THE FOG
THE FOG SERIES BOOK 1
HAYLEY LAWSON
The Fog (this book) is a work of fiction.
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite ebook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
Copyright © 2018 by Hayley Lawson. All rights reserved.
Sign up to Hayley Lawson mailing list for new book releases, and giveaways.
Click here > Zombie HangOut
CONTENTS
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
AUTHOR’S NOTE
MORE FROM HAYLEY LAWSON
BOOKS BY HAYLEY LAWSON
To all my friends that would throw an end of the world party.
CHAPTER ONE
Benjamin banged his head as he climbed into the Uber, a sky-blue Nissan Versa, and closed the door behind him. Can my day get any worse?
“Hi Benjamin!” the driver, a scrawny man with brown hair, exclaimed. “I’m Alex! Welcome to my glorious—”
Clearly it has. “How do you know my name? And can you just drive around a while?” Benjamin asked. “I don’t care where. Just go.”
An awkward silence fell between them, filled suddenly by Alex’s fingers tapping on the steering wheel. “Your name is on your profile. So—uh—what’s with the weird request?” Alex asked. “Usually, they just want to go to one place or the other. I think. I don’t know.”
“You don’t know?”
“You have the dubious honor of being my very first Uber passenger!” Alex exclaimed. “Isn’t that great?”
“It’s fine. I guess,” Benjamin replied.
In Benjamin’s mind, there really wasn’t anything particularly exciting about being someone’s first Uber passenger, but—well—whatever floated Alex’s boat.
“It’s better than fine!” Alex argued, sounding vaguely offended that Benjamin wasn’t over the moon at the revelation. “It’s sublime!”
Benjamin sighed. “Look; I’m just really not in the mood to be excited by anything today,” he said. “I found my girlfriend seeing another man, so the engagement is off. There’s this jerk at work that just got promoted over me, even though I’ve worked there longer and do a better job. And when I was trying to cook chicken portabella, I totally destroyed it. I’m lucky I didn’t burn my apartment down. It’s been a rough day, okay?”
Alex whistled between his teeth. “It sounds like you need to talk about it over tequila shots,” he replied.
“I’d rather not die before I’m thirty,” Benjamin replied.
“Now, sometimes, it is beneficial to your health to have something that’s bad for your arteries but good for your soul,” Alex countered, “And it’s good to talk out your problems. I picked that up in Introduction to Psychology. Start talking, and I will be your Virgil leading you—Dante—down into the depths of Hell!”
“What on Earth does Dante’s Inferno have to do with psychology?” Benjamin asked.
“Well, nothing,” Alex replied, “But if Sigmund Freud could frame all his psychology stuff in terms of Hamlet and Oedipus Rex, I can frame mine in terms of Dante.”
“I don’t know if Sigmund Freud is the man you should be using as your example for modeling psychologist behavior,” Benjamin said.
“Well, how would you know? You aren’t a psychologist, are you.”
“Neither are you, though!”
Alex slammed on the brakes so hard that Benjamin’s face was nearly smashed into the passenger seat. “Sorry, bro,” Alex said. “The person in front of me should’ve run the red light.”
“Right,” Benjamin replied, sighing.
Glumly, Benjamin returned his attention to the window. Outside, New York City was bustling as per usual, but a thick, white fog had rolled in and now lingered over the city streets like a tattered piece of gossamer. Benjamin frowned. “Is there a cold front moving in?” he asked.
“I don’t know,” Alex replied. “What do I look like—a meteorologist?”
Benjamin rolled his eyes.
Crackling filled the car as Alex turned on the radio and toyed with the knob, trying to pick up a station. With a sharp burst of sound, Britney Spears’s “Toxic” wafted into the car. Benjamin massaged his temples. “Seriously?” he asked.
Alex hit the gas pedal with too much force, propelling them abruptly back into the traffic. “Don’t diss Britney,” Alex replied. “She is a gift to mankind, and I’ll have you know that I love her more than life itself.”
