Dawn of Fog and Glass

Chapter Twenty-Seven (Part Two): Dawn of Fog and Glass

~Author's Note~

Hey y'all, just me again. :)

Before we get on with this chapter, I just want to give a fair warning that this part of the chapter contains v1olence, including v1olence against children and gun v1olence. If anyone is uncomfortable with this, or is worried that it could be triggering, I strongly suggest you skip this part.

I'm going to make this quick as I'm writing this introduction at one in the morning and I'm tired as heck, but I hope you enjoy this part.

Love,

The Author <3 <3 <3

**

The bullets ring out through the air, cutting through even the sound of the helicopters.

"Alright, time to go, time to go," Ariadna mutters under her breath.

The truck accelerates as we turn onto a steep uphill. The truck rattles underneath us, and I silently pray that we get out of this alive. That is, assuming our vehicle could even make it up this hill.

The gunshots amplify, cutting through the cleared Fog zone. I suppose that's one downside of their miraculous Fog clearing—it improves visibility, which means the 503A officers can track us down and shoot at us easier.

Two government cars trail us from a safe distance. There may be more on the way. A quadruplet of motorcycles pulls up on our right, and we swerve to the side to narrowly avoid the nearest one.

I crash again to the side, pressing up against my door in an uncomfortable position.

Remembering what Orion said, I turn around and peek my head over the back, looking for Draco. "How're you doing, buddy?"

He's curled into the back corner, tucking his knees into his chest. His face is stained pale with motion sickness, his eyes cracked wide open. "Is it possible to regret something you didn't even do? Like, for example, inventing cars?"

"If you throw up anywhere near me," Barrett drawls, scooting as far away from Draco as possible in the cramped space, "I will never forgive you."

"I'll never forgive you," Draco mimics in a childish, nasally voice, prompting Barrett to scowl.

A bump in the road has me fixing my attention back on the situation at hand, right as Ariadna tells us to be quiet to let her focus.

Now that Marksberg is all but a spot in the distance, the Fog has returned thick and vengeful, clogging the streets like congested traffic.

Another two or three cars have joined the first few behind us, until I realize we've stuck ourselves in a high-speed car chase. The group of motorcycles approaches closer and closer. Ariadna couldn't outrun them if she tried.

The gunshots continue, creating an impenetrable field of endless cacophonic sound. One bullet slices its way through one of the back windows and out the other, creating a hole in each glass pane.

As the bullet carves in and out of the truck, Dom ducks, covering his head with his arms, and Barrett shouts. Hairline cracks sprinkle along the window from where the bullet had breached the glass.

I turn to Ariadna, clearing my throat. "Is there anything I can do?"

"Glove compartment," she instructs.

Considering that I haven't ever sat in the passenger seat of a car, I don't know what a "glove compartment" really looks like, or where it's located. When I don't immediately follow her guidance, she gives me a wary look, which slackens upon seeing my confusion. Gently, with a drawn face, she nods to a cupboard set into the car in front of my knees.