Page 38 of Into the Mist (Into the Mist 1)

“Wait, you’re not thinking that your blood caused the potatoes to sprout, are you?” Imani peered from the potatoes to her two friends. “That is fucking crazy.”

Mercury faced the women as something that had been niggling at her mind since they roared away from the scenic turnout fell into place. “I saw something back at the turnout, but I haven’t said anything because I thought it was fucking crazy too.”

“Tell us. We’re in an apocalypse. Nothing could be crazier than that,” said Stella.

“Remember how before you pulled out of the parking lot and floored the truck across the highway, I was yelling at Karen?” Mercury began.

“Wait—I thought you got a ride from someone,” interrupted Imani.

“No, that was a lie,” said Stella.

“What was a lie?” asked Jenny as she and Karen stumbled into the kitchen under the weight of a snow-laden basket.

“That we got a ride here,” said Stella.

“Oh yeah. Total lie,” said Jenny.

“But a necessary one,” added Karen.

“There was an old truck at the turnout that was drivable after the bomb. I hid it in the back of the parking lot,” Stella explained quickly. “Some asshole bully tried to take it from us on the way here, so we thought it would be better for us to lie and have wheels than to tell the truth and chance another asshole bully stealing the truck. Sorry—we forgot to clue you in.”

Imani nodded. “Makes sense. Go on.”

“Wait, what are we talking about?” Jenny asked as she and Karen lowered the basket to the floor and wiped sweat from their faces.

Imani pointed at the potatoes on the counter. “Mercury cut her finger. Her blood got on the potatoes.”

“And they sprouted,” Mercury added. “But I swear they weren’t sprouted before my blood got on them.”

“Okay, what?” Jenny shook her head. “I don’t get it.”

“You think your blood made the potatoes grow?” Karen asked.

“That’s what I’m trying to figure out,” said Mercury. “Before everything fell down the side of the mountain, I saw something strange about the section of the grass Stella and I had fallen and bled on. I only got a glimpse because, well, you know—the damn mountain was breaking apart—but it looked like that grass was taller than it had been before.”

“Like, before you bled on it?” Jenny said.

“Yeah,” said Mercury. “That’s what I mean.”

Karen smoothed her tattered cardigan. “Mercury’s right about that. I saw it too. I just didn’t know what I was looking at. I walked through the spots of tall grass when I went to pray over Amelia and her baby, and then poor Coach Davis. I remember it clearly because it seemed odd and out of place. The rest of the clearing was so neatly tended that it caught my attention, but then, what with everything else that happened, I didn’t think of it again. Until now.” Karen went to the counter and picked up one of the sprouted potatoes. “This doesn’t feel like an old potato.”

“Right? Because it’s not old,” said Mercury.

“It just has your magic blood on it.” Imani rolled her eyes. “Guys, really? It’s insane.”

“Well, there’s only one way to find out.” Mercury took off her glove and unwrapped the Band-Aids Stella had so recently put around her wounded finger. “Hand me a bowl.”

Jenny took a small mixing bowl off the metal pot rack beside her and gave it to Mercury. With a little cringe of pain, Mercury squeezed the fresh cut until it beaded with scarlet. She kept squeezing until the red drops rained reluctantly on the two unsprouted potatoes she’d placed on the counter. Then she put them in the bowl and pushed it to the rear of the counter.

“What now?” Jenny stared at the bowl.

“We finish making dinner and the stew for tomorrow,” said Stella. “And keep an eye on that bowl.”

“I need another Band-Aid and another pair of gloves,” Mercury said.

Jenny and Karen dragged the weeping basket back to the freezer while the other three women resumed meal preparations. Mercury forced herself to ignore the bowl as she peeled and cut mounds of carrots and potatoes, and the familiar, comforting scent of simmering stew suffused the kitchen.

“I think we need to fill one of those giant metal bowls with greens for salad,” Stella said as she turned the enormous pot of stew to simmer. “They’re not going to last, and I can made a quick dressing for it, plus greens equal healthy.”