Into the Mist (Into the Mist 1)

“How did you avoid the green fog when the bombs hit?” Stella asked as the group clustered around the tailgate, ate sandwiches and apples, and watched Gemma sew up Ford’s forehead.

“Just got lucky,” he said. “This spring my campsite was at the very top of one of the canyons. When those bombs hit, and then the green spread after them, I was having my morning coffee above everything.” His open, friendly expression became somber. “From where I was, I watched the fog engulf a group of men working on a fence repair at the base of the canyon. It killed all of them. I knew then that I had to avoid it.”

“You don’t have a vehicle?” Imani asked.

“I did. It was parked at the end of the service access road I took to the canyon. I’d left it there and then hiked to the top. When the green stuff cleared, I hiked back to find that the earthquake had shaken it off the canyon service road. It rolled into a gully. No way could I get it out, so I made my way to the highway and followed it until yesterday when I met a truck driver. Nice guy named Sim, who was on his way north.”

“Oh my Goddess!” Mercury said. “We met Sim too!”

“That’s wild,” said Ford—his grin back. “He gave me an update on the destruction, so I knew it wasn’t safe to head toward Portland, and he told me that Madras is the place to go. That’s where I’ve been headed. I hope he made it to his family.”

The ladies avoided his gaze while Mercury thought about how much she hated having to tell him about Sim.

“Oh,” said Ford. “He didn’t make it.”

“No,” Mercury said. “But it was quick and he didn’t suffer long. Sim is why we’re headed to Madras too.”

“Dios descanse su alma en paz,” Ford said softly. Then he genuflected with a motion that was so natural, so easy, it was clear he hadn’t been exaggerating about it being second nature to him.

“If you’re heading to Madras, why were you on that side of the river and not by the road?” Stella asked.

“I was cutting around Warm Springs.”

“Why?” Mercury asked.

“Since yesterday I’ve been avoiding the highway. Instead, I headed cross-country and followed service roads. I don’t know where you ladies came from, but there are some bad types roaming up and down 26.”

“Preaching to the choir,” said Imani. She was leaning against the tailgate, nibbling her sandwich. She’d put her arm around Cayden, whose head kept bobbing against her shoulder as he struggled not to fall asleep. “We’ve almost lost the truck twice because of assholes.”

“I’m not surprised. That’s why I cut cross-country. See that canyon top over there?” Gemma had just snipped the end of a stitch, so Ford took the opportunity to jerk his thumb behind them at a tall, rocky canyon. “I camped up there last night ’cause I realized pretty quickly that green stuff likes to stay low. Anyway, this morning I could see Warm Springs from the canyon. It’s just around that bend in the road ahead of us. Have you ladies ever been to Warm Springs?”

“Not any of us teachers. We’re from Tulsa and San Diego,” said Mercury.

“Well, Warm Springs is a little town built around a big casino,” Ford explained. “The town’s in a valley surrounded by these canyons—it’s pretty—especially as the Deschutes River is just on the other side of it. Anyway, that’s not the point. The point is I could see the town, or at least the part of it the highway goes through. It’s covered in green. All of it.”

“Like, so much you wouldn’t even drive through it?” Karen asked.

“Not me, no. Maybe you ladies would be okay.” His gaze cut to the sleepy twins. “But…”

“Not all of us would be,” Mercury finished for him.

“Yeah. Exactly,” said Ford.

“Do you know a way our truck can cut around Warm Springs so we can still head to Madras?” Karen asked. “We have a map, and I searched for a side road, but the only one I found fed straight back into the highway in the middle of the town.”

“You won’t find the way on a map. They don’t print cell access roads or farm roads. But yeah, I’ve been camping in this area for years. I can show you how to get the truck around the town.”

“Done!” said Gemma. “Let me put a bandage over it. Sorry I didn’t really have anything to numb it with, but you were excellent at holding still.”

Ford touched his wound gingerly and shrugged. “It didn’t hurt much. Your touch is very gentle.”

“Thanks!” Gemma taped gauze over the stitches. “You’re good to go.”

Stella walked over and stood before him. “Oxford, we would like to offer you a ride to Madras with us, but there are conditions.”

“That’s fair. I promise I’m not a serial killer.”

“I already know that,” said Stella, waving away his comment. “I need you to give me your word that you will keep anything we tell you in confidence.”