Captive by the Fog

by Laura Hardgrave

  “What do you think she deserves?”

  “I don’t even know.” I stared up at the rain droplets again, sighing. “Leave it to my father to not mention anything about his will and Marge. Not that he has money left. Doctor’s bills ate up his retirement. Part of the reason he moved in with me.”

  “He mentioned one thing. He wanted to know if you were happy. That was what was important to him.” Kisana wrapped one arm around my waist as she nibbled on a fruit chunk.

  I grumbled and slammed a fist on the table beneath us. “It’s been so fucking long since I’ve been happy. I don’t even know what the word means anymore.”

  “Sam, look at me.” Kisana turned my head toward hers gently, forcing me to look into her eyes. “It doesn’t matter what the definition is. You carve out that happiness as you go along—nothing else matters. You just live in the moment.”

  “Yeah, but how?” I scowled at her.

  “By doing this…” She leaned toward me and kissed my lips, brushing away a loose strand of my hair that had fallen onto my forehead. I felt a surge of heat make its way through my veins and chest and into my beating heart, awakening me from my rain-trodden mood.

  Her hand remained on my cheek as our lips parted. She wore the same smile that I’d fallen in love with the night she saved me from myself. “I’m sorry, Kisana,” I told her, my voice low. “I know I’m being a pain in the ass.”

  “No, you’re not. Now, let me show you another way to be happy. I’ll be right back.” She smiled at me and hopped off our table, making her way out of the gate.

  I shook my head, a smile edging onto my face. I didn’t know what I did to deserve that beautiful, life-saving woman, but I was fucking grateful to have her in my life.

  “Sam?” a voice asked. Naomi’s. Her head poked up over the top of my cardboard fence, along with the light of her lantern. She looked worried.

  “Yeah?”

  “Come here for a sec.” She started walking, motioning for me to follow.

  “Sure.” I hopped off the table, taking the last of the dried apricots with me, and then followed her inside the gym.

  She led to me a dark corner close to our food station. She set the lantern down so I could see. The corner was empty except for a large pile of dust, trash, and some remaining chunks of stucco. “Gee, I wonder who left this mess here,” I said sheepishly, staring down at the pile.

  “No, not that. Above.”

  I moved my eyes upward. “What the hell is that…?”

  There was a shard of wet metal sticking out of what looked like thin air. I poked the metal. It was solid. I knelt down and looked behind the gap where it ended. I waved my hand in the gap. It passed through air. I looked up at Naomi, hoping for some kind of explanation.

  She shrugged. “I haven’t the foggiest. This corner’s been dark since it started raining, so we’ve ignored it. I think this is where our random hunks of wood and metal are coming from.”

  I yanked at the piece of metal, and it fell easily from wherever it came from, landing on my foot. I picked it up and inspected it. It looked like a chunk from a torn window pane. There were no marks in it indicating that it had been attached to something. It was wet, as if it had been out in the rain. A small puddle formed beneath the spot where the metal had been, but that was the only indication that anything was ever there. Naomi and I waved our hands around through the empty air. We felt nothing.

  David joined us, his eyes and mustache drooping downward.

  “Hey, you,” I said. “What’s wrong?”

  He stuffed his hands into his pockets. “I’m worried about the rest of my family. Our buddy finally spoke to us today, only to tell us that the city’s food rations are running out.”

  “I heard. On the bright side, that probably means there are other survivors.”

  The corners of his mouth twitched as he considered that. “Have you had any more dreams?”

  “No,” I said, shaking my head. “You didn’t get a chance to ask about the random junk we keep finding, did you?” I pointed to the seemingly-empty corner.

  “No. We got cut off. I do have a theory, however.”

  A hint of a smile appeared on my face. “Was hoping you might.”

  David stepped forward, clearing his throat. His eyes lit up with the sheen of curiosity. “Maybe this is what the alien used to transport itself here.”

  “Like some kind of invisible teleportation warp hole?”

  “Something like that.”

