Fingers in the Mist

by O'Dell Hutchison

  “You can’t stop us. We’re bigger than you. Stop now, Cait.”

  The voice echoes in my ears, and the ground begins to shake. The pain is unbearable, causing me to grab my head and crumple to the ground. Just when I’m sure my brain will explode, the wind and rumbling stops and everything grows still except for the sound of the falls rushing off the mountain in front of me.

  I scream when a hand touches my shoulder. I’m ready to fight, but stop myself when I see Trevor staring down at me.

  “What the hell were you thinking? Why are you always doing shit like that? We have to stick together.”

  “I saw someone.” I turn back to the falls but there’s no one there. The red-cloaked figure is gone.

  “There’s no one up here. Come on. We need to get moving.”

  “No. I saw someone. They were standing right there. I think it was one of them. The Redeemers or whatever. They’re here. We have to go back.”

  He looks at me like I’ve lost my mind. I stand and dust myself off as Chas and Jeb make their way through the trees and into the clearing.

  “We need to go that way.” Jeb points in the direction of the top of the mountain, squinting. “Is that smoke?”

  We all turn and look, and sure enough, there’s a faint trace of smoke billowing above the trees.

  “Is it a forest fire?” Chas asks.

  “It could be a campfire,” Jeb says hopefully. “Maybe someone else decided to leave, too.”

  “What if it’s them?” After what I just witnessed, I’m not as eager to go tromping through the woods searching for allies. I’m pretty sure that if there is anyone else out here, they’re not looking to help us.

  “I doubt the Redeemers are hanging out in the mountains roasting marshmallows, waiting for the bells to ring. It could be someone who can help us.” Chas’s voice is hopeful, but I can’t find the same amount of hope. We can’t be here. We have to go back.

  “Let’s go check it out.” Jeb starts in the direction of the fire and Chas follows behind him.

  “Guys, I don’t think this is a good idea.” No sooner have the words left my mouth than the wind picks up, throwing forest debris our way. The smoke seems to grow, and an orange glow spreads across the tops of the trees.

  The wind is so powerful it practically pushes me backward. I hold a hand over my eyes, shielding them from flying pine needles. Chas stumbles blindly, cradling Parker. I reach out a hand, grabbing her arm, and wrap myself around her to help protect the baby. The ground begins to rumble and Jeb falls. Trevor helps him up and they stumble over to us. “We have to go back to the truck.”

  The wind beats at us, pushing us down the mountain in the direction of our vehicles, telling us to go away. They weren’t kidding when they said we couldn’t leave town.

  The closer we get to the vehicles, the less severe the wind is. As we remove our backpacks, the wind has died down to a gentle breeze.

  “We need to go home. Please, Jeb? Take us home. Parker needs to go home. I have to keep him safe. I have … ” Chas breaks down, her nerves completely shot. I’ve never seen her like this before. She’s scared to death and I can’t blame her.

  “Let’s try once more. Just once—” Jeb stops when he sees the looks on our faces.

  “We need to go back, buddy. We’re almost out of time.” Trevor takes the backpack from me as Chas places Parker back into his car seat.

  Jeb punches the side of his truck, anger and fear taking over as he faces the realization that our plan has failed. We really can’t get out of here. A loud boom comes from deep in the woods and we all turn in that direction to see a large plume of smoke rising above the trees.

  “What are you doing up here?” Monique’s voice startles me, and I have to stifle a scream.

  “What are you doing up here?” Trevor asks. “Shouldn’t you be at your birthday party?”

  “I was looking for you. I saw you drive off. I came to help you. You shouldn’t be up here. The bells will ring soon and you know you can’t be out here when they finish,” she says.

  “Go away.” Chas’s voice is small and tired. “This is none of your business.”

  “It is my business. He is my business. I’m trying to protect him. He shouldn’t be here. He wasn’t chosen. He doesn’t have anything to worry about. I don’t care what happens to the rest of you. You can stay out here and get ripped to shreds for all I care.”

