by Alton Gansky
Something the professor said to me came back. It had been a stab in the heart the first time, but I was focused on holding up Mr. Krone. “The fog is rising, just like you said.”
“It’s rising fast.”
Since I couldn’t see the street below, the best I could do is guess at how much the stuff had risen. When I first looked out the window, I could see the heads of pedestrians. Sometimes it was just the top of their heads, but with taller people I could see all the way to their shoulders. I couldn’t see that now. Of course, for all I knew, the fog-monsters might have eaten all the people below. Now I could see nothing but the churning fog. No trucks. No busses. No tall vehicles at all.
“I can’t be sure,” I said, “but I’m guessin’ the fog is up to the fourth or fifth floor.”
“That’s my estimation, too.”
As we watched, several of the creatures broke the surface, their heads swiveling from side to side. Then they looked up.
“They’re looking at us, Professor.”
“Maybe. I doubt they can see us.”
They began to move in a circle, like sharks. The sight of that poured ice water down my spine. Despite the professor’s doubt, I felt sure those things were sizing us up. A few moments later, the creatures disappeared below the surface again.
The professor turned, and I followed him away from the windows and the unwanted view they provided. We had moved only a few steps when I saw Mr. Krone motioning for us to come to where he was seated. His wife, Janice, stood by his side. I didn’t have to be a mind reader to know how frightened she was.
When we reached him, I dropped to a knee to better look him in the eyes. There was still a keen intelligence there. If Daniel was right—what am I saying, Daniel is always right. The kid said Krone was sick. It wasn’t obvious. I doubt most people in the room knew. That’s probably how Krone wanted it.
I gave a little smile to our host. “How you doin’, Mr. Krone?”
“Call me Allen.”
“Only if you call me Tank.”
He gave me a small smile. “I’m fine, Tank.”
I looked at Janice. It’s been my experience that spouses are more truthful about the health of their partners. She cocked her head. I took that to mean she wasn’t in full agreement.
Krone rose from the chair. I was on my feet a second later. “You should rest.”
“Nonsense. I don’t want my guests to worry unduly.” He stretched his back and wobbled an inch or two. It took a lot of willpower for me not to seize his arm. He steadied.
“What did you see?” He asked quietly. “Just now, I mean.”
We didn’t answer at first.
“I saw you at the window. I’m pretty good at reading body language. Unless I miss my guess, you saw something that made you . . . uncomfortable.”
Uncomfortable. That was an understatement. Still, we said nothing.
“Okay, gentlemen. I saw those things, too. In fact, I keep seeing it in my head, so I’m not going to be shocked by talk of monsters and whatever that fog is. You’re in my building. You owe me the honor of the truth.”
The professor pressed his lips into a line and looked at Janice.
“My wife can take it. Information is better than ignorance. Now tell me what you saw.”
“The fog is rising, sir. Before, we could see almost to street level. The fog was maybe five feet above ground. I make it to be up to about the fourth floor now.”
“And it’s still rising?”
“Yes.” The professor shifted his weight. “I would have to observe it over time to guess at the rate of its climb, but it is significant.”
Krone nodded, then lowered his head like a man deep in thought. “Fog can get pretty high, and I doubt this is ordinary fog. Creatures can swim in the stuff. That’s not normal.”
“I need to ask a question if I may, sir.” The professor kept his eyes on the man.
“Ask it.”
“The stairwells—could the fog get into them?”
Krone nodded. “Stairwells are not airtight. There needs to be an exchange of air, so yes, fog could seep in at the base of the exit doors at street level.”
“What about the floors below ground?”
“Yes. We have to assume that if the fog was at street level, and we know it was, that it could have poured into the parking floors below the building.”
“That means the parking floors could be teeming with those things.” I thought it worth mentioning.
“Yes,” Krone said, “but we’re asking the wrong question. The question isn’t whether or not the fog can get in, but whether or not the creatures can get in.”
