by J. Y. Harris
* * * * *
They stepped toward the fog. Brad took his sister’s hand and squeezed it reassuringly.
Perversely, like most fog, the farther the siblings advanced, the farther away the fog seemed to be. It was easy to see fog at a distance: up ahead, possibly, or behind; but not to be enveloped by it. Fog always seemed to be “over there,” but never “right here.”
Kristen didn’t think they’d ever reach it, or at least, not reach it knowingly. It was possible, she’d observed, to never really be cognizant that you’re really even in the fog. You never seem to ‘enter’ fog, she thought; you just seem to find it in front of you, or behind you, or off to the left and right.
This time was no exception. While the mystery mist still seemed to be ahead of them, Kristen noticed it was also around them, in every direction. It was almost as if she and Brad were in a bubble, a fog-free bubble, with the fog enveloping the outside of the bubble. They were “in” the fog, and yet the air for ten or twelve feet around them was clear.
“Are we in it?” she whispered. “Is this like the other fog?”
“I don’t know. I didn’t really pay attention last time. This morning it seemed like normal fog, and so does this one.”
“This morning,” Kristen repeated. “It seems like ages ago.”
“Yeah, well, it wasn’t. It’s just about eight o’clock now, so it’s barely been twelve hours.”
She gave an unladylike snort. “More like a lifetime.”
They continued on, each lost in thought.
“Wait,” said Brad, stopping. “Is it me, or is the fog getting brighter?”
“Yeah, I guess it is. The moon’s pretty bright, but even reflecting off the mist, it’s not bright enough to make it look like this.”
They continued ahead slowly.
“Maybe it’s a good sign,” Brad said, trying to sound positive. “Maybe it means this isn’t just a normal fog.”
He continued, and Kris could hear the humor in his voice. “Maybe this is the trademark of time-travel mist. You know, a gimmick, to distinguish itself from your normal, everyday, moisture-type fog.”
She shook her head. “I think you have some sort of fog sickness, and you’re getting a little stupid.”
Now it was Kristen’s turn to stop. “Wait! What if—”
“What?” he asked impatiently. “What if what?”
“What if this is special time-travel fog, but…. Well, what if it doesn’t take us back where we started? What if it just takes us to some other time period altogether?”
“What in the world are you talking about?”
“Look, the fog brought us to this particular day in history, but what if it’s not a direct, two-way connection? We have no guarantee it’s going to take us back to our year... the exact same day and year that we left. I mean, what are the odds? When we walk out of that fog, we could find ourselves in this same physical spot, this same forest, in—literally—any day in history. 1492, 1650, 1927, or even the year 1000. Three-hundred and sixty-five days times two thousand years is… what, over seven-hundred thousand days? We could wind up in this godforsaken forest on any day for the past two thousand years.”
Brad looked at her, and Kristen could see the flicker of doubt in his face. Doubt and worry.
“I hadn’t thought of that. I just assumed— Damn you, Kris! You picked a fine time to start thinking analytically. Not to mention being able to do math so quickly in your head.”
He shook his head to clear it and looked annoyed.
“Look, technically, you right, I suppose it is possible we could wind up in some other day, some other year. But all that doesn’t matter now. Right now, all that matters is that we have a choice: we either stay here, in this year, or we go through the fog. We have no reason to assume it will take us anywhere else. And unless you want to spend the rest of your life churning your own butter, sleeping on a straw mattress with fleas, and wearing clunky shoes that don’t fit, I’d say our choice is clear.”
Kristen looked at her brother for a moment, and then turned. “You’re right. Let’s go.” To herself she muttered, “And let’s just hope we don’t end up in The Land Before Time.”
As they continued into the fog, their steps slowed as the surrounding mist became brighter and brighter.
“Definitely not normal fog,” Kristen noted.
After a few more steps, Brad stopped, his hand on his sister’s arm.
“Listen! Do you hear that?”
“Hear what?”
“Shhh. Just listen.”
She closed her eyes. “I don’t hear-- Wait. Is that….”
“Traffic! I hear traffic on the highway.”
“Oh, thank god—civilization! Mom and Dad must be killing themselves with worry.”
“I know. Let’s go!”
They began to jog, their packs slapping against their hips and sides. Kristen didn’t care if she fell. She didn’t care that she had torn the hem of her dress, or the fact that she hadn’t eaten anything other than those Styrofoam-like journey cakes all day.
Brad felt the same. He’d done his best to be in charge and look after Kristen during this whole god-forsaken misadventure. He hadn’t known what to do any more than she had, and he hadn’t been any better equipped for what they’d faced. But because she was there, and she was younger than him, he’d done his best to bluff it out: to seem calm and logical and in control.
Truthfully, if it hadn’t been for Kristen and the fact that he needed to be strong and confident for her sake, he wasn’t sure how he would have handled this crazy experience.
Now, his main responsibility was to contact his parents as soon as possible so that whatever measures they had taken to find Kristen and him could be called to a halt.
As abruptly as it had appeared that morning… as quickly as things had spun out of control earlier… the surrounding mist suddenly disappeared.
And Kristen and Brad discovered why the fog had been so bright.