  “We’re on our way home. We came up to sit by the falls and get some fresh air before curfew,” Trevor lies. “How did you even get up here?”

  “I walked, and now you need to give me a ride home, or I’m going to tell everyone you were up here when you weren’t supposed to be.” She crosses her arms and taps her foot like she’s our mother and she’s about to ground us.

  Trevor holds up a hand, silencing us. “Did you hear that?”

  My heart stutters when I hear the faint sounds of the tolling bells ringing in the distance.

  Trevor rushes to the four-wheeler and turns to look at us. “We have to go. Now.”

  Chapter Eight

  The bells toll a third and fourth time. I don’t know what will happen when they stop ringing, but from the look on Trevor’s face, whatever it is won’t be good. Chas and Jeb climb into the truck, and she barely gets her door closed before Jeb begins to back out. Trevor tugs on the pull-start, but nothing happens. Why does he have to drive such an old ass four-wheeler that doesn’t use a key to start? The ground beneath us trembles slightly, and I begin to panic.

  “Do you need a ride?” Jeb calls from his truck when he notices that we haven’t left yet. The four-wheeler sputters as Trevor tugs at the pull-start again.

  I glance between Jeb’s truck and Trevor. “Leave it. We can come back for it after this is all over.”

  “It’ll start. Just give me a second.”

  “Guys, come on!” Chas hangs her head out the window, screaming for us to join them.

  Trevor looks at me, and I shake my head. “I’m not going without you. Monique, go with Chas and Jeb.”

  “I’m not riding with them. She’ll probably throw me out of the truck on the way down the mountain.”

  “Cait. Hurry!” The four-wheeler finally roars to life over Chas’s screams. I wave at her and Jeb, and watch as the truck rattles down the old mountain trail.

  “Both of you, climb on. It’s going to be a tight fit, but we’ll make it work.” Trevor sits close to the handlebars and I climb on behind him. I’ll be damned if I’m going to let Monique wedge herself between us.

  “I’m not getting on there with her,” Monique says, folding her arms across her chest, pouting like a four-year-old.

  “You have no choice. We have to get out of here.” I look down at the twinkling lights of the houses below as another toll of the bells faintly rings through the air.

  “Monique, get on, now,” Trevor says as the engine sputters and dies. He curses as he climbs off to start it again. “We’re running out of time. Get on the damn bike. I’m not letting either of you die out here.”

  He gives a pull and the engine starts and then dies again.

  “It’s either her or me,” Monique says, holding fast to where she stands.

  “Listen,” I say. Trevor stops tugging on the rope, a look of fear passing over his face.

  It’s quiet. Too quiet. No birds, no snapping twigs or falling acorns. The falls, which were roaring behind us seconds ago, are completely silent, and the constant wind that usually blows down from the mountains has dissipated.

  “Oh my God,” Trevor says, looking over his shoulder. “We have to go.”

  He gives another tug on the four-wheeler and the engine roars to life.

  “Come on,” he says to Monique.

  I turn to look at her and that’s when I see it. A thick fog rolls over the trees, quickly and with a purpose, swallowing them.

  “Monique, come on!” I yell.

  She opens her mouth to
protest, but before she can speak, a set of ghostly white hands emerges from the fog, curling around her feet, pulling her backward. There’s a blood-curdling scream and then silence.

  “Go!” I yell, slapping Trevor on the shoulder as the fog closes in on us. Just as he starts to put the four-wheeler in gear, he glances over his shoulder and stops. I follow his gaze and scream when I see what holds his attention. Monique stumbles from the trees, holding a hand to her throat, blood gushing through her fingers. She reaches for us as she walks out of the fog, her mouth moving silently, her eyes wide with fear. She stumbles forward, her hand grasping at air. She manages only two more steps before her feet are ripped out from beneath her again and she vanishes into the mist.

  Trevor puts the four-wheeler in gear and we plummet forward, skidding slightly as we hit the dirt road leading us back into town. I press my forehead against his back, wrapping my arms tight around his waist, holding on for dear life. I look over his shoulder, keeping my eye on the lights of Highland Falls as they grow closer. I gasp when I see the lights begin to go out one by one, house by house.

