Fields of Grey - WIP

Ch. 2 - Draft 1

Chapter 2

There are some deaths you never escape, no matter how far you run from them. I have tried for seven years, but the Fog always finds its way back. They always find their way back...

Nearly four hundred men and women, clad in blue Fogskins and armed with Fogcutters, Ironshot Revolvers, and Longstrike Mk. III Rifles, gathered below the ladders leading to the airlocks. The Ship's four airlocks could each take twenty-five at a time, meaning it would take over twenty minutes to get everyone on deck. The rest of the sailors waited tensely below, their eyes fixed on the airlocks like gates to another world.

Reed was back in the same airlock he had left just fifteen minutes ago. Commander Deborah stood beside him, along with several senior officers, and Captain Montague. It felt different now—heavier. The weight of dread pressed down on them, the air thick with tension. The night outside was quiet—too quiet. The pounding from before had stopped, but Reed could hear his own heartbeat, beating just as loud in his chest.

The ironlight overhead flickered, casting a warm glow, and the air inside the cramped space was stifling. Reed twitched anxiously, rocking back and forth on his heels, unable to stay still. A bead of sweat rolled down his forehead, but it wasn't just from the heat. The idea of stepping back into the fog—of anyone stepping into that mist again—felt like madness.

And yet, here they were.

The entire time they stood in the airlock, Captain Montague hadn't taken his eyes off Reed. It felt like a judgement, as though the captain could see straight through the Fog of Reed's mind, into the fear and uncertainty that gnawed at him. Reed shifted under the weight of that gaze, his nerves buzzing.

Captain Montague knew the risk of the Fog better than anyone. Reed could see it in the captain's hard-set jaw, the way his eyes stayed fixed on him, unblinking. Whatever was out there, Montague wasn't going to let them face it blindly—but that didn't make stepping into the unknown any less terrifying.

The light in the room slowly turned green as the copperlight eked into the space. Every sailor drew in a deep breath and donned their glass helmets.

The ironlight extinguished and the airlocked released the pressure on the door with a soft hiss. Commander Deborah stepped forward to undo the three deadbolts. The Fog began seeping into the airlock, crawling its way over the floor.

Feet moved causing the Fog to roil. Reed was at the front of the Unit only second behind the Commander—the Captain just behind him. The Commander pushed the door open with Reed's help, it felt heavier. Fog began to swallow up the sailors. The door was open, Reed stepped out with trepidation.

On the other side of the door, a body lay sprawled on the deck.

Genn.

The body was barely recognizable, save for the bushy moustache that had survived the damage. Severe necrosis had spread across Genn's entire face, his skin sloughing off into a pool of blood inside his helmet. There were no visible signs of damage to the Fogskin. Reed's stomach twisted.

I'm sorry, friend, he thought, his throat tight.

Now he knew what he had heard outside the door earlier.

One by one the rest of the team stepped out of the airlock,and closed the door behind them. It would be 5 minutes until the next team would arrive. Above, across the ship, other groups were ascending, a hundred sailors scattered across the top deck. The next airlock was fifty metres ahead.

That is when the screaming started.

It carried its way through the dense fog, but its source was impossible to pinpoint. The glass helmets distorted the sound, turning it into something distant, muffled—inhuman. Reed's heart lurched as the chilling cry echoed around them, twisting and shifting through the Fog like it was coming from everywhere at once.