Into the Mist Read online

Before Mercury joined them, she spotted Karen Gay. The history teacher stood over what was left of Coach Davis’s body. Her hands were folded and her head bowed. She seemed utterly oblivious to the woodland creatures who fled past her and through mounds of strangely overgrown grass. Mercury rubbed her eyes, sure her vision was messed up. She blinked and refocused on the weird grass not far from Mrs. Gay, and with a jolt she realized two things. One—her eyes weren’t messed up. The grass was taller and brighter green than it had been just moments ago. And two—the clumps where the long grass had grown were in the same spots where she and Stella had been knocked to the ground, unconscious and bleeding.

  “Mercury Elizabeth Rhodes! Pull your head out of your ass and get in this truck!” Stella’s voice cut through her focus.

  “Sorry, yeah, okay.” Mercury cupped her hands around her mouth and called, “Mrs. Gay! We need to go—now!”

  Karen turned her head to glance over her shoulder at Mercury. Her brow was furrowed in irritation. She opened her mouth, clearly to shout back at Mercury that she wasn’t done, but before she could speak, the ground began to shudder like a horse trying to rid itself of flies.

  Stella pushed in the clutch and wrestled the old gearshift into first. She shouted, “Mercury! If Karen wants to stay, leave her!”

  “Mrs. Gay!” Mercury shouted as she moved to the passenger side of the truck, holding onto the hood to stay on her feet while the ground pitched and rolled and the trees that still stood swayed ominously and made sounds like gunshots as more of them splintered and broke. “Now or we leave you!”

  “Coming! I’m coming!” Karen called while she jogged toward them, but the earth quaked too hard. She stumbled—fell—struggled to her feet and started forward again only to get knocked to her knees once more. Behind her the mountainside began to crumble.

  Fuck! She’s not going to make it!

  Mercury couldn’t bear to lose any more of them—not even someone who was a major pain in the ass. She bent at the waist and put out her arms to try and help her balance, then sprinted toward the history teacher.

  “Shit, Mercury! No!” Stella shouted behind her.

  Mercury ignored her friend. I can save her. I have to save her. She reached Mrs. Gay, who had fallen to the grass again. Mercury yanked on her hand, lifted her to her feet, wrapped her arm around the older woman’s round waist and propelled both of them forward.

  “Hurry! Shit! Shit! Shit! Hurry!” Stella screamed.

  Mercury didn’t look behind them, but she could hear the horrendous ripping sound the earth made as it shook apart and became an avalanche of dirt and trees and snow and rocks. Jenny had the passenger door open, and Mercury half threw, half pushed Mrs. Gay into the cab and then leaped in behind her. Before she’d even closed the door, Stella floored the truck and they fishtailed, throwing gravel everywhere. Mercury stared through the rectangular rear window as they shot out of the turnout and onto the highway in time to see the bench that held what was left of the congealed corpse of their principal get swallowed into nothingness.

  CHAPTER

  4

  STELLA HANDLED THE old truck like a Hollywood stunt driver. The earth convulsed under them while more of the mountainside disintegrated, taking the westbound two-lane highway with it. The Chevy’s engine roared as they raced across the interstate divide to the opposite lane. Stella yanked the wheel to the right and headed the wrong way down the highway while she dodged around fallen trees and gaps in the asphalt. The four women held onto the dash, the back of the bench seat, and each other while they were tossed about the cab.

  It reminds me of the old Star Trek—with The Shat—and how the crew used to get thrown around the bridge of the Enterprise. The bizarre comparison flashed through Mercury’s mind, which almost caused her to giggle. This is hysteria and shock. Get it together, woman! she told herself sternly as the earth continued to shudder and more and more of the mountain—and highway—on their right sloughed off.

  Mercury noticed one car stalled in the left lane, facing them, but Stella sped by too fast for her to see if anyone was inside. A little farther down the interstate, they whizzed past an SUV that had rear-ended a car. Both were fully engulfed in flames.

  “Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit!” Stella repeated as she steered the old truck past the fireball and around an abrupt curve in the highway, where she almost ran headlong into a jackknifed eighteen-wheeler that was being sucked into a raw crevasse newly torn in the asphalt.