  “We’re not going to make it,” Trevor calls over his shoulder. “The lights are already going out.”

  “Shit, shit, shit, shit.” My heart hammers in my chest. Why did we try to leave town? We should have just stayed.

  I glance over my shoulder and squeeze Trevor when I see the fog grow closer.

  Too close.

  As we follow the twisting dirt road out of the mountains, the fog seems to follow us, move for move. It twists and turns around every bend like a snake slithering through grass. It wants us.

  “Hold on tight,” Trevor calls back to me when we finally reach the bottom of the mountain. Instead of following the road that cuts through town, he hangs a hard left to take us along the dirt road that runs along the backside of town, through the farms.

  I look back and see that the stream of fog turned with us, even closer than it was before. It creeps up on us, wrapping itself around the tires, and I feel the four-wheeler begin to slow like we’re driving through quicksand. Once the fog overtakes us, the vehicle dies on the spot.

  Trevor grabs my hand, pulling me off the seat. “Run!”

  The ground beneath me is slick with mud. I stumble along behind him, struggling to keep up. The mist curls around my feet, dragging me down; it feels as though a thousand fingers grab at my ankles. I watch as Trevor hurls himself over the fence, then turns back to grab my hand. I trudge forward, reaching for him. I grab the top of the wooden fence, and just as I’m about to step up, I feel something grab hold of my ankle, pulling me down. The wood fence scrapes against my hands, and Trevor yells my name as the invisible force pulls me backward, my body sliding through the mud.

  Something tugs around my neck and I reach up to fight it off, stopping when I realize it’s just my pendant. It hovers above my chest, almost as if there’s a magnetic force pulling it forward.

  Don’t let them take you.

  The dragging stops and I immediately scramble backward, screaming when I see the outline of a tall, thin, broken figure lurching toward me. I stand and run for the fence, the fog pressing down on me, slowing my every move. I run smack into something solid and scream again when strong arms wrap around me.

  “It’s me,” Trevor says. “Come on.”

  He pulls me to the fence and helps me over, telling me to run when I hit the ground.

  I can’t leave him.

  I turn to see the same broken figure moving through the fog. Long, bony fingers reach for Trevor, barely missing his ankle as he hops over. He grabs my hand and we run to the town square, both of us yelling for help.

  Darkness shrouds the entire town. There’s no movement, no sound. When we reach the park, I see Jeb’s truck parked at an angle in front of the drug store. Both doors are open and Parker’s stroller lies in the road.

  “Do you think they made it?” My words break in my throat as I gasp for air. My lungs burn. I don’t think I’ve ever run this fast or been this scared in my life.

  “I’m sure they’re fine. Come on. We have to keep moving.”

  I glance over my shoulder and see the thick, white fog moving in on us, creeping over rooftops and porches, surrounding us. It has a reptilian quality, slithering and sliding, occasionally rising into soft peaks before dropping back to the ground and creeping closer. It circles us.

  Threatening us.

  “This way.” Trevor grabs my hand and pulls me down the street. I’ve lost all energy and the only thing that pushes me forward is adrenaline. He runs up the steps to the library, fumbling in his pockets.

  “What are you doing?” I ask.

  “I have a key. I do janitorial work here on the weekends. We’ll be safe in here.”

  “How do you know?” I turn to look behind us. The fog creeps closer, rising and falling, as if it’s breathing.

  “They can’t come inside,” he says. “Not unless the place is marked.”

  He fumbles with his keys. His hands shake, and my heart stops when the keys clatter to the ground. He bends down to pick them up just as a white mist circles our feet.

  “Hurry,” I say, even though I know that my panicking will not help the situation.

  Something grabs my ankles and I slam to the ground before I’m sucked down the library steps. Both of my legs seem bound. I can’t move. Whatever has a hold of me has freakish strength. The pulling stops and I manage to free one of my legs. A sharp, stabbing pain shoots through the calf of the bound leg.

