to change the sheets.”

“Thanks Doc.”

Doc pointed to the side of the house where a green garden hose was attached to a spigot. Emily grabbed the hose, sprayed some of the blood off herself, sprayed most of the manure off of Kaya, Jack, and Jill. Emily sprayed some of the blood off of Jordan who was still unconscious.

Jack and Jill, after their armor was mostly cleared of blood and grime, commanded their armor to dematerialize. The armor faded from view, and they were wearing regular clothes again. Jill's shirt changed to dark green, and then hot pink, before finally becoming a plain white shirt.

"So—" Doc began.

"Call me Emily," Emily said quickly.

"That's an interesting name choice. But whatever. Got a last name this time?"

"Brightwell.”

Doc snorted as if he had just gotten some inside joke, watched the group spray themselves off with the garden hose, then he let the group come into his home.

“We need weapons,” Emily said.

“I am a weapon,” Doc said, flexing his arms, his hands shook with age.

“We need something with a little more firepower.” Emily smiled, kissed Doc on the forehead.

“I been working out,” Doc said. “Anyway, got beer in the fridge.”

Doc pointed at Jordan.

“She needs a bed,” Doc said. “Follow me.”

Doc was not fast but walked at a steady pace down the hallway. Jack followed Doc, carrying Jordan. The hallway wallpaper consisted of blue birds, which Doc did not care for at all. Emily and Jill followed close behind, while Kaya sat by herself in the kitchen.

They entered a small bedroom. The walls were green and yellow, with posters of the University of Oregon sports teams on the walls. Men’s basketball and men’s football memorabilia from years ago. Doc didn’t mind this room.

“Uh ... shit, what’s your name now?” Doc asked, frowning as he searched his brain. “Right, Emily. You know where the hall closet is? That’s where we keep towels.”

Emily checked the hallway, found the closest, found several towels, brought them to the bedroom. Emily and Jill dried Jordan off while Jack and Doc returned to the kitchen.

Kaya sat, staring at the center of the table, not acknowledging Jack and Doc had returned.

When Jack sat at the kitchen table the floor creaked under his weight. Doc poured himself some more coffee, grabbed a bottle of Kahlúa off the counter, poured some of the liquor in the coffee.

“Beer?” Doc asked Jack. “My boys keep some in the fridge. It’s dark beer.”

Jack nodded.

Doc glanced at Kaya.

“Would you like something to drink?” Doc asked. “Water? Beer?”

“I’m not twenty-one,” Kaya said.

“I was killing people overseas before I was twenty-one. You damn well better believe I drank beer before I was twenty-one.” Doc pointed at the blood stains on Kaya’s clothes. “Looks like you earned a beer if you want one.”

“Not now, but thank you,” Kaya said, smiling to be polite.

“Alright, I won’t pressure ya.”

“My dad is a cop,” Kaya said, trying to reinforce why she said no. But then the memory came back that her dad was dead. Her eyebrows crinkled momentarily as she fought off tears.

Doc went to the fridge, grabbed a bottle of beer for Jack, plopped it down in front of him. Doc moved slow, walking around the table. Jack twisted off the beer cap, drained the bottle of beer in one large gulp, put the empty beer bottle down nearly simultaneously as Doc sat down.

“You were thirsty,” Doc laughed. “There’s more beer in the fridge. Help yourself 'cause I ain’t getting back up for a few minutes.”

Jack smiled, stood up, went to the fridge, grabbed two bottles of beer, sat back down at the table. He popped the cap off a bottle of beer, drank half of it in one swallow.

“So what happened?” Doc asked.

“Shadow nymph,” Emily said, walking into the kitchen.

Emily went to the fridge, grabbed a bottle of beer from the fridge, twisted off the cap, drank the beer as quickly as Jack had drank the first bottle.

“Shadow nymph,” Doc said. “Read about them. Never seen one.”

“Doc, we need your help.”

“I can smell it.”

Emily tensed up.

“I don’t need help with that,” Emily said, her voice soft.

“What happened?” Doc asked, eyeing her.

“I died this morning,” Emily said. “So ... I needed a little help. But I’m not asking for help with that ...  I have it under control.”

“How many did you take?”

“The boosts?” Jack asked, setting a second empty beer bottle down on the table. “Jill and I gave her three.”

Doc’s eyes narrowed.

“And how many did you take?” Doc asked.

“It was a shadow nymph,” Emily said. “I did what I had to do.”

Emily shrugged, looked away from Doc’s eyes.

“You took more?” Jack asked.

Emily did not answer.

Doc sipped his coffee, looked at Jack.

“I know Emily better than you,” Doc said. “She’s strong. She’ll be fine.”

“What’s a boost?” Kaya asked.

“Don’t worry about it,” Emily said, her voice cold.

Jack waited. Kaya waited.

Emily’s lips pulled tight, as if she was preparing to yell at the first person who spoke.

“Shadow nymph,” Doc said. “Nasty thing. You need help killing it?”

“No,” Emily said, regaining her composure. “We need help with her.” Emily pointed to Kaya.

“Ah, is this the source of the temporal distortions?” Doc asked.

“You know about the changes,” Emily said, not necessarily surprised, but intrigued.

“Been keeping an eye on’em.”

“Temporal distortions?” Kaya asked. “I know you think I know what’s happening, but I don’t know anything. I know absolutely nothing. Less than nothing.”

Emily stepped toward Kaya, then lowered her head until she was looking eye to eye with Kaya.

“Little girl,” Emily hissed, eyes narrow. “You know something.”

“Kind of.”

“Please share with the rest of the class.”

“Tonight is the end of the world.”

“That sucks,” Doc snorted.

“If I’m right,” Kaya continued. “Today will be the last orange sunset for fifty years ... and the Empire of the Lunar Sun Dragon will begin. The reign will bring peace, justice, and fifty years of pale blue sunlight.”

“Anything else?” Emily asked, face stoic.

“The Famous Unicorn Creations Kitchen is the home of the Lunar Sun Dragon.”

“Okay,” Emily said, spreading her hands. “We go there. We kill the Lunar Sun Dragon. This all ends?”

“Not quite.”

“Why?”

“Well ... I am the Lunar Sun Dragon.”

“You are the Lunar Sun Dragon?” Emily asked. “I’m scanning you right now. I don’t detect any power. And, to be quite honest, there’s no record of a Lunar Sun Dragon in the archives. So—”

“That’s because the sun hasn’t set in North Carolina yet.”

Emily stood straight up, rubbed her temples with her fingers. Then Emily walked to the fridge, grabbed another bottle of beer, popped off the bottle cap, and chugged the beer.