  Mercury felt more than saw Jenny cover her eyes with her hands. Beside her Mrs. Gay panted like she was sprinting next to the pickup. A deer darted in front of them. Stella cursed again and somehow managed to miss it.

  “Lord save us!” Mrs. Gay cried and grabbed onto Mercury’s hand like she was Jesus.

  Mercury couldn’t make her voice work. She squeezed Mrs. Gay’s hand and tried to keep from flying into the windshield as Stella continued to race the truck down the highway until finally the earth stilled its horrible shuddering.

  Silently, Stella pulled the truck to the side of the broken highway. She shifted into neutral, stepped on the emergency break, burst from the cab, bent, and puked.

  Mercury was beside her in moments. She gathered her best friend’s thick hair and held it back while Stella heaved and heaved.

  “Jenny! I have a bottle of water in my purse—get it!” she called over her shoulder. Mercury kept holding Stella’s hair while she rubbed her back gently. Jenny ran up to her and handed her the open bottle of water. “Here, honey. Can you rinse your mouth out and drink some of this?”

  “Not—done—yet,” Stella said between retches. Eventually, the puke turned to dry heaves, and then Stella staggered several steps away from the steaming pile of bile and breakfast. Mercury went with her and offered the bottled water again, which she finally took. Stella rinsed her mouth, spit, rinsed again, and then took several long swallows before she shakily handed the bottle back to Mercury. “Th-thanks.”

  “Keep it. Finish it. You puked a lot.”

  “I was a lot freaked.” Stella sounded more like herself as she finished the bottle of water.

  “You did good, though! You got us out of there,” Jenny said.

  “I might have shit myself,” said Stella.

  Mercury glanced at the back of her friend’s jeans. “Doesn’t look like it.” She sniffed at Stella. “Doesn’t smell like it either.”

  “But we wouldn’t blame you if you had,” Jenny said quickly. “That was so damn scary.”

  “The highway is gone.” The three women looked at Karen, who stood by the rear of the truck. She pointed and they followed her finger.

  Stella had pulled off the highway at the top of a rise. Mercury remembered the area clearly. Heading from Timberline to Portland, this part of highway 26 wound to the highest part of the pass—which culminated at the scenic turnout nightmare they’d just sped away from. From where they stood, they could look down this side of the mountain. Not far from there they would turn north onto Timberline Highway and climb up to the lodge, which was on the upper slopes of Mt. Hood.

  The view was so altered it was unrecognizable. Mrs. Gay was correct. The entire eastward two-lane part of highway 26 was gone. Had there not been a generous section of grassy, tree-filled easement between the east and west lanes of the four-lane, they, too, would have fallen down the side of the mountain.

  Automatically, Mercury grabbed Stella’s arm and pulled her back from the easement so that they stood firmly on the cracked asphalt beside the truck. She looked up at the prematurely darkening sky. It wasn’t even noon, but the day had turned to dusk.

  “This is hell. The world has become hell.” There was terror in Karen Gay’s voice. Her restless fingers worried the hem of her torn and bloody cardigan. Her face was devoid of color.

  “Nope. This isn’t hell.” Mercury heard herself respond, and then her thoughts caught up with her mouth. “We don’t know what this is, but I do know what it is not. We’re not dead. We survived. And this is not hell.” She caught Jenny’s gaze. “Do you have any water in that backpack of yours?”

  “I—I think I do.”

  “Get it. Let’s all drink some. It’ll make us feel better. Does anyone have to pee? If so, squat by the side of the road. We’ll be leaving in just a few minutes.”

  “Will do!” Jenny’s long brunette curls bounced wildly as she climbed into the bed of the truck and lifted the tarp to search for her backpack.

  “You going to be okay to drive?” Mercury asked Stella.

  Stella was rubbing her arms as she paced back and forth behind the truck. “Yeah, I’ll be fine. Just need a minute or two to be sure I’m not going to puke again.”

  “Good.” Mercury headed back to the cab to check the old pickup’s glove box and behind the bench seat. She wasn’t sure what she wanted to find, but it gave her something to do besides having an anxiety attack.

  “You mean we’re still going back to Timberline?” Karen was on her heels.

  Mercury glanced at her. “Well, yeah. We definitely can’t go to Portland, and none of us know this area. Timberline is our best shot at shelter and information.”