  “Damn alien technology,” I mumbled, kicking my foot where we had seen the metal. My foot zipped through the air.

  “It must only work from the other end, since we keep getting junk in here. Doesn’t seem to work on our end.”

  “The other end must be outside, since we keep getting scraps from the explosions,” I added.

  “Most likely. But what I can’t figure out is…” He stroked his mustache. “Isn’t the air poisonous outside? How are we getting trash, but no air, rain, or accompanying poison?”

  “That’s, um, a good question. It looks like we’re getting some random rain drops, but not many.”

  David frowned. “What if this is all a hoax?”

  Naomi threw her hands up into the air, exasperated. “Honey, if this is hoax, whoever did it needs to get a life. Way too realistic.”

  “Yeah, that goop, the technology,” I muttered. “Doesn’t seem possible.”

  “Then what about the poison?” David grumbled. “Why hasn’t it entered our area along with the debris?”

  “Well, either the junk isn’t from outside, or the portal only works for solid objects.”

  David mulled over both possibilities. “I guess we can’t be sure about the extent of their technology, although that seems a bit far-fetched.”

  “This whole thing seems far-fetched,” Naomi said. “Maybe there just isn’t any poison.”

  David turned toward the intercom box and marched up to it. “We demand you speak to us!” he screamed. “We demand more answers!”

  Naomi grabbed his arm forcefully. “David! Charles and Marge are napping!”

  David’s tone softened as the black box remained silent. “I can’t stand this silence,” he murmured, walking away from us.

  Naomi sighed as we watched him disappear into his and Julie’s tent. “This whole mess is frustrating, but that man is like a time bomb.”

  “He needs his family,” I whispered. Exhaustion and grief hit me suddenly. “I don’t know what to do about this hole if we can’t get any answers. Mind if I go back to Kisana?”

  She put her arm around my shoulders. “Of course. You doing okay, hon?”

  “Maybe. I don’t really know.” I sighed, and then hugged her.

  “One day at a time, Sam. That’s all we can do.”

  I nodded, at a loss for words.

  Naomi gave me one last squeeze. She turned around and grabbed her carry-all bag, handing me a handful of votive candles and two of her chocolate bars. “Here, let some light into the darkness.”

  I gave her a tired smile. “Thanks. You’re the best.” I made my way outside again. For whatever reason, I was still clutching the metal piece. I contemplated giving it to Joel but decided against it.

  When I returned to the cardboard gate, Kisana was waiting for me. “I was wondering where you went,” she said.

  “Sorry, Naomi stole me.” I entered the gate and closed it behind us.

  “Everything okay?”

  I sighed and told her about what we found.

  “More of that alien’s experiments?”

  “That’s my guess. I can’t figure the alien out. First it seemed genuinely curious, if not rude, but now it doesn’t want anything to do with us.”

  “Hard to make heads or tails of any of this,” she muttered.

  My gaze fell for an instant. There was a large box in Kisana’s arms. I gestured toward it. “What’s that?”

  She tossed me a quick grin, attempting to distract me. “You go first.”<
br />
  “Oh, right.” I tossed down the metal bit. “I might use that for uh, something. These are gifts from Naomi.” I held up the bundle of candles.

  “Nice. Well…” She paused, grinning still. “I thought I’d ask for some painting supplies. I want us to think positive. I’m going to paint a landscape of our little domed home. Years from now, when we’re free and successful and happy…we’ll have something to look back on and laugh about.”

  I smiled. Her ploy worked. “I like that idea.”

  “We’ll be little old ladies sitting on a porch swing, staring at this thing, asking, ‘Why didn’t we ask for a bomb kit from the aliens?’”

  I set down my candles, and then set down Kisana’s box for her. I took her in my arms and brought her body close, kissing her deeply.

  “Are we still together in this little vision of yours?” I asked as our lips parted.

  “If you want us to be. It’s our vision.” Her smile forced my insides to begin melting away all the frustration I’d felt mere moments ago.

  “I want that more than anything. Am I still working at Crazy Cluckers?”

