He looked up from the journal he was reading as she shuffled into the room with her cane.
“Hey, mom. I’m here in my chair.”
“Oh! I didn’t hear you come in. What are you doing home?” She went and sat in her chair with the ease of long practice. So effortlessly, a stranger might think she was sighted.
“It’s Thursday.”
“That’s right,” she said. “Your research and reading day. I lose track of the days. What are you working on? Some fascinating new idea in nephrology?”
He sighed. “Mom. That’s nephology. I study cloud formation and atmosphere, not the liver.”
She cackled. “I know. And no one calls it nephology these days.”
“True. So how long will you keep misnaming my field with a term that is no longer used?”
“Until I die. Just to keep you humble. Scientist always think their particular field is the most important of all.”
He laughed. “Well, you’re not wrong. What have you been doing?”
“Oh, just wandering to and fro upon the earth.”
“You’re so strange, mom. What does that even mean?”
She cackled. “Exactly what it says.”
“Sometimes I don’t understand you. She laughed as he shook his head.
She picked up one of her braille books and opened to a bookmark. “What are you working on, dear?”
“Nothing in particular at the moment. Just keeping up. A new article from a scientist at the Cern CLOUD facility, describing some of her work in the effects of the solar cycle and cosmic rays on cloud formation.”
“Not research for your dissertation?”
“Not…directly. But I have to keep up in the field.”
“More important to finish your doctorate.”
He let out a blast of air. “Good God, Mom, are you actually telling me to do my homework? I’m twenty-eight years old.”
She smiled again. “But you still need your mom.”
“True.” He smiled despite himself. “I do.”
Satisfied, she began sliding her finger over the book.
They sat in silence for some time, until he finished the article and stood up. “Almost noon already. Going to go check the weather.”
He lay the journal on the table beside the chair and went through the dining room. As he slid open the glass doors to the balcony, he gasped.
“What is it?” his mom called. Her hearing was much better than most people, of course.
“Fog! Like I’ve never seen it!”
He ran back in to grab his tablet so he could read the data from his weather station mounted on the roof. As he sat down, he glanced at his mother. “What are you smiling about?” he asked.
She shrugged. “Nothing.” Blindess is such a gift.
[ppp_patron_only level=”1″]
The car drove up the curving concrete ramp, tires squishing with a slight squeal at the angle. When it reached the roof of the parking garage, it headed for the far end. There was only one other the car in the entire lot, down at that end, so the driver sped more than safety would warrant.
Across the way, high up in a hotel room, a man watched. He could barely see the car through the fog.
A woman sat in the second car, tapping on her phone.
Two birds sailed from high above, like tiny pterodactyls in the dim light, circled an apartment building, then swooping down to glide low across shorter buildings. They disappeared into the fog as they glided towards the bay.
A man got out of the car, now parked, and pulled his jacket close around him. As if on cue, the woman put her phone away and stepped out of her car. They both walked towards a stairway at the far corner.
“Hi, Penelope.”
“Hello, Juan. I was just enjoying the fog.”
He motioned her ahead of him at the stairs. “Yes, thicker than normal at this time of year.”
“True. Although it’s also been colder this time of year.”
“By the way, did you see the new job numbers?”
“Did. A disaster. This administration has no idea what they are doing.”
“Oh, I don’t know. They are still trying to stop the decline from the last administration’s policies.”
“It’s been a year, and it’s gotten worse. We’ll see.”
*
The captain of the fishing boat muttered as he watched the screens.
“What is it, Skipper?”
He frowned. “Haven’t seen fog this thick for a long time in this harbor. Might should’ve layed off a bit.”
The First Mate peered out the window. “Yeah. I still can’t see the docks. How close are we?”
“Less than a quarter of a mile.”
“I can’t even see any of the big buildings.”
The captain looked up and peered into the white expanse. “I think I can see the top of the something building right there.”
“Don’t think so…” The First Mate stared where the Captain was pointing. “That just looks like a darker bank to me. See how it curves on the right?”
