Today’s #1lineWed theme is **FOG or MIST**. I may have posted this snippet from NIGHT FIRE before for a different theme but I had such fun writing this scene that I’m going to share it again because…FOG! So, this is in the 1st chapter. Leigh, an arson investigator, is in route to a fire scene, pre-dawn, and foggy. An animal darts across the road in front of her and she ends up in the bar ditch. This is what happens short after, in Leigh’s POV:
I reached into the front seat to snag my handheld radio. I should have been on the fire scene twenty minutes ago. The guys from Station 58 had been standing around in the rainy fog waiting for me. Before I could radio Dispatch, the roar of a big motorcycle echoed in the fog. Moving further from the roadbed, I watched the ghostly bike appear, roar past, and then disappear.
Except it didn’t. The motorcycle reappeared through the misty dark, driving the wrong way back toward me on the shoulder. As an arson investigator, I’m cleared to carry a sidearm but guns are not my thing. I always counted on my colleagues and the cops for backup if there was a situation where a weapon might be needed.
I was totally regretting that decision now.
The guy tossed his leg over his Harley and stalked toward me. He was six feet four inches and 240 pounds of do whatever the hell he wanted. His dark, shaggy hair had been combed by the wind. His eyes, color to be determined, were hooded. Fog drifted between us, almost as thick as smoke and then he was there, suddenly, feet braced, massive arms crossed over his chest, black leather jacket stretched to capacity.
Great. The guy was a master of the understatement, not to mention that if his name was Trouble, I wouldn’t mind having some. Wait. What was I thinking? I flicked one hand toward the car. “You could say that.”
His gaze raked over me—down, up, down, then it zeroed in on my chest for an uncomfortable moment before coming to rest on my face. I’d pulled on a pair of very serviceable coveralls, black combat-style boots, and a department baseball cap.
“You a cop?”
“No. Fire department.”
“No station out this way.” He stepped closer.
I backed up. “I think I hit a dog.” I wanted to give myself a head slap. Talk about a non sequitur.
So, what about y’all? Any fog or mist in your words today?