I was woken up in the morning by the feeling of the boat rocking as it ran against the shore. I carefully listened, and heard no sounds of the whispers that had plagued me the night before. I waited until I felt Deacon sit up, and heard the heavy fabric of his blanket hit the bottom of the boat as he threw it off of his head. I peeled the fabric off of my face just in time to see him stand, stretching his arms over his head and bending backwards.
There was a distinguished crack, and he winced.
"Well, it's not exactly tempur-pedic." He said, stepping out of the boat and onto the shore. The edges of the shore were gray, and his boots made soft sucking sounds every time he lifted them.
The rest of the trip was not going to be clean.
"Let's get up," He said, "We can have a small fire here. We won't be able to light anything over the next few days, so let's make the most of it while we can."
"What are we having for breakfast?" I asked.
Torrent and Sam were already walking into the woods, breaking small branches off of the dead trees. They couldn't pull any wood from the ground; it looked like the fog had seeped into the branches there.
"Eggs and toast." Bethany shouted. She was standing in front of a small contraption, made of a thin metal. She eagerly accepted a small handful of twigs from Sam, and put them to use underneath the base. Maddie was reaching precariously towards the lantern on the end of their boat, her shoes slipping deeper into the mud the closer she got to it.
"Oh, come on," She huffed, "Let's go, let's go."
"Is this enough?" Torrent asked, handing Bethany another small handful of twigs. Bethany sighed, looking at the pitiful pile.
"It's enough to cook maybe two eggs." She said. "Let's keep looking. We all deserve to have a little something before the beginning of the day.
"Hold on," Clyde announced, climbing out of the boat. He stepped over me, sinking into the shore. He walked towards the forest, and slipped between the trees. His hand rested lightly on the hilt of his sword.
He came back a few moments later with a much thicker branch. It had clearly been hacked away, with the edges looking broken and splintered. He had a wide grin across his face.
"Will a couple more pieces like this do?" He asked.
"Yeah, that's perfect." Deacon said. "But don't take too long. We have to get a move on if we want to find the safe house by nightfall."
"Find the safe house?" I questioned, my eyebrows knitting together. "You mean we don't have a map?"
"We don't need one." Deacon informed me. "We're going to be fine."
I felt anxiety rise but didn't say anything. After all, the blankets had worked last night, right?
I should have no reason to believe that we wouldn't be able to find it in time.
Ten minutes later, Maddie was kneeling down next to the fire. She had opened the little lantern, letting a small burst of magic pop out. It was no longer lit, but instead, it lit the flame. Bethany made quick work of cracking eggs on the stove top, laying slices of bread along the empty portion.
It wasn't long until everyone had their portions laid out, and passed to them. The bread was still a little too hot when it was handed to me, but it was an improvement over the cold of the night before.
"Everyone knows we're not going to be able to talk as soon as the fog gets thick," Deacon said, "So I think we should come up with some hand signals. Now is a good time,"
I took a big bite of my toast, and the slightly-runny yolk drizzled down onto the bread.
"We should have signals for stop, I see something, and directional signals."
"Should we also have a signal for if we see the safe-house?" I asked.
"That's a good idea," He said, "Alright. The directional signals are just going to be pointing. The safehouse signal is going to be a roof," He put his hands together pointing upwards, "And stop will be a standard hand out. Does everyone understand?"
We all nodded.
It wasn't long before we were packing up. Bethany grabbed a small cup from the bag and filled it with water from the river, throwing it over the fire.
"I know we're going to miss that." She said, giving a soft sigh, "I'm just going to leave the cooktop here. We won't have any use for it past this point."
"No need to carry the extra weight." Deacon agreed.
We packed up quickly. Everyone was handed a bag, and we secured them over our shoulders.
We worked our way through the forest in short steps, the mud slowly becoming thicker. It seemed like the path was already clear for us, which gave me a sense of foreboding.
The mist started to rise, and I shut my mouth tightly. It surrounded the trees, intertwining with the gnarled branches as it rose in the air.
Suddenly, it wasn't a forest anymore.
The trees opened to a wide field, barren and misty. You couldn't see more than ten feet in front of you. I felt my awareness pique as we became exposed. There was immediately a distinctive lack of sound, and I wondered if the mist muffled it.
