Surviving the Fog

by Stan Morris

  Erin stopped there and looked down at the teenager with the pained expression on his face.

  In a softer voice, she finished. “His name is Mike, and he’s not perfect, but I am proud to tell you that he is, and he always will be, the Chief of our Tribe.”

  Erin stopped talking. Many of the curious soldiers and civilians crowded around, eager to be introduced to a very embarrassed Mike. Mike glanced at Annie. She stared back at him with a blank expression, and then she turned away. Mike wondered what she was thinking.

  For a few days, Mike just relaxed. He had no responsibilities, and he had no duties. He slept late. He tended to find himself out on the edge of the knoll. He checked for the small nylon line that he and Kevin had used to leave the post. To his surprise, it was still there. He was eager to explore the new barracks building. It was circular and made of timbers, including the roof. There were no windows.

  “It’s not the usual Army configuration,” Major Collins confided. “But it retains heat better than a rectangular building would. The central fireplace makes for a more even distribution of the available heat. I wish we had glass that would retain the heat. I miss having windows.”

  “How about using windshields from abandoned cars?” Mike suggested. “Would those retain the heat?”

  The Major looked interested. “That might work, Mike,” he replied.

  After a few more days, Mike realized that he was bored. Everybody was busy, except him. Erin and the Major were working and didn’t have time to entertain him. And the post was much more regimented than Petersburg. The mess hall closed at a certain time. Late to breakfast? Sorry, we don’t reopen, even for the Chief of Petersburg.

  Then the Major called him to the main office one morning. “I have a chore for you, if you are willing,” the Major told him.

  “Sure. Anything,” Mike replied, eager to be of some use.

  “I’m sending Sergeant Jenkins, north, on a scouting mission. I’d like you to go with her. Three weeks out, three weeks back. That should put you back here by the middle of November.”

  Mike’s heart sank. He was definitely not one of Sergeant Annie Jenkins’ favorite people. She had made that clear by ignoring him ever since the incident in the mess hall the first day. He wondered if he should say something to the Major, but in the end he decided to remain silent. He figured that the Sergeant would probably find a reason to ease him out of the mission.

  “Can I take my spear?” he asked, just in case she didn’t.

  “Of course.”

  Sergeant Annie Jenkins did try to talk Major Collins out of sending Mike with her, but her attempts were unsuccessful.

  “Sir, he’s not only a civilian, he’s a kid,” argued Jenkins. “I can’t do my job and nursemaid a boy, too.”

  “He’s no ordinary boy, Sergeant, and you well know it,” the Major answered sternly. “Now get your ass out there, and do your duty.” Steaming, Annie made her preparations.

  The post had visitors before the expedition left. Don rode into the post, sitting in the Brown wagon. It was carrying a load of vegetables and other food. Nathan, Kevin, and Ahmad were with him.

  Ahmad was riding a bicycle. Mike was delighted to see them.

  “Whew,” Ahmad said as he dismounted. “Getting this wagon here was no piece of cake. Sometimes, we had to unload it and push the wagon up a steep spot. Then we had to carry the cargo up and repack the wagon. I hope these horses are grateful.”

  Mike was eager for news of Petersburg.

  “I performed three more weddings,” said Don. “Ralph and Mary are married now. The Mayor issued a provisional death certificate for Davis Brown. The little girl seems reconciled to their marriage. And the Mayor and Jean are married, although I’m surprised we didn’t have to drag her, kicking and screaming, to the podium. She kept muttering about some kind of obedience card, whatever that is. And Rasul and Imee are married.”

  “Makayla is going to stay at the Brown Farm with us this winter,” said Kevin. “She and Paige are sharing the attic. Kylie is staying in Star’s room.”

  “Rasul and Imee are moving into the solar apartments,” Nathan added. “The Mayor thought we needed one of the nurses at the farm. Kevin and I are moving in there, too. Poor Comet will be all alone with those four girls.”

  The villagers stayed almost a week, and Mike enjoyed every minute of their visit but then, except for Don, they climbed back onto the empty wagon and headed back to Petersburg. The next day, Sergeant Jenkins and Mike left the post and headed north.

