Through the Fog

by Michael C. Grumley

  “She’s alive?” Shannon asked weakly. Her lips were trembling. “Are you sure?”

  Evan opened his mouth but stopped before he let the words out, struck by a terrifying thought. What if he was wrong? What if he was wrong and just mistakenly told Dr. Mayer that her daughter was alive? But . . . he saw her. He saw her just for a moment, but it was her. Wasn’t it? He was afraid to exhale, suddenly afraid of answering her. How could he be sure? All he had seen were some pictures. He quickly backpedaled through his thoughts, through the memory of what he had seen. No! No! He felt a surge of emotion and Ellie’s image came rushing back into his mind.

  “It was her,” he said confidently. “I saw her. She’s alive.” And then he hesitated. “But I have to go back. Something is happening.”

  Shannon’s face quickly grew concerned. “W-what does that mean?”

  “I don’t know.” Evan shook his head nervously. “But I saw . . . boxes, boxes in an empty house. And I saw suitcases.”

  Everyone’s eyes grew wide. Shannon turned and frantically reached for the phone on her desk. She had her hand on the receiver when she stopped herself. Her first instinct was to call her husband, Dennis, to tell him, to save him from the emotional hell he had fallen into before it was too late.

  But she couldn’t, at least not yet. She stared at the receiver still in her hand. What if Evan was wrong? What if Ellie wasn’t . . .

  She turned back to Evan. “Can you find her?”

  He thought for a moment, then shook his head hesitantly. “I don’t know. I can try.”

  His mother spoke up nervously. “Evan, this could kill you.”

  Evan shook his head. “It won’t.” He turned to Shannon. “Dr. Mayer, I know what it is that’s causing my problems. When I see the fog, my body . . . panics. Not my mind, my body. It panics at the fear that it won’t come back out. But I think we can stop it.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, maybe not stop it but slow it down. My body, I mean. Like a sedative or something. You can give out medicine, right?”

  Shannon squinted at him. “But you hate drugs.”

  The corner of Evan’s mouth curled slightly. “Not today, I don’t.”

  Shannon raised an eyebrow at his mother. “Ms. Nash?”

  Evan’s mother glanced worriedly at her son, then back to Shannon. Finally, she dropped her head and nodded.

  Shannon stood up carefully. There was something they could use. It was strong and safe and would definitely relax him. “Okay. But the second the symptoms start,” she said, “we’re waking you up!”

  “Deal.” Evan put one hand on the arm of the couch and pushed himself onto his feet. “There is one other thing,” he said with a pause. “To do it quickly, I don’t think those pictures are going to work. I need something with a stronger connection to Ellie.”

  23

  Mary sat in the passenger seat gazing out the window as they turned off the dirt road and headed back toward the interstate. She felt empty inside. She leaned her head against the cold window and closed her eyes, thinking what a failure their trip was. They came to find a way to help Evan, but what they were leaving with was more likely a death sentence for the boy.

  They could try to delay the inevitable, hoping to find a solution, but neither of them was feeling very optimistic. For all the effort it took to find him, Rief, in the end, gave them the worst possible news.

  After going back over Rief’s words in her mind, Mary was the first to speak after they left. She could still visualize the doctor watching from his doorway as they drove away.

  “You know,” Mary said, trying to find a glimmer of hope. “Maybe he’s just wrong. Maybe Daniel Taylor had something different than what Evan does. Or maybe it was worse.”

  Sue kept her eyes on the road, listening. Her cell phone chirped and she looked down at the center console to see a new text message appear. A moment later it chirped again. She glanced at Mary, then checked her rearview mirror before slowing and pulling to the side of the road. She stopped the car on the gravel shoulder, and promptly pushed the gearshift forward into park.

  Sue picked up her phone. “Got two more messages from the office.”