“Maybe.” He looked back down at the instruments. “I can tell by the depth and the radar where we are, but if this was an unfamiliar port, I wouldn’t risk it coming in. Hey, did you get someone to take a look at the davit?”
His shipmate frowned. “You told me you had already called someone to meet us there.”
“No, I didn’t. I told you to make sure you called someone to meet us there.”
An award silence ensued. “Sorry, skipper, I guess I misunderstood.” His tone said otherwise, but his words respected the chain-of-command. “I’ll go call now.” He fished his phone out of his pocket and headed aft.
*
The woman stood at the waterfront walkway, staring out into the bay. Not that she could see much of anything. To the left, the sea faded into white-gray nothingness about 100 feet away. As if someone had airbrushed the scene.
It felt as if the world was packed in cotton. “Fitting,” she said aloud. The word from her mouth was enveloped and disappeared. She smiled grimly. Like dad. One week, he was here: alive, working around the house, telling his funny stories, and then—
She wanted to avoid reliving that event, but it came flowing back. Finding him collapsed in the garage. The paramedics. He squeezed her hand before they lifted the gurney. Her long, fearful drive to the hospital.
She had told him he needed help. Repeatedly, until he yelled, “Let me be!” He had never spoken to her like that. Not since…not since she asked him about he and mom, and all the terrible things she had said about him. Back then, he came back later and apologized for his harsh words. And he told her that someday, he would tell her the truth about what her mom had done. But until now, he had not, and she was as confused as ever.
Now she would never know why her mom divorced him. At least she got to talk to him before he slipped into a coma, like a boat creeping out through the fog from the bay. Like that boat, he eventually disappeared. Merciful, perhaps, considering the damage to his heart.
Her tears mixed with the droplets in the fog, becoming one with the ecosystem.
*
“Okay, bye. See you Saturday.” He stepped out the back door and halted. “Wow!”
“What is it?” his boss said from back inside the restaurant.
“Foggy. Never seen it this thick! Crazy.
Suzanne appeared at his side. “Yeah. Can’t even see our cars.”
It was like the world ended three feet in front of them. He looked up. Just a whitish-gray expanse. “It’s so quiet.”
“You going to be okay driving home?”
“What other choice to I have?” He shrugged. “If it’s too much, I’ll just walk. It’s only about a mile and half.”
“Well, you could stay here.”
“At the restaurant? No, thanks.” He rolled his eyes.
He looked at her as she stared out into the fog, a funny expression on her face. “Guess not.”
“What?”
“Nothing. I need to get back in a finish the bank.” She turned and left. “Don’t forget to shut the door.” She went back in, shaking her head. He was either an idiot, or she was not as interesting as she wished.
He stood, watching her walk back down the service hall. Funny how the fog was only out here, but not inside. He could see her clearly, sixty feet away, until she turned into the office at the far end. Turning back, it was like entering a white cotton candy world.
*
The data from his sensors on the roof were confusing. Unusual to have arcus formations this far from the coast, at least without major storm activity. In fact, the formations almost look like roll clouds. That was something he’d never seen here. He tapped over to the chat forum, and let out a “harumph” as he read.
“Is the weather showing some unusual patterns?”
Still reading, he said, “Yes. Quite.”
After a few seconds, he looked up from the tablet and over at her. “How did you know that?”
She smiled. “I can just tell.”
He frowned, still looking at her. “How?”
The smile dropped. “Well, by the sounds you make, I guess.”
He shook his head. “That makes no sense. Anyway, people are reporting St. Elmo’s fire in some of the higher elevations. In the fog!”
“And that’s unusual?” She asked, still smiling like the Cheshire Cat.
“Yes, of course it is. They are probably wrong—dense fog plays with people’s eyesight because they are not used to being blind.”
“No, they aren’t, are they?” She smiled again. But he was no longer paying attention to her.
*
The radio crackled. Jeremy stopped talking and both he and Chas waited.
