Page 84 of Into the Mist (Into the Mist 1)

Mercury nodded as Stella answered. “Yeah, I was.”

Karen continued. “Well, before the green fog you were already a good shot. You’ve told us that.”

“Yes, that’s true,” said Mercury.

“So, you think the green fog may enhance abilities we already have,” said Imani.

“Yes, I do,” answered Karen. “Imani, what were you particularly good at before the fog?”

Imani looked down at her hands. “I was a good mother. I took care of my family. I watched over them and all of the neighborhood kids. My home—” She had to pause, take a deep breath, and clear the tears from her throat before she finished. “My home was the hangout for everyone. Didn’t matter about color. Didn’t care which church, if any, they attended. Didn’t matter whose mom or dad had money or didn’t. Everyone was welcome. My family—my neighborhood—were my life.”

Mercury covered Imani’s hand with hers, and on her left, Karen lifted her hand and placed it over Imani’s other one.

“To be such a wonderful mother—such a good nurturer—is a true gift,” said Karen softly. “It’s one I wish I had.”

“I’m so glad you’re with us,” said Stella. “We need you.”

Imani shook off their hands so she could wipe the tears from her cheeks. “Maybe someday, with your help, I’ll stop wishing I’d died with them.”

“And when you do, that will be another gift,” said Karen.

“That’s very wise of you,” said Imani as she met Karen’s gaze. “I was wrong about you before all of this.”

Karen’s smile was sad. “No, honey. You weren’t.” She turned her gaze to Mercury. “You didn’t aim at the men. Even though one of them was that horrid Rutland person,” Karen said. “I commend you for that.”

Mercury lifted a shoulder. “No reason to commend me. I don’t ever want to shoot anyone, but I can tell you, had those shots not worked—not disabled or crashed those snowmobiles—my next two bullets would definitely have been aimed at those men, Rutland first and foremost.” She shivered again, this time not from the cold. “I’m pretty sure that second guy is dead. Makes me sick.”

“Your sickness is one of the things that separates you—and us—from those monsters,” said Imani. She turned to Stella. “Do you know what would’ve happened if they’d caught us?”

Stella swallowed a bite of her turkey sandwich before she answered. “All I know is what my gut told me, which was that we needed to do anything we could to keep them from catching us.” She looked through the streaky, still-swiping windshield wipers at the land that surrounded them. “Out there changed pretty quick. Mercury, pop the glove box and get out the map. Karen’s old-timey wristwatch says it’s one thirty. I can make better time since we’re off that mountain and the highway is a lot less messed up—though I don’t know how long that’ll last. But we need to see how much farther it is to Madras. After that run-in with Rutland, I want us off this road and tucked into some civilization as quickly as possible.”

Karen took out the neatly folded map and spread it across their laps. Before they’d left Timberline, Jenny had highlighted the route from the lodge to Madras, which Mercury gently traced with her finger.

“Thank you, Jenny,” she murmured.

“We’re right about here.” Karen pointed to a spot midway on the section of highway 26 that ran through an area outlined by a brown boundary labeled “Confederated Tribes of the Warm Springs.”

“That blue broken line must be the partially dried up river I’ve seen off that side of the road.” She gestured to their left. “And see this little gray line that intersects with 26?”

The three women nodded.

“I believe that’s the one-lane road we passed just a short way back.”

“You’re really good at map reading,” said Imani. “All those lines and symbols make zero sense to me. I’m a ‘Google-my-route-to-my-favorite-restaurant’ kind of a girl.”

“It’s part of my fascination with history,” said Karen. “I’ve studied lots of maps, especially old ones—like of Lewis and Clark’s expedition, which actually wasn’t too far from here. I used to dream about being an explorer.”

“Is that before or after you wanted to be a dancer?” Mercury asked.

Karen’s lips twitched, like she almost wanted to smile. “During. But neither career was appropriate, so I went to school to be a history teacher—though my father would’ve much preferred if I’d taught something more sensible, like math.”

“I think a ballerina explorer is an excellent job choice,” said Mercury.

Karen did smile then. “Well, my childhood obsession is certainly coming in handy now—though I’m pretty sure my map-reading skills are more useful than my ability to relevé.”

“You might need to dust off your ballet moves,” Stella said. “I’m pretty sure you’re our prima ballerina.”

Karen’s eyes sparkled. “Well then, I may consider it. But for now I shall just hone my map skills.” She refocused on the map and put her finger on a dot labeled Warm Springs. “According to the map’s legend, I can estimate that we’re about twenty-ish miles north of this little town, which means…” She paused and shifted the map around. “Ah, here it is: Madras is about another fifteen miles from there.”