ZOMFOG

The small town had woken to a spectacular sunrise, as it did most days.  Tom had donned his deputy uniform, and was eating breakfast when the phone rang. He answered, listened a moment then announced he was needed at work as soon as possible, while taking one last gulp of coffee.  Kissing Ella quickly good bye, he told her it was probably no more than Harvey's pigs getting into old man Roth's sour mash again.  He chuckled, "Nothing like liquored up pigs to start a ruckus, needing all our law men to put it down." Ella laughed and told him to be careful. It was true though, withstanding foul weather the worse thing to happen in their town was the pigs getting drunk and terrorizing everyone.  Apparently they didn't make for happy drunks.
She watched as he left then finished his breakfast for him. She decided to have her second cup of coffee out on the porch, and greet the Willet twins, who would wait with her until the bus showed to take them to school.  Ella sighed as she thought about the twin's mom.  
 Poor Marilyn, the twins were 4 when her husband decided to leave her, and she had been forced to seek work, which she found at the local diner, to make ends meet.  It had been Ella's idea to watch the kids free of charge.  They had none of their own, and there was no need for her to work at a 9-5 job, she had been left with a considerable inheritance from her Aunt, even without that Tom made enough for them to live comfortably.  She reflected that she was truly blessed; a husband, who loved her, and she adored, both in good health, decent finances, and a comfortable home. She had felt a twinge of guilt for having so much while Marilyn struggled so hard with the 5 year old twins. Yet, on some level she also envied Marilyn for having the twins, the one thing she and Tom were unable to have.
 She caught sight of Marilyn coming up the sidewalk with a twin on either side, holding onto her hand.  She offered Marilyn coffee, but the woman waved it aside, "I'd love it, but there's no time. Car's at Walker's again!"
"Oh, dear - are you walking in?"
Marilyn nodded, her cap of brown curls bouncing.  "Come kiss Mama 'bye, guys!"  She stooped to receive their hugs.  Watching first Jeff, and then James reach up to hug Marilyn, Ella thought how it was like watching the hug on instant replay.  The twins shared the same dark curly hair as their Mother, both had dimples and a light scattering of freckles across their pug noses, and irresistible brown puppy eyes. They both wore the same striped tee shirt and blue jeans. Even their sneakers were the same once white.   With a final wave Marilyn had practically skipped down the stairs and off down the sidewalk, turning once to blow a kiss in their direction. 
"Auntie Ella, we're hungry," Jeff said.
"Hungry hungry, or just snack hungry?"
"Starfing," came from James, whom Ella had learned was always 'starving'.   "I see. Do you think bananas would stave off dying before lunch?"  She knew Marilyn had fed them breakfast, but being kids they were always famished elsewhere. This was part of their morning routine.  Ella opened the screen door and the boys made a bee line to the kitchen, where she handed them each a banana and started the peeling part for them as they climbed up on the kitchen chairs.  After school she'd give them a snack while oohing and ahing over their school work. She was amazed at what kindergarten encompassed these days, not just finger painting and naps like when she went.   All too soon the bus pulled up, and she ushered the twins on to it, receiving hugs from both, and the same "wuv you," she had just heard them give Marilyn moments before.  "Love you too," she told each one as she hugged them back, "Have a fun day!" She stood waving as the bus pulled away, then turned and went back into the house.
She picked up the banana peels and tossed them in the trash, and started to straighten up the kitchen.  Standing at the sink, she saw the first tendrils of fog appear and thought how odd that was on such a bright sunny day. Probably some anomaly due to the global warming she was always hearing about, it'll burn off quick enough she thought, and didn't think more about it moving along with her house work, while listening to oldies on the radio.  
The fog did not burn off, but steadily became thicker, a gauzy blanket covering everything.  Ella's attention was brought back to it, when the DJ read a bulletin about it over the air.
"Sheriff John Kimball has issued the following asking for all residents to stay put and not venture out into the fog. While the CDC has not issued an official warning, the fog seems to be having adverse effects on those who come into contact with it for extended amounts of time.  Exactly what those effects are is not being disclosed at this time. Stay tuned for more information as we receive it."
"Well, if that doesn't sound just...cryptic," she thought to herself, but she knew the Sheriff quite well, and if he said to stay put, well it was best to listen.   She wondered if he and his men were out there in the mist, and just as quickly thought, of course they are. She prayed Tom was safe from whatever the 'effect' was.
Sometime later she heard Tom's cruiser pull up outside, and hurried to let him in. She noted with some surprise that he had appeared to have gone shopping as he carried two large bags; another shock was he wore a mask over the lower half of his face.  He saw her and said "Thank God, you're home," his voice thick with relief. "We need to hurry. I've more things in the car, but we need to close this door as fast as possible. Stay back, Honey. Don't breathe the fog."  He pushed her gently farther into the room and dropped the bags in a nearby chair, before turning back. Ella stared; the fog was much thicker than before, almost like grey cotton candy, it quickly swallowed Tom up, now he was just a vague shadow. When he returned she breathed a sigh of relief, mildly surprised she had been holding her breath. 
"Tom, what is going on?" Tom was running tape around the perimeter of the door, sealing it, "Crime tape!?"