  Mary turned and looked out the window. “I mean what if Rief got it wrong? Just because the symptoms are the same doesn’t mean the cause is the same. Besides, he hasn’t practiced in what, twenty years?” She watched the trees outside sway in the cold wind. “He didn’t even know the difference between an antidepressant and antipsychotic. Right?”

  Sue finished reading the two messages and looked up over the steering wheel with a strange expression. She quickly turned to Mary. “Wait, what did you just say?”

  “Didn’t you catch that? Rief said he should have tried giving Taylor a ‘Prozac or another antipsychotic,’ like they were the same thing. They’re not. Antidepressants are very different. What I’m saying is maybe he didn’t even diagnose the kid correctly. Jeez, Sue.”

  Sue’s eyes opened wider.

  Mary continued: “What if he just wasn’t a very good doctor? Maybe there’s still hope for Evan, maybe—”

  Mary suddenly stopped when she saw Sue’s face. “What?”

  “Prozac is just a trade name for fluoxetine, Mary. And fluoxetine was already coming on the scene in the ’80s. But antipsychotics were developed long before that.”

  Mary tilted her head with curiosity. “And?”

  Sue blinked, still thinking. “And . . . Dr. Rief should have known the difference.”

  “Well, like I said, maybe he wasn’t very good.”

  “No,” Sue said, shaking her head. “You don’t have your own practice if you’re not very good. At least not back then you didn’t.” She looked out the window, still thinking. “We have to go back!”

  “What?”

  Sue put the car in drive again and made a tight U-turn across the road. “We have to go back.”

  Mary held on as Sue stepped hard on the accelerator. “Why?”

  “Because there’s more to this story!”

  “How do you know that?”

  As she gripped the steering wheel, Sue replied, “Read the message I just got on my phone.”

  Shannon drove cautiously up her long driveway. She parked in front of her house, and couldn’t decide whether she was relieved or concerned when she saw her husband’s truck gone.

  She and Tania jumped out of the car and opened the back doors to help Evan out. His mother followed, still holding onto him. Evan grabbed the top of the door and pulled himself up onto his feet. For a moment, his frailty, coupled with his small size, made him appear far older than he was.

  He took a deep breath and straightened. Feeling his mother’s arm under his, he walked forward toward the front door. Even in his weakened state, he noted how beautiful the house was.

  Shannon opened the door and walked ahead down a marble-tiled hallway, calling out for her husband, Dennis. There was no answer. She quickly returned to the others and directed them up the wide spiral staircase, then down the upstairs hallway, where she gingerly pushed open the door to Ellie’s room.

  Evan stopped and scanned the room, looking at the walls and then over Ellie’s small dresser and bookcase. “This is better.” His eyes fell on her bed, which was covered with a light-green comforter. He turned to Shannon with a questioning look, and she nodded back.

  He stepped forward, then turned and lowered himself onto the edge of the bed.

  “Do you need anything, Evan?”

  He looked back up at Shannon and shook his head. “We need to hurry,” Evan said.

  Shannon quickly opened her purse and withdrew a small plastic bottle. She popped the cap off and dumped a single large pill into her palm. “This is a Valium,” she said, handing it to him. “It’s pretty powerful, especially for your size, but very safe.”

  Evan e
xamined the tan-colored tablet in his hand, while Tania ducked out to get some water. She returned a minute later and handed the glass to him. He gave her a weak smile and took the glass, quickly swallowing the pill and washing it down.

  His mother placed the pillow under his head as Evan laid himself down onto the small bed. When he looked up, he couldn’t help but chuckle at all three women standing over him, almost shoulder to shoulder.

  He reached out and squeezed his mom’s hand.

  “Ms. Nash,” Shannon said, stepping behind her and placing her hand on Evan’s forehead. “I want you to keep your hand on his head. If you feel any change in temperature, tell me immediately.”

  “Okay.”

  Shannon knelt down next to Evan. She slipped off her watch, and placed her fingertips lightly on his wrist. “I’ll monitor his pulse. Tania, I want you to watch his breathing. If his diaphragm starts moving faster, tell us.”

