Into the Mist (Into the Mist 1)

“So, you haven’t decided if you’ll stay or go?” Mercury said as she finished getting undressed.

Karen’s shoulders drooped. “No. Not yet.”

“We’ll support your decision,” said Stella. “No matter what it is.”

Karen said nothing but turned her back again and continued to change her clothes.

“That didn’t take all day. What else did you do?” Mercury asked.

“I spent most of the day in prayer at the Fellowship Church just down the street from here. I found it very peaceful.”

“That’s good.” Mercury slipped on her dress and buttoned the bodice to the deep V-neck. “Didn’t Amber say that the Fellowship Church was another building set up for survivors?”

“It is. They’ve moved the pews and placed beds there instead, but the sanctuary is still intact,” said Karen.

“Were there many people there?” asked Stella as she stepped into her dress.

Karen pulled on the broom skirt and tucked the blouse into it before she turned to face them. “Oh, probably only about twenty or so. The church is more cozy than spacious.”

“Did you happen to see Moira today?” Mercury asked.

“No, I didn’t, though I did look for her.” Karen draped the new cardigan over her shoulders and smoothed her skirt. “Oh, I think everything fits!”

“You look great!” said Mercury. “What do y’all think? Wait—gotta finish my ensemble.” She bent to pull on her cowboy boots. “How’s that?” Mercury twirled so that the skirt billowed around her.

“Very pretty,” said Karen.

“Totally fuckable.” Stella wrapped the pashmina artfully around her neck. “What about me?”

“Not a day over forty,” said Mercury.

“Perfection. Let’s get Ford and go. I’m getting hangry,” said Stella. They headed for the door, but Stella stopped them with a lifted hand. “Wait. I cannot believe I almost forgot.” She went to her backpack, opened the small outside pocket, and brought out a black and gold lipstick case. She popped the top off to expose a creamy, brilliant red lip color. “This, my friends, is Guerlain KissKiss Lip Color’s Red Insolence, which is the closest thing to the shade Marilyn Monroe used to wear as we can get. It’s all the makeup we have right now, but it’s absolutely enough.” She applied it expertly and then handed the tube to Mercury.

“Ooh, thanks!” Mercury spread it on her lips and made kiss noises at Stella. “Want me to put it in my backpack? I’m definitely not leaving that gun here.” She paused and turned to Karen. “FYI, Ford didn’t move the gun. Someone else did.” Karen started to respond, but Mercury kept talking. “You don’t have to say anything. I just want you to know so you figure that into your decision about whether you should stay or not.” Then Mercury said to Stella, “Hell, yeah, I’ll put that gorgeous lipstick in my backpack, but let Karen put some on first.”

Karen shook her head. “Oh no. Red is too bright for me.”

“Red will illuminate your face,” Stella said. “Trust me. You’ll look beautiful.”

“Well, I suppose it couldn’t hurt.” Karen hesitantly applied the lipstick and then blotted it on her finger. “Are you sure?”

“Absolutely!” Mercury and Stella said together.

There were two knocks on the door to their classroom, and Ford’s voice spoke through it. “I swear I can smell the barbeque cooking. You ladies ready yet?”

“Coming!” Mercury slid her backpack, purse-like, over one shoulder, and the three of them filed out of the room.

“This feels bizarre.” Mercury said under her breath to Stella. She, Stella, and Karen stood not far from the four big grills that were fired up and aromatic with burgers and hotdogs. Long, trestle picnic-style tables had been set up under the park’s pavilion, where there were big tubs of icy wine, beer, and sodas, as well as a condiment table and an impressive salad bar bursting with luscious fresh veggies. A couple hundred adults stood and sat in little groups, eating and talking—though several of the adults were bandaged and/or in wheelchairs—but everyone looked relaxed and happy.

A dozen children, mostly preteens, were either eating or hanging out on the playground equipment. They were quieter than what would be considered normal for kids that age, and their play had an intense “I’m-determined-to-have-fun” vibe to it.

And, of course, women outnumbered men at least ten to one.

The park was pretty, tucked into a residential neighborhood that was dark and silent, though Sahalee Park was neither. A generator hummed behind the pavilion, lending power to strands of globe-shaped lights that had been hung all around its roof. They also dangled in long, starry ropes from the pavilion to a basketball court that had been turned into a dance floor. In a circle around the makeshift dance floor and throughout the park, big iron firepits blazed with crackling wood fires. On a little table beside the square of cement that was the dance floor, an ancient boom box with a stack of CDs beside it blasted eighties and nineties tunes.

“Yeah, it feels very Shirley Jackson’s ‘The Lottery,’” said Stella. “And if they bring out a box and ask us to draw slips of paper, I’m running for the hills. Literally.”

“I’m with ya, girlfriend,” said Mercury.