Fog Bastards 1 Intention Read Online Free Page A

settle my nerves. It doesn't work. And it's 10 p.m., nearly time for a visit from the fog.
     
     
The bus gets me back to employee parking, and Starbuck starts first try as always. I take the surface streets home, praying for red lights, desperately thinking of anything else I can do to delay the inevitable. I come up empty. I park, take the elevator upstairs, sit down on the couch and am quickly asleep before I even pull out the mattress.
     
     
Tonight's fog is half cat, half mongoose, swirly with dancing lights, but hot as hell. The dude is waiting for me, sitting on a boulder next to the path. The evil grass leaves him alone, I think about throwing myself into it and see if I can be mowed to death. There's a smaller boulder with a flat top sitting in the middle of the path, facing the cloaked man. I take the hint and use my rock. My ass thinks it's OK, the rest of me thinks it's a trap, and we're going to get sucked into it if we give the wrong answer.
     
     
He just looks at me, apparently expecting that I have a million questions. I can't even think of one. I shift my ass to the left. I shift it back to the right.
     
     
He decides to break the silence. "You believe me." Statement, not question.
     
     
"Yes." He still sounds totally human. Comforting even.
     
     
"You've made your choice." Again not a question.
     
     
"Not a fuckin chance. My brain looks like this fog."
     
     
"The light thinks you have." He looks that way, I follow. Without question the light is heading toward me. The frakkin' thing could have the decency to wait until I'm ready, or at least done screaming like a little girl.
     
     
"I'm not a hero."
     
     
"You will be."
     
     
"And you know this because?"
     
     
"I'm an excellent judge of character. And you are one."
     
     
I stand up, the light 20 feet away and closing. One foot is ready to run, the other has given in. I don't know if I can hop fast enough on my one smart foot to get away. And, if I remember correctly, toward the light is death, run away is worse. Now I do have a question and it's too late to ask. What is worse than death?
     
     
The fog turns icy. It drips down my face, which is suddenly covered with a wet sphere. I open my eyes. There's a spit covered ball on my cheek and a cat staring into my eyes from four inches away. There's a quiet mew from her mouth. I hug Halloween so hard it probably hurts her. Apologizing, I thank her and promise catnip.
     
     
It's six in the morning, and I have nothing to do today except not fall asleep under any circumstances. I need to call the girlfriend and party, maybe a quick trip to Vegas. I don't think they ever have fog there.
     
     
I throw on clean running clothes and get to the beach, today is going to be a double loop, maybe my first ever triple. The first go round is painful, I can't think straight, or crooked, for that matter. Second run down the beach, I start to clear things out. I need that clarity of vision that comes from thinking while not thinking. I decide to run as fast as I can down the stretch to the sidewalk, force myself faster, push harder, make the sweat drip.
     
     
I don't remember running through the shopping village and into the park, I finally feel right as I round the big curve around the light house and see the river push out into the ocean. It's hard to describe. The river seems so powerful, so strong, and then it's just gone. The ocean, calm and flat, extends out forever. Allegory? The river is dead, but the ocean lives on because of it. Do I believe I can fix the world? I don't even know what "more powerful" than anyone ever actually means. I want a third choice: reset time and go back to the way things were.
     
     
As I leave the park and head back home, my thoughts go quiet. I'm in the shower before I have another conscious one.
     
     
Then I'm dry and naked, standing in my kitchen. Really I'm also in my living room and my dining room, but for action purposes, I'm in the kitchen. My apartment