"Patterson, get your head in the game here," federal agent Mueller, a very round middle-aged man, said. "I want to get this wrapped up and get back home."

Patterson, fifteen years junior to Mueller, argued, "But this is a pretty big deal isn't it?"

"Why, Patterson, why is it a big deal?"

"Because an atomic bomb exploded here. We need to get the media here and notify the secretary of..."

"The secretary has already been notified. This was not a rogue nation. We aren't sending in the troops. And we are not, and let me be clear, NOT reporting this to the media. This is obviously some strange cult that accidently blew itself up. I mean fuck it all, they did our job for us."

Patterson persisted and pointed at the singed crater yards beyond them where a team dressed in radiation protection suits investigated. The distant crackle of their Geiger counters revealed the grounds were pulsing with radiation. "There is a stream that runs through this area. It carries the waste from the canned meat factory into the water treatment pond in Mayberry. These people have to be notified of the dangers."

Mueller slapped his arm around Patterson's shoulders, shook him, and turned him towards the tree line that separated them from Mayberry miles away. "I've got my orders, Patterson, and so do you. Mum is the word."

"But the people..."

Mueller gritted his teeth, "Those people," Mueller shoved the desire to yell deep down, "those little people in that town, they're nothing in the larger picture. We are too big to fail, and those people, " Mueller fanned his hand over Mayberry beyond, "are too small to matter."

The words sent a chill through Patterson. Mueller loosened his grip on the shoulders and said, "Look son. It's a grown-up world. Do as you're told, and everything will work out fine."

Indeed, upstream was the canned meat factory. It was a very large factory, and on a concrete pad at the rear rested dozens of fifty-gallon drums filled with the meat waste, which is not allowed, believe it or not, in canned meat. A frail man aged beyond his years spun one of the barrels on its bottom edge, driving the top like a steering wheel, to the edge of the pad. The cigarette hanging from his mouth had an inch of ash drooping from it, and the ash defied the laws of physics. It should have dropped away minutes ago. He popped the metal lid from it and threw the barrel over on its side. The grease and slime dumped into the stream and most of it floated away. Soon the floating goo passed through the radiative region where it picked up a ghastly green glow. This glow stood out today, the sky being dark and overcast.

The stream also, indeed, ended in the Mayberry waste treatment pond. It was a cement pond, like a cheaply made swimming pool, and it held all of the piss and shit and other vile materials flushed from Mayberry. A ring of trees hid it from public view, though there was no fence around it. No one had ever fallen into it, so no one had seen cause to build one. Lightning began to flash from the sky, being drawn like a magnet to the radiated ground and stream. The storm cloud pulsed with lightning deep inside its darkness. Directly into the center of the waste pond popped the largest bolt of lightning that night would see. The fecal matter bubbled and rolled with heat and glowed an even brighter green than the slime washing in from the stream.

A shape rose from the goo. It was a humanoid stack of shit and slime, and it walked steadily out of the pond. Once on land, the muck began sliding off of the form. Beneath the ick was revealed perfectly smooth human skin. More and more flesh became visible, and when the grime slid from the face, Helen Crump stared at the world from it. Wide eyed, she stared at her shaking arms and hands. She was virtually nude yet did not realize or care. She touched her face and moaned, "Who... me... me? Who me?"

After a last look back at the pond she rose from, Helen walked in the direction of Mayberry. She traversed a wooded area and came to the edge of a corn field. A yellow dog ran up to her and sniffed with great curiosity. She said to it, "Hello, doggy. Who doggy?" The dog wagged its tail briskly and licked her on the leg, she giggled. With both hands she scratched behind the dog's ears and giggled again, "Who doggy? Who good doggy?" She smiled broadly and snapped the dog's neck, it fell, and she walked into the corn.

Abner Tippier was picking ears of corn from the tall stalks when Helen appeared directly in front of his face. "Where the hell... lady..." he looked her nude body up and down, the remaining fecal matter dried on her. "Lady are you okay? What happened?"

