Myrtle crawled to a corner of the roof, reached into her inside jacket pocket, pulled out a bag of powder. She pinched some powder between two fingers, spoke some words, blew the powder into the air. Much of the smoke cleared.

The others, those who had been choking, were now able to take in fresh air, and to see Gladys and Dante being overwhelmed by Beekeepers.

October was near Myrtle. Her eyes wet from coughing, she asked “What the hell is happening?”

“Seems like we’re fighting Beekeepers,” Myrtle said. “I can’t do much more to help. What have you got?”