  At the first opportunity, she said to Mike, “Listen up, kid. I didn’t want you with me, but that’s not my decision. So, you and I are going to accomplish this mission, and we are going to do it successfully. My role is to do everything. Your role is to keep your mouth shut, and follow me. Got it?”

  “Yes,” Mike responded meekly.

  Annie, who had been expecting an argument, glared at him suspiciously and glanced contemptuously at his homemade spear.

  They trekked north for a week, skirting the edge of the Sierras. It was a much drier clime than Petersburg. From time to time, they came right to the edge of a long slope dropping steeply down into the extreme eastern plain of California which was hidden by the brown soup. After a week, they moved farther into the mountains.

  For the most part, they got along. Annie led the way, and Mike followed. Mike did as he was told. He set up camp, made the meals, and cleaned up afterwards, and he struck camp the next day. Annie was polite, if not overly friendly. She was annoyed that he managed to spear several grouse and to catch others with his snares. But his successes saved their packed food for later.

  Her problem was that she was curious. She couldn’t help herself from digging further into the details of the incidents that Erin had described. It wasn’t easy. She began to appreciate that he was reluctant to overemphasize his importance, and she began to gain an appreciation of what the kids had gone through.

  “So you doubled up in your little cave,” she mentioned one night as they sat by their campfire. “Wasn’t that taking quite a chance, allowing some of the boys to double up with the girls? What about your rules?”

  “There wasn’t a lot of room between one pair and the next,” Mike explained. “And it was so cold that we had to put on all of our clothes. I managed to wear two pairs of pants, three shirts, and three pairs of socks. Besides, I think we were all too scared of freezing. Other than the cold, the biggest problem we had was that a couple of kids peed in their bags. That was a mess.”

  His comment reminded Annie of just how young those kids had been two years ago.

  “You were thirteen, then,” she stated.

  ’’No, by that time, I was fourteen,” he replied.

  “Have you improved your Lodge since then?” Annie asked.

  “Oh, yeah, it’s a lot better. Hector built a loft, so we have a lot more sleeping room. He covered the walkway to the Porta Pottys. The fireplace is so cool. But the best thing is hot showers. Everyone loves that.”

  Annie stared at him. “Bullshit. There’s no way you could take a hot shower in a cave.”

  Mike shrugged. “Ask the Major,” Mike said. “He took one.”

  Annie did not reply, but she resolved that she would definitely ask the Major to confirm or deny Mike’s claim. A hot shower, she thought with a shiver. She felt weak with pleasure at the very idea.

  When they had traveled for three weeks, they stopped. They had not seen any sign of human life. They struck gold however, but not the metal kind. They found them in a small green valley. Snow runoff from the surrounding mountains had collected in a small rill, and they were drinking.

  “Horses,” Mike said with delight.

  It was a small herd of five mares, three yearlings, and a stallion. Annie and Mike watched them for a long time, and Mike thought that Annie was truly comfortable with him for the first time. Annie couldn’t help smiling to herself as she observed Mike’s excitement. He’s not that bad, she decided.

&nbs
p; “They’re so wild. So free.”

  “Yes.” She was pensive as she watched the horses and the boy. He was still disturbing, but in a different way.

  They found a place to camp, and they did so quietly, so as not to disturb the herd. Mike and Annie had mummy bags made of synthetic down, so they did not need a tent. Mike made a small fire, and they roasted a large bird and some of the potatoes that Ahmad had brought to the Post. Earlier that day, Mike had found some wild onions, and some tubers, and some kind of green leaves that he used to make a salad. Annie was constantly surprised at the amount of food that Mike could supply from their surroundings.

  “Our Forest Ranger taught me,” he explained, when she mentioned his ability. “I think she was in a bad mood one day, because some of the kids were complaining about how she cut their hair. She insisted that I should come to the classes she was teaching. Actually, I enjoyed her classes. I always liked school.”

  “Not me,” Annie replied. “I couldn’t wait to get out of school. When I turned eighteen, I dropped out and joined the Army. They took me, but they told me that I had to get my GED, so I did. Then, when I got out of AIT, I volunteered to join the Rangers. I got in, but they made me take more classes.”