"Yeah, we've tons of it because there's hardly any call to use it, "Tom stopped and passed his hand over his eyes.  "It's - it's surreal out there, El.   Any windows open? We need to secure the house, then I'll tell you what I know."
Ella followed Tom through the house as he checked every door and window, running tape here and there sealing the house.  "That'll have to do for now. I'll check the basement for anything I can use to board up these lower windows."
"Board up? Tom, what is going on? You're scaring me!"  She practically ran after him as he strode to the basement.
Turning with a few boards he nearly knocked her down. He sighed like a worried parent, "Ella, honey, I want you to go upstairs and put on some coffee. Can you do that?" Perhaps it was best to give her something to do, he tried for a reassuring smile as she nodded, then trotted up the stairs to do as he asked.  Ella was no fool, he knew she could handle the truth, but he just wasn't sure the truth was very believable. Hell he had seen it, had been dealing with it for hours, and he wasn't sure he believed it either.
Back upstairs, he nailed boards across the lowest and most accessible windows. The large picture window in the living room worried him; he wished he had something large enough to reinforce it. Looking around his eyes fell on the large curio cabinet that sat across the room taking up most of the wall. That'd do.  It wouldn't cover it completely, but it would help block it considerably. He called for Ella to come help him move it.  Even between the two of them it was quite heavy and protested moving. Tom smiled, "The harder to knock it down then."
Afterwards, he took a lit candle and toured the entire house holding the flame near the windows to detect any drafts, finally satisfied he returned back to the kitchen where Ella waited with a late lunch.
Neither had much of an appetite, but the normalcy of it helped a bit.  Ella was on edge with not knowing what was happening, and Tom was sorting out his thoughts, still processing the day's events. 
Ella spoke first, "Tom, are you going to tell me what's wrong, and what the fog has to do with it?"
Tom sighed, and decided truth, as bizarre as it was, was the best thing. "To be honest, El, I just don't really know.  It started out pretty routine; we answered the call out at Roth's.   In town there were a few patches of low fog, but out there it was quite a bit thicker, but still real low to the ground.  We'd just pulled up but no signs of drunken pigs or Roth. Suddenly he's right there, attacking the cruiser practically. Growling, and gnashing his teeth like some crazed lunatic. "Tom paused taking a sip of his coffee. 

