After two hours of driving, the van you and the others took from the refugee camp sputtered to a stop. It was an older model, complete with rust spots and a single broken window. I sat on the ground in the very back, next to a still unconscious Emmet.
You pulled the vehicle over to the edge of the road as it became slower and slower. When it stopped, you withdrew the key out and put it on the dash. Nobody spoke for a moment, and the only sound was everyone's overlapping breaths. I watched you closely, wondering your next move.
Noah turned around in his seat in the middle of the van, watching Emmet. “I think he's dead.”
The words paralyzed my body, despite I knew Emmet was still holding on beside me. I knew from the magnetic pull compelling me to stay next to him, the painful cold that still made an appearance each time we touched, and the hushed sound of his breathing. The rise and fall of his chest further reassured me, yet my worry still lingered.
Emmet was in bad shape, with angry red flesh from where the fog burnt his skin. He slept the majority of the drive, and the few times his eyes opened they were glassy. He seemed delirious, and was sweating a lot even with the cold autumn air coming through the broken window next to him.
“Don't say stuff like that Noes.” Dem scolded from the passenger seat. “Can you see his chest moving?”
I watched Noah concentrate on Emmet's chest, holding his own breath as he waited to see if he was dead or alive. I had the feeling you and the others knew Emmet was still alive, but nobody would object to Noah checking because of your combined exhaustion. “Yeah, he's still breathing.” Noah finally confirmed.
The drive was nothing compared to the long road trips my family had taken during the summer when I was younger, before Trever went to college. Yet the fog had attacked each of you, and nobody had slept for long before it rolled in. Dem had her eyes closed, the passenger seat nearly fully reclined.
She had raw spots on her hands from the fog, and when open her eyes were bloodshot. From the rear view mirror, you looked at Emmet's unconscious form curtly before focusing your attention on the view outside your window.
“Okay so now what?” Kari interrupted the silence to ask. Her head was against the window and much like Emmet, she appeared to have red spots all over her exposed skin. She didn't look to be in the mood for moving.
“The fog should be a couple hours behind us now, but that doesn't mean we shouldn't keep moving. We'll be traveling by foot from now on, and if we stop for too many breaks it'll catch up.” You said all this more to yourself, as though you were figuring things out as you spoke. Which, you probably were.
“We need to find another car.” Dem purposed, opening her eyes to stare out the window. Small drops of rain had begun to fall, echoing off the van's roof and splattering the windshield. It was a peaceful sort of rain, and Noah traced lines from raindrop to raindrop on his window in boredom. Being on the opposite side, they remained disconnected.
“The last road sign we passed said we were thirty kilometers from the nearest town.” You stated, thinking back. “And that was probably around eight kilometers ago.”
“I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but we don't exactly have any supplies.” Kari interjected. “And those twenty something kilometers with the fog on our heels will feel a lot like forty kilometers dragging him with us.” Her glacial, pale blue eyes met mine and I felt a rush of energy stir within me. It was involuntary, considering her words made me want to punch her in the face.
Nobody was leaving Emmet behind.
Yet I couldn't help but to relish in the bit of life that fluttered in my chest. Her eyes moved to Emmet though, and the energy was drained from me. Cold crept through my veins and everything around me dulled, the life around me becoming lackluster and washed out.
“That's not entirely true.” You said, rubbing your eyes wearily. The gesture aged you, the weight of leading the group heavy on your shoulders. You were probably only eighteen or nineteen, a year or two older than myself. It struck me how strange it was that you could have been preparing for graduation only months ago.
“Right, Logan and I brought our bags.” Dem recalled, sitting up more in her seat at the good news.
Despite Kari's apparent bitter personality, she seemed to find comfort in knowing they weren't completely doomed after all. “Well it'll still take forever.” Yet there wasn't as much malice in her voice as she brushed a strand of golden hair away from her face.
Somewhere during the conversation, the gentle raindrops grew in size and quickened their pace. They drummed against the roof and windows, too fast for Noah to connect them together. The streams of water down the window reminded me of when I was younger, and would wait inside the car as my mother washed it. I used to press my hands against the cold glass, laughing as she sprayed the water at the widow, obscuring my view. My heart began to ache, something vicious stirring inside my chest.
I closed my eyes, escaping the sight of the rain running down the windows. I smothered the emotions gnawing at me. I wanted to shut them off, flip a switch and make them go away, but they wouldn't. Even after I tried to shove them aside, they lingered like a cold hand on the back of my neck.
