Surviving the Fog

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Copyright 2012

Surviving the Fog

By Stanley Morris

Prologue

They drift through space in their own orbit
unrelated to the orbits of the planets, the stars, or the galaxies.
Their colonies stretch for thousands of light years, and have no
shape; they may be elongated, or they may be circular. They may
even be cubed; or their shape may be a combination of shapes like a
dry but wadded paper towel.

They can be detected, but only by using the
most sophisticated of instruments, and then only by the most
advanced space faring societies. Otherwise, they are invisible and
undetectable.

They can be killed. Sometimes they drift into
the path of a star and they burn. Sometimes they drift in the void
for too many eons and they dissolve. Sometimes they drift into the
path of a spear of gamma rays from an exploding star and they are
sterilized. If they are detected by a space faring society that
understands what they are and has the capability to do so, they are
usually sterilized.

They cannot procreate on their own. They must
have a host. A star with an unfortunate oxygen and water bearing
planet must spin its way into their web. Even when they are
fortunate to infect such a planet, it takes years for them to
coalesce in the atmosphere. While they coalesce, they must disguise
themselves as a pollutant. But once they have coalesced they can
become semi solid in a very short time; as short a time as twenty
four hours.

Chapter One "Something's Wrong"

"Something's wrong," Mike said.

"No, shit, dude," John answered.

The two teenagers were sitting on a ledge
just inside a large depression carved into the side of a granite
rock that was part of the southern Sierra Nevada mountain range. It
would have been called a cave, but it was open to the air except
for a large alcove room tucked back on the east side. The ledge
extended for several feet out from under the rock. The late May sun
was trying to cast its rays inside the depression, but the boys
were far enough back so that the heat could only reached their
feet.

“Do you think they're coming back?” Mike
asked.

“Why wouldn’t they?” his friend answered.

Before them was a long gentle, green grassy
slope that slanted down to a small river which entered the valley
from the east. The swift cold river flowed west through the valley
until it vanished into the tall green fir trees where it continued
many miles until it fell down into the Southern California central
valley. It was a large stream really, but the water was rushing too
quickly to wade through, and it was much too wide to jump.

“Maybe their jeep crashed,” Mike hazarded a
guess.

“Maybe Jackie is right?” John answered.
“Maybe, they can’t get back.”

On this side of the river, stood the five
cabins of the boys’ camping area plus the corrugated metal roof
dining hall, and the Administrator’s A-frame cabin. A narrow wooden
bridge spanned the river. On the other side of the river were the
five cabins of the girls’ camp, the parking lot with the large
yellow bus, and the beginning of the gravel road which led
southeast over a small hill and then southward through the
mountains until it reached a paved road leading southwest towards
Bakersfield.

“Maybe their jeep fell into a canyon. Maybe
they’re all dead,” Mike suggested.

John frowned. “I wish you would quit saying
stuff like that, dude,” he groused. “When they come back, we’re
going to have to listen to those lectures. And they’re going to
force us to have fun. Can’t you just kick back and enjoy the day?
Hell, check out the view from here, Mike. Look, Desi is coming from
the showers. Wow!”

Sometimes, the boys felt like they were in a
long oblong bowl running east to west with the camp on the east
side. On the west side was a long meadow through which the river
rushed. Most of the meadow was on the girls’ side of the river.
Violets, marigolds and chickweed dotted the meadow. All around the
bowl, the mountains of the Sierra Nevada stood watch. The bare
peaks of the chiseled mountains were covered with pristine white
snow. Lower down, the slopes were forested by groves of southern
foxtail pine. Closer to the camp grew stands of bristle cones and
white bark.

"When do you think they're coming back?" Mike
asked.

"I don’t know," John muttered, as the well
proportioned girl he was watching disappeared into her cabin.

The trouble had started a week ago. The first
indication that something was wrong came when the ancient post
office jeep had not made its daily delivery of mail that the boys
and girls usually received from their anxious parents. That same
morning the camp radio and their cell phones seemed to be having a
problem. For some reason, they would not connect with the world
outside of the valley.

After a few more days of the same, the Camp
Administrator had decided to travel the thirty miles to the nearest
post office, pick up a backup radio, and collect the late mail.
Three of the four counselors had elected to go with her, and take a
well deserved break from their rambunctious charges. They had
expected the trip there and back to take a little more than two
hours due to the narrow winding road. They had left the last
counselor, twenty year old Jackie, in charge of the forty eight
boys and girls. That had been six days ago. There had been no sign
of the adults since then, and again today the mail jeep had not
arrived.

The first night after the Administrator and
the other counselors had not returned, Jackie had insisted that
they were late, and that everyone should go to bed as usual. The
next evening, Jackie had suggested that the road was probably
blocked by a landslide, and that the adults would be back as soon
as the road was cleared. Since then, they had waited.

"Something's wrong," Mike said again.

"Yeah, but what?"

Mike was thirteen and John was almost
sixteen. Mike was fair skinned, sandy haired and a little short for
his age. John was a brown Latino with black hair, and he was a foot
taller. The two typical California boys had become fast friends the
first day of camp in spite of their age difference.

"Eric knows how to work the radio phone. We
should ask him to try to call someone," Mike suggested.