Mani got out of the squad, demanding to know what Roth's major malfunction was, and Roth lunged at him, taking him down, but not before Mani had gotten off a shot. Tom jumped out of the cruiser, pistol drawn, ears assaulted by Mani's screams and the horrid sound of  tearing flesh as Roth sank his teeth in. Tom had no choice but to shoot.  Yanking Roth's body off Mani, he saw there was no helping his partner.  Blood was spurting from the wound on his neck and had already soaked the ground. Still he called it in, requesting an ambulance. He was trying to stench the bleeding, when Mani's eyes glazed over, and he knew his partner was gone.  Disdainfully he looked over at Roth's crumpled body, he knew it was his duty to check and see if anything could be done for the bastard.  He rolled the body face up and felt sicker. Roth looked as if he'd been dead for weeks, the skin grey and already decomposing, Sightless eyes a murky white. Tom rose to his feet and bent over a nearby bush, loosing what breakfast he'd had earlier, while his mind stated that the facts did not fit the timeline.  He'd just shot Roth, people do not decompose that fast; rigor mortis shouldn't have even set in yet. Not to mention the fact he hadn't shot to kill, just wound.
Behind him he heard a nasty snarl and he turned to see Roth standing there, slightly swaying, arms akimbo - Aiming his gun, Tom ordered him to stay where he was. "I WILL shoot you again, Roth!  Lay down on the ground, with your hands behind your head!"  Roth lunged and Tom shot, this time the bullet went straight to the heart.   Roth fell, laid still a few moments then proceeded to stand again. "What the hell," Tom cried out as this time he shot Roth between the eyes.
By the time several cruisers arrived along with the ambulance, Mani's body could not be found. The Sheriff asked if Tom may have been mistaken, that Mani was not dead, and had managed to crawl off.  Tom stated that there was no way Mani had survived.  "Dead bodies don't just wander off, Tom," John said, and then ordered the area to be searched.  That's when things really went south.
Radios erupted with incoming calls; people were attacking one another all over town, and there was a report of a crashed school bus.
Two deputies stayed to continue the search but everyone else was dispatched to contend with the other mayhem.  All the while the fog swirled and eddied around them almost like a silent laugh at how futile their attempts at order would be. 
Deputies Jones and Watson stayed at arm's length and dutifully searched for Mani in the surrounding underbrush and called his name.   "Hey, Mike?"  Jones asked.
"What?" Mike straightened up from the bush he'd been poking in.
"You getting this weird taste in your mouth?"
"Yeah. Seems stronger after I've been close to the ground."
"Think we're tasting this fog?  Never knew fog to have a taste."
"Me either," replied Mike, "I don't think Mani came this way.  Maybe we should try a bit that way," he gestured vaguely with his hand, and let out a scream as he was blindsided by Mani.  
Shaken by what he just witnessed, Jones let out an obscenity, and pulled his gun firing 3 times into his former colleague before Mani stood as if annoyed and came after him.

Outside the school bus that had come to rest against a tree, Sherriff Kimball and Tom shook their heads. The bus looked like it had seen a regular blood bath, books, errant shoes, and papers interspersed with body parts. Bloody handprints smeared the windows.  All that carnage and not one body to be found, except for the driver, whom had been wrenched opened his entrails a smelly display.
"What could possibly do that, Sheriff?" Tom asked stubbing out his cigarette. Normally he didn't indulge when in uniform, he thought it set a bad example for the kids, but when the Sheriff had lit one up, he asked for one too.
"I don't know...Wish I knew where those kids were though. Going to be a lot of upset parents if we don't get some answers right quick.  I've got a couple of the guys searching the area, but we just don't have the man power for something this size and what's going on in town.  Not even a full moon and everyone is going bat shit crazy."
"I don't suppose this fog is helping any either," Tom remarked.
"Guess not.  Are you getting a funny taste in your mouth?" The Sheriff grimaced.
"No, what's it taste like?"
"Bad is the only word for it."