“I think they need the fog.” The professor put his hands behind his back, striking a relaxed pose I know he didn’t feel. “The few times I’ve seen the creatures stick their heads above the fog, they soon submerged again. If submerged is the right word.”
“Works for me,” I said.
“The fog is like water is to fish.”
I could see the professor’s point. “So what happens if the fog rises to the floor we’re on?”
“They still have to get in. They can’t fit under the door.” Krone spoke without conviction.
“No, they can’t, but they have hands. Hands with claws. At least the best I can tell.” This time it was the professor who lowered his head in thought. “Mr. Krone—Allen—no one knows more about this building than you and your partners. Is there any way those things can get into the building?”
Krone shook his head, then stopped abruptly as if a thought had slammed into him. “I’m just thinking aloud here. Let’s assume they can go wherever the fog goes. The higher the fog, the higher they can move. That would have to be true on the inside of the building, too.” He fell silent. “If I were them, I’d open the doors to the stairwells, but I’d find away to open the doors to the elevators in the parking structure. Fog would pour in. If the cab is there, they could tear out the ceiling. The fog would climb the shaft at the same rate it’s climbing outside the building.”
I wasn’t enjoying this conversation. A motion to my left grabbed my attention. It was Andi. She had Daniel with her. She stepped forward and smiled at Krone. “Excuse me. May I steal my two friends away for a little while?”
The professor didn’t appreciate the interruption. He hated interruptions. “Andi, we’re in the middle of a conversation.”
She gave him a look that said, Shut up and come with me. That’s what I got out of it. Apparently, the professor got the same message. We put some distance between us and anyone else.
“This better be good, Andi. We’re in a life-and-death situation here.”
“Ya think?” She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “There’s something you need to see.”
“If you mean outside—”
“I don’t,” she snapped. “Follow me.”
Andi is a nice person. I think the world of her. She has skills no one else has, so when I hear anger in her voice, I get confused. Then I get afraid. She started for the back of the cavernous room.
“Where are we going?” the professor asked. At least he wasn’t resisting anymore.
“The ladies’ restroom.”
“Well, of course.” The professor cut his eyes my way. I chose to remain silent.
The restrooms were along the back wall—the only wall without windows. We stopped a few feet from the door to the restroom. A similar door nearby was marked for men.
“Brenda went missing while you two were taking in the sights. She left Daniel with me. She had that odd look she gets sometimes. When she didn’t return, I got worried, so I went searching. I found her in the restroom.”
“She’s been known to use bathrooms before.”
The professor thought he was being cute, but Andi disagreed. “Once, just for once, old man, stop trying to prove what a jerk you can be.”
“Old man?”
“Ancient,” Daniel said.
If carnivorous creatures swimming in a fog
hadn’t already put me on the razor’s edge, Andi’s behavior would have done it. Andi had been the professor’s assistant for a good long time, and no one knew him better. She normally showed great respect. Something had pushed Andi beyond her normal behavior.
The professor opened his mouth, then closed it. I was thankful for that.
“As I was saying. She disappeared. I went looking. I found her in here. She’s been at it again.”
Andi turned and plowed into the ladies’ restroom, holding the door open for us. Daniel walked in with her. I hesitated. I mean, it was the girl’s bathroom, after all. Andi stared at me, narrowed her eyes, and tapped a foot. I walked in, the professor right behind me.
This was awkward. I have to admit that I’ve never been in the ladies’ room. Never had need to be.
Its size surprised me. Two emergency lights blazed from opposite corners. The light was harsh, but needed.
Andi led us past a set of stalls, then stopped. There was Brenda. Sitting on the tile floor staring at the white tile on the wall. She had hiked up her evening gown enough to allow her to sit on the floor. It wasn’t a good look for her.
