Into the Mist (Into the Mist 1)

“So, I’m just gonna say it. I agree with what the doc was saying. That green stuff kills men.”

Stella sat cross-legged beside her on one of the queen beds. She nodded contemplatively as she swirled the bold red wine around her crystal balloon. “Fucking A right it does.”

Karen had chosen the trundle bed, and she perched primly on its edge, where the group had dragged it to warm near the hearth. She swallowed a sip of wine and looked up at Stella, brow furrowed. “Does that mean you think it’s a good thing?”

Stella shrugged. “Not necessarily. But if I could choose, I’d sure as hell have it kill more men than, say, us.”

Jenny had her legs pulled to her chest as she rested against the headboard of the other queen bed she shared with Imani. She picked at her lip. “It killed Amelia.”

“Did it?” Mercury said. “Or did it kill her baby boy in a way that caused her to hemorrhage to death?”

“We don’t even know what it is,” said Imani. She held a glass of wine, but had barely touched it.

“That green stuff,” said Mercury. “The fog, whatever—that’s what it is. I think it’s a biological agent that breaks something inside men and makes them bleed out.”

“And it also did something to your blood, and now you make potatoes grow.” Jenny fluttered her fingers a little tipsily at Mercury.

“Doesn’t mean I know shit, though,” said Mercury.

Karen suddenly raised her half-empty wineglass. “To not knowing shit!”

The group stared at Karen, and then as one they raised their glasses and toasted together: “To not knowing shit!” And then they dissolved into giggles, which even Imani briefly joined.

Karen blotted her flushed face with the end of her too long pajama sleeve and then fanned herself. “Whew, I’d forgotten what it’s like to have friends like you.”

Stella raised her brow. “Like us?”

Imani’s dark eyes narrowed “Yeah, what’s that supposed to mean?”

Karen made a gesture that took in all four women. “You’re unapologetic about who you are. It makes you seem somehow lighter than the women I spend time with.” She paused, sipped her wine, and continued. “I used to be like you when I was a girl. I wanted to be a dancer, but that would’ve led to a sinful life, plus he said that I wasn’t pretty or talented enough.”

“He?” Stella asked.

“My father.”

Mercury met Karen’s gaze. “I’m sorry.”

“Me too,” said Stella.

“That’s a horrible thing to say to a little girl.” Imani shook her head in disgust.

“Legit monstrous,” said Jenny.

Stella refreshed Karen’s glass, which Karen sipped contemplatively before saying, “It’s not really godly, is it? To judge and steal dreams.”

Mercury leaned forward. “Well, I think that depends on whether you’re talking about the Old or New Testament God.”

Stella nudged Mercury with her slippered foot. “Stop. Karen is having a moment.”

“No, I’m interested in Mercury’s point,” said Karen as she fanned herself. “Also, I’m curious about something. You’re not a Christian, correct?”

“Very correct,” Mercury said.

“Then why do you know the Bible?” Karen asked.

“That’s a good question, Karen,” Mercury responded. “When I was a little girl I went to church with my friends—and my mom sometimes went to a Presbyterian church a few of her girlfriends attended, and she took my brothers and me with her. It never felt right for me. I had so, so many questions—even back then. Like, why are men automatically in charge? Why is God supposed to ‘be love’”—Mercury air-quoted—“but Christians show so much hate for anyone not exactly like them. And the one that really baffled me—why are there so many segregated churches? Especially as Jesus Christ was definitely not the blond-haired, blue-eyed white guy I saw so many pictures of.”

“Amen, sis!” Imani said.