  Kisana laughed. “That one’s easy to answer. Hell no.”

  “This is sounding better by the minute.”

  Chapter 18

  The rain kept pouring down outside. The woman named Sandra shivered. There was little relief from the winter storm. She held her daughter, Carrie, as tight as she could, but the girl’s body still shook with freezing tremors.

  “Are there anymore sacks back there?” Sandra asked, teeth chattering.

  “Nuh-uh,” Carrie said.

  They’d used everything they could think of to stay warm, even wrapped themselves up in damp burlap sacks. The dampness from outside had made its way inside their tiny boat cabin, everything quickly becoming drenched.

  Three other people were with them in the cabin. A young boy of about twelve, an elderly woman, and a middle-aged man who kept to himself. All except Sandra and her daughter had been strangers to each other previous to their capture. They’d been inside the apartment complex across from the pier when the machine with its mechanical arm and spotlight tore up the street and crashed through the first floor windows. Sandra and the others had sprinted down the street as fast as their legs could carry them but found themselves yanked up and dumped into the cabin. The door had been locked since.

  They didn’t know who was holding them captive. They never saw their captors, never spoke to them, and never saw daylight after their imprisonment. The only reason they’d stayed alive this long was because the cabin had a supply cupboard full of jugs of emergency drinking water and cases containing old cans of SpaghettiOs.

  There were no windows, but they could tell the boat was still docked at shore. The sounds of water slapping up against the boat’s hull and nearby dock had become as familiar as the feeling of falling asleep chilled to the bone.

  The young boy joined Sandra and Carrie on the floor in the middle of the cabin, and Sandra pulled him close. The boy had been quiet all day. No matter how much Carrie coaxed him into sharing stories or telling jokes, he remained shivering and sullen. Sandra heaved a deep sigh and ran her fingers through his hair.

  “Come sit with us,” Sandra called to the elderly woman, where she stood staring at a darkened wall.

  “If only we had the tools to break our way free,” the lady mumbled. Her white hair was disheveled, and her once-golden dress lay in tatters around her shriveling form. She joined the three on the ground, where they sat watching the middle-aged man pace back and forth in front of them.

  He never stopped pacing, except when he was trying to fitfully sleep. His steps had become more and more strained and uneven as the days went on. One day, he would be unable to take another step. He barely said two words to any of them. All they knew about him was that his name was Bob.

  “We tried,” Sandra said. They had torn off a chair leg to try and hack their way out. Then they had tried using the chair itself. They had even tried using pasta cans. Nothing had worked. The walls were thick, but not thick enough to stop moisture from seeping through.

  Sandra glanced down at the boy. He looked like he wanted to cry. She wrapped one arm around the boy, the other around Carrie, and rubbed his hair with her chin. The boy stopped fidgeting.

  They heard a series of ominous clangs from right outside the ship’s cabin. The clangs ended in a resounding thud, and then they heard nothing except the rain. The rain continued pouring down as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened.

  Bob stopped pacing and stared at the locked door in front of them. Sandra looked wide-eyed at the children.

  “Hello?” Sandra cried out. “Is anybody out there?”

  Bob placed his ear to the door.

  “Hear anything?” Sandra asked him.

  His eyes went wide and his face pale as a low, whistling noise filtered in through the boat’s hull, increasing in volume. The whistling shifted into fizzling.

  “Why’s the storm making funny noises?” Carrie asked.

  “I…don’t think that’s the storm,” Bob said.

  An explosion sounded, and the children screamed, clutching Sandra. “Wh-what was that?” the boy stammered.

  Bob’s eyes widened even further, and he collapsed onto the floor of the cabin, gaping upward at the locked door.

  A wave of heat barreled through the cabin’s wall, accompanied by a deafening roar. Sandra leaned toward it. The heat compelled her. She stood up, pushing the boy in her lap aside.

  “Mommy! What are you doing?” Carrie screamed into her ear.

  Sandra was oblivious. She needed that warmth.

  “Mommy!”

