Page 55 of Into the Mist

Mercury and Stella trudged through dirty snow, up an incline, to Imani. Mercury glanced up at where Imani stood so still—almost as if she’d been formed from the land beneath her. She could only see the side of her friend’s face, and for a moment Mercury thought she caught a flash of light—green light—in Imani’s chestnut eyes. Mercury paused, blinked, and it was gone.

She tugged on Stella’s arm. “Hey, do you feel anything weird coming from Imani?”

Stella shrugged. “She’s sad, but I don’t need my gut to tell me that. Why?”

Mercury shook her head. “Nothing. Just wondered.”

They climbed the rest of the way to Imani silently. From her vantage point, they could see the two-lane Timberline Highway and the front part of Sim’s rig, which was parked half off the road in a little dip right before the turn into the lodge parking lot.

“How you doing?” Mercury asked as they joined their friend.

Imani didn’t answer. She just kept staring out, away from the lodge.

Mercury cleared her throat and tried again. “Sim’s leaving. He says there’s a big winter storm coming. Should get here tomorrow afternoon.”

Imani didn’t so much as glance their way.

Mercury opened her mouth to say something else—anything else—that might get Imani to speak to them, but Stella’s lifted hand stopped her words.

“What are you looking at?” Stella asked Imani.

Imani drew in a deep breath, which made Mercury realize she hadn’t been breathing before then.

“San Diego was there—out there—southwest of here. I’m looking toward my babies.” Her voice was brittle, like the words she spoke should fall to the ground and shatter around their feet.

“We’ll look with you if you don’t mind.” Stella’s voice was hushed.

“I don’t mind,” said Imani. “I just… I had to come out here and look toward them. This is as close as I’m going to get to them for the rest of this lifetime.”

Stella stepped up to stand on one side of Imani, and Mercury moved to her other side. The women stood together in the cold, gray day, looking to the southwest.

“No! Shit!” Stella suddenly broke their silence. “Sim! Hey! Stop!”

“What is it?” Mercury blinked and then squinted through the ashen day down at the road beneath them. She could see Sim’s back as he trudged toward his rig. The front grill of the big truck was all they could see from where they stood, but Mercury instantly understood the urgency in Stella’s voice. Across the road behind Sim a fat finger of green fog wafted lazily from the ditch. It swirled and curled and drifted with the chilly wind, closer and closer to the trucker.

Mercury cupped her hands around her mouth and shouted. “Sim! Sim!”

He kept walking, completely oblivious to their calls and to the emerald fog that appeared to follow him.

“Together! All of us call his name on three,” Mercury said. “One, two, three!”

“Sim!”

The trucker paused and turned. He was smiling. The bag of supplies rested on his hip and his hand was raised as he waved at them.

“RUN!”yelled Mercury.

But Sim had already seen the green fog. He began to scramble backward, like he was unable to take his eyes from the encroaching mist.

“Just turn around and run!” shouted Imani.

“It’s too late,” Stella said softly. “Too fucking late.” Unable to watch, she turned her head away, and as she did, Sim spun around, finally realizing he needed to sprint to his rig.

Panicked, he dropped the bag of supplies. The two bottles of red wine broke against the asphalt with the sound of muffled gunshots. They bled scarlet across the highway as Sim stepped on a rolling apple. His ankle twisted, and with a cry of anguish he fell.

The green fog swept over him. For a few moments it obscured the man enough that Mercury couldn’t see what was happening with him. Then Sim stood. He lurched forward with a terrible limp. For a moment it seemed he might make it to his rig—he might be okay. He reached the grill and fell heavily against it. He turned, lifted a hand to the women as if to say he was okay. Mercury could even see the flash of his teeth as he smiled.

Then Sim coughed.