  Finally, Shannon looked at Evan. “At the first sign of anything, we’re pulling you out.”

  “Hopefully you won’t have to hit me again,” Evan said with a smile. He was already beginning to feel tired, unsure whether it was the Valium or exhaustion. With the calming effect of his mother’s hand on his head, he closed his eyes and thought of his regret about not telling them the whole truth. He couldn’t. If they knew what image was really panicking his system, they never would have agreed; no matter how much danger Ellie was in.

  It didn’t take long before Evan felt the Valium kick in. He could feel the gradual withdrawal of his senses a few minutes before he slipped under. The darkness seeped in from all around as the exhaustion tried to overtake him, and he struggled to hold onto his thoughts. Then he saw it.

  The cool white wisps began to appear out of the darkness. They grew from the edges and swirled inward, until touching and weaving into a thick shroud.

  He was having trouble thinking now, as the medication pushed him further and further from awareness. He fought to hang on to the vision, waiting. Finally, the fog started to move and began to open. Ever so slowly, the middle thinned until a faint outline could be seen beyond it. He continued fighting, straining to see what the outline defined. It became progressively clearer and eventually began to resemble . . . tiles.

  He pushed forward, searching for greater clarity, as the vision continued to grow. The square shapes became larger until they looked less like tiles and more like frames. Then something was moving. He couldn’t see what it was at first, but it continued to sharpen into focus until he recognized it: a man.

  Then he fumbled and his concentration began to slip, but not before he spotted it. The fear. The terror.

  In an instant, the fog began to change shape and the red background began to bleed through. The picture . . .

  “Evan! Evan, can you hear me! EVAN!”

  He felt his head suddenly jerk from side to side, and realized someone was shaking him hard. He tried to open his eyes but couldn’t. The screaming and shaking continued, harder.

  “EVAN!”

  He forced his eyes open and was awash in blinding light, as the screaming voice of his mother became clearer.

  Evan searched for his mother through narrowed eyes until he found her face hovering over him. He gasped and convulsed, then rolled violently onto his side and off the bed, hitting the floor with a thud. He could feel hands surrounding him and helping to raise him onto his knees just before he heaved and threw up.

  “Oh, God!” cried his mother’s voice.

  “Get him away!”

  Evan’s mother and Tania pulled him away, while Shannon grabbed the comforter from the bed and threw it over the mess on the floor.

  He collapsed and rolled onto his back, coughing violently. His mother had just wiped his mouth with something when Evan held up his hand, telling her to give him a minute. His eyesight was coming back and, after a few minutes, the heaving in his chest subsided. A tear rolled down his left cheek, and he gave one last fitful cough before gently lowering his head back down onto the carpet.

  “Evan, are you all right?”

  “I’m okay.”

  Shannon’s face appeared above him. “Are you sure?”

  He nodded. “Yes.”

  She looked at the others, then back down at him, anxiously. “Did you see anything?”

  He nodded again. “It was a room, with someone in it. And there was a wall, covered with pictures.”

  “Was it Ellie in the room?” Shannon asked, excitedly.

  “No, it was a man. He was taking them down.”

  “They were pictures? Pictures of what?”

  Evan swallowed hard. “They were all pictures of the same person. Pictures of you.”

  24

  “What?!”

  “The pictures were of you, Dr. Mayer,” Evan repeated.

  Shannon was confused. “Pictures of me? What does that mean?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “How many were there?”

  Evan took a deep breath. “Hundreds.”

  “I don’t understan—” Shannon suddenly stopped. She turned her head, thinking. “Wait a minute,” she turned back to Evan. “You said there was a man in the room. What did he look like?”

  Evan shook his head. “I’m not sure. I could only see him from the back. He was bald and big. Muscular.”

  Everyone watched the blood drain from Shannon’s face. She sat motionless on her knees, gazing at him.