"Sherriff! Sherriff!  We've found the kids!" A deputy's voice cackled over the radio. "You better come quick. They're behaving like feral cats or something!"
Feral cats had been an accurate description.
The children had been spotted in the field that ran parallel to the road, partially hidden by the tall green grass.  They moved awkwardly and aimlessly, at first Sheriff Kimball guessed they were all a bit traumatized or something; confused and disorientated by the accident.  As the deputies approached the children would hiss and make guttural sounds, moving towards the deputy then suddenly lunging. The deputies cried out in fear and pain, as they were bitten and clawed, becoming swarmed by packs of four or five miniature horrors.  They had no choice but to fight back, although none of them relished hurting a child.  Sherriff Kimball watched in horror, unable to wrap his head around what he was seeing; grown men grabbing and tossing children off, and becoming bloody messes.  He cried out for his men to fall back, so that a plan could be formulated.   Only one man emerged from the field.   Three had gone in.
One look and Kimball knew the remaining deputy would be of no further use to him. His eyes had a wild look, and blood trickled from several places including a savage bite on his leg.  "They ATTACKED us, Sheriff! I don't understand it.  Even the littlest ones were savage. What the hell is going on?" 
"I don't know, Miller, but we better get you to the hospital and call County for help.  Drive him on in, Washburn?"

"And leave you alone out here?" Tom looked at the Sheriff, "That doesn't sound too smart."
"Somebody's got to keep eyes on them," inwardly the Sheriff agreed, but he couldn't ask anyone to do what he wouldn't do himself.   "I'll keep my distance, stay inside my car.  Just try and be as quick as you can."
Despite his misgivings, Tom did as he was told loading the now sobbing Miller into the backseat of his squad.  It was only 5 miles to the clinic, but it was the kind of drive nightmares are made of.  The fog made driving bad enough, but it was the shadowy scenes seen within the fog that spun reality into practically nonexistence. 
People spilled out of their homes, screaming and crying as they were chased down by what were once loved ones and friends.  Some were trying to make a stand and fight back, but were so bewildered by what was happening they were ineffective.   Was that Millie Pritchett eating her newborn like fried chicken?  Tom told himself no, but deep inside he knew it was.   It was all just too much, and Tom slid mental blinders in place and concentrated on the road.
Behind him Miller cried and moaned his last. 
Pulling into the lot, close to the doors of the one story clinic, Tom got out and walked around to Miller's door. Opening it, he leaned down to check for any kind of pulse, finding none; he turned intending to get a gurney.   It struck him that the clinic was eerily quiet. An ambulance stood with its doors gaping open, as he passed by it, he saw nothing but splatters of blood over the interior. 
With the town in the shape it was, Washburn had expected the place to be a flurry of activity, over run with patients, with the small staff nearly overwhelmed.   Instead he detected no movement. Drawing his weapon, he stealthily made his way past the entrance and towards the reception area. That's when he saw the first of the bodies.   Slightly beyond them laid more bodies, strewn down the hallway like some mad butcher shop display.  As he ventured further in, he became aware of a sucking; slurping sound intermingled with inhuman utterances. There hunched over one of the bodies, were two men, who looked up as he neared. Tom recoiled as it sank in that they were engaged in an eating frenzy, with a wild roar they lumbered towards him. Without thinking Tom spun on his heel and then he was sprinting, out of the building and away from the horror to his car. He was nearly there when Miller, sat up in the backseat and began clawing at the window.  "Oh hell, no," Tom thought as he simultaneously opened the door and flung Miller out onto the ground, shooting him once in the head.  He flung himself into the driver's seat and shoved the key home.  The tires spun and screeched as he tore away.
His mind was racing, and nothing was making any sense. He felt as if he had somehow blundered into a George A. Romero movie.   His mind argued with itself; zombies do not exist. Well those THINGS out there are certainly real, and they act like freakin' zombies!  First dead, and then not dead, turning others through biting apparently.  That's a zombie. 
He grabbed his cell off the dash and tried to call Ella, to warn her, but it only told him that 'all circuits are busy at this time.' He swore. 

