The Long Fog

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The fog has not lifted for days now. It is dull, cold damp world that looms suddenly out of the thick greyness, taking us all by surprise. Sound is deadened, muted. We feel cocooned in some thick wadding that wraps around our world trapping us all inside.

At first, we all assumed it was more of that freak weather some people like to get excited about. But the weather is in constant flux, and there are such rare extremes far more often than we remember.

This fog, though, is no ordinary fog.

It may not just be the weather either.

We were on duty when the first report arrived. A scream heard somewhere out by the High Street. ‘Made the old biddy’s blood run cold, apparently, Sue said as I started up the patrol car. She stared at me.

‘It is my turn,’ I said. ‘You drove last night.’ I know she doesn’t like my driving. Sometimes I exaggerate it, just to wind her up.

‘Well, I can’t say you don’t need the practice.’ She grinned at her reflection in the windscreen.

In this fog, though, I couldn’t drive fast, and I didn’t want to, not even to annoy Sue.

Once we got there, the street was deserted. This town doesn’t have a nightlife much past about two in the morning, and it was now half-past three. The fog was thick, choking. Sue coughed as she cursed her torch for not piercing the fog.

‘We won’t find anything in this,’ she said. ‘Even if there is anything. It was probably a cat… or a fo….’

‘What?’ I could just make her out as a shape in the gloom, standing over something.

‘I… I’ve found it.’ Her voice was quiet.

I added the light of my torch to hers to illuminate the thing on the ground. We’d found a body all right. But, as my torch lit it up what remained of it, we both wished we hadn’t.

 

Published by David Hadley

A Bloke. Occasionally points at ducks.

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