“We'll rest for a bit, and hopefully the rain will stop soon. Dem, you still have that phone you found right?” I briefly wondered what good a phone would do, for it surely wouldn't still make calls. Then again, the phones that had come out before the Beginning had some cool features.
“Yeah, want me to set an alarm?” She asked, already turning the small device on. I recognized it immediately, remembering hours of texting Emmet, playing games, and most importantly I remembered the sound of my uncle Jame's voice coming through the small speaker.
My body froze at the memory, his reassuring voice echoing in my mind.
“Hold on Angel, I'll be right over.”
He lived down the street, a five minute walk.
“Go to the basement, lock the door if it makes you feel safer, but slide the key under.”
The basement.
It felt as though I had bathed in ice, my entire body racked with a cold, unwavering pain. The small cellphone, black with a dinosaur sticker and shiny blue nail polish stain, sat in Dem's open hand. Her finger was poised over the touch screen, waiting to set an alarm. My own alarm for school was still on the list, turned off but still present.
Seeing something I carried with me everyday in a strangers hand was unusual. I wanted to reach out and grab it from her, text someone and ask if they were alive. It had a zero percent chance of happening, but a girl could dream.
Dem set the alarm and turned off the phones screen with a click of a button. A blanket of silence had fallen over the passengers, nothing but the pouring rain and distant rumble of thunder filling the space. I watched in the mirror as you and Dem closed your eyes, leaning back in your seats in hopes of catching some sleep. Noah curled up in his own seat, uncaring of Dem's seat being reclined near his dangling legs. His eyes fluttered shut as well, until only Kari was left staring out her window.
I sat next to Emmet, comforted by the increasing pulling sensation in my gut telling me he was alive and getting stronger. It was difficult resisting brushing aside the strands of hair that had fallen in front of his eyes, but the memory of the dream kept me at bay.
Luckily for him, the rain and wind were both so strong that the seemingly continuous stream of water came down at an angle, hitting the windows opposite to the broken one by his feet. Only a bit of water managed to enter the vehicle, rather the full force of the downpour.
Still, the cold was getting to Emmet as he shivered in his sleep. It was strange considering he was sweating so bad only moments ago.
I glanced at Kari's reflection in her window, her image distorted by the heavy rain. Two icy blue orbs were there one minute, the next she had closed her eyes. As she fell asleep I listened to the rhythmic beating of the rain against the roof of the van. I felt the thunder rattle my bones as it drew nearer, and I saw flashes of lightning break through the clouds. I was remembering my father telling me one of the safest places to be when lightening is involved is in your car, when I slipped away into unconsciousness. My head lulled aside, falling against Emmet's limp arm.
It started with a fire. One minute it was dark, and I couldn't feel or see anything, but out of nowhere the world exploded into colors and pain.
My skin felt ablaze and all I could do was open my mouth and scream. That was a bad idea, because as I did so the fog seemed to tunnel down my throat, burning like acid on it's way to my lungs. It coiled up within me like a snake, twisting around my chest and squeezing the life out of me.
Somewhere in the chaos of anguish and mist and distant screams, I realized I wanted it to end. I wanted the suffering to stop and for the responsibility of living off my shoulders. I wanted the memories to wash away like I wanted the blood in my veins to leave me. It was a hungry desire, tearing my soul to ribbons as the fire absent of flames enveloped my body.
I couldn't be sure if my vision was skewed by tears or the fog was getting to them too, but I saw a flicker of her image next to me. It was Olivia, Emmet's younger sister, dragging me across the dew covered grass. “You have to get up, don't let it end this way, c'mon.” She pleaded, her voice wavering as she cried.
“I can't do it anymore Olivia. First Angeline, and mom, and dad, then you.” I felt myself speak, becoming aware that this wasn't my dream after all. With that realization, things seemed to come into better focus, shapes and colors sharpened in my view before distorting once more. This had to be Emmet's dream, not mine.
My body had become acquainted with the pain of the fog that was simply there, constant and unwavering until it felt as normal as breathing. It became less of a torturous pain and more of an endless feeling. But that was worse. The feeling was as though all the miserable things in life were being held inside me like I was Pandora's box.
And Olivia, my little beckon of hope had escaped and knelt beside me, pushing me to live without understanding my hope was gone. She was gone. Dead.
I wanted it to end.
“Help!” Olivia screamed into the mist, shaking. Yet it wasn't Olivia's voice that spoke, it was mine. It was like a replay of dawn, of crying out helplessly for someone to save Emmet.
I tried to find the source of the sound, but the darkness swept in, engulfing me. A voice spoke in the darkness though, so faint it couldn't be real.
“Angeline” it beckoned.