  “No,” she whispered. “No!”

  Evan’s mother looked down at her son, then back to Shannon. “What is it?”

  “It can’t be,” Shannon mumbled. It’s impossible! But in an instant, all the pieces fell into place. She leapt up and ran out of the room, down the carpeted hallway. When she reached the next doorway, she ran across her master bedroom to a small filing cabinet in the corner and yanked it open. With a look of dread, she thumbed through the folders as quickly as she could. She finally stopped and pulled a file out, flipping it open.

  Shannon ran back down the hall to Evan and turned the folder around to show him. On the first page were several paragraphs of personal information, but it was the photograph in the upper left-hand corner that caught Evan’s attention. The picture was of a large, muscular man, staring intently into the camera. He looked to be in his forties and was bald.

  “Is this the man?”

  Evan studied the photograph. “I’m not sure. I saw him from the back. But his shape looks the same.” He looked up at her quizzically. “You know him?”

  Shannon straightened and stood up. Her previous look of hopelessness and despair was now changing into something else entirely. “Yes, I know him!”

  My God it was him. But how? The police had cleared him. They said he had an alibi. All this time . . . all this time they thought it was someone trying to get back at her husband, because he was a police officer. They could not have been more wrong. And now, now she knew why she’d felt like she was running out of time.

  She looked back down at Evan. “And you said you saw suitcases?”

  He nodded. “I think he’s getting ready to leave. As in soon.”

  Shannon grabbed her purse and pulled out her phone. She quickly dialed her husband’s number and held it to her ear. After multiple rings, it rolled to voice mail. “Dennis, where are you? Call me! It’s about Ellie!” She hung up and quickly redialed. It went to voice mail again.

  She hung up and dialed her sister’s number. There was no answer. “Dammit!” Shannon looked around the room frantically. “I’m going!” She grabbed her purse and headed for the door.

  “Wait!” Evan shouted. When Shannon turned around, he could see anger in her eyes. He glanced over his shoulder at his mother, who nodded. “We’re coming too!”

  “Oh, no you’re not!”

  Evan struggled to his feet, again with the help of Tania and his
mother. “Yes, we are. You need help.”

  Shannon stared at him for a long moment, deliberating. She surprised Evan when she crossed the room and took Tania’s place under his arm. She hated to admit it, but if they really were running out of time, they had to find the right house, fast. The address she had in the man’s folder was old, and if they were somewhere else, Evan might be able to help her figure out where.

  “Tania,” she ordered, “you stay here. Get on the phone and find my husband!”

  They rushed out of the room, carrying Evan, while Tania ran into the master bedroom and grabbed the home phone.

  In Ellie’s room, the green comforter remained strewn across the floor, covering the mess that Evan had made. Had someone taken a second look, they would have realized just how much of the mess was actually blood.

  Dennis Mayer was less than ten miles away, sitting in his truck at the top of a large hill. He was looking out across the city of Los Angeles and watching the sun slip slowly down below the horizon. As darkness fell, he sat in silence, trying to think of a reason for being alive.

  He had failed his wife and his daughter, the two people who meant the most to him. The only people who mattered. He turned and looked outside at the trees with their fluttering leaves, then the clouds, and finally the last of the sunset. Everything around him, the entire world, seemed gray and distant.

  His baby girl was gone. Taken by someone who hated him and wanted to show him how real pain felt. Well, it had worked. His family was destroyed, and so was his very will to live. Whoever it was, he’d won and knew it. Mayer didn’t know what he had done to deserve this. But whatever it was, he now accepted it.

  The sound of his cell phone rang out and he turned to look at it on the seat beside him. It was a call from Shannon. He stared at it, then reached over and turned the phone off. She would understand.

  Dennis Mayer placed the phone back on the seat and picked up the handgun that lay next to it. The familiar steel in his hand felt so natural. With a smooth motion, he pulled the slide back; a bullet entered the chamber.