Fog Bastards 1 Intention by Bill Robinson Read Free Book Online

gym and lift, refill the fridge, go to the pet store and stock up on balls, read my usual three newspapers. Nothing laughs at me. Jen calls to say she has to work late, and she'll be waiting for me after I get back Wednesday night (actually, she's a little more graphic about what's going to happen Wednesday night). I think about calling some flying buddies and going out, but instead I settle on beer and brats at the beach. I down two beers and one brat, then grab a third beer, and spend the next three hours sitting in the sand, watching the sun turn the evening sky a gorgeous red on its way down, and the waves roll across the beach and my brain.
     
     
My mind at peace, I head upstairs, tell Halloween to keep me safe, and crawl into bed.
     
     
Tonight there's a catty sort of fog, cooler than usual, hardly a swirl in sight. I can see the path pretty clearly, no boulders. The evil grass is swaying in the breeze, something I don't remember it ever doing before. I hear the boots, I know who's coming. I'd really like to see his face, but I doubt it's ever going to happen.
     
     
"It's time we got to work. The first step is...."
     
     
A wet ball in my face. Halloween is standing there, mewing. I throw the ball across the room, and she bounds happily after it. The clock says it's only 1 a.m., Fog Dude was early, but the cat never rests. I roll back over and fall asleep.
     
     
The fog has gotten warmer, and there is a noticeable wind which is moving the grass with great vigor, but not affecting the fog at all. It's a good thing I'm past worrying about the laws of physics. I don't hear boots because he's standing exactly where I left him. He takes a step forward and the staff starts to point in my direction.
     
     
"You need to...."
     
     
Get another ball in my face. It's four a.m. now, and I throw the ball. Halloween expects more payment this time, and she quickly grabs it in her mouth and brings it back for a second toss. I never accommodate such requests in the middle of the night, but she has been a life saver, and she deserves everything I can give her. I try to make this one extra bouncy.
     
     
Back I slip into the nether world of sleep. The fog has gone technicolor. There are blue wisps, red wisps, green wisps and yellow wisps in the swirls. I find them beautiful, but wonder if they mean the fog is mad. Mad fog. Yes, I have reached the point where I accept the concept of mad fog. The fog dude is instantly there, no walking, no transporter beam either. His cloak is blacker, if that is possible, blacker than before. He might be mad too.
     
     
He starts to say something, then quickly looks up, ducks slightly, and grimaces. "Shit" is all he says before my cheek goes wet again, and I lift my head off the pillow.
     
     
It's six a.m., and I am feeling both totally refreshed and pleased. I go for my run, looking again for that inner hand. I don't find it, but the internal laughter has changed, it's laughing with me now, not at me. I think it likes the mad fog.
     
     
Off to LAX, we push back from the gate on time. Another captain I've worked with many times, plus the same flight attendant who visited my room last week and four fresh ones. Checking the crew roster saved me from having to say hello without knowing her name. She didn't say a word to me on or after last week's adventure, and didn't say anything today, or even give me a little smile. Kinda weird. Maybe it's because she knows about Jen, and is letting me know she won't be dropping by tonight.
     
     
"Mountain 4-6-1, wind 2-2-0 at 1-5, cleared for takeoff."
     
     
I push the button, help the throttles, wait for rotation speed, grab my yoke, and point the nose skyward. The tower sends us to departure control. I'm have a feeling we need to turn hard today, and that's exactly what happens.
     
     
"Mountain 4-6-1, turn left to 1-8-0, maintain 3-thousand."
     
     
It's unusual, but not wildly so, we go from almost due west to truly due south, and I'm sure it