Мгла
The Coming of the Mist.
Ithadn’tbeenapanicbefore-notquite-butitwasgettingtobeone.Peoplestreamedoutofbothdoors.TherewasacrashofbreakingglassandCokefizzedsuddenlyacrossthefloor.
"WhattheChrististhis?"Nortonexclaimed.
Thatwaswhenitstartedgettingdark...butno,that’snotexactlyright.Mythoughtatthetimewasnotthatitwasgettingdarkbutthatthelightsinthemarkethadgoneout.Ilookedupatthefluorescentsinaquickreflexaction,andIwasn’talone.Andatfirst,untilIrememberedthepowerfailure,itseemedthatwasit,thatwaswhathadchangedthequalityofthelight,ThenIrememberedtheyhadbeenoutallthetimewehadbeeninthemarketandthingshadn’tseemeddarkbefore.ThenIknew,evenbeforethepeopleatthewindowstartedtoyellandpoint.
Themistwascoming.
ItcamefromtheKansasRoadentrancetotheparkinglot,andeventhiscloseitlookednodifferentthanithadwhenwefirstnoticeditonthefarsideofthelake.Itwaswhiteandbrightbutnon-reflecting.Itwasmovingfast,andithadblottedoutmostofthesun.Wherethesunhadbeentherewasnowasilvercoininthesky,likeafullmooninwinterseenthroughