I stared at the stranger in confusion, trying to ignore her pronounced camel toe. "What just happened?"

The woman hopped off the bike. "Don't ask me. I was just working out when everyone suddenly got beamed aboard the mothership."

She picked up a pair of jogging pants on the floor, rooting through the pockets.

"What are you doing?" I asked.

"Seeing what they didn't take on the Enterprise."

She jangled a set of locker keys with an orange fob. "Let's see what's in Locker 22!"

"You can't just root through people's stuff and take what you want," I protested.

"Why?" she said. "You think Ms. Leatherface is going to beam back down and yell at me?"

I followed her into the women's locker room.

The tile floors were scattered with swim suits, underwear and used tampons.

"Gross," I muttered, but my companion just shoved an abandoned set of keys into a spandex pocket, marching over to a row of red lockers.

The lock on Number 22 was stubborn, but it popped open with a little jiggling.

The locker contained jeans, a blouse, a pair of leather boots and a black purse with mirror studs all over it.

My new acquaintance undid the flap of the purse, rummaging through it. I frowned as I watched her casually toss out tampons, a Maxi pad, eyelash brushes and a container of lipstick before cracking open a designer alligator clutch stuffed with credit cards and greenbacks.

My jaw dropped as she stuffed the bills into her sports bra.

"Finders, keepers, losers, weepers!" she sang to the tune of the Etta James hit.

"So you're just going to dig through everybody's stuff and take what you want."

The woman shrugged indifferently as she tossed color snapshots of horses on the rubber floor covering.

She held up a photograph of a dappled palomino. "This thing's dong is huge! How does it even walk?"

"Uh..." I stammered. "With pride?"

She dug out a set of keys on a 4H Club keychain. "Want to see what kind of wheels she has? My guess is a pickup. Probably smells like a barn inside."

She tossed me the keys, but I just popped them back in the locker.

"Suit yourself," she said, shoving a Mastercard into her cleavage.

"Are you going to open all those lockers?" I said. "Because if you are, I think your bra's going to fall off from all the added weight."

"Who cares. You're the only one that will see it."

She tossed out a Price Chopper card, a library card, and some discount cards for various drug stores and eating establishments. "You ain't no dyke, are you honey?"

"What?" I blurted. "Dyke?"

I shook my head violently. "No ma'am!"

"Good." She put a hand on her hip. "`Cuz if you are, I don't want you looking at my titties."

Throwing away the clutch, she dug in the purse again, pulling out a bottle of K-Y Jelly and a pair of handcuffs. "Oh-kay!" And she tossed the items out.

I decided to leave this looter and take a shower.

Gross. Someone left a nozzle running, and my bare feet waded into knuckle deep water littered with water bloated feminine products, some of which apparently clogged the drain. The water swirled with a diluted red color.

Shuddering, I tried to use the private handicap shower, but when I found the pacemaker on the bench, I gave up and put my clothes back on.

When I saw the hooded figure spray stenciling something on a locker door, I nearly jumped back into the filthy shower room.

The figure wore dark baggy clothes, but I could tell by the figure that it was a woman.

Deciding that someone should at least do something about the vandalism, I yelled, "Hey!"

The hooded figure ran out the door, never once revealing her face.

I stared in puzzlement at the symbol the tagger had painted over my row of lockers, a strange stylized icon depicting a feathered serpent with a long swirling tail made of directional arrows. Beneath this, someone had hand sprayed the words, `WAKE UP, CHLOE'.

I suddenly felt cold. How did this hooded nut know my name? Did they open my locker?

"Who's Chloe?" the looter said over my shoulder.

"...Me," I stammered.

"You know that weirdo or something?"

I shook my head. "I don't think so."

"Why do you think they want you to wake up?"

"I don't know. Because I'm dreaming? I mean, why else would all these people be vanishing?"

The woman pinched me on the face. "How's that? You waking up now?"

She pinched me again. "How about now?"

"Stop it," I said.

"Sorry. Just trying to help."

Hearing the sound of an aerosol spray can again, I ran out the locker room door just in time to see the hood running away from another cryptic message:

`ISSI 068274443114.'

"What the hell's that?" the looter said. "You a spy or something?"

"I...don't know."