  A wall of solid fire bombarded the cabin, destroying any remaining memories of once being chilled.

  Chapter 19

  A fire churned in front of me, singing to me through crimson and canary-yellow waves of grass. It smiled at me, a lolling clown-grin that was painted on its brilliant, blinding features.

  I sat up in bed, breathing hard, and a heated drop of sweat fell onto my sleeping bag from my forehead. Kisana was sound asleep next to me, cuddled up in my blankets with Simon curled next to her. It’s freaking cold. Why am I sweating?

  I glanced around the tent for my tiny battery-operated clock. It was so dark, I could barely see Kisana and my cat, let alone a dinky plastic clock. Two votive candles burned slowly in the darkness. I grabbed one and shoved it into the corners of my tent, searching until I found it. Three a.m.

  Shivering, I felt my forehead. It didn’t feel like I had a fever. Maybe it was the dream. I stood up carefully as to not disturb Kisana and Simon, shouldered on a robe, and then made my way outside to my table, carrying the candle. I was just about to hop on the table and stare up at the storm that was still hammering down when I noticed the gleam from a lantern shining through the cracks in my cardboard wall.

  I tiptoed out of the gate and made my way toward the light. David sat huddled against the wall of our dome, his arms hugging his knees. His eyes met mine slowly as I approached him.

  I sat in front of him, cross-legged, and placed my candle between us. “Having trouble sleeping?” I asked.

  He nodded. “It’s so dark, even during the day. Day and night feel the same. What about you?”

  “I had another dream.” I sighed.

  “Same type?”

  “Mmhm. This time the prisoners died in a fire that resulted from an explosion.” I shook my head and began fussing with the end of my robe’s tie. “I felt that fire, David.”

  “Let me ask you something.” He searched my eyes softly. “Does time seem to have…progressed between the two dreams? What I mean is, were they kept captive about as long as we have been both times?”

  “I’m not sure, honestly. These people had their own food supply, so they weren’t starving to death, but they were so cold and wet. It was like they were really out in this.” I raised my head toward the storm. “I’m one of those writers who likes to write about
their dreams whenever possible, but dammit, these are so real. They wear me out. Physically.”

  “I still don’t understand why they’d use you as a psychic source if that’s what in fact they’re doing.”

  “It doesn’t make sense,” I admitted, “but you know what was weird about this dream? It mentioned names. More than mentioned them. It showed me I knew these people and their names, without having to mention them.”

  “Names?” David’s eyes glimmered in the dim light. “Do you remember them?”

  My brow tightened as I struggled to remember the names of the woman and the little girl. “Not really…”

  I stared into David’s eyes. My narrator—the woman—was David’s age, and the girl had closely resembled Julie. I felt like the dome had suddenly sprang open above my head, and the raindrops had turned into hulking boulders. I averted my gaze as the possibility surged through my sleep-deprived brain.

  “Sam?” David prodded. “I saw that hint of recognition in your eyes. You know something.”

  I met his gaze again. “Nah,” I said. “I really don’t remember anything particular. It just seemed so sad.”

  “You sure?” His mustache rose and fell as he searched my face.

  “Names never stick in my head. Sorry. I don’t think they’re infusing these dreams into my memory. There’s no reason for it. No lesson to teach us.” I felt my gaze drop again as I took a deep breath. It can’t be. It has to be a coincidence.

  “You dreamed about a mother and daughter pair, didn’t you?”

  I stared at the candle in front of me as it flickered gently into the darkness around us. There wasn’t much life left to the tiny votive. I would need to ask Naomi for more. “Maybe.”

  “Tell me where they were held captive. Was it in an apartment building across from the pier? Or a nearby building?” David grabbed my shoulders though I barely felt his touch.

  “In a boat, tied to the dock. The boat could have been anywhere, David. San Francisco has lots of boats. There’s no reason that it had to be—”

  “Tell me. Were their names Sandra and Carrie?”

  My eyes closed, and the image of dancing flames burned itself into my memory.