Alex’s voice sounded completely serious, too, as if he really would take a bullet for Britney Spears. And sure, Benjamin could have complained, but instead, he remained silent and slumped against the seat. At least, someone was happy. At least, someone’s life wasn’t falling apart into a million pieces around them.
“Toxic” finally ended and was replaced with a cacophony of commercials. Outside the car, everything was white with fog. The traffic lights were blurred and barely visible. They looked like distant stars.
Straightening, Benjamin glanced at Alex, who seemed to have slowed his driving.
“Do you want to pull over?” Benjamin asked, furrowing his brow. “This is bad.”
“I know, right? It’s like something from an M. Night Shyamalan movie,” Alex replied, laughing anxiously.
“Where did it even come from, though?” Benjamin asked. “It was nice when I left my apartment.”
“Maybe it followed you,” Alex joked. “Any moment now, you’re going to gain your god-like powers as Benjamin, Lord of the Fog!”
“Wouldn’t that just tie up my week?” Benjamin asked. “I get godlike powers, and they aren’t even anything useful.”
“That’s the way the cookie crumbles!”
The sharp, ear-shattering alert of the Emergency Broadcast System rang through the car. Alex scrambled to turn down the volume a few notches. “This is the Emergency Broadcast System. All citizens are encouraged to stay indoors. A fog is affecting people and—argh! Oh, God! Ah!”
The broadcast ended abruptly with a crackle.
“Huh,” Alex said. “That was weird.”
Benjamin straightened. “Affecting people how? I can’t go home … it’s not my apartment. It’s hers and we’re over.”
“Their driving, probably,” Alex replied. “I mean, I guess we can go camp out in my apartment if you want. It’s about five minutes away, and I’ve got—like—a very impressive collection of Mountain Dew flavors. Code Red, White Out, Pitch Black—”
Crash! Thunk!
The car came to a stop.
“Did you just hit someone?” Benjamin asked.
“Uh…maybe,” Alex replied, his hands curled so tightly around the steering wheel that his knuckles were white.
Benjamin unbuckled his seatbelt. “I can’t believe this,” he said. “I can’t even—what even is this day?”
Movement. A dark figure emerged from over the hood of the car.
“Oh, they’re up,” Alex said. “See; they’re okay, at least.”
“That doesn’t mean they’re okay! You hit them with a car!” Benjamin exclaimed.
Benjamin peered around the seat, trying to see the person who’d been hit.
When he did, his blood ran cold.
The person was a man…possibly.
He was dressed like someone who should have been in a
Shakespeare play, and while striking someone who looked like a long-dead king of England with a car might have been—sort of—morbidly hilarious, the man’s skin was ashy and green.
When he opened his mouth, yellowed saliva fell from his teeth. His clawed hands scraped against the car, the screeches rivalled only by the sound of the man’s unearthly moans.
“Oh, God,” Alex said. “Yes! It’s the apocalypse! They all said I was crazy! They didn’t believe the zombies were coming, but I told them! I told them all!”
More movement.
Dark figures hobbled into view, each as ghastly as the man. There were queens and knights, maidens and rogues. Each bore the same dilapidated skin and hobbling gestures as the first man… zombie.
“Floor it!” Benjamin shrieked, his voice incredibly high-pitched.
“What? Just plow through them?” Alex snapped. “Oh, God! They’re mutilating my baby! I have ten thousand dollars left on this car!”
“Reverse!” Benjamin screamed. “Reverse, you fool!”
The zombies began clawing at the sides of the car, their nails leaving thin scratches on the windows. Alex put the car into reverse and floored the gas. They sped backwards and right into a mailbox, but Alex kept going. The zombies followed, hobbling and screaming, moaning and scraping.
“Faster! Faster!” Benjamin shouted.
Alex needed no urging. With reckless abandon, he ran his car backwards and took out everything in his path. There was chaos as drivers panicked, trying to flee the zombies and Alex’s sidewalk-created chaos.
