Foggy Road

The road surrounding the water was shrouded in fog, thick and soupy. The man could not see past the reach of his headlight beams, and he leaned forward in his seat, his hands at eleven and two, squinting into the night. He was close to his destination, but the dark and the fog rendered the familiar road unrecognizable, and he couldn’t tell how much further he had to go.

He regretted not bringing his sister, despite her offer to go with him. The company would have settled his nerves.

He saw a light in the fog, nearly imperceptible at first. As he drove closer, the light grew stronger and brighter, taking the shape of two headlights. He could not tell if it was coming toward him or staying still. As he approached the lights, he slowed down, and could see that the other car was not moving. Perhaps they were having engine trouble and needed assistance. He pulled over to the shoulder across from the parked vehicle and surveyed it, trying to get a sense of what was going on. No one was walking around the car or changing a tire. No one had popped the hood to inspect the engine. The driver’s door stood open, but between the fog and the night darkness, he could not see much more. He turned on his emergency flashers and turned his car off, leaving the keys in the ignition, and made his way carefully to the car.

The driver was dead, her head twisted to an unnatural angle. Her skin was starting to lose it’s color, ashy with a tinge of remaining pink. Her eyes were open wide, as if in surprise or shock, and her mouth hung slack. The windsheild, almost slimy looking, like sprayed with egg whites or okra water. He stood frozen for a moment, unsure what to do. She was clearly beyond help, but leaving her here, alone, seemed cowardly. Nevertheless, the twisting knot in his stomach pulled him away, and he staggered across the street. Hot bile rose in his throat, and he wretched beside his car, holding onto the door frame to ground himself.

But then he heard a sound, a whimper. It was coming from the woman’s car. He wavered, for a moment, but went back. In the back seat, curled up in a ball, was a little girl, perhaps 6 years old. She wore a dress and knit sweater, and she was crying.

Clearly, he could not leave her there, alone. He asked her what her name was, but she just kept crying quietly. He told her his name, but she did not respond, only curled up into a smaller ball.

“Come with me,” he said. “I will take you to a safe place.” She shook her head.

“You cannot stay here. Let me help you.” He held out his hand.

She sniffed. There were tear stains down her face and on her clothes. He took, holding his hand out to her, until she slowly slid out of the car. He ushered her back to his car and carefully buckled her into the backseat before getting into the driver’s seat.

This was not right. Nothing about this was right. He pulled out his phone, but, of course, he had no reception. What could he expect in rural Louisiana? Moonlight glinted off the water, visible through the trees, sending in morse code a message that he couldn’t decipher. His heart pounded in his chest. He gripped the steering wheel so tightly, his knuckles turned white.

Once his breath slowed, he turned the key in the ignition without turning to look at the car again. He couldn’t look at her again. He eased back onto the road and drove away from the car, leaving the woman and the car behind him. He was grateful that the other car’s headlights were pointed away from him and disappearing into the fog behind him, swallowing it into the darkness. His body was tense, and he drove nervously, like a newly licensed teen.

The fog had thickened, and he slowed down, almost crawling. He did not know how far he was from his destination. The night had been disturbing, and he could see no landmarks to help him get bearings. The girl in the back sat, staring at her hands. She had stopped crying.

He tried asking her for her name again, but she didn’t answer.

He tried asking her where she was going, but got no response.

He looked at her through the rearview mirror, but she only looked at her hands, the top of her head visible.

And so he only drove. He turned on the radio to try to break the silence, but the reception was poor and the signal did not come in well, providing primarily static. The fog was enclosing, and he pulled to the shoulder, unable to see beyond the front of the car. He locked the car doors and turned on the flashers, and told the girl they would wait until he felt safe driving. She did not say anything. They sat in silence.

Suddenly, there was sticky liquid across the the windshield. The man startled, and reached out to the glass. He realized it was on the inside. He raised his eyes to the rearview and saw not the girl, but something else. A grey-green creature, like a giant praying mantis. It had a sinister brow above glinting black eyes and a cruel smile, and with a sinking stomach, the man understood.