Fog City: A Short Story (Voices of the Apocalypse Book 5) Read Free Page A

down. We need to start gathering provisions, pack up a car and drive the hell out of here.”
    “Right now? You made it sound like we had time.”
    I didn’t want to leave the city without my family photo album, or my guitar. I hadn’t touched either in over two years, but I still wanted them. I also needed my pillow and the quilt my grandmother made before she passed away. I wanted to get my favorite coffee mug––the one with the illustration of the little girl holding a red balloon. What about shoes? I needed better shoes. And my toothbrush and hair products. I couldn’t live without my daily inspiration book.
    “My stuff . . . I need to get home and pack.”
    “We don’t have time. We can get some clothes on the way.”
    “Where in the hell are we going?” I yelled, feeling like the fog had seeped into the room and was suffocating me.
    “South.”
    “Toward the mass genocide? That makes no sense.”
    “No, we’ll head to the Central Coast. There are some people camping near Lake Nacimiento.”
    I couldn’t respond because I was still thinking about my apartment and all of the things I didn’t want to leave behind. I had spent the last seven years in my charming one-bedroom by Alamo Square. My little home was a sacred place. I loved sitting in my breakfast nook, sipping hot coffee and staring out over the picturesque vista. I had a great view of the “Painted Ladies” and the city beyond. I’d read from my daily inspiration book, thinking about the possibilities that lay ahead. How one day I might even buy a pretty pink Victorian. I slept peacefully at night. I walked around the park on the weekends. I liked my routine. Crow was screwing up everything.
    “I can’t go.” I stood up and walked toward the front of the office. “I’m going back to my apartment and hiding out there until this shit blows over.”
    As I reached the double doors, I heard glass shattering and heavy objects being smashed against the walls and other office doors. Then I heard a gunshot. I spun back around, bumping into Crow.
    “This is crazy. Why is this happening?” I pounded on his chest as though it were his fault.
    He stayed calm. “If it’s really important to you, we can stop by your place before we jet. But let’s wait here until things calm down out there.”
    “Think I’ll take a shower.”
    It might’ve been the booze, or all the end of the world talk, but suddenly I didn’t feel self-conscious about anything. As I walked to the bathroom, I removed my clothes, leaving a trail behind me. I turned around when I got to the door. For the first time since I had met Crow eight months earlier, he looked stumped.
    “You coming?” I asked, grinning.
    He ripped off his jacket and headed my way.
    ***
    After the shower, we went to the bed. The room was dark, along with the entire city. The fog laced between the tall buildings and lurked all around us. Crow eased me down onto the soft comforter.
    “You sure about this?” he asked, kissing my wet hair.
    “I was sure about this a long time ago.”
    He pulled me closer and kissed my forehead, my cheek, and finally my mouth. His lips were soft and fresh from the shower. I melted into him as we pressed together. His warm tongue touched mine and every fiber in my body pulsated. No more waiting. I started to climb on top of him, but heard the soft sound of someone snickering. Crow yanked me down and threw the comforter over my body. I had no idea what was happening. He jumped out of bed and stood in front of a man I didn’t recognize.
    “How’d you get in?” he yelled.
    “Same way you did,” he said, patting Crow on the shoulder.
    “What the hell are you doing here, Denson?” Crow shoved the man.
    “Thought I’d come find you in person. Time to get down to the lake.”
    By that point, I was irritated beyond belief. The kind of irritated that blurs your thinking, making you see red. His friend Denson had just ruined the second
almost
perfect moment in my life. I