  “Where are you from, Annie?” Mike asked.

  “That’s Sergeant Jenkins to you, kid,” Annie replied, giving him a frown that he ignored. “I was born and raised in Carlsbad, New Mexico.”

  “Oh, they have some caves there,” Mike stated. “Did you ever see them?”

  “Sure, lots of times,” Annie said. “You have to walk down this long series of switchbacks, at first. It gets colder, the farther you walk down. When you get to the bottom, there are lots of different rooms to walk though.”

  “Is it really mysterious and spooky?” Mike asked eagerly. “Are there, like, bats and things flying around? Did you think you ever saw, like, ghosts and other weird stuff?”

  Annie laughed. “Yeah, there’s weird stuff down there. Tourists, I mean. Lots and lots of tourists. Really weird tourists. The place is full of them. All running around and bumping into people. And yapping. Always yapping.”

  “Oh,” Mike said, disappointed.

  “But it is interesting, Mike,” Annie continued. “There are bats at the entrance, but they don’t fly during the day. They come out at sunset. Probably too hot for them during the day.”

  “Is it really hot in Carlsbad?” Mike asked.

  “Hell, yes, it’s hot,” said Annie emphatically. “One time it was one hundred fourteen degrees in the shade. My boyfriend and I went to the caves that day to get out of the heat. Afterwards, we rode the elevator up to ground level, but we weren’t allowed to go outside the visitor’s center until we had adjusted to the change in the temperature. It was sixty degrees in the caves, and it was eighty degrees in the visitor’s center.”

  “Wow,” Mike exclaimed. “I don’t think I’ve ever been anyplace that was over one hundred degrees. San Francisco usually doesn’t get to ninety degrees.”

  That perked up Annie’s interest. “Are you from San Francisco, Mike?” she asked.

  “Yes,” Mike replied. “My family lived on a small road just off Geary Boulevard. It’s not far from Golden Gate Park. My Dad was a teller at a bank on Market Street. Every work morning, he would take the bus to Powell Street, and then he would ride the cable car down to Market Street. That is, if it had room. In the mornings, it usually did, but in the afternoon he usually had to walk back up to Geary Street and catch the bus home, because there were too many tourists on the cable car by then. There’s a turnaround close to the bank, but in the afternoon there’s a line of tourists waiting to ride the cable car.”

  Mike was silent. Memories came flooding into his mind. He remembered walking up to steep Coit Tower, and eating shrimp cocktails at Fisherman’s Wharf, and the times he had stood in line to share a chocolate sundae with his brother at Ghirardelli Square. Tears gathered in his eyes.

  Annie was watching him. She knew that he was remembering. For a moment, her own thoughts drifted back to her lost home. She remembered sitting on the bluffs over the caves. From there, she would imagine that she could see down into Texas. She remembered passing through oil stinky Artesia, the day her boyfriend stole his father’s car and drove them to Roswell to visit the silly alien museum and the more interesting Goddard Museum.

  There were, Annie realized, things that she and this boy had in common. Enough melancholy. She searched for a subject guaranteed to take Mike’s mind off the past.

  “Since you’re from San Francisco, does that mean you’re gay?” she asked nonchalantly.

  Mike broke away from his thoughts. “What?” he asked.

  “Are you gay?” Annie repeated. “Do you like boys?”

  Mike laughed. “Believe it or not, almost all guys from San Francisco like girls.” He gazed at her, and then suddenly she saw the gleam in his eyes.

  “Oh, yes, Annie,” he said softly. “I like girls.”

  For some reason, Annie blushed. Ignoring the gleam in his eyes, she muttered, “That’s Sergeant Jenkins to you, kid.”

  Shortly after that, they crawled into their sleeping bags. In a little while, Annie heard Mike’s slow breathing. Annie was restless. She tried to think about how she would write her report. She tried to focus on the day ahead. But her mind kept coming back to that gleam in Mike’s eyes. She had no doubt that Mike liked girls. And for some reason, her body had chosen that night to remind her that she liked boys.

