The Fog - a short story

My name is Alex, I am 14 years old.  My family and I have been taking vacations for as long as I can remember, about 10 years.  We spend most of our summers on the go.  We have traveled to many places and stayed at many campgrounds.  I love them all.  Something about traveling is just so exciting, like an unending adventure.  Last year, my dad informed me on the last day of school, that we were going to Maine in a couple weeks.  I was thrilled.  Maine is after all known not only for its cool shorelines and lobsters, but for mist, fog and big foot AKA, sasquach.   

I started immediately to plan for things I could do while in Maine.  "Dad" I yelled.  "What is it Alex" dad replied.   "Where in Maine are we going?" I asked.  "I have my eye on a campground up on the north end of Mount Dessert Island", dad replied.  "Whats the name?" I asked.  "I think its called Hadley's point..." dad replied.  That sounded like a cool place to set up the camper and start planning my excursions.

I found a website for the campground and spent a some time looking at things to do.  It seemed like a good choice.  There were the usual campground amenities, fire ring, picnic table, playground equipment, all thought those things started losing my interest a few years ago, bike trails, a pool and lots of tent sites.   Something else really caught my eye.  There was a trail that lead away from the campground down toward the coast or a cove.  

My parents allowed me to take my tent to a nearby park last summer in Michigan.  As long as I took Jack, our black lab with me.  It was fun, Jack and I sleeping out in our tent a little removed from mom and dad.  Maybe it was a right of passage or something, but my dad was very encouraging about me finding my independence or self or something like that.  Mom on the other hand was more hesitant.  "Honey, Alex is only 14, are you sure this is a good idea?" my mother went on and on for what seemed hrs about whether to allow me to go solo to this camp area.  I reminded her that I would not be solo that Jack would be with me.  "Mom, ill be fifteen on my next birthday - Ill be starting high school in the fall!"  I reminded her. 

Jack and I spend two nights on in the middle of a grassy field under the stars.  It was great.  Me, Jack, a box of donuts, some pizza, pepsi and some taffy.  We had our tent set up in 20 minutes complete with my trusted insulated sleeping bag, rated to 0 degrees.  Jack and I stayed up late, til after midnight, looking at the stars in the sky and listening to the sounds of nature around us.  We returned the next morning with great stories about how we had heard strange things out there in nature.  I asked Jack what he remembered.  "Jack, was it fun out there in our tent under the stars?"  "Woof" said Jack, along with his trademark tail slapping the floor.  Whack whack whack went Jacks tail in agreement to my question. 

The next couple weeks went by pretty quick and before I knew it, we were packing up the truck and camper for our great Maine vacation.  School was out and I was itching to hit the road.  I had packed up all my camping gear.  Jeans, shorts, t shirts, sweatshirts, water shoes, hiking boots an extra pair of old sneakers, swim trunks, bug spray, a flashlight, my Swiss army knife, a sleeping bag and trusted tent, a couple comic books that needed more of my attention and my compass.  I also printed out a couple maps of the area, including one of the campground.  I had marked the trail that lead down to the cove with a yellow highlighter.  This was gonna be my spot!

I had trouble sleeping the night before we left.  I was anxious or maybe excited.  I went downstairs about midnight to have a talk with Jack who was sprawled out on his bed sound asleep.  "Jack ole boy, do you know where we are going tomorrow?"  I asked.  His thumping tail answered my question.  "Good" I said.  "Lets plan to have some great adventure, shall we boy?"  Thump, thump, thump.  There, it was settled.  Jack and I were ready to go.

We hit the road early enough, about 8 am.  Mom was her typical organized self with statements like "Robert, did you pack the extra water bottles, filter and remember to check the first aid kit?" Dad was ready for moms inquiry.  "Honey, I took care of those things last weekend".  With that we were on the road.  Driving from central Michigan to Maine was about 650 miles.  That was too much for one day of driving, so we planned to stop at a rest area on the NY State Thruway.  Our travels were uneventful except for one thing that I heard some people talking about while stopped at the rest area.  "That storm coming off the Atlantic next week looked real nasty".   What storm I wondered.  Where was the storm coming from.  We were after all driving to Maine which is right along the east coast and could be in the path of the storm.  I mentioned this to my dad who dismissed it with a comment like "Alex, its the summer near the ocean, storms form all the time, I'm sure its nothing to worry about".  If dads not worried, I'm not worried. Mom said she would check the weather once we got to the campground.

