Page 51 of Into the Mist

“Ken left to try to find his family, with a couple other people from here,” said Mercury.

“Isn’t he from Government Camp?” Sim asked.

“Yep,” said Mercury.

“The mountain covered it in an avalanche. There’s nothing left of it,” said Sim.

“Yeah, we know.” Mercury nodded. “We were on the highway on the way to Portland when the bombs hit. We managed to get back here, which means we passed Government Camp on the way. We told Ken it was gone, but he left anyway.”

“That’s a damn shame.” Sim gave her a considering look. “Don’t sound like you’re from around here. Do I hear Texas in your voice?”

“Oh, hell no!” said Stella. “You hear a much more refined accent. We’re Okies.”

“Okies! Tulsa is one of my favorite spots to stop when I’m on the job. I usually just sleep in my rig, but I make an exception there and stay at a little VRBO called the Hotel California in Reservoir Hill. The place is owned by one hell of a cook. I always look forward to a big, delicious breakfast there.” He sighed and shook his head. “Hard to believe it’s not there anymore.”

Stella and Mercury froze. Hilary and Sim took a step or two past them, and then they stopped too.

Mercury fisted her hands at her side because they were suddenly trembling. “Wait. What do you know about Tulsa?”

Sim ran his sausage-like fingers through his short, graying hair and sighed again. “They bombed it. A buddy of mine was on the Turner Turnpike halfway between OK City and Tulsa when the bombs started falling. He managed to broadcast that both cities took direct hits, and then there was nothin’ more from him.”

Stella reached out and pried one of Mercury’s hands open so she could hold it. “You’re one hundred percent sure?”

Sim nodded. “I am. From what I can make out from those of us who can still communicate.” He jerked his chin back toward his rig. “We have a com line going with our radios. The capitals of every damn state were hit, as well as anywhere that had a military base or decent-sized airport.”

“The 138thFighter Wing,” Stella said softly. “I used to date a fighter pilot who flew F-16s from the Air National Guard Base by the airport. Shit, just shit.” She shook her head.

Mercury didn’t realize she was crying until her nose got snotty. She wiped at it angrily. “Who the fuck did this to us?”

“No one I’ve talked to knows for sure,” said Sim. “Though we did get off our ICBMs. Truckers saw ’em launch. So, whoever did it is fucked and won’t be follow-up attacking us. Pardon my language, ladies.”

“Your language doesn’t need a pardon,” said Stella.

“So every state was attacked?” Hilary asked.

“Yep, some lots worse than others, of course. Haven’t heard one word from anyone east of the Mississippi. And California—most of it’s gone. Whole damn coast changed. When the earthquakes started, the San Andres Fault broke. All of it. A shitload of the West Coast slid into the ocean.”

Mercury felt lightheaded, like she’d stood up too fast, and she clung to Stella’s hand to steady herself. She met his eyes. “You know this for sure. It’s not just hearsay?”

“Truckers reported it. For most of them, it was the last thing they did.”

Mercury fired another question at him. “What about the green fog? Did everywhere get bombed with that too?”

“Hell yes! It’s still floating around. I sped through patches of it between here and Madras.”

“But when the bombs went off, did the green fog hit you?” Stella watched him closely as she waited for his answer.

He shook his head. “Nah. I was taking my morning shower in a truck stop not far from Madras—basically in the middle of nowhere, Oregon. The men’s showers there are like a cement bunker—no windows—shit, no air circulation at all. The guys and I call it the dungeon. Everything started shaking and going to hell, and there I was, stuck in the showers, naked as the day I was born. When I managed to get dressed and outta there dead people were everywhere, but thegreen stuff was gone. Like I said, though, I’ve seen it. Between there and Madras, and between Madras and here.”

“Madras? That’s where you came from?” Hilary asked. Then she quickly added for Stella and Mercury, “Madras is a modest-sized town about seventy miles south of here.”

“Yeah, but that seventy miles took me more than half a day to travel. I left this morning at dawn. Good thing my rig drives like a tank, though I had to leave my load in Madras. Never woulda made it a mile, let alone all the way here still hauling. The road’s almost impassable. Lots of vehicles stranded. Lots of dead folks. It’s terrible. But Madras is still there. Parts tore apart in the quakes—and of course there’s the dead. Doesn’t seem to matter that no bomb fell on the city. They just died anyway. But their mayor, Eva Cruz, is on it. She’s got a hospital set up as her headquarters and is rounding up folks and helping ’em. She’s got a radio set up and is tryin’ to contact other drivers. This mornin’ she told me herself to spread the word to survivors that Madras will welcome them.”

“Sim, we’ll have more questions, and we’d really like it if you talked to the people in the lodge, but first how about some coffee and some lunch?” Hilary said.

“That sounds great. I do appreciate your hospitality. Can’t say I’m good at public speaking, though. Don’t much like crowds.”

“Then you have nothing to worry about. There aren’t enough people left here to be a crowd. It’s more like you’ll just be chatting with us,” clarified Hilary. “There are about thirty wounded inside and besides us, only a handful more non-injured.”