  It was time to make their way back to the post. They traveled farther to the west going back. It was wetter. There were several days when it snowed. They were about a week from the post, one frosty morning. They were traveling down a deer trail, and there was a light sprinkle of snow on the ground. As usual, Mike was following Annie. Mike heard Annie gasp and at the same moment, he heard a loud spine chilling roar.

  “Back, Mike, get back!” she yelled.

  She was slinging her rifle from her shoulder. Mike stumbled back on the wet ground and fell to one knee. He heard another enormous growl. Annie was trying to back away, when she stumbled over Mike. She fell over him to the ground, and her rifle slammed into the snow covered mud.

  “Get back, Mike!” she yelled again, as she tried frantically to lever a cartridge into the chamber.

  But the rifle was jammed. Cursing, she looked up, and then she froze. It was if she was watching a living image from the distant past. The California brown bear stood on all fours, growling, his snout was thrust forward. The young man was standing motionless facing the bear, holding his spear cocked behind his ear. Annie sucked in a breath and held it. She could only watch; there was no time to clear her rifle. Whatever happened would happen.

  “Mike,” she whispered, fear for his life and wonder at his brave audacity, surging through her.

  “Be quiet, Annie,” he murmured firmly.

  The bear’s growls subsided to huffs. The huge animal stood there silently watching Mike. Mike did not move. Annie held her breath. For a long moment, the boy and the bear faced each other. Finally the bear growled one last time, and then it swung around and ambled down the trail, before it turned and disappeared into the trees.

  Annie needed to pee, and she needed to hit something. Her fear began to morph into anger. Growling, not unlike the bear, she sprang to her feet. When the boy turned, she grabbed the front of his jacket and lifted him to his toes.

  “You better get this straight, Chief,” she snarled. “When we run into danger like that, you get to the rear.”

  “No.” He said this firmly without any expression in his eyes.

  “What did you say?” she asked incredulously.

  “No.”

  She flung him backwards, and he landed on his butt in the mud. Reacting now to the danger, she began panting. Momentarily, she stared at him, and then she strode past him. Her extreme anger was unreasonable; she knew this, but at this moment, she was unable to control it. She hurried up the trail, putting some distance be
tween them. Mike followed silently.

  They caught a break. Before nightfall, they found an old miner’s shack. Inside, they found two ancient beds with plain old fashioned springs and filthy mattresses. They were too tired to care. They threw their bags on the mattresses, and they sacked out.

  Annie awoke just after midnight. She lay there in the darkness, thinking about the incident with the bear. She remembered vividly the sight of Mike fearlessly facing the bear. No, not fearlessly. He was afraid. He was very afraid. Somehow, she knew that. So, why did he do it? Why didn’t he run like I told him? You know why he didn’t run. He wouldn’t have run in any case, because there was someone he had to protect. But even more, he would not have run, because she was the one he was protecting.

  In the past five weeks, she had sensed the growing attraction he felt for her. Why? She hadn’t been exactly friendly towards him, and she had ignored his feelings. She had ignored the way she was beginning to feel about him. But she was attracted to him, too, and now in the quiet of the night, she faced that feeling.

  Dammit, dammit, dammit, it was those damn horses. It was that day in the green valley, when they had sat there, together, watching the beauty of those animals. As she had watched the mares running and the yearlings prancing against the backdrop of those majestic snow covered granite peaks, for the first time since the coming of the Fog, she felt real joy, and she was glad that it was Mike who was there with her.

  But he’s just a kid! Well, all right, he’s more than a kid. But he’s what? Sixteen years old?

  She was a cradle robber.

  And you were still eighteen when you realized that you were trapped in the Sierra Nevada Mountains by this damn mist, Annie. For the first three months, you were scared shitless.

  Mike stirred and turned over.

  “Mike,” she whispered softly, not sure she wanted him to hear her.

  “Yeah?” she heard him say.

  “Come here.”

  Mike crawled out of his bag and came to lie down next to Annie, who was still in her bag. He rolled onto his back.

  Annie tried to speak. “I… uh… today… uh…”