Cheryl Tardif - Children of the Fog

Jumping to his feet, he shoved a hand deep into his pants pocket and pulled out something round.

“Your sister sent you out in the middle of the night to give a complete stranger an onion ?” She gaped at him. “Do your parents know you’re here?”

“Father’s sleeping. We’re not supposed to go outside unless he’s with us.”

“Then he’ll be very worried if he finds you gone. Let’s get you home.” She moved toward him.

“But I don’t want to go.”

The fear in his eyes made her breath stop. It reminded her of how Sam reacted when Philip got angry with him.

The boy started sobbing. “Don’t make me go back. Pleathe! ”

Alarmed, she scooped him up in her arms and hugged him close. His warm body felt good, like he belonged.

Like Sam.

She mentally slapped herself.

This boy is alive and safe. And he’s not Sam.

As the boy’s sobs subsided, she sank down onto the sofa.

“It’s okay. We can stay here. Just for a bit. Okay?”

The boy sniffed. “’Kay.”

She stroked his shaved head. “My name is Sadie.”

“A-Adam.”

“Where do you live, Adam?”

The boy flicked a look at the sliding door.

“Ah, across the river,” she guessed.

He nodded, his wet eyes staring up at her. About to say something, he opened his mouth, like a hatchling waiting to be fed. Abruptly, he changed his mind and clamped it shut.

“How about some hot chocolate,” she said, sliding him onto the sofa.

“Got any marthmallowth?”

She grinned. “Jumbo ones.”

After she lit the lamp, she prepared the hot chocolate on the Coleman stove. From the corner of her eye, she studied the boy sitting in the shadows. Adam was small and thin—and deathly pale. No wonder she had thought he was a ghost.

“Is it ready yet,” he asked, bouncing on the sofa.

“Almost.”

Minutes later, they were sitting side-by-side, sipping hot chocolate and staring into the fire. Neither of them said a word.

Sadie knew she’d have to take him home eventually.

But not yet.

“This is so good,” he said, plopping a melting marshmallow in his mouth. “Ashley’s gonna be jealous. Hey, wanna hear a poem she taught me?”

“Sure.”

Adam grinned. “One fine day in the middle of the night, two dead boys got up to fight. Back-to-back, they faced each other, drew their swords and shot each other. A deaf policeman heard the noise, got up and shot the two dead boys. If you don’t believe this story’s true, ask my blind uncle. He saw it too.”

“Well, that was… interesting,” she said. “But maybe next time Ashley could teach you something nicer.”

Even in the faint light, she could see that he was a handsome boy. Somewhere out there was a lucky mother.

“Won’t your mom be worried about you?” she blurted.

A shadow crossed Adam’s eyes. “She’s dead.”

“I’m so sorry, honey.”

Unfazed, he held out his mug. “Can I have some more?”

When she returned with a full mug, Adam was asleep on the sofa. Curious, she watched him, taking in the chocolate mustache smear above his contented smile and the gentle rise and fall of his chest.

There was no denying it. She had a real live boy in her cabin.

“Great,” she mumbled. “Now what am I supposed to do?”

The grandfather clock showed four in the morning.

She looked at Adam. Maybe it would be okay to let him sleep, take him back in a few hours. Hopefully, she could get him back before his dad woke up. But she’d sure like to have a few words with his sister, whom she suspected was the girl she’d seen in the woods.

Sitting beside Adam, she recalled something that he had said earlier, something that hadn’t registered because he had distracted her with the onion.

’Father sent her to the dungeon.’

Surely, the dungeon wasn’t referring to the basement.

She couldn’t fault a father for not wanting his kids to talk to strangers or go out at night. But why were they seeking her out in the first place? Why were they giving her gifts? And who had tackled her in the woods—their dad?

Her eyes wandered to the sleeping boy.

What will happen when his dad discovers he snuck out?

She tugged the blanket over Adam’s shoulders. When he inched forward in sleep and placed his head in her lap, she held her breath, startled by the close contact. A yearning deep in her heart made her eyes water. She closed them, conscious of Adam’s small warm hand sliding into hers before she too fell asleep.

When she awoke a few hours later, he was gone—along with the gray blanket. She would have thought she had dreamt it all, if it weren’t for the blue flashlight on the coffee table and five items lined up on the kitchen counter. The chocolate bar, envelope, licorice, pen and… an onion.

“You and your sister are very weird, Adam.”

Without hesitation, she slid the wrapper from the bar, crumpled it and tossed it in the garbage can.

“Hot chocolate and a chocolate bar for breakfast. Lord, Sadie, you’re gonna get fat.”

She devoured the bar in seconds.

After she dressed, she headed outside.

“Time to have a little chat with my landlady.”

The interior of Irma’s cabin was decorated in a wild hodgepodge of country and cowboy. Antiquated horseshoes were nailed to the rough log walls, and photographs of rodeo performers framed the doorway, remnants of her husband’s career as a bull rider.

Irma tapped a photo. “This here’s old Diablo.”

Sadie peered at the mangy looking bull. The angry glint in the animal’s eyes was fearsome and raw. Why would anyone get into a ring with an animal like that—a killer?

“Clifford loved the thrill of beating ’en,” Irma murmured, as if reading her mind. “He’d dig in his heels and hold on for the ride. Until that last time. Diablo tossed him in the air like spit. ” She stared wistfully at the photo.

“I wanted to talk to you about something,” Sadie said.

“’Bout what?”

“The children across the river.”

Irma walked to the kitchen table, poured some tea and set a porcelain cup in front of Sadie.

“Have a seat,” she said. “I’m a bit worried about you.”

“Why?”

“I saw the liquor you’ve been buying. And I know the signs.”

“Signs?”

Irma’s mouth thinned. “Of an alcoholic. I know what it can do to you, to your mind. It destroyed my Clifford. That’s why Diablo tossed him. That beast could smell booze a mile away. And Clifford’s eyesight was so poor he couldn’t get away. Diablo trampled him to death.”

“Look, I’m sorry but I didn’t come here to talk about your husband. Or my occasional drinking. I came because of the boy and girl across the river.”

“What boy and girl? I told you there aren’t no kids here.”

“Of course there are,” Sadie argued.

Irma gave her a sad look and shook her head. “I knew the moment I first saw you, Sadie, that something awful haunted you.”

“I saw them.”

“Okay… then tell me their names.”

“Ashley and Adam.”

The cup in Irma’s hand trembled. “Is this a joke?”

“Of course not. I saw them, talked to them. I ran into Ashley in the woods the other night. And last night Adam came to visit me.”

The woman’s eyes watered. “That’s not true, dear.”

“Why is it so difficult for you to believe me?”

Irma hastily set her cup on the saucer and tea sloshed over the side. “Sadie, you couldn’t possibly have seen Adam and Ashley.”

Sadie let out a frustrated sigh. “Why not?”

“Because, dear… they’re both dead.”

Irma’s revelation sent ripples of disbelief through her body.