We arrived at the campground about 7 pm after two long days of driving and one not so interesting stop on a NY State thruway rest area.   Dad and I set up the camper while mom went to the little store to get some things.  About 1 hr after arrival, our water, electric and sewer systems were all set, the camper was level-ish and mom had hooked the computer and TV to the campground wifi.  Jack and I were ready to explore.  I told mom we were going to explore the trail that lead down to the cove.  "Alex honey" mom said, "Be sure to take your compass and pay attention to where you are and what is around you." Mom was right, always be aware and know which direction you are traveling.  I assured mom I was all set and would be careful. 

Jack and I made our way to the northern end of the campground as the map showed and quickly found the path that looked like the one on the map.  I did a quick turnaround to gather my bearings and make a mental note of the surroundings.  We set off down the trail and it quickly become obvious that the trail was better marked on the map that in reality.  The trail was only about 2 feet wide and looked like it was not very traveled.  There were tall pine trees and birch trees I think, all around.  It was beautiful really, quiet and peaceful.  Jack had his nose down the trail and was wagging his tail in delight.  I usually let Jack off his lease when walking out in the woods or a trail like this, especially when there were not too many people around, which there was not. 

The trail wound around to the left then the right all the while sloping downhill toward the water.  There was not alot of sun this day and the sun that did get through was muted.  There was actually a slight chill to the air and it was so quiet.  Some birds off in the distance, but real quiet.  I rounded the final corner of the trail as it opened out onto an open area.  The cove was pretty, but there were no signs of people or cabins or anything, just a shore with a small sandy beach.  It was a little odd, a little chilly and so quiet.  Jack seemed to notice this too.  His behavior changed and he just stood still looking at me.  "Whats up boy?"  I asked him.  But my inquiry which usually resulted in his enthusiastic response was muted.  He just gave a little wine almost a whimper.  "What is it Jack?"  I asked.  Jack turned his head toward the water and for the first time I noticed the fog over the cove. 

 It wasn't the normal misty fog, but rather a think blanket looking fog.  It seemed to be slowly rolling in from the water.  It was the ocean after all, think fog is pretty normal.  As I watched the fog a strange sensation began to form in the pit of my stomach.  My legs and body began to feel heavy, I had trouble remembering where I was and why I was there.  As the fog rolled into shore, its wet heavy nature began to obscure my view.  I realized that I could only see a few feet in front of me.  "Jack" i called.  "Jack where are you boy?"  I heard jack bark, but it seemed he was far away.  Maybe its just the fog i thought.  The fog is muffling Jacks bark.  "Come here Jack" I yelled, a faint feeling of panic began setting in.  Where am I thought?  You're at the cove scouting out a campsite my brain shot back.  That's right, at the cove.  What cove? I thought?  Where am I?  My thoughts were confused and my sense of direction was lost.  "Jack!" I yelled again.  This time there was no response from my trusted companion.

I need to get back to the camper, maybe jack lost sight of me and ran back the way we came.  What way did I come?  Down a trail from the campground, yes, we were at a campground in Maine, I think on an island called Desert Island or something.  We had arrived earlier in the day and Jack and I went exploring down a trail that lead to this cove.  The fog was thick now and cold.  I could only see a couple feet in front of me.  I had traveled north from the campsite, I remember looking at the map.  I pulled the compass from my backpack and set in on the ground in front of me.  The compass adjusted, moving slighty to the right and showed me the direction I needed to travel.  "South, go south up the hill back to the campground"  I spoke out loud.  My voice was muffled, like I was speaking into a can.  "Jack, here boy, come here Jack!" I yelled again, but my voice did not travel.  The fog seemed to absorb the sound within only a couple feet from where I was walking up the trail.  Where is that dog I thought?  He could be lost too.  Back to the camper.  That is where I am going. 

As I walked, i could barley make out a trail.  Keep going south my brain reminded me.  How far did I walk? I was having trouble remembering where I was, how I got here, how long was I out?  What was happening?  Is this normal?  Am I normal?  Where am I?  Confusion continued to occupy my brain,  my thoughts.  What am I doing here?  Who am I?  You are the fog I thought.  Yes, I am the fog.  No, you are Alex my thoughts pushed back.  You are Alex and you are camping with your dog..what was the dogs name?  I stopped walking unsure of where I was and where I was going.  You are the fog.  I could feel the fog, it was seeping into my pours, into my mind, my body.  I sat down next to the trail.  I felt tired.