Dawn of Fog and Glass

Chapter Six: Dawn of Fog And Glass

It's a shorter walk outside than I remember. Darcy pats me on the shoulder in a quick goodbye, an N-ninety-five mask covering her mouth as she used her key card to open the front door. I pull away from her grasp.

Brannigan's there, too. She leans in close, her voice small.

"It really wasn't my choice, you know," she whispers. "I didn't call them."

I widen my eyes at her. How could that be possible? Unless Darcy was the one to call them, how would they know so quickly?

I don't have time to ask before they're pulling me out the front door. Adams and the other guards have their own masks—mind you, they're gas masks, and make me feel as though the Fog has poisoned me, but they protect themselves anyway.

Adams speaks into a radio attached to her officer's uniform. "Comet for Shiner. Come in, Shiner. Over." Her voice is distorted by the black contraption around her face. I shiver.

"Go for Shiner. Over." A staticky buzzing accompanies a raspy woman's voice on Adams' radio.

"Got the target. Suspected blue case. Leaving now, so pull up. Watch our backs. Over."

For people who likely haven't had a new case in years, they sure are experienced. I don't know what a blue case is, but it makes me all the more nervous.

We've never been told much about Morphs. Understandably, as there were only a few days of the Fog before everything went to shit. It's not nearly enough time to make reliable statistics about Morphs, especially seeing as they're so rare. The mere thought that they've captured enough to have different categories of Morphs makes my stomach turn.

"Copy. Flying in now. I have my eyes on you. Over." A chopping noise cuts through the air, quickly becoming deafening. I recognize the sound, although I haven't heard it in so long that I can't place it.

In a moment, I see it. A threatening steel grey helicopter looming above us and ahead. Its blades disappear with its speed, looking like a thin circle of grey spinning above it.

Asshat and Stumpy tighten their grips on me. The air is cool, the Fog thick, flooding into my eyes and down my throat. It's so thick that it's nearly opaque. It must be apprehensive today.

"How are we looking, Shiner? Over." Adams' voice becomes muffled in the copious mist slithering across her mask. She leans over to me and explains, "The choppers have the technology to see through the Fog." I widen my eyes at her, and she nods in confirmation.

The slicing sound of the copter draws nearer, a black silhouette amidst all the Fog. The static buzz of a reply crackles on Adams' radio, and the gruff voice cuts back in.

"All clear, Comet," she replies grimly. Comet must be a codename, I realize. The woman continues, "Wait—I'm picking up a disturbance at eleven o'clock."

The guards and Adams shift ever so slightly to the left. My breath catches in my throat. Stumpy lets go of me with one hand, his other closing around the hilt of his gun, something of which I've noticed he's a fan.

Shiner cuts back in. "Crawler. One, maybe two. Most likely two."

My heart pounds. The Fog swirls tighter around us, and I swear it carries a laugh.

Two green spots cut through the Fog, directly in front of us. Part of me sighs. Just one Crawler. That's fine, right? They can handle one Crawler, certainly. I hope. If I'm lucky, it will be one of the saner ones.

"Beside the Marksberg City Wharf, Rhymie found a mousy Morph," the Crawler's voice drawls.

"Shit," Asshat growls. "It's Rhymie."