  “No!” I scream. The pendant pulses around my neck, and whatever it is that had a hold of me releases its grip. I scramble to my feet, blood running down the back of my leg. It hurts like hell, but I press forward, running for my life. I push through the dark fog, praying that I’m moving in the right direction. When I finally reach the steps of the library the keys are in the door, but Trevor isn’t there.

  “Trevor!” I yell as I twist the key and the lock releases.

  “Cait! Where are you?” His voice echoes through the mist, but I can’t see him.

  “I’m here, at the library. Hurry!”

  I peer out into the dark, fuzzy air and breathe a sigh of relief when I see him running in my direction.

  He’s not alone.

  The outline of at least a half-dozen broken figures lurch behind him, arms outstretched, aching to rip him apart.

  “Trevor! Run!”

  He bounds up the steps, two of the figures inches away. He pushes me through the door, slamming it behind him.

  We both collapse to the floor as a deep moaning comes at us from outside. The door shakes violently, like a thousand bodies pound against it, trying to get at us. Trevor turns the deadbolt, his eyes never leaving the door. He reaches back and grabs my hand, his grip tight and painful yet reassuring. Both of us gasp for breath as we move farther inside the old library. The smell of old books fills my nose with every deep, panting breath. I collapse to the floor, wincing in pain from the wound on my leg.

  “Are you all right?” Trevor asks. The room is pitch black, and I can’t see a thing. I know he’s near me from the closeness of his voice.

  “I think I’m bleeding,” I say as I reach down to feel my calf. It’s slick with blood. “Yep, definitely bleeding.”

  “Stay here. I’ll look for a flashlight and first-aid kit.”

  I lay my head on the floor, still trying to catch my breath, wincing every time one of those things bangs against the door.

  “Are you sure those things can’t get in here?” I call.

  “Yeah, we’re fine. We’ll just have to stay here tonight. We’ll leave when the bells ring in the morning.”

  Something crashes to the ground and he curses.

  “Are you okay?” I ask.

  “Yeah, I just can’t see anything.”

  The beating at the door recedes, and the moans grow faint. Evidently, the things outside have given up on us and moved on. I hope Chas
and Jeb made it to safety. I don’t even want to think about the alternative.

  The pain in my leg throbs, matching my heartbeat. The silence is deafening and a little unnerving. I sit up, listening for Trevor’s footsteps, some sign that he’s all right, but there’s nothing.

  “Trevor?”

  My heart begins to pound again when there’s no answer. What if he were wrong? What if those things can get in here? What if they got him?

  The pain in my calf shoots up my leg when I stand. I brace myself against a table, and then hobble down the center of the library, reaching out to grasp the reading tables along the way. I can’t see a thing. It’s exactly how everyone said it would be—silent and completely dark.

  I reach out in front of me for the next table just as someone walks around the corner. I’m ready to run, but hands grab my wrists.

  “Shh, it’s just me,” Trevor says.

  My heart threatens to jump out of my chest. “Why didn’t you answer me when I called for you?”

  “I was downstairs. I didn’t hear you. Here, take my hand.”

  “Did you find a first-aid kit?” I ask as he leads me along, blind leading the blind.

  “There’s one downstairs. I found a flashlight, but it won’t turn on. There’s a step here. Can you make it?”

  I feel his body drop down a bit in front of me, so I inch my foot forward, feeling for the edge of the step with my toes. I lean on him, stepping down with my good foot before lowering my injured leg. We continue this way down ten more steps until we finally reach the basement.

  I stumble behind him as he slowly walks down what seems to be a long hallway. His boot hits something; a hollow think echoes down the hallway. Hinges creak as he pushes a door open.

  “You can sit over here.” He takes me by the shoulders and gently helps me down into a hard wooden chair.

  He fumbles in the dark, knocking things over, cursing when he stubs his toe. Something topples to the floor, the contents clinking and clanging as they scatter.