As I said earlier, Brenda is a tattoo artist. And I mean a real artist. We all have our “sometimes” gifts. Andi sees and sorts patterns like a computer; the professor denies any special skills, but he does some pretty special thinking; I heal people—sometimes, it’s very hit and miss. I don’t know why. Yes, I’ve been thinking about having a go at healing Mr. Krone, but I’ve had monsters on the mind.
Brenda draws things. When the urge comes over her, she has to put the images in her brain on paper, or if she’s doing a tattoo, ink it into someone’s skin. That has led to some interesting conversations.
The thing with Brenda’s spontaneous drawings is that they usually don’t make sense until later, but she’s never wrong.
Never.
Which is why her sketch terrified me. Using a Magic Marker, she had drawn a spot-on image of the creatures showing detail we couldn’t see from our position. She also sketched several human figures, all half eaten. It was sickening, but not as sickening as the third image.
“Oh, Tank.” The professor made the connection.
The third image stung just to look at it. It was me. On the floor of some building. My chest had been ripped open and my eyes were gone. Three of the creatures squatted around me—feasting on my organs.
I no longer cared that I was in the ladies’ room.
Brenda began to weep. Brenda never weeps.
CHAPTER
7
A Room with a Terrifying View
I sat on the floor next to Brenda and gently took the Magic Marker from her hand. She didn’t resist. Brenda is as hard as nails. I know that’s a cliché, but the words could be chiseled on her tombstone. She doesn’t talk about her childhood, but I know enough to wonder how she turned out as wonderful as she is. She grew up street-smart and with fierceness that could cower a charging rhino. She’s also, despite all her talk and threats, a deep, loving soul.
I may just be a college-age kid, but I know a little about people. Someone as heartbroken as Brenda didn’t need words of comfort. She needed an arm around her shoulder, and I had a big arm that could do the job, so I used it.
Daniel moved close and sat on the other side of Brenda. He scooted close enough that his little shoulder touched her arm. He said nothing.
No one said anything.
The professor, who could ruin any moment, lowered himself to the floor next to me. A moment later, Andi did the same next to Daniel. There we were, five silent, shaken, confused, and frightened friends sitting on the floor of the ladies’ bathroom doing our best not to look at Brenda’s wall art.
A few minutes later, I took another look. There I was, dead and being devoured. I wished Brenda had not been such a good artist. Based on her earlier success, it looked like I was going to die and die badly.
Then the building shook again.
Ten minutes or so later, we walked from the bathroom—a line of two men, two women, and a boy. In any other circumstance, people would have thought it strange. If they did now, they didn’t say so. The crowd had separated into small clumps of people. Some stood as couples; others in small gatherings of four or so.
I spied the mayor in the middle of the room trying for all he was worth to get his cell phone to work. Those with him did the same. That made sense. He was the mayor of a major city after all—a city that had experienced a powerful earthquake and several bone-rattling aftershocks. Oh, and a city that had been invaded by killer creatures that swam through fog, a fog that was rising every minute.
I also couldn’t help noticing that more and more people had gathered around the bar. That didn’t seem very wise. The professor noticed it, too.
“Fools. Don’t they know they need to keep their wits sharp at a time like this?”
“They’re scared out of their minds.” Andi had her eyes fixed on those knocking back hard liquor.
“That’s no excuse, Andi. If they get themselves drunk, they will become a danger to others and themselves.” The professor spotted Ebony Watt and her husband. “I’m gonna have a word with her. Maybe she can close the bar down.”
I let that be his problem. I turned to Andi and Brenda, “I’m gonna check on the fog.”
“I’ll stay with Brenda and Daniel.” Andi placed a hand on Brenda’s shoulder. To Brenda’s credit, she was recovering nicely, all things considered.
I hadn’t been at the window a full minute when the professor joined me. “Ms. Watt is shutting the bar down. I like her. Strong in the face of adversity.”
“That’s what I admire about you and the rest of the team.”
“You know, Tank, Brenda isn’t always right.”
“Name a time when she wasn’t.”
He looked out the window. “She does a lot of drawing and tattoo work. Not all of those were predictions.”