Helen echoed him, "What happened?"

"That's what I'm asking you," Abner said. He tried to reach out for her shoulder to calm her, "What happened to you Miss?"

She withdrew from his touch, "What happened? Who me? What happen me?"

Abner scratched his head, "I don't know, lady. Can you tell me the last thing you remember?"

Helen balled her fists and placed them against Abner's chest; her voice wailed, "What happen me? What happen me?"

Abner was wide eyed and mouth agape, "I don't know lady. Calm down..."

She began beating his chest, he stumbled back, and she screamed at him, "Who me? What happen me?"

He tripped and fell to his back; trying to sit up his hand slipped, and he fell back again. He crossed one arm in front of him to defend himself, "Calm down lady, please. Let me help you.

With abnormal strength she went down with her fists on him again. Blood sprayed the nearby ears of corn.

Inside the kitchen of a farmhouse on the other side of the corn field, Sally was wiping dishes when she saw Helen, from the window over the sink, stumble out of the cornfield. She rushed out of the house and took Helen by the arm, "Oh my goodness! Are you hurt, are you bleeding?"

Helen looked at the blood splattered on her hands and forearms, "Am I hurt?"

Sally pulled Helen along, "Come in the house sugar. Let's see about you." Sally pushed Helen into the shower and placed a bar of soap in her hand, "I don't know what all this stinky stuff is on you, honey. But it smells like raw shit. Take this soap and wash up. I will have a dress ready for you when you get dry."

Although somewhat alien at first, the activity of taking a shower was automatic to Helen. Her hands knew what to do. She knew what the soap was for, and she understood the bath cloth and the knobs that regulated the water temperature. After the shower, she worked the towel for drying and wrapped the other towel around her wet hair. She smiled at herself in the mirror. Her mouth wanted to attempt a name, but she doubted herself and looked away.

Helen walked into the kitchen wearing the dress, a white sun dress with floral prints, and Sally's eyes brightened, "Look at you. You clean up like a new penny." Sally took Helen's hands, "That dress is just simply divine on you." Sally's face tilted and her eyes became sincere, "Helen Crump? Is that you?"

Helen laughed, "Yes, yes. I am Helen Crump."

"Heaven's Helen, how did you get in this shape?"

"I don't know. I think I was hurt. I can't remember."

"How long have you been back in Mayberry. Andy told us all about you leaving, finding a new job in another town." Helen's eyes drifted past Sally as if she were looking for miles beyond her. Sally continued, "We all thought you and Andy would tie the knot one day you know. We were so surprised when you left."

With distant eyes, Helen said, "Andy."

"That's right. We all thought for sure you two... well that's none of my business. But speaking of Andy, I need to call the courthouse and get you some help. We need to find out what happened to you too."

Helen rubbed her neck, feeling the pain of being smothered from a day in the past. "Andy," she said again. The distant eyes were now back in the room and piercing with a focused anger, "Andy. Andy Taylor."

Sally had the phone to her ear, "That's right sugar. We'll get Andy on the phone to come help."

Helen grasped Sally's hand that held the earpiece and squeezed, "Ouch. Miss Helen, that hurts."

Helen growled and squeezed harder, "Andy Taylor."

"Miss Helen," Sally cried out, "stop squeezing my hand." But the grip only tightened; Sally began to shout through the open kitchen window, "Abner! Abner! Help!" Of course, Abner laid motionless in the corn, his face nearly pounded to pulp. "Abner! Help..." bones crackled as Helen tightened her grip even more and the earpiece shattered, cutting into Sally's hand. She screamed out while trying to pull away, and though the screams were almost deafening inside the kitchen, just past the front entrance of the farmhouse and down the graveled drive, they were mostly silent to the ear where the mailbox stood by the road. Mostly silent. Then, silent all together. Helen stepped out of the front door and began walking down the driveway. She was headed to Mayberry. Her hands were bloodied again, "Andy Taylor," she growled, and then screamed it as though she were a crazed wild animal, "ANDY TAYLOR."