Into the Mist (Into the Mist 1)

“Ford, grapes equal wine, which thrills me a lot more than coffee.”

“Oh, now I understand,” said Ford.

“I’m also thrilled about the stash of soap and shampoo I discovered,” said Stella. “But there wasn’t one piece of stemware to be found, though I did grab plenty of plastic cups and plates and silverware that’ll probably outlive all of us.”

“Hey, I think there’s a little pub around here somewhere. It’s attached to a small brewery. Tiger something,” Ford said. “I’ll bet they have wineglasses.”

“Do not tease me,” Stella said.

Ford grinned. “Look down the street there. Doesn’t that sign say Tiger Town Brewing Company?”

Stella spun around and then made a happy little squeak. “It does! Okay, how about if I grab just a few wineglasses and stuff them into the bed of the truck?”

“Sounds good to me,” said Mercury. “I’d hate to contemplate life without stemware.”

Ford hid his laugh with a cough.

Stella’s brow arched up. “You jest, but you’ll thank me when we’re sipping an excellent red from real wineglasses tonight.” She studied the road between them and the brewery. “Backing down there is not possible. Too many vehicles blocking the way. I’m just going to go there real quick, grab some glasses, and then we can leave.”

“Mercury, you should go with Stella. You know she’ll want help carrying those glasses,” Ford said. “I need to take a restroom break before we leave anyway.”

“Okey-dokey. We’ll BRB,” said Mercury as she and Stella walked briskly down the street, averting their eyes from the crow-covered mounds that littered the area.

They opened the door to the brewery, and both women stepped back, gagging.

“Holy shit! That’s disgusting!” Mercury said as she tried not to puke. “Ugh! How could the bar have been packed early Sunday morning?”

Stella waved her hand in front of her nose to try and chase away the fetid stench. “Right? So damn gross. Okay, you stay out here. I’ll run in—grab glasses—try not to look at anything or anyone—and run back out.”

“No, if you go in, I go in too. On three. One, two, three!” Mercury pulled the door open and something came rushing at them—yipping, whining, and crying. “Fuck!” Mercury stumbled back, wishing she’d taken the gun out of the glove box and put it in her pocket. And then she realized what the thing was, and joy chased away her fear. “Hey, there! Who are you?”

The pit bull wiggled and whined as she circled Mercury. Her tail wagged so fast that it blurred.

“It’s okay. It’s okay. We’ve got you now.” Mercury crouched down so the dog could lean against her. She had on a collar with the name “Khaleesi” engraved on a heart-shaped metal tag. “Hello, Khaleesi. Have you been stuck in there all this time?”

“That’s what the smell was—dog poop and pee mixed with dead bodies.” Stella bent and offered her hand to Khaleesi to sniff. “Poor girl. What a nightmare for you.”

“She’s pathetically skinny.” Mercury ran her hand down the dog’s back, feeling her spine and her ribs. “And her nose is cracked. I’ll bet she needs water really badly.”

“Wait out here with her. There has to be water in there somewhere. I’ll get some and bring it out. Looks like we need to grab a leash and some bags of kibble from that feed store too.” Stella grinned at Mercury. “You just found your dog. Now all I have to do is conjure my cat, and we’ll be set.”

Mercury had to blink back tears as Khaleesi leaned into her and gazed adoringly up into her face. “She’s the same color as Kong—gray and white. She looks young too, probably barely a year old.” Impulsively, she put her arms around the pitty and hugged her, which set off Khaleesi’s blurring tail wags again.

“She’s perfect for you—for us—and the kids are going to adore her,” Stella said. “Okay, going back in.” She drew a deep breath and rushed into the pub.

Khaleesi leaned against Mercury and whined softly.

“It’s okay—she’s coming back.”

And Stella did, gasping and retching. But she had a big, wooden salad bowl filled with water, which she set in front of Khaleesi, who instantly began to lap it up. “Watch her so that she doesn’t drink too fast and puke,” said Stella. “There’s a whole row of wineglasses hanging behind the bar. I gotta step over the remains of a bartender to get to them, but then I’ll snatch and run.” She drew in another big breath and ducked back into the pub.

“Stella is dedicated to her stemware,” Mercury told Khaleesi. “You’ll figure that out for yourself after you’re around for a little while.”

Stella reemerged in a foul cloud, but she was clutching a bussing tub to her bosom that was filled with tea towels wrapped around a dozen or so wineglasses that clanked musically together.

“Shit, I’m gonna—” Stella turned and puked off the side of the sidewalk. She gagged, dry-heaved, and then spat twice. “Fucking hell, that’s disgusting!” Stella shuddered, which sent the stemware to music again. “I wouldn’t even go back in there to rescue the bottles of booze and mediocre wine just sitting around behind the bar.”

Still petting Khaleesi, Mercury looked up at her best friend. “You say that now, but I have a feeling you’ll change your mind when we run out of wine.”