  “If anyone’s left alive there,” said Mrs. Gay.

  “Yeah, here’s hoping.”

  “Don’t you think we should stop at that little town that’s at the turnoff before we take the Timberline road?”

  “You mean Government Camp? Um, maybe.” Mercury popped open the glove box. Nestled there in a black leather holster was a pistol. “Huh! I thought only Okies and Texans carried guns around in their glove boxes.” Carefully, Mercury pulled the pistol from its holster and opened the cylinder. “Fully loaded too.” Mercury expertly snapped the cylinder closed, checked that the safety was on, and then put it back in the glove box.
br />   “Did I hear you say gun?” Stella head popped into view through the open driver door.

  “Yep. It’s a .38.” Mercury squinted as she looked through the rest of the glove box. “It’s loaded and there’s a box of shells for it. There’s also a big pile of napkins and”—she paused and then held up a clear plastic bag full of little oblong balls of color—“jelly beans.”

  “Gross,” said Stella. “I hate jelly beans.”

  “Ditto.” Mercury put the bag back in the glove box. But it is sugar and energy, and we may need to eat those damn things.

  “Here, y’all. I had two bottles of water in my backpack.” Jenny lifted the bottles as she joined them.

  “Let’s split one of the bottles and then get out of here,” said Mercury.

  Jenny opened the water and handed it to Mercury—and her eyes went huge as she spotted the .38. “OMG, you found a gun!”

  Mercury closed the glove box and gulped the water, then gave the half-empty bottle back to Jenny before she answered. “Yeah. I know Stella’s proficient with firearms.”

  “Fuckin’ A, I am.” The color was returning to Stella’s cheeks. She stopped before she drained the rest of her bottle of water, pulled an old balled-up tissue from her jeans, wetted it, and told Mercury, “Hold still. I can’t look at the dried blood that’s smeared all over the side of your face anymore.” Stella gently wiped the blood from Mercury’s forehead, nose, cheeks, and neck while she continued. “But let me be clear. I’m proficient with firearms, and I’m for sensible gun laws.”

  “Yes, as am I, which is why I have never fired a gun in my life,” said Mrs. Gay.

  “What about you, Jenny?” Mercury asked.

  Jenny shrugged. “I’m for sensible gun laws too.”

  “No. Well, yes. We all are, but I meant do you know how to use this .38?”

  “Oh yeah. My dad taught me before I went away to college. One of my high school graduation presents was a little bitty Glock 43X. I also shot a .38 when Daddy took me to the range at Zink Ranch,” Jenny said as she handed the rest of the water bottle to Mrs. Gay.

  “Okay, good to know.”

  “There,” said Stella as she studied Mercury’s head. “How are you feeling? Any headache or weird vision?”

  “Nope,” Mercury responded automatically, and then she realized she’d also responded correctly. Her head didn’t hurt at all, and it had completely stopped bleeding. She felt a wave of relief. When it had been bleeding all over her face, she’d thought she was going to keel over any second—when she’d had time to think about herself at all. “I’m fine. It musta just been superficial.”

  Stella snorted. “I don’t know about that. It looked pretty scary just a few minutes ago, but you do seem okay now.” She lifted her hand to touch the wound on her arm and then stared down at it. “Thought mine was worse too, but it’s just a scratch.” Stella shook her head. “Guess my mind was really rattled back there ’cause I thought it was pretty deep—as in it probably needed stitches. Glad I was wrong.”

  “Well, my wrist still hurts.” Jenny rubbed it and grimaced.

  “Do you think it’s broken?” Mercury asked.

  “Nah, just a sprain. Karen, looks like you’re going to have a black eye,” Jenny said. “Are you hurt anywhere else?”

  “I don’t believe so.” Karen touched her bruised and swollen cheek gingerly.

  “Well, I’m glad we’re basically okay.” Mercury returned to going through the cab of the truck. She lifted the old-fashioned lever that allowed the bench seat back to tilt forward. There was a black duffle bag stuffed behind the seat. She unzipped it and looked through an assortment of tools and zip ties. “Huh, these guys even had duct tape in here.”

  “All that stuff’s good in case we need to MacGyver something.” Stella peered over the seat at the open bag. “Any more ammunition in there?”