Still, the undead Renaissance-dressed man continued his dogged pursuit, flanked by what appeared to be a man with a donkey’s head.
Benjamin hadn’t read Shakespeare in a very long time, but he was still almost a hundred-percent sure that A Midsummer Night’s Dream wasn’t supposed to involve zombies.
Alex took out a display of Halloween wreaths, and once he’d gained a little bit of distance over the zombies, he put the car into drive and whirled around, going as fast as he could away from the fog.
“It’s time!” Alex exclaimed. “I always knew this day was coming! Finally!”
“Finally?” Benjamin snapped. “There are zombies! Actual zombies!”
“I know! Isn’t it exciting?”
Benjamin groaned and put his head between his hands. “I hate my life,” he said. “I can’t believe it.”
“Why do you hate it? You’re going to be a zombie slayer! I am so psyched about this!” Alex exclaimed. “I can’t wait to grab my machete and cut some of them down to size!”
Benjamin cast his eyes upward, as if hoping that God might strike him dead right then. Alas, he had no such luck.
The fog had dimmed and given way to a clear night. Alex parked the car before a tall, bricked apartment building. “Home, sweet home!” Alex declared. “Welcome to Castle Alexander, my humble home!”
CHAPTER TWO
As Benjamin climbed out of the car, he very carefully surveyed his surroundings. Everything looked surprisingly normal.
There was a large moving van, heavy furniture being dragged out by several men with an enviable amount of muscles. Very enviable.
Any one of those men probably could have broken Benjamin in half just by blinking at him.
He began to wonder if he’d fallen asleep and somehow imagined being attacked by zombies. That was, until he walked around to the front of Alex’s car and saw the deep furrows left by zombie claws. So a bad dream was out.
Maybe Benjamin was in a coma, then. Yes. Nothing in the past twenty-four hours had happened. His girlfriend hadn’t cheated on him, his mortal nemesis hadn’t gotten a promotion, and he hadn’t been attacked by zombies.
No, clearly, Benjamin had done something heroic—like pushing a little old lady out of the way of a car—and he had sustained a serious head injury. And was now in a coma. Yes.
Alex led the way up to the apartment building, and Benjamin followed. After all, this was some sort of coma-induced hallucination. Why not?
Benjamin cast a longing glance at the elevator, but he followed Alex up the rusting, dull flight of stairs. “Don’t worry, man,” Alex said. “I’ve got everything you might need for the zombies. Knives, machetes, Mountain Dew, chocolate—”
Alex suddenly seemed significantly less prepared for the zombie apocalypse than Benjamin had previously thought.
“What about guns?” Benjamin asked.
“Guns?” Alex inquired, sounding utterly baffled. “Why shoot a zombie when you can feel the rush of having beheaded one? I am affronted that you would even ask such a thing!”
Great. Just great.
Once they reached Alex’s floor, the world seemed to move in slow motion.
There was a group of three women, dressed like they’d just come from their girl’s night out. One was a petite brunette with large doe-brown eyes; she wore a black, velvet dress and knee-high boots.
Benjamin saw the handle of a lint roller peeking out from the silver purse she had hanging from one shoulder.
The other woman was tall and willowy with long hair that was dyed half-black and half-blonde that fell past her shoulder blades. Very trendy. Her hair spilled onto her tight, black half-mesh top. Her lower half was clad in tight, vinyl pants.
Both of the women were very beautiful, but the third woman blew them all out of the water. She was blonde-haired and blue-eyed with modelesque curves, outlined by her tight, dark wash jeans and a dark blue bustier. One of her hands clutched at a black leather jacket.
Benjamin’s heart pounded so loudly that he heard its beat reverberate in his head. His throat was dry. He couldn’t feel his hands. The world seemed to stop around him, and nothing mattered anymore except for that magnificent, blonde beauty.