The Washburn's were one house among a handful of others on the outskirts of the main town, so Ella was blissfully ignorant of her town's current condition.  For her it seemed like any other day, with their few neighbors either at work or off in town running errands.  Having completed most of her chores, she decided to watch the midday news.   She turned on the local channel and settled down with a glass of soda.   The anchor man was saying that there had been a school bus crash, and her mind instantly went to the twins, were they all right?  Glancing at the time she thought it had to have happen on the way to school. Being such a small town they only had the one bus. Just as quickly she offered up a prayer that all the children were safe.
"We now take you to live coverage with our very own Chase Johnston, "the anchorman intoned, "Chase? Are you there?" Unintelligible static cackled over the air and the live feed seemed to be from a camera lying on its side on the ground.  You could just see part of the school bus in the frame, shrouded in fog.  Shots rang out, causing Ella to jump, and several sets of feet were seen running about as screams and yells filled the air. A prone body's face covered in blood fell and filled the camera lens as the feed was suddenly cut and went back to the anchorman, who was slightly gaped mouthed and blinking his eyes. "I'm not entirely sure what it was we just witnessed, but obviously we're having some technical difficulties. We'll return with that story as soon as details are available. I believe we're taking a commercial break at this time, and we'll be right back," he flashed a false smile into the camera. As soon as he saw the signal that they were on break he growled, "Can someone please tell me what the hell that was? Are we sending someone out there or what?"
Ella blinked a few times as she too wondered what had she just witnessed.  There had been an officer on the scene, she recognized the uniform's pants leg, she was fairly sure of that, and as the camera had jostled about she thought she had glimpsed the Sheriff's cruiser.  Some of those feet had been kids, she was certain of that, but what didn't make sense was they appeared to be chasing the larger adult feet.
She shook her head and took another sip of soda, and wished Tom was home. Suddenly she felt very edgy and even a bit afraid.   She rose and looked out the picture window and stared at the fog, wondering, "What are you really?" She almost stepped out onto the porch, but something held her back, even though she told herself she was being childish and silly. 
Tom's radio crackled into life, when he answered Melba's voice was nearly a sob. "Tom? Tom is that you? Thank God!"
"Take it easy, Melba. What's wrong?" Tom really didn't want to know, he didn't think he could handle one more wrong thing.
"Tom, not one of the deputies is answering and I can't raise the Sheriff. I tried calling County for reinforcements, like he said to; only they said they don't have any to send because they're having the same problem! I don't like this, Tom. Not one bit, no, sir, no how. Everybody's gone crazy!"
"Melba, I'm on my way out to where the bus crashed. The Sheriff was there last I saw him.  I'll deliver the message.  I want you to take some rations and lock yourself in one of the cells, until we get there."
"Do WHAT!? Lock myself up?"
"I'd tell you to close the station and go home, but that doesn't sound like a safe choice if the streets are as bad as all that. So, I want you to lock up the station and make yourself comfy in one of the cells until we get there. You get me?"   Tom didn't know what else to tell her. Melba was near retirement  and more or less Mom to all of them, he couldn't see her fighting off even one of these...creatures.  At least inside a cell, if they broke into the station, she might be safe for a while.
He jumped and uttered an oath as one of those things walked directly in front of his car, but he didn't bother to brake or even look back.
When he arrived at the scene of the bus crash, he drove slowly, looking at the carnage. He rolled his window down part way, and yelled for the Sheriff by name, and if anyone was alright.  The scene was almost déjà vu of the Clinic minus the walls, there was no way he was getting out of the car unless he absolutely had to.  He spied the Sheriff pulled halfway under the bus. From this distance you couldn't tell if he had been crawling away or had been dragged part way under, but the blood and stillness told the important part, Sheriff John Kimball was no longer.  Tom swore and hit the steering wheel, before punching the gas.  The only thing he could think of doing was going to the station and collecting Melba and anything that might be useful and getting home to Ella. He'd figure things out from there.
Releasing Melba from the cell, Tom found himself on the receiving end of a tearful hug that threatened to break his ribs. "Pull it together, Melba.  We have to gather what ammo and guns we can, plus anything we think might be useful and get gone. You want to come to my house or go to yours?"  He knew she lived alone, so coming with him should be a no brainer. 
"Yours of course," she replied as she opened the gun cabinet, "might want to spin by the store for a few supplies if possible. No telling how long we might have to hold up."
"That's a good idea," Tom filled his pockets with ammo and then dumped a filing drawer to use as a box and filled it with as much as he could.   Handing Melba their makeshift box, he eased open the door and looked out to make sure it was safe; in one hand he had the squad's keys, in the other a rifle. 
They pulled up outside of Hennessey's Grocery, parking parallel with the doors. "Wait here, until I know it's clear," he said leaving Melba in the car.  The glass door had already been smashed open, and from the litter he guessed it had been looters.  He couldn't really blame them, not in this case.  Food was one thing, TVs and electronics another.  These were people just trying to survive an unknown epidemic of sorts. 