  “I don’t see any.”

  “I really don’t like that the gun is loaded. I–I’m just not comfortable with violence,” said Karen after she drained the water bottle.

  “Karen, someone bombed America. Comfortable or not, it looks like we’re in the middle of violence,” Stella said

  “We don’t know what happened!” Karen snapped back at her.

  “No, we don’t,” Mercury said. “But, like my dad says, let’s prepare for the worst and hope for the best.” Those few words, like my dad says, left Mercury’s mouth, and with them her memory easily replayed her father’s gruff, loving voice—and her knees went rubbery. Mercury grabbed the open passenger door and pressed her forehead against its faded blue metal. She blinked hard, over and over, as she tried to stop her panicked panting.

  Dad! Is he okay? Mercury had always been a daddy’s girl—from day one—but she was also close to her mom, who—Oh God! Mom! And my brothers—their wives and kids! They have to be alive. They have to be alive. Please, oh please, they have to be alive!

  Stella’s hand on her shoulder pulled her from the quicksand that was sucking her into panic.

  “Hey, you’re okay. We’re okay,” Mercury turned her head to meet Stella’s gaze as she continued softly. “Tulsa might not have been hit. This could just be a West Coast thing.”

  “Tulsa …” Jenny whispered the word like a prayer.

  “My husband. Our sons.” Mrs. Gay’s fingers found the hem of her cardigan again, and she picked relentlessly at the threads she’d already loosened.

  Mercury wiped her cheeks before she straightened. “We can’t know for sure what’s going on back home—at least not yet we can’t. So, let’s get to some shelter, whether that’s Timberline or Government Camp, and see if we can find out what the hell has happened.”

  “Hey, has anyone checked their phones for service?” Jenny asked.

  “Mine’s in my purse—back there.” Stella motioned to the truck bed.

  “I—I don’t know where mine is,” said Mrs. Gay.

  “Well, shit. I totally forgot mine is in my pocket.” Mercury reached into the front pocket of her jeans and retrieved her cell phone.

  “Mine’s here!” Jenny lifted it out of the backpack and held it up like a trophy. Then she tapped the cover of it and frowned. “Zero bars.”

  “Yeah, ditto,” said Mercury. “Keep it out, Jenny,” Mercury shoved hers back in her pocket and motioned for Stella to get behind the wheel. “Check it while we’re driving. Maybe we’ll get lucky and there’ll be a cell tower still working.”

  “Okay, will do,” Jenny said solemnly.

  Stella climbed back in the pickup, and Mercury slid in next to her while Jenny stared at the face of her phone. If this was the apocalypse, she was going to head into it sandwiched between two friends.

  Jenny got in beside her and then held her hand out to Karen. “Here, Mrs. Gay, I’ll help ya.”

  Karen Gay smoothed her short, graying blonde bob with fingers that trembled noticeably. The lines that framed her lips looked deeper, and her skin appeared almost brittle. Mercury tried to remember how old she was, but realized she’d never known the history teacher’s age. She was a fixture at Will Rogers High School and had seemed late middle aged when Mercury had started teaching a little over a decade ago. She made a mental note to keep an eye on her. Stella was in her mid-forties—but youthful, in shape, and vibrant. Karen Gay was a good thirty or so pounds too heavy and probably hadn’t really sweated since her twenties. They weren’t friends. They’d never be friends, but Mercury damn sure didn’t want to watch one more person die. Ever.

  “Th-thank you Jenny,” Karen said shakily and took the young teacher’s hand before squeezing into the cab and closing the door tightly.

  Before Stella put the truck in gear, she felt around the bench seat under her butt. “Sometimes these old trucks actually have seat belts. Does anyone feel any?” The women searched the seat and found none. “Well, okay, no seat belts.” She reached to her left and pressed down the lock. “Karen, lock your door.” Karen did so without comment. “Here we go.”

  Much more slowly than before, Stella started down the only half of the highway left. She wove the truck around fallen trees and guided it past slashes in the asphalt. The first car they came to was stalled in the middle of the two lanes, heading the correct way, toward them. There didn’t appear to be anyone in the vehicle. As they drove by it, Karen, who had the best view of the car, gasped and turned her face away.