Page 48 of Into the Mist (Into the Mist 1)

“I wish I’d been a better mom,” said Karen. “I could’ve made my boys better men.”

“I don’t think anyone can make another person be better,” said Mercury. “So, don’t beat yourself up about something you can’t change.”

Karen met Mercury’s gaze. “That was kind of you to say.”

“It’s just the truth,” said Mercury as she swirled her wine and watched it refract the flickering light from the fireplace.

Gemma spoke up. “I wonder what it’s gonna be like now.”

“There’ll be a lot fewer men,” said Stella.

“Well, if that’s true, I hope women do a better job of running things,” said Karen.

Stella snorted. “It’d be damn difficult to do worse.”

“We’re going to do a better job,” said Gemma firmly.

Imani lifted her glass to the teenager. “I like your conviction.”

Gemma shrugged. “Yeah, well, anyone who’s been in school knows girls are more mature than guys, and now some of us have superpowers.” She lifted the potato that rested beside her and turned it so that the women could see the green sprouting proudly from its bloodstained skin. “I think we should tell Dr. Hilary about this.”

Mercury and Stella exchanged a long look, and then Stella nodded slightly.

“Sounds like a plan,” said Mercury. “But not tonight. Tonight we drink and sleep. Tomorrow we start our new world.”

“Okay.” Gemma nodded and then held her glass out for a refill. “You’re right about the red chalk. It’s more like weird vinegar now.”

“Child, you blaspheme, but I won’t hold it against you.” Stella poured a little more wine into Gemma’s cup. “Instead, I’ll make it my mission to educate you. So, let’s talk about tannins…”

Mercury leaned back on the mound of pillows she’d propped against the head of the bed and listened to Stella explain red wine to Gemma—with occasionally semi-helpful comments from Jenny and Imani while Karen put her empty glass down, curled up, and fell instantly to sleep.

Mercury sipped her wine and stared at the crackling hearth fire. The flames reminded her of the firepit in her parents’ yard, and longing washed over her so thick, so dense that she almost couldn’t breathe. She missed her family. She missed Oklahoma—the smell of her mom’s butterfly bushes and the fireflies that lit up the yard on warm nights. She ached for the heat of a clear summer day and the thunderclouds that would roll in from the west to bring rain to wash the thirsty prairie and put the green in Oklahoma’s nickname, Green Country.

How am I going to live without my home? I’m never going to see Dad and Mom or my brothers again. Are they all dead? Even my little nieces and nephews? What about my tribe of friends? Teresa, Kim, Robin, Shawn, Lola, Sher, Sharon, Kristin, Bridget, Gena, Jill, and Kresley. I can’t say it out loud yet, but inside I know it. I know they’re as gone as my home—my Tulsa.

Without missing a beat in her wine lecture, Stella reached out and took her hand. She didn’t look at Mercury. She was just there—warm and alive and solid. Mercury clung to her hand and promised herself solemnly. We’ll make a better world. For everything—everyone we’ve lost. And make sure this never fucking happens again.