Page 18 of Into the Mist

Todd made a horrible noise—a cross between a scream and a retching sound—more animal than human. Then he flopped to his side and began to vomit something that looked like red Jell-O. It waspouring from his gasping mouth, his nose and even his eyes. It spread around them in a sickening, sluggish pool of scarlet.

Mercury’s mind whirred.It’s like what Hale turned into and what hemorrhaged from Amelia.She wanted to fling Todd’s hand away and run, but she couldn’t. She wouldn’t. Instead, she gripped the dying man’s hand tighter and murmured, “I’m here, I’ve got you,” over and over as Todd vomited his life onto the snowy grass.

It didn’t take long. Todd was dead in minutes. Mercury pried her hand free and placed Todd’s gently on his chest, folded with his other one.

“Here’s what’s left of the T-shirt I used for the splint and the other man’s bandage.”

Mercury looked up to see Gemma offering her an old T-shirt that had about half of the bottom of it ripped away. She smiled shakily and placed the shirt over Todd’s face. “Thanks, Gemma.” She touched the dead man’s hands once more and spoke to him softly. “I’m sorry we couldn’t save you. Blessed be.”

“D-do you think that’s going to happen to us?” Gemma blurted.

Mercury stood and faced the girl. She didn’t lie or prevaricate. Teenagers could spot an adult lie in a heartbeat. And Mercury preferred sticking with the truth. “How do you feel?”

“Alright, I guess. My stomach is upset, but I’ve never seen so much blood and stuff before.”

“But besides that, you feel normal?” Mercury pressed her.

The girl nodded. Her dark hair was long and straight, and it fluttered around her with the movement. “Yeah.”

Mercury’s gaze went from Gemma to her mom, and then to Marge and Nathan. “How about y’all? Besides queasy stomachs and your obvious injuries, how do you feel?”

The three adults muttered various versions of okay.

“Well, one thing I’ve noticed is that whatever is killing people makes them feelwrongfirst. We lost a good friend back at the turnout after the bombs hit. Right before she died.” Mercury paused and then decided it would be better for morale not to mention the dead infant. “She said the same thing Todd did—that she felt wrong, broken inside. So let’s not worry unless any of us starts feeling like that.”

“That actually makes sense,” said the teenager.

Mercury smiled at the kid and then walked to the woman with the broken leg. “So, Marge, you ready to be carried to the truck?”

“More than ready,” she said.

Lifting a conscious person was harderandeasier. Marge could wrap her arms around their shoulders, but she could also cry out in pain—which was awful. Thankfully, she was a petite woman, and they were able to get her to the truck quickly, though Mercury didn’t like to think about the pain every bump in the torn and rubble-covered highway would cause her.

Nathan was a lot bigger and heavier than his partner. The broken ribs were agony—so much so that almost as soon as they lifted him, Nathan passed out.

“’kay—fast.” Mercury grunted under the effort. “Get him in the truck before he comes to.”

The women struggled but managed to heft the big man into the bed. Jenny had to climb in to help Mrs. Gay slide him the rest of the way, but once he was loaded, Sadie and Gemma joined them and made quick work of rearranging the tarps so that they covered most of Marge and Nathan and Jason. The mother and daughter squeezed in on either side of the wounded people, ready to give them help and support. They pulled the tarp up around their shoulders and nodded that they were ready.

“There’s not much more room back there without dumping the suitcases,” Jenny said after she helped Mrs. Gay from the truck bed.

Mercury nodded at the young teacher and then turned to the crowded truck bed. “This is going to be a hellish ride for you.” She closed the tailgate securely. “Stella will try to avoid holes and such, but—”

“We know,” said Marge. She lay beside Nathan, half propped up by Jenny’s backpack. Her hand rested on his shoulder, though he was still unconscious. “It’s a fucking disaster. Nothing you can do about it. Tell Stella we’d rather get to shelter fast than have her pussyfoot around.”

“I hear ya!” Stella called from the half-open window.

“All right, if you need something, bang on that rear window and we’ll stop,” Mercury slid back in the cab beside Stella, with Jenny and Mrs. Gay close behind her.

“Glad to get outta here,” said Stella as she put the truck in gear and gave it some gas. “I will try to be as careful as possible, but I agree with that woman.”

“Marge,” Jenny said.

“Yeah, I agree with Marge. We need shelter. Fast.”

“Is that what your gut’s telling you?” Mercury studied her friend’s profile. Stella’s intuition was epic. It was one of the things she appreciated about the older woman—that she’d lived long enough and was self-aware enough to trust her gut—and to follow it.

“Yes.”