Ella was unable to sit still, she flitted here and there like a humming bird between fixing a dinner that neither would feel like eating, and fiddling with the radio knob trying to find something - anything that might shed some light on what was happening.   Meanwhile Tom prowled the house like a caged tiger, checking for drafts and attempting to make things more secure. 
That night they were both so edgy they slept in their clothes never really going to bed.
3 DAYS AGO...
Ella decided it was prudent to take an inventory of their edibles. They were well stocked, but without knowing when would be the next time they could get supplies, it would give her some idea how long they could hold out.
  Throughout the day they had heard inhuman grunts and groans outside and had detected some movement out in the fog.  All the downstairs curtains had been drawn to hide their own movements from whatever lurked out there.   Tom was upstairs with the binoculars peering out to see whatever he could.  Ella heard a scream from outside and ran up to him.  He looked at her wryly, "they've arrived."
"Who screamed?" Ella ran down their neighbors in her head, she was pretty sure no one had ever returned from wherever they had been that day.
"Some animal; a cat, maybe a small dog," Tom grimaced, "I can't be sure the fog makes details hard."
Ella began to lean towards the window and he stopped her, "You REALLY don't want to see."  
"So, they're attacking any living thing?"
"Appears so," Tom rubbed his face, "God, I so want a smoke."
He was surprised when Ella said, "Go ahead. I don't think it matters much right now."

Later that afternoon, after the creatures could be heard bumping into their walls and doors, Tom thought it would be better to move upstairs or into the basement, the distance perhaps helping to muffle any sounds they made.  He really had nothing to base his choice on, except if the creatures did get in, they would be trapped in the basement. Upstairs they could make it out onto the roof and perhaps climb down from there.  Besides, just about every old school zombie movie (back before 'fast' zombies were a thing) made it seemed like climbing was very difficult for the undead, were as falling down came easily.  He couldn't help but chuckle a bit at himself, making life and death decisions based on movies. Still it seemed the way to go, especially when it seemed like no help would be coming.

running campuses and towns, and then as unbelievable as it seemed there was nothing.  The grid had fallen or everyone in the world had logged off at the same time.  The cells were useless.  It wouldn't be long now until they had no power either, Tom supposed.  With no one to run them, technology was grinding to a halt. 
Ella had dumped out the laundry basket and loaded it with food stuffs, while Tom logged bottles of water up the stairs.  She tried to select things that could be eaten cold, or room temperature, especially if as Tom thought the power went, and wouldn't easily spoil, but she did it all in a hurry, almost on automatic.  Grabbing a plastic bag, she shoved two sets of cutlery, plates, bowls and a couple of mugs in to it. Almost an afterthought she added the tin of instant coffee.
From the kitchen she moved through the other rooms staying away from the windows and doors, picking up a prized possession here and there. She stood in the closet doorway, forbidding herself to just crumple up and cry, now was not the time.  She had to move quickly. Reaching down into Tom's golf bag she fetched the carton of cigarettes he didn't know she knew about, and added it to the now bulging bag.  
"Ella," Tom's call was soft, "I want you to go up now. I'll bring the basket."  She nodded and passed him on the stairs.   He gave her arm a quick squeeze, "It'll be ok."

