Into the Mist (Into the Mist 1)

“If that happens, I’ll race you out of here,” whispered Karen.

“Red for you,” Ford said as he rejoined them and handed Mercury a plastic cup of wine. He looked handsome and well groomed in his new outfit of dark jeans, a deep burgundy button-down shirt, and a black leather jacket.

“You just became my hero,” Mercury said.

“Wish I’d known wine was all it took for that to happen.” Ford grinned at Mercury before turning to Karen. “And also red for you, though only half a glass.” He gave Karen a cup.

“That’s very kind of you, Ford. Thank you,” said Karen.

“You’re welcome. White for you,” he handed Stella a third cup and kept the last one for himself.

“Thanks,” said Stella. “I’m usually a red wine girl, but this white dress is a stain magnet, and it may be the last new dress I get for a very long time. I’d like it to last.”

The four of them sipped their wine and people-watched until Ford cleared his throat and said, “Does anyone else feel like they’re stuck in an episode of The Twilight Zone?”

“Yeah, we were just talking about that,” said Mercury. “Not that having a festival is a terrible idea. I can see what the mayor is trying to do—lift morale and all—but it just feels off.”

“It’s too soon,” said Stella. “It’s only been four days. People are still in shock.”

“I do agree that this is rather forced levity,” said Karen. “But the sentiment is sound.”

“Well, I’m looking forward to slapping one of those thick beefsteak tomatoes you ladies raved about earlier on my burger—or rather, burgers,” said Ford. “And did you see over there next to the condiments and salad stuff that there’s an enormous vat of potato salad?” He lifted his cup. “Here’s to it not having raisins in it.”

Mercury clinked her cup against his. “I wish, but there are a lot of very white people here, so don’t get your hopes up.”

There was a stirring in the people in the park as a black SUV pulled up. Ron Shaddox, who still carried a tissue to blot his perpetually bleeding nose, got hastily from the driver seat and opened the back door. A tall, lean woman wearing a cream-colored pantsuit with a sparkly USA flag lapel pin and bright red stilettos got gracefully from the backseat and made her way through the park, followed closely by Amber. The woman’s long blonde hair was straight and precisely cut at her shoulder blades. She was pretty— beautiful even—with big, dark eyes and glossy pink lips that formed a perfect Cupid’s bow. She could’ve been anywhere from thirty-five to fifty-five. Like Stella, a woman who aged gently and somehow defied gravity and time.

People greeted her and she smiled radiantly as she shook hands and waved. On the basketball court turned dance floor, a man Mercury recognized as silent Wes from the night before turned over a wooden box and then offered the woman his hand as she carefully stepped to the top of it. He handed her a microphone, which was attached to the dated boom box.

“Ron and Wes are carrying again,” Ford whispered to Mercury just before the woman began to speak.

“Good evening, Madras!” Her voice was strong and steady, and it reflected her smile. “For those of you who don’t already know me, I’m Eva Cruz, the mayor of this wonderful town.”

There was a spattering of applause, which her raised hand quieted.

“Some may say it is too soon to have a gathering, a Madras festival, but I am a great believer in hope, and I mean for our monthly festivals—starting with this one tonight—to be an outward sign of our hope for the future. I want to share some news the good people manning our radios have relayed to me. As we already knew from a truck driver who passed through here yesterday, the West Coast is gone—and east of the Mississippi has been hit so hard that there is little to no communication coming from there, though we will continue to try to reach out to survivors.”

“Hit by what, Mayor Cruz?” a man’s voice called from the crowd.

“Franklin, I was just getting to that. Because our great nation’s communication has been severed, we will probably never truly know who bombed us. The information we do have has come from truckers and amateur radio enthusiasts—may God bless them. We know that firebombs exploded and then detonated a sonic element that released a toxin into our atmosphere.”

“The green fog?” A woman called.

“Yes, exactly,” said the mayor. “The capitol of every state was hit, as well as our major military installations. We believe our allies were targeted too, but with everything except the most basic forms of communication destroyed, it’s difficult to know exactly which countries might have survived the attacks. We have heard nothing from Canada, and that saddens me terribly.

“What we do know is that our brave military retaliated before their bases were destroyed. According to our own retired Colonel Dees.” She paused there and looked around the crowd. “Is the Colonel here tonight?”

Franklin’s disembodied voice responded. “No, Mayor. Haven’t seen her yet.”

“Well, then I’ll go ahead and pass along what our military expert shared with me earlier today. The Colonel assured me that we do not have to worry about being invaded—thank the good Lord. Our ICBMs, that’s intercontinental ballistic missiles, for you civilians”—Cruz smiled to take the sting from her words—“would have decimated our enemy, but even though there is no longer a threat of invasion, we will have to deal with fallout, as our retaliation was nuclear.”

“The bombs that hit us—the green fog—do we know whether it’s nuclear or not?” Franklin shouted over the murmuring crowd.

“We have not seen any evidence that the bombs that hit us were nuclear. Our guess—and that’s really all it can probably ever be—is that our enemies counted on the biological agent to wipe us out.” Her voice hardened. “My additional hypothesis is that they meant to invade us, which is why they chose not to use nuclear devices—so that our beautiful, God-fearing country would remain fertile and be able to support our enemies.” The mayor waited for the angry shouts of the crowd to die, and then she continued. “I’m sure we’ll be debating for generations what happened, how, and why. But for now we must focus on surviving and rebuilding in a world that has been permanently changed, but that is something we can do, will do—together with the help of our blessed Savior, who has answered our prayers and made Madras a true sanctuary!”

The mayor paused as people applauded.

“I know this news is a lot to take in, but I must remind you that if you have not gone by our courthouse, which has been repurposed as a clinic, and let our nurses draw your blood, please do so sooner rather than later. We’ve all seen evidence of the horrifically destructive nature of the green fog. Now we know it is a weaponized biological agent. In order to study it and be ready for whatever it might do to us as time passes, we need to understand it. So, especially those women who were exposed, please—for the good of the community—I ask that you get your blood drawn.” She paused again to smile at the crowd. “Well, I can smell the delicious food cooking, so I won’t keep you from—”