“Car 37, do you copy?”
Jeremy tapped the button. “Car 37 here, we copy. Over.”
“Affirmative, 37, we have a multiple car incident on Highway 40 at mile marker 115. Proceed immediately. Over.”
“Copy that, dispatch. On our way.” He clicked off the radio.
Chas reached up and flipped on the siren, check the mirrors, and began to perform a u-turn. “Watch for me.”
Visibility did not extend more than ten feet in any direction. Chas made the turn and proceeded at less than ten miles per hour. Both officers strained to the front and each side of the car, watching for any landmarks or lights—and especially people.
Jeremy tapped on the screen, frowning. “There is no mile marker 115 on highway 40.”
“Call it in.” Jeremy already had the mic. “Dispatch, confirm mile marker on highway 40.”
“That’s 115, Car 37.”
“No mile marker 115 on the map. Say again.”
Silence for a few seconds, then the radio crackled to life again, but calling another unit to a different location. Another traffic accident.
Then another. And another. And a third.
“Car 37? One hundred fifteen is what we have. I see it on my map. Head to highway and I will confirm momentarily.”
Jeremy shook his head. “Who is that?”
“Sounds like Jenny. She knows her stuff.”
“Well, mile markers only go to 67 in the county.”
“She’ll sort it out.”
“Okay. Gonna be a bad night. Never seen it like this.”
“Yeah. Eyes sharp. Let’s not be one of the accidents.”
*
“God, I can’t see anything.”
“Neither can I. If you get more than ten feet in front of me, you disappear. It’s kind of freaking me out.” She took a swig from her water bottle, panting a little at the exertion from their uphill climb.
Kimmie looked at her. “It’s just fog.” She was not even slightly winded. Kathy worked out more, cardio and strength, yet these weekly hikes always seemed effortless to her. It sometimes made Kimmie mad.
“Because it is so quiet and still, and feels like I’ve gone white blind.” She pulled out an energy bar. “Want half?”
Kimmie looked around. “No, I’m fine.” She peered up the trail in the direction they were heading. “I think we’re close to that ledge. Stay on the right, though it’s almost impossible to see landmarks. But my tracker says we’ve come almost 2 miles.”
“Should we go back? I mean, that ledge—“
“Nah, it’s fine. Trail is wide, just stay to the right.”
She was irritating when she did this. If she wasn’t concerned about anything, then no one else should be either. She had so little compassion or insight into others.
But she’d always been that way. They’d been friends since college, and Kimmy had always been a good, steady friend. But not a friend you’d turn to for sympathy or feelings. “Ok. Let’s go.”
Kimmie turned and trudged up ahead, her sturdy legs hit steady rhythm, the crunch of her boots on the trail the only sound in this dense fog. Kathy slipped her bottle back into her rucksack while trying to keep up. Despite Kimmie’s words, it was scary to feel alone in the mountains and not able to see.
The trail was fairly level here, but soon turned up and to the left. Kathy remembered this; Kimmie was right, the ledge was coming up. It was a drop-off to the left, with a cliff edge to the right. The trail was pretty wide there, and not a problem when visibility was good. But it made her anxious knowing that a drop-off to the left was coming up.
Kathy’s breathing become labored. She was heavier than Kimmie—not fat or overweight, just “big-boned” as they say. That’s probably why she had less stamina. More weight to lug up the hill.
She preferred not to ask for another rest stop so soon. She looked up and could no longer see Kimmy’s back. Keep going. One foot in front. Stay to the right edge of the trail. Wait for the cliff to appear.
She jerked to a stop as she heard a yelp.
“Kimmie? Was that you?”
Nothing.
“Kimmie? Are you there?”
“Kimmie!”
*
The data was becoming even more unusual. He had left his tablet behind to go sit at his computer and gain access to the lab up at the university. The density levels from all the sensors, even the ones out in the suburbs, was historic. At least as far as he knew. This was going to take some work. He needed to get into the research databases, but he didn’t want to stop watching the incoming sensor data and the chat discussions.