"Yeah, but the radio phone is in the Admin's
cabin," argued John. "And her cabin is locked."

Mike looked at John. "It's been a week," he
replied. "Something's wrong, John. And Jackie probably won't care
if we go into the Admin’s cabin."

John looked depressed at that statement. For
the first three days, Jackie had frantically tried to keep their
minds off the missing adults. Then she had gotten real quiet, and
she had stopped trying so hard to pretend that nothing was amiss.
Today, she had refused to get out of her bed for a long time, and
then after she arose, she had refused to leave the counselor's
cabin.

"Jackie won't care," Mike repeated. "Let's go
talk to Eric."

They found Eric in the dining hall. The
cinder block dining hall was one quarter kitchen, and three
quarters dining area. The kitchen appliances consisted of a large
propane refrigerator, an oven, a stove, and two large freezers. The
dining area contained several long white plastic tables and many
white plastic chairs.

Eric was sitting on one of the plastic chairs
engrossed in a paperback book with his feet up on a cardboard box.
He was rocking back and forth on the hind legs of his chair, which
was threatening to topple over. Eric was a small African-American
boy with short curly hair about Mike's age. Many of the other
campers considered Eric to be a nerd.

Cardboard boxes were stacked along the
windowless north wall of the dining area. The boxes contained
packets of condoms, diaphragms and birth control pills. These items
were there due to the purpose of the camp.

The camp was a creation of a religious
organization called Abstinence and Protection. AAP, as it was
known, had created the camp as a place to promote the value of
abstaining from sex, but also to familiarize middle school and high
school boys and girls with birth control methods. The organization
had planned to hold several three week camps this year. The current
group of boys and girls were the first campers. They were supposed
to take some of the condoms and a few of the diaphragms with them
when they left. The idea was that they would share what they had
learned with their friends.

The Camp Administrator was a doctor. Those
girls who were at least sixteen years old were supposed to have
been offered physical examinations and birth control pills with the
consent of their parents. But the real emphasis of the camp was on
abstinence, not just for moral reasons, but because the creators of
AAP believed that the emotional repercussions of sexual intercourse
were too difficult for young teenagers to contend with in the
present societal environment.

As Mike and John came into the dining hall,
Eric put the old dog eared book aside and tried his cell phone
again, only to receive a no-service message from his phone.

“What are you reading, nerdo?” John
asked.

“’Tunnel in the Sky’,” was Eric’s choppy
answer. He was not particularly fond of John.

“Scifi?” John asked.

“Yeah. Some real old stuff. Like from Verne
and Wells’ time.”

"You can work the radio phone, huh Eric?"
Mike asked.

"Yeah, if it wasn't locked in the Admin's,"
answered Eric, who added under his breath, 'Doofus.'

Mike looked at John who looked back at Mike.
Then John sucked in a breath and looked at Eric.

"Let's go," he said.

Eric looked at him blankly. "Where to?" he
asked, puzzled by the command.

"Come on," growled John, giving Eric that
special ‘bigger boy’ look.

Like all smaller boys, Eric knew that look.
He shrugged, stood, and sullenly followed Mike and John. They led
the way to the Administrator’s A-frame cabin. For a minute, Mike
and John studied the sturdy lock on the structure.

"Think you could bust it open with your
shoulder?" Mike asked.

"I think I could bust my shoulder," John
answered, frowning at Mike. Eric rolled his eyes and waited
patiently.

"We could break a window," Mike
suggested.

"Hey!" Eric exclaimed. The other boys looked
at him.

"Got a better idea?" John asked.

Eric glanced from John to Mike. He ducked his
head and scuffed a toe.

"There's a key under the mat," he
muttered.

John gave Eric a menacing look, and then he
lifted the mat and retrieved the key. He opened the door, and Mike
and John went inside. After a moment Eric followed, after looking
around anxiously to see if anyone was watching them.

The A-frame cabin consisted of the living
area below a large loft. There was a steep staircase at the back of
the cabin leading to the loft. The cabin had a double bed, and it
had a sink which was fed by a small water line that was connected
to the main water line serving the dining hall.

The main water line, made of PVC pipe, ran
down from the river. It had a large washable inline filter just
before the junction of the two lines. Gravity provided the pressure
for the kitchen sinks, bathrooms, and the showers in the dining
hall building. A solar pump provided additional pressure to the
A-frame's sink.

There was no bathroom in the cabin. The
Administrator used a portable toilet just like the campers, except
that she used one which was reserved just for her and the female
counselors.

The other furniture in the cabin consisted of
a small sofa, two chairs, and a large desk. A large red tool chest
sat against the wall at the back of the cabin. On the desk was the
radio phone. It had circuitry for several frequencies.

John handed the radio phone to Eric. Eric
tried all the frequencies. Although there were some suspicious
noises, they could not make out anything that sounded like a real
voice. On each frequency, Eric asked if someone could hear him. He
tried repeatedly. After a half hour, he gave up.

"Maybe it's broken," John said. Eric looked
at him.

"I don't think so," he replied.

"So why can't we hear anybody?" Mike
asked.

Eric took a deep breath, and then he looked
at Mike. His eyes had worry in them. "Maybe...maybe there isn't
anyone to hear?" He asked the question with a look which suggested
that he would be happy to hear them make fun of that idea.