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Chase ignored the sarcasm, too concerned by the sly glances she was attracting. She felt as though everyone was talking about her.

She noticed Drake ushering the man with the knife out of the room, and she relaxed slightly. Knives made her nervous. As she stared at the gashes he had made on the wall, she noticed there was an order to them, the semblance of a word:
hell
.

She shivered.

Outside the window, the fog obscured the view, and for a moment, Chase thought she saw a ghostly face at the glass, peering in, the features pained and forlorn, the eyes dark and foreboding. Thinking it was a reflection, she looked around the room for the source, but couldn’t find it. When she turned back to the window, the image had gone. It had been so fleeting she didn’t know whether it had been real or imagined; the pallor had been that of the fog, and could have been just that, a will-o’-the-wisp in the ethereal ocean that eddied and flowed at the shores of
Paradise
.

CHAPTER 4

Ratty and
Izzy
had been wandering around for what seemed like hours. Neither of them had a clue where they were, and the fog wouldn’t dissipate enough to allow them to pick out any landmarks.

Ratty shivered. His feet were soaking wet, and he felt generally uncomfortable and miserable. If he wasn’t lost in it, he wouldn’t have believed fog could be so dense. At his side,
Izzy
was an indistinct blur, but he was glad he was not alone as he had the distinct feeling they were being followed. He couldn’t quite explain why he had the feeling, but it persisted, raising the hairs on his neck like a conjuror.

But he couldn’t think of anyone he would rather have with him than
Izzy
. She had only recently broken up with Nigel ‘the Neanderthal’ Jones, and whenever Ratty had seen them together, a pang of jealousy had pierced him. He didn’t like Nigel, didn’t like the way he grabbed
Izzy’s
bottom, didn’t like the way he shoved his tongue in her mouth, and he definitely didn’t like the way he bragged about copping a feel of her pert breasts in the cinema. Ratty was glad they had broken up, because if Nigel had bragged about getting any further than a quick grope, he was sure he would have punched his lights out.

Using their free hands to feel their way through the fog in case they walked into something or fell into a ditch, they shuffled along at a snails pace. Concentrating on just staying upright and not walking into things, they hadn’t said much to each other. At first they had shouted for help, but they had eventually stopped when their throats began to hurt.

“
Izzy
, can you feel that?” Ratty thought it strange speaking to someone he could hardly see.

“Feel what?”

“It feels like tarmac. A road.” It surprised Ratty how different tarmac felt underfoot after traipsing through sodden fields; like reaching a semblance of civilisation.

“Where, I can’t feel anything.”

“Step this way, toward me. There, can you feel it?”

“Yes, we must be on a farm track or the lane into the village.”

“Well, if we follow it, it must lead somewhere.”

“That’s true, Sherlock and at least we won’t get any wetter.”

“Well what are we waiting for?” Ratty said, sounding slightly more cheerful.

Izzy
grunted a reply that sounded more like a condemnation, but she followed anyway.

They shuffled along for about half an hour when Ratty heard what sounded like the faint murmur of voices. “Can you hear that?” he asked.

“Shush, let me listen.”

“We’re saved.”

“Shut up.”

“Well we are.” He wished she wouldn’t be so brusque with him.

“Look, just keep quiet for a minute. If we’re caught in here, you know we’ll be in trouble. They haven’t posted those signs warning people to stay away for nothing.”

“You’re being stupid, they could help us get out. Perhaps they’re even looking for us.”

“Do you want your parents to know where you’ve been?”

Ratty didn’t answer. His mother had repeatedly warned him about going anywhere near the fog. She’d said it was a bad omen – look what had happened to his father.

“Come on, over here, off the road,”
Izzy
said, dragging Ratty behind her.

They had hardly taken two steps when they fell into a rancid, water-filled ditch.

“Bloody hell ...”

Izzy
covered
Ratty’s
mouth with her hand before he could finish.

“
Shush
.”

Ratty pulled her hand away from his mouth, his face set in a petulant grimace. Why did he let her boss him around so much? He had to be more assertive, show her she couldn’t always tell him what to do.

“I thought I heard something,” a man’s brusque, disembodied voice said.

“Probably your imagination,” another man replied. Their voices were faint, muffled.

Ratty shuddered and peered into the fog.

He heard the voices again, drawing closer, louder.

“Remind me later to check on the generator. Damn things been wheezing like a whore,” the brusque voice said.

“Since when do you know what a whore sounds like? You’re too ugly to even pay for it.”

“Fuck you, Davis. I’m God’s gift, the ladies just don’t realise.”

“Even the
fuckin
’ tide wouldn’t take you out.” The men laughed.

The footsteps were getting louder, drawing closer. Ratty felt his mouth go dry, but he couldn’t swallow. Knowing that he was trespassing made him tremble; fear squeezed his heart with bony fingers and his penis shrank.