It made no sense because the prevailing wisdom among academic nephologists—for many years now—was that the increases in global temperatures was causing the reduction in cloud covers that had been going on for decades. And—
“Wait!” he said to himself, and switched over to the solar data. Low solar activity had been posited to cause an increase in the cloud cover of the planet, and cool it down. Doesn’t really explain the sudden onset of this history-making fog, but if there had been no activity for some time—
Nope. In fact, the last two weeks showed increased solar activity. Well, the effect of solar activity was just a theory.
He picked up his phone and tapped a name.
“Hey, James. You watching all this?”
“Of course. I really don’t know what to make of it.”
“I was just looking at solar activity, to see if—“
“—no, it’s up, and besides, that’s not statistically proven—“
“I know, I know. Was just calling to see if you had any other theories as to what’s going on? Or maybe I just wanted to talk to a colleague because this isn’t just a scientific curiosity.”
“You’re not wrong. I’ve been watching the news. I have no idea, though some are saying it is not natural.”
“Human created? How?”
“Don’t know. Right now, it’s just a few people suggesting it, and a lot of amateurs on the feeds.”
“That seems crazy. And why?”
“Environmental terrorism.”
“Environmental terrorism? Come on. To what end? A bunch of car crashes and having to stay inside?”
“Hey, you asked. I’m just telling you what I hear.”
“Well, that’s just idiotic and could cause unnecessary panic. What are they thinking? I’m going to see watching the data. The density levels are still growing and should really already have stopped at this dew point with the temperature settling in after sundown.”
“I’ll let you know if I heard anything worthwhile.”
“Thanks. Same here.”
He disconnected the phone and sighed. “Environmental terrorism” he said to himself.
In the other room, his mother laughed quietly. “Indeed. Ridiculous,” she whispered.
*
“Siri, turn on the television to local news.” She smiled as the technology assistant responded and the news came to life. Yes, she was old and blind, and did not understand the technology, but she appreciated her son setting it up for her.
“—unprecedented in history, the experts are telling us. We’re going to go back to our correspondent, Anna, as soon as we can re-establish the connection. We don’t think the fog had anything to do with it, but our techs are still working. Let’s…let’s go to Susan, who is in downtown near the government center. Susan?”
“Thank you, Robert. We are getting reports of traffic accidents all over the city. Authorities have asked us to tell people not to go out, no matter the errand. First responders need the roads clear. We also have reports of power outages, fires, and a building collapse. We’re still gathering information, but please stay where you are. The fog is not expected to lift until late tomorrow morning.”
“Thanks, Susan, for that important message. We’ve all probably driven in fog, we’ve never seen anything like this. Please be safe out there…we’ve…we’ve just never seen anything like this…it looks like we have Anna back, so let’s go to her by the Fifth Street pier—“
“Siri, turn off the television.” The silence returned.
She chuckled and closed her eyes, seeing everything she needed to see.
= [/ppp_patron_only]
Immerse yourself in this riveting collection of short stories by Markus McDowell that delves into the complexities of the human experience. Each tale in this anthology explores the darker corners of the psyche, illuminating the shadows that lie within us all.
Meet a diverse cast of characters, each grappling with their own fears, desires, and moral dilemmas. McDowell’s masterful character development brings these individuals to life, making their journeys both relatable and profoundly moving.
The stories traverse a wide range of themes, from existential dread and personal redemption to the enigmatic nature of identity and the eternal struggle between light and darkness. McDowell’s keen insight into the human condition shines through, offering readers a contemplative and thought-provoking experience.
Whether you are a fan of literary fiction, psychological drama, or simply enjoy stories that challenge and inspire, So Deep in Shadow promises to be an unforgettable read. McDowell’s skillful blend of poignant storytelling and rich thematic exploration ensures that each story will linger in your mind long after you’ve turned the final page.
Available from retailers in paperback, eBook, and audiobook.
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