The two held as still as coral in a sea of fog. Had someone heard them? Surely it was foolhardy to shoot even at trespassers that can’t be seen. Afraid to speak, they stood as if Medusa had seen them, their feet growing cold in the slushy snow.
Another report—loud and aggressive. Terah instinctively raised his hands. A third shot. Mich ventured a whisper. “There’s a shootin’ range near here, now I remember. Someone must be tryin’ out his Christmas gun.”
“How can they see to shoot?”
“It’s enclosed. At least partially. Like bein’ in a barn. Still, we’re too close to other people.”
Mich was right. Their best chance was to stay deeper in the woods. They changed course and measured progress by decibel. “I don’t even know what day it is,” Terah admitted.
“Shootin’ ranges are open most any day. We probably weren’t in any danger. I don’t know what direction were headin’, though.”
They’d left their shelter using dead reckoning from the previous evening. The opening faced roughly north and they’d set out toward the northwest. The fog meant that they could stumble upon a house unexpectedly. Or a rifle range. When the shots faded, they tried to correct their course to the best of memory. “It’s amazing how you can’t tell direction without the sun, if you can’t see landmarks.”
“Ya didn’t think to pack a compass, eh?” At least Mich was showing some humor now.
“I really had no plan but to get away. I miss Danielle now. I realize she was more than I admitted to myself when we were together.”
“Whaddaya mean?”
“I was self-absorbed. Being unemployed eats away at your soul. It’s like when you see a really old tree still alive, but hollow. It’s technically still a living thing, but inside it’s all empty. Society punishes you for not being successful, and if you’ve got advanced credentials it blames you even more. I was so busy trying to redeem myself that I didn’t focus on Danielle as much as I should have.”
“You were just tryin’ to survive.”
“But is survival enough? You’re the smart one, Mich. Screw society—it’ll do you no favors if you slip.”
The rocky ground was treacherous. “Be careful where you step,” Terah said. “It’d be easy to lose your footing and we can’t get any help out here.”
“We don’t even know where here is. This fog’s ridiculous. Can’t even set up camp—might find ourselves in someone’s back yard.”
The persistence of the mist was surreal. As the temperature wavered at the condensation point, the snow fueled the already saturated air. They had no choice but to continue walking. They inevitably came to a downhill slope. “Now be careful—” Terah began as his foot slipped, sending him tumbling with the heavy pack. Gravity refused to relinquish it’s hold and he rolled off into the fog, shouting as he went. Mich heard a cracking sound, but maintained a cautious pace. They’d be no help to each other if they both got injured. Even in the mist, Terah’s trail was obvious. Mich came upon his, smashed against a tree.
“Are you okay?” The anxiety made his voice rise.
Terah groaned. His head disoriented, he didn’t answer. “Are you okay?” Mich repeated, afraid to move him.
“I think so,” Terah managed, holding an arm out for assistance. “Help me get sitting up.”
“I heard a crack. Do you need a hospital?”
“We can’t go to a hospital! But no, nothing’s broken.” He leaned against the tree, rubbing his right leg. “The crack was something in the pack. Our provisions may not be in great shape.”
“There’s more where they come from. Where’re you hurt?”
“I banged up my right leg and left elbow. There’s nothing broken, though. I’m afraid I’m going to slow us down even more.”
Mich let him rest. “If we’re headin’ down, there’s probably a stream at the bottom. We can get you washed up.”
His hands were still sore from the fall in the asylum. “Middle age sucks,” he spat out, getting slowly to his feet. “You remember being young and spry, but your body begs to differ.”
“Be careful,” Mich now said.
Terah’s limp wasn’t too obvious, given the unevenness of the ground. He couldn’t help wincing aloud now and again. The fog thinned a little over the running water and Mich had him drop his pants so they could get a look at the damage. A nasty yellow and purple bruise was coming up on his right thigh and there was a raised red bump on his shin. As Mich washed things off, it appeared his self-diagnosis was correct. Nothing was obviously broken. “Can ya climb a little?”
“Probably.”
“I see an overhang just upstream. Could be a cave.”
Terah pulled up his damp pants. “Let’s hope so.”
Their hopes were only partially realized. The overhang, carved out by eons of what had once been a river, had a fairly flat floor. It didn’t go back terribly far into the hill, but it provided enough shelter to get a fire going. Terah had packed some dry wood, which turned out to have been the source of the cracking sound. It caught readily enough. Mich gathered other wood, now thoroughly damp, to dry.
“I have no idea where we are,” he admitted.
“I’m afraid I won’t be able to move very swiftly any time soon.”
“If this damn fog clears we’ll be able to tell if this is a safe place to stay awhile. I dint see any posted signs.”
Terah groaned. “The fire helps, but it improves circulation. And that lets me know where it hurts.”
“We got some meds.” Mich carried a much smaller pack, one used for getting provisions back to the asylum. “Ibuprofen okay?”
They ate a little. “We’re gonna need to get food. We shouldn’t left my house.”
“Wednesday would’ve hurt us.”
“Seems weird to be thinkin’ about ghosts, here outside.”
“You’ve read a lot about ghosts, though.”
“Yeah. There’s plenty a outdoor spirits. Gettysburg, for example. They’re hard to see in the light, though. Besides, things change when you’re indoors. You trap things there.”
“How so?”
“Surely you’ve noticed how when yer inside things terrify you, and goin’ outside makes em disappear.”
“Like secrets.”
“I suppose you’ve guessed my secret by now.”
“Why don’t you tell me?”
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