Page 9 of Into the Mist (Into the Mist 1)

Mercury took the sweater and pressed it between Amelia’s legs to try to stop the flood. It only took moments for scarlet to soak through the sweater and slick over Mercury’s hands.

“Why isn’t he crying? Is he okay?” Amelia’s voice was barely a whisper. The spots of red had faded from her cheeks, leaving only chalky, damp skin. Her lips were tinged blue and her gaze was unfocused.

Mercury forced herself to sound normal—happy even—as she would have had the baby been alive and thriving. “He’s fine. He’s just small. I’m going to keep the umbilical cord attached for a little while yet, but you can hold him in, in a—” her words hitched to a stop as her voice faltered.

Stella touched her shoulder before she moved to help Jenny hold Amelia. “Yeah, just let Mercury dry him off and wrap him up, then you can hold him.”

“C-cold. Y-you’re right. It—it’s s-so cold,” Amelia’s teeth chattered and her body convulsed with shudders.

Stella wrapped her coat over her dying friend. Tears seeped down her face, but her voice was steady and her touch was strong as she held Amelia’s hands. “Right? It is really cold out here. That’s why Mercury has to be sure he’s warm. What’s his name?”

Amelia’s blue lips tilted up at the corners. “Daniel. After his father.” Her teeth had stopped chattering, and her body had gone very still. She drew a breath that rattled strangely. “He’s our first boy. I can’t wait for Dan to meet…” Amelia released a long exhale and her body relaxed. No inhale followed. Her open, empty gaze looked surprised.

“Amelia!” Jenny shook her. “Amelia!”

Stella placed Amelia’s hands together over her deflated stomach, and then she touched Jenny’s shoulder gently. “She’s gone. There’s nothing we can do.”

Jenny stared at her. “The baby?”

Mercury shook her head and wiped her bloody hands on the grass. “He—he didn’t make it either.”

“Oh God! Jesus help us!”

The three women looked up to see Karen Gay standing just a few feet from them. Her face was bruised and her cardigan torn. Her hands were clasped in front of her, and she was panting as she repeated over and over the same words.

“Oh God! Jesus help us! Oh God! Jesus help us! Oh God!”

Mercury collected herself as she hurried to the history teacher.

“Jesus! Oh Jesus!”

“Are you hurt?” Mercury tried to touch her, but Mrs. Gay cringed away from her bloody hands.

“Oh Lord! Oh God!” she shrieked.

Mercury grabbed her shoulders and shook her. “Stop it! Get yourself together and tell me if you’re hurt!”

Mrs. Gay’s thin, pale lips pressed into a line. She blinked several times, as if trying to clear her vision, and drew a shaky breath before she replied. “I—I don’t think I’m hurt.” Mrs. Gay didn’t meet her eyes. Instead, she stared at the gelatinous mound of red between Amelia’s thighs. “She—she’s dead.”

It wasn’t a question, but Mercury answered it. “Yes. Amelia and her baby.” Mercury was trying to sift through the horror that threatened to numb her mind. Her gaze went from Mrs. Gay to sweep around the turnout. The rich scent of earth filled the area from several places where the ground had split open. Their rented Escalade had been tossed on its side like a child’s discarded toy. The faded pickup was still upright on all four tires, though it looked as if a giant’s hand had pushed it back to the middle of the gravel lot, which reminded Mercury suddenly of the other men. Her eyes scanned past the broken pines surrounding them—some with trunks so thick she and Stella couldn’t have touched hands around them. They’d been snapped in half like number-two pencils. She looked to where the men had been standing when the bombs—Were they really bombs? Are we at war?—had begun to explode, but her gaze was caught by a person who sat on the closest bench, the only bench still intact.

Mrs. Gay must have seen Mercury’s start of surprise, because she spun around. “Mr. Hale!” she shouted and rushed to the man on the bench.

Mercury wanted to warn her, but the history teacher moved too fast. She reached out and touched the principal’s shoulder—and her touch set off a grisly reaction, like he had been held together by a string of wet dominos. His body quivered. Then, with a horrible, sloshing sound, it fell apart. His arm slid from his shoulder to the bench beside him and continued to seep down into the earth. The movement caused his head to detach from his neck so that it dropped behind the bench to hit the ground with the sound of a melon splitting open. His headless torso slumped forward and quivered as it dribbled onto the grass like a macabre Jell-O mold left out in the summer heat.

“Lord! Jesus! Lord!” Mrs. Gay scrambled back. Over and over she wiped her bloody hand on her khaki pants as she stumbled into Mercury, who grabbed her and held her while she sobbed and called to Jesus to save her.

Stella was there, beside Mercury. “The men. The two from the truck. That’s them over there.” She pointed.

Mercury released Mrs. Gay, whose legs collapsed. The history teacher dropped to her knees and began to pray softly as Mercury followed Stella’s pointing finger to two mounds that just minutes before had been living men. Then her gaze continued beyond them, and she looked out at the view.

At first her brain didn’t register what her eyes saw. How could it? Everything had been altered so utterly that her mind kept telling her that it couldn’t be real—this couldn’t be happening.

Nothing looked the same. It was like one of the old gods had grabbed an edge of the earth and then lifted and shook it like a dirty rug. The land was ripped and gouged and utterly alien. Portland was gone. In its place was flame and smoke and green-tinged darkness.

“They finally did it. They finally destroyed the world.” Stella spoke with no emotion, but she wrapped her arms around her torso while tears dripped from her eyes down her cheeks to soak the long-sleeved shirt she’d layered under her sweater.

Mercury could only manage one word. “They?”