TODAY...
They could hear them, shuffling around below them.  Their worst fear realized, the zombies had made it in.  Tom wished for the umpteenth time that there was a way to seal themselves off completely from the dawn stairs.  That's when he decided the attic could no longer be just talk.  He had mentioned it back when this all began, but even he had thought it a needless idea. As quietly as he could, he lowered the ladder to the attic and began moving things up. 
After a few trips up he began to have this funny, almost metallic taste in his mouth, but shrugged it off as nerves.   He and Ella moved quickly and he pulled the ladder up, sealing them off.

Ella slowly walked over to the small uncovered attic window that let in some dim grey light. Looking out she could see the fog swirling below them like a blanket of gauze. She placed her hand on the sill and leaned closer to the window, she could just make out darker masses moving within the fog.  Her eyes picked out a cluster of three, one taller than the other two and she wondered if that was Marilyn and the twins, then wrenched herself back from the thought. No, they were safe somewhere.  Perhaps there'd been an evacuation or something they hadn't heard about.  Or they were hiding out in the school's basement; anything but having been turned into one of those things. 
She felt the ledge with her finger tips and looked down. "Tom, didn't you seal off the attic too?"
Tom had been distracted setting up the scanner. "What?""I don't see any yellow tape. Did you run out?"
"No tape?"  Tom, straightened, scratching his head, "Shit! I completely forgot to do the attic! Do you feel any draft?" He was already almost there.
"Just a tiny one. But, we're above the fog - see? So it shouldn't matter, right?" Her eyes pleaded with him to agree.
"I guess it won't," he lied. In truth he had no idea. "Ella, you got any gum or anything? I've the worst taste in my mouth; must be the dust or something." Inwardly he wondered how connected the fog was with what was happening. How much did it take?   Was it even connected at all?  True he had been feeling funny, but with all this stress it was only natural. 
Ella did her best to straighten things up a bit, and make them as comfortable as she could.  She used their duvet from the bed to make a makeshift bed, and spread a blanket over it. Tom had even brought their pillows up, so that would be some comfort.  They had never used the attic much, so most of what was there, though sparse had belonged to former owners.   She tried to expel the reality of what was by exploring the contents of the few boxes and trunks. 
Tom kept fiddling with the radio, and feeling odder.
All the while they could hear their uninvited company milling about below them; like stunned birds that fly in and take awhile figuring out how to get back out.
Events were taking their toll on the couple.  Ella grew quieter and Tom edgier.  He just didn't feel right. It was as if some primal scream had lodged itself all coiled in his chest and was just bursting to be let out. He also felt hungry, but not for food. It was crazy.  Maybe he was running a fever.  Ella even remarked he looked horrible and should maybe lie down for a bit, she'd keep watch for awhile. 
Tom stood and picked up a can of peaches, looking about he asked where the can opener was.
"It was right there in the box," Ella stated, but Tom was suddenly very angry.
"Don't tell me you FORGOT it! You stupid, bitch! How are we suppose to eat canned goods when we can't open the freakin' cans!?"
Flinching, Ella reached down and pulled the opener from the box. "Here it is. Don't be mad. You just didn't see it is all." Tom had never, ever spoken like that to her before, and for the first time she felt a bit afraid of him.
He took the opener and looked sheepish. "I'm sorry, El. I guess everything just has me-"
"It's alright, Tom. You aren't yourself. You're sick."
Tom moved closer to her, wrapping her in his arms, "Forgive me?"

"Of course," she said as she returned his embrace and felt his lips on her cheek. Then she was screaming in utter agony as his bite ripped her cheek off. She stared at him, trying to free herself, while seeing her own flesh dangle from his mouth.  Again he leaned in biting and biting, while she screamed and screamed.
Through the window, past the sill one could see small tendrils of fog winding its way in as if having a merry chuckle all its own.

Return to Twisted Tombstones