“I appreciate what you’re doing, Professor. I really do, but you know there’s a difference. You saw her. When was the last time you saw Brenda that emotional?”
“Tank—”
“It’s okay, Professor. You know about my faith. You were a Catholic priest; you know what Christians of all denominations believe about death. I’m not afraid to die. Death is just a promotion.”
I waited for his usual chatter about faith being a myth and how he gave it all up to embrace reason and logic. It never came. I guess there was enough priest left in him to know not to belittle a dying man’s faith.
Still, he squirmed. I let him off the hook. “The fog is rising faster. I figure it’s halfway up the building. I can see the fog creatures more clearly now. Can’t say I like it any.”
“We have to figure something out, Tank. We can’t let all these people die. We can’t let those things win.”
“You got that right, old man.” It was Brenda, and she sounded like herself again. Andi stood next to her.
The professor closed his eyes and sighed. “I’m not an old man, Barnick.”
“Ancient.” Daniel was by her side. This time he didn’t lose control, but I could tell he’d rather be someplace else. I understood the feeling.
The professor eyed the boy and tried to look angry, but the smile on his face defused the act. “Should he be here?”
“It was his idea, Professor.” A second later she added. “And by the way—thanks.”
Andi fidgeted. “I feel useless.”
“Feelings are useless, Andi. You know that. We have to approach this with logic.”
“Shut up, McKinney,” Brenda snapped. Man, it was good to have her back.
Andi continued as if the exchange hadn’t happened. “I can’t make sense of things. I’m looking for patterns, things out of the ordinary.”
“That’s pretty far from ordinary.” Brenda pointed out the window at the creature-infested fog.
“I’m going to the roof,” I said.
“Why?” the professor asked.
; “To see more. To get a better idea how fast the fog is climbing. I can lean over the edge and see how high the fog is. We might be dealing with other factors.”
There was a moment of silence, which the professor broke. “Who are you and what have you done with Tank?”
“Yeah, what he said.” Brenda’s tone had returned to normal.
Andi wasn’t going to be outdone. “I’m going with you and don’t tell me no. You don’t have the authority.”
The professor cleared his throat. “Me, too. We also need to see if the fog is rising in the stairwell.”
I thought that was a good idea.
We crossed paths with Allen Krone, who was looking slightly less pale. I asked if the stairwell went all the way to the roof. He said it did. I then mentioned our plan. Turns out, that was a bad idea. He insisted on going. I told him that it wasn’t advisable. Janice, his wife, agreed with me. The professor backed me up. So did Andi. Four against one. I figured that would end the matter, but Krone countered with, “It’s my building.” No need to go into what other words he used to spice up that statement. Bottom line, he was going with us.
We approached the stairwell individually hoping not to alert the crowd that we were stepping out for a few minutes. We gathered near the door and chatted for a few moments, then slipped from the room.
The space was dim, lit from above by emergency lights. I could see light glowing down the stairs, too. I wanted to see if the fog had come up the stairs, but decided we should go to the roof first.
We moved up the stairs slowly, but it was still a tad too fast for Krone. I tried to talk him into going back. He had no interest in that and said so. We were four people climbing steps to who knows what. Still, it felt good to be doing something more than standing around.
Krone stopped to rest a coupla times, but only for a few moments. Each time, I stood beside him and put an arm around his shoulders. Partly to comfort him; mostly in hopes that my healing gift, sporadic as it is, might kick in.
Nothing. I’m thankful to God for the handful of people that I’ve healed (a small handful at that), but I get frustrated with it. What good is it to have a healing gift if you can’t use it when you need to? I’ve had these thoughts before, and when I do I comfort myself with the knowledge that Brenda’s gift is on-again, off-again. Same is true for Andi. Her mind is always sharp and seeing things the rest of us don’t, but she doesn’t see patterns in everything every day. Still, her ability seems to be there when she needs it.