“Hey,” Alex said. “I haven’t seen you guys around before.”
“We’re new,” the blonde said, her voice was beautiful and shining as her body. “I’m Sara. These are my roommates, Amber—”
A small wave from the woman with the lint roller.
“And Daisy.”
A playful bow from the woman in the bohemian dress.
“Alex!” he declared, his greeting ear-piercingly loud and awkward. “It’s wonderful to meet you!”
“Nice to meet you,” Sara replied.
“And I’m—uh—Benjamin.”
Sara flashed a brilliant smile. “Nice to meet you guys. How long have you lived here?”
“Oh, I’ve been here a few years now,” Alex said. “Benjamin—can we just all call you Ben? He doesn’t live here. He was in my Uber when we ran into the fog.”
“The fog?” Amber asked, self-consciously patting her brown hair.
“They were talking about it on the radio,” Benjamin said. “There was a fog that’s been affecting people. I—honest to God—think we ran into a horde of zombies on the way over here.”
Sara laughed.
“Okay, what’s the punchline?” Daisy asked.
“For real,” Amber replied. “Zombies? Are you serious?”
“Yes,” Alex said, nodding fiercely. “We ran into them on the way over. I know it sounds crazy, but there are actual, real zombies out there!”
“Man, what have you been smoking?” Daisy joked. “I want a huff.”
“No kidding,” Sara said.
“Look. I’m sure it’s on the news,” Benjamin said. “We can prove it.”
“Well, it’s not the worst pick-up line I’ve ever heard,” Sara replied. “I mean, we might as well.”
“But it’s not a—” Benjamin began.
Alex grabbed Benjamin’s shoulder. “Three girls are offering to come to watch TV with us,” he hissed. “Don’t blow it!”
Oh!
“Right,” Benjamin said. “Right! We should all go and watch the news!”
Alex grinned and opened his apartment door. “Welcome!” Alex declared.
A blond-haired man peered over the back of a sofa. “Really, Alex, do you have to be so dramatic—I mean, h
ello, ladies!”
The blond-haired man smiled winningly and strode around to the back of the sofa. “Welcome, please,” he purred, seemingly deliberately playing up an Italian accent. “I am Elijah.”
Benjamin scowled and looked around the apartment, trying to distract himself from the fact that Elijah was such an attractive man. He looked like the sort of man who could win a girl like Sara, and although Benjamin didn’t want to be jealous of him, he couldn’t help but feel a hard twist in his stomach.
The apartment was ridiculously messy. Clothes were draped and piled over the two sofas in the apartment. There were empty Pepsi bottles dotting every shelf. An overflowing trashcan and laundry basket graced two different corners of the room.
“It’s a bit messy in here,” Amber said.
“Oh, that’s our roommate Ted,” Elijah replied. “He’s always leaving his crap everywhere. Like, he’s the absolute worst. He’s always deleting my games, too.”
Elijah waved a hand to the TV, which was playing a baseball game.
“I work on garbage truck collecting waste from movie sets when they’re done, so I usually sleep during the day and end up missing the games. I set them to record, and he always deletes them,” Elijah explained, rolling his eyes.
“And steals food,” Alex added. “You can’t have anything without Ted taking it.”
Sara delicately picked her way across the apartment and took a seat on the sofa. The three men exchanged looks with one another. Benjamin made to take the seat beside Sara, but before he could, Elijah slid into the empty space beside her. “Hello, what’s your name, beautiful?”
“Sara,” she replied.
“Very nice. Princess. A perfect name for a lovely lady.”
Could he lay it on any thicker?
Benjamin grabbed the empty sofa, shoving aside a pile of folded shirts, as he sat. Amber and Daisy had wedged themselves onto the sofa beside Elijah, leaving Alex to sit beside Benjamin.
Between the two sofas, there was a coffee table with an expected assortment of clutter on it. Books, mail, and magazines all warred for space.
The Fog (Book 1): The Fog Page 1
