Free 314 by A.R. Wise Page B

looked up calmly at his father. “Yes there is.”
    “Darling,” said Grace as she moved beside
Raymond. “There’s nothing to be worried about.” She stood behind
the boy and held him up against her waist with her hands crossed
over his chest as she kept the phone perched between her shoulder
and her ear. “I’m sure it’s just a freak storm or something.
Nothing to be scared about. Okay? Nothing to be scared about.” She
was clearly terrified.
    “Then why lock the doors?” asked Raymond in
a near whisper. They all knew there was something worth fearing in
the mist. It was as if there was an innate knowledge bubbling to
the surface in all of them.
    Desmond spoke over his shoulder as he walked
to the door, “Juan, if there’s a back door you should go lock
it.”
    “Yeah, Juan,” said Grace. “Stop being a
useless turd and go lock the back door.”
    Desmond turned the lock and Raymond pulled
out of Grace’s arms as he screamed, “Dad, get down!”
    “What?” Desmond turned, perplexed.
    A brick flew at the front door from out of
the fog. The glass shattered and the brick struck Desmond in the
back of the head as shards crashed down around him. He staggered as
Juan screamed. The cook’s voice was than a man of his girth should
possess. Grace dropped the phone and tried to grab Raymond, but the
boy was too fast for her. He bounded around the counter, still
holding the steak knives, to save his father.
    The brick had broken the upper half of the
entrance, and the mist surged in through the hole. Shards of glass
broke and fell as the mass moved in, as if the mist carried weight
with it. Desmond was on his knees as the crackling green
electricity zapped on the metal door behind him. The silhouettes of
children in the mist focused on the Salt and Pepper Diner. Dogs
barked and growled as the children rushed toward the
restaurant.
    “Ray!” Grace cried out for the boy, but
didn’t know how else to react. She was dazed, terrified, and frozen
in place. The phone at her feet continued to ask for her patience;
her call would be answered in the order it was received.
    Desmond crawled toward the counter, and held
the back of his bloodied head. Raymond ran past him, into the
surging mist. He swiped his knives through the incorporeal mass and
the blades sparkled with green electricity.
    “Ray,” said Desmond. “Get away from
there.”
    “Sorry, Daddy. I’m fighting back this time.”
Raymond stood defiant in the mist, his knives held out at either
side as the swirling vapor pooled at his feet.
    The children on the street reached the
windows, but the fog was too thick to see their faces. It looked as
if the diner had been plunged into a tank of cloudy water. Grace
saw mangled, bloody hands pressed against the glass. Blood smeared
as the broken, twisted fingers scratched at the windows. She saw a
dog’s snout appear where one of the children’s heads should be.
    The shadows of children crowded in front of
the diner, but one tall man stood among them. He was impossibly
thin, and his arms draped longer than seemed natural. His head
shuddered, and Grace could hear the chatter of teeth as he
approached. He stood in front of the broken door, but Raymond
blocked his entrance. Green light burned behind the crowd, and
their shadows danced on the walls.
    “No,” said Raymond.
    Grace felt her throat tighten as the mist
began to fill the diner. It was cold and dry. When it brushed
against her skin it felt like a bed sheet was covering her. She
swiped at it, but it thickened and wrapped around her limbs. She
glanced back at Juan, but didn’t see the cook through the
divide.
    “I won’t do it,” said Raymond as if
conversing with the thin man in the mist, though Grace didn’t hear
any response.
    The thin man came closer, and his shoulders
rose as his arms bent. She couldn’t see anything more than his
silhouette, but knew he was threatening the boy. Raymond turned,
tears in his eyes, and stared at his father.
    “The