It was a while before I saw anything.
The hyper-awareness caused me to jerk when I noticed movement to my left. There was a deer walking; its eyes glowed red, and its hindquarters were a dark grey color, lacking the depth of browns and white. It moved forward as if it saw nothing, its beady eyes cutting through the mist, leading him on his way.
I walked a little faster, almost running into Deacon.
Deacon sensed my closeness, and he turned. He saw the deer, and held up a single finger to his lips. I nodded, curtly.
I would not have forgotten.
As we continued on, my clothes began to stick to my body. The cold of the mist was seeping into my bones, and I missed the fire. My only source of heat was Flicker against my shoulder, providing a light warmth in contrast with the cold of the place.
Even in the most stressful circumstances, my mind started to wander. I walked a little faster, coming up beside Deacon. Sam was directly in front of me. I tried to keep my eyes on the ground, hoping to avoid seeing anything uncanny.
I failed to notice that Sam had stopped. I accidentally ran into them, pushing them just a little. I managed to stop in time, but not before Sam let out a squeak.
Everyone froze.
Deacon moved quickly, tapping the shoulders of those in front. He made a quick, decisive gesture forward, and we all nodded. We began moving a little bit faster, in the direction that Deacon had indicated.
I heard footsteps shuffling behind us. I could have been wrong, but they sounded human. One, one, one, one, heavy-handed footsteps belonging to something upright. I made the mistake of turning around.
There was a man with bright red eyes peering through the mist. He moved in slow, shuffling motions. The pants he had on were baggy. His hair clung to his head, and his face was full of wrinkles. His expression was a blank slate of abject horror, his mouth hanging ajar and eyebrows raised as though something had surprised him.
I turned around, and found Bethany looking back at me. She was at the front of the line. She made two quick motions again, this time, to the right.
We all followed as she began to lead us away. Everyone tried to make their footsteps as light as possible, slinking out of the line-sight of the creature.
As we moved deeper into the wasteland, the fog got thicker. It got harder to see each other, harder to see, period.
Ten feet of clarity turned to five. We formed a line, everyone wordlessly locking arms to help stay with one another.
A mouse with glowing red eyes scampered by my feet. Above me, I heard the caw of a crow, the sound indicating that it was not yet mindless. I watched as the mouse scurried off in the direction the bird was flying. I felt a terrible sense of unease as I watched the bird get lower before disappearing into the mist. Moments later, there was a terrible, pained noise from the bird.
Feathers dusted against the back of my head. I was barely able to hold in a scream as the crow flew past. It circled back around, and I saw that its eyes were now red.
It was silent.
The slow shuffle of our movement made minutes seem like hours. I don't know how long we were out there, among the Things, before I made my fatal mistake.
It had been awhile since our last encounter. The hand movements were of little use to us now. The fog was thick enough that we couldn't see through it, regardless of how close we were. We all kept strong hands on each other. Deacon squeezed me, reassuringly.
And then, one of the creatures bumped into me.
This one was younger than the man had been, but had no less wrinkles on her face. The same look of abject horror was stapled upon her features, and her glowing red eyes held a sense of familiarity that I couldn't quite shake. Her hair was black-brown, and her-- her clothes--
I recognized them.
I made a soft squeak.
The zombified version of my mother growled, softly.
I almost hadn't recognized her. Her face was so different, her features filled with a kind of suffering that I hadn't seen in a long time. Her clothes clung to her body, which was too thin, which was sagging from the weight of her imprisonment.
Her eyes trained on me, and she opened her mouth too wide, as if unhinging her jaw.
I made a louder noise.
Deacon turned back, and pulled me forward. Her teeth missed me, chomping instead on dead air. She reached out swiftly, and caught Clyde's arm. Her fingernails managed to rake across his hand as we all began to run, Deacon leading as we moved in a V formation.
"Safehouse!" He hissed, talking as low as he could, "We've been made!"
"Was that my mom?" I asked, voice shaking.
"We'll talk about it later!" I heard Bethany hiss, "Stay as quiet as you can!"
I heard footsteps coming from the other side.
I closed my eyes, and I prayed to every God I could think of.