Into the Mist (Into the Mist 1)

“Yes, of course it is,” Karen said. “But how are we supposed to take care of three small children and—”

In the distance from the direction of the highway came the whine of motors—not like the sound of a car or a truck—but something more high pitched and moving fast. The engine sounds carried easily through the silence of the ravaged, snow-covered forest.

“Now!” Stella jogged around the truck with the empty gas container in one hand and Mack’s rifle in the other. “We gotta leave now!”

“I’ll get in the back with the kids and Gemma,” Imani said.

“Karen, get in the cab,” Stella snapped orders. She handed Mercury the rifle. “I’m assuming you can shoot this?”

“Yep,” Mercury said.

“And you’re a decent shot with it?” Stella asked.

“More than decent.”

“Good. Do you know how many shells it has in it?”

Mercury examined the rifle, silently thanking her dad for teaching her to respect firearms, which included learning to clean and care for a Winchester almost identical to the one in her arms. “It’s fully loaded. One in the chamber and five in the cartridge.”

“Get in the back. Keep the window to the camper shell raised and the safety off,” Stella said. “Now!”

Mercury’s stomach roiled as the engine drone got louder. “Fucking snowmobiles.”

Karen hurried to the cab as Stella met her best friend’s gaze. “Don’t question whether you should shoot or not. No second thoughts. If they catch us we’ll be Stepford-ed or Handmaid’s Taled—or worse.”

“Got it,” Mercury said. “Just drive and don’t worry about me.”

“Can’t we just stay here? Hide until they’ve passed?” Karen spoke through the open door.

“When they don’t find us on the highway, what do you think their next move will be?” Stella asked while she jogged around the truck to the driver side. “They’re from here. They know this area. They know the side roads. They’ll start searching them. There is no one to stop them from doing whatever they want to us except us. We need to get out of here. Not later today. Not tomorrow. Fucking now!” She caught Mercury’s eye before she closed the door to the cab. “Get the kids down. Tell Gemma and Imani to hang on. Mercury, do not let them catch us.”

Mercury didn’t waste time responding. She knew what she had to do. She raced to the rear of the truck, climbed in and pulled the tailgate closed behind her—though she left the rear camper shell window propped open. As the truck retraced the way to the highway, Mercury arranged their backpacks and containers of supplies so that she could sit comfortably just inside the raised tailgate and aim the rifle out the back window. Without looking at the two women behind her or the cowering children, she said, “Imani and Gemma—get the kids down! And then hold on. Stella is going drive as fast as she can.”

“What’s wrong?” Georgie sounded young and terrified.

Mercury couldn’t take time to look at her, but she kept talking as she readied herself to protect them—to not let anyone get to them. “A bad man tried to hurt us not far from here. We got away from him.”

“I broke his knee,” Gemma said with more than a little satisfaction.

“Yeah, she did. But it seems his friends, who are probably also bad men, have come after us.”

“That noise. It’s snowmobiles,” Imani said.

“More than likely,” Mercury agreed as she rested the gun on the tailgate and sighted. She’d been worried earlier that Mack’s Winchester had a scope. She understood how accurate that would make his aim. Now she sighted the rifle with an immense sense of relief. Mercury was a good shot—a better than good shot—but she was also in the bed of a truck that bounced and shook and was the opposite of good for her aim. The scope would, hopefully, make up for that.

“Are you going to shoot the bad man?” Georgie asked from behind her.

“I hope not. I don’t want to shoot anyone,” Mercury said. “But I can promise you I won’t let any bad men get to us, so if I say cover your ears—do it.”

“Okay,” Georgie said. “Jayden and Cayden, you heard Mercury. Cover your ears when she tells us to.”

The truck reached the highway and Stella didn’t hesitate. She turned onto what was left of 26 east and accelerated. The powerful engine of the old Chevy growled, and the newly installed chains clawed the snow. The truck shot forward. Mercury pulled the rifle inside and rested it across her lap as she sat cross-legged and tried to see through the wall of white.

It hadn’t stopped snowing since dawn, but in the time that they’d tromped to the cabin, the flakes had changed from lots of big Christmas lace to smaller, more serious frozen drops that pelted everything and effectively whited out the road. Mercury was impressed that Stella could maneuver around the vehicles, fallen rocks, splintered trees, and broken asphalt at their current speed. They drove like that for several minutes without Mercury seeing anything or anyone behind them except abandoned vehicles and forest debris. Her shoulders were beginning to relax as she considered the fact that maybe the snowmobiles they heard were actually picking up wounded Mack, when the pointed front end of a snowmobile materialized through the curtain of snow. A heartbeat later a second one came into view beside the first.

Mercury gripped the rifle, though she didn’t lift it yet. Keeping her eyes fixed on the snowmobiles—and the men driving them—she said, “Knock on the window and be sure Stella knows they’re right behind us.”

Gemma pounded on the window and shouted, “Snowmobiles!” A moment later she shouted to Mercury. “Stella nodded. She knows.”