“There, look, movement,” the brusque speaker said.

“Got it.”

Ratty held his breath. Had they been seen?

He heard a metallic click; the sudden retort of a rifle made his heart stop and he flinched. A dark, indistinct shape flew out of the fog toward him, twisting and somersaulting like a grotesque Catherine wheel emitting dark sparks. Ratty almost squealed; he wanted to run, but
Izzy
held him back as the indistinct shape flopped beside them, landing with a wet splash in the ditch.

Ratty braced himself and looked down to find it was a fox, its tongue lolling from a bloodied maw and a small hole punched in the side of its skull where the bullet had entered. He felt slightly sick.

“It was only a fox,” one of the voices said. “Come on, let’s head back to base.”

Ratty peeked over the edge of the ditch. Through the mist, he could just make out two figures wearing white fatigues that blended into their surroundings like chameleons, ghosts in the fog. Luckily they were facing each other, their features masked by a device that resembled binoculars.

He quickly ducked back down before they spotted him.
 

When he was sure the men had moved out of earshot, he said, “Did you see them?” He turned to look at
Izzy
, but she was staring open-mouthed at the dead fox.

“
Izzy
, are you okay?”

“They shot it.”

Ratty hesitated; then put his arm around her shoulder. “It’s okay.”

“It’s not okay.” She shrugged his arm away. “What if they had seen us, they might have shot us, too.”

Ratty didn’t think they would, but he couldn’t be sure. “I think they might have been using some sort of thermal imaging device. As we’re lying in water, it might have cooled us down enough that we didn’t register.” He wasn’t really sure what was going on, but he wanted to make it sound as though he was to mask his own fear.

“And why would they do that? What were they looking for?” The fear was evident in her voice.

“I don’t have a clue.”

“Clueless as well as stupid.”

Trying to keep the disappointment and hurt out of his voice, Ratty said, “Come on, we’d better get out of here before we freeze to death.” He helped
Izzy
out of the ditch. “I just hope they don’t have scent detectors, because we stink.”

“That’s not funny, Ratty. There’s something strange going on here. I think we’re in real trouble.” She shrugged his helping hand away.

I know, Ratty thought, not just shaking from the cold as they clambered back onto the tarmac road and began walking.

***

Chase wandered from room to room, getting the feel of her new house. Now she was alone with Jane, she felt more at ease. The villagers hadn’t been openly hostile or ignorant, but she had felt uneasy in their presence, especially the man with the knife. She had spoken to a couple of people and they had welcomed her to the village, but their words seemed hollow, lacking real emotion. After a couple of drinks she had excused herself and returned to the house. Jane had pocketed a couple of bottles of wine and a few nibbles, which they consumed in the back garden, enjoying the last rays of the sun as it set behind the hill.

“So what do you think of the locals?” Chase asked as they moved back into the house, the glowing embers of the coal fire offering residual warmth from the pervasive cold that had descended with the night.

“Chilled, but not in a cool sense.”

“What do you mean?” Settling herself in the armchair, she tucked her feet underneath her, a glass of wine cupped in her hands.

“They just seem, I don’t know, remote, as though they’re not running on all cylinders. They sure
ain’t
party animals.”

Chase looked into the embers, watching sparks drift up the chimney like phoenixes. “Did you see that man with the knife?”

“Yeah, he was freaky, with a capital F.”

Chase nodded. “I don’t know why someone didn’t stop him.”

“Would you?”

Chase shook her head.

“Well, there you go then.” She took a sip of her drink before putting the glass down. “It’s getting late, I think I’ll text Gina rather than ringing her.”

“You just don’t want her to know you’re drunk, although having received some of your text messages, it’s hard to decipher them even when you’re sober.”

Unclipping her mobile phone from her belt, Jane said, “I’m not drunk. I’m pleasantly merry.” Looking at the phone, she frowned. “There’s still no damn signal available!”

Chase shrugged. “Perhaps it’s just atmospherics because of the fog.”

“Either that or we’ve come too far from civilisation.”
 

After a couple more glasses of wine, they decided to retire to bed. Chase took the largest bedroom at the front of the house. She walked across the room to close the curtains and noticed the moon cast a silvery glare on the sea of fog, giving it a strange luminescence. The effect was hypnotic; strange and unearthly like a vast exhaled breath from the sandman, circling the village in tides of slumber.

Pulling the curtains across, she broke the spell and turned back toward the room. For the first time, she noticed bright oblong areas on the walls where pictures had hung. Absently, she wondered who the previous owner of the house had been, and where they were now. How could anyone leave such a lovely house? The thoughts were dispelled as she heard Jane snoring softly across the hall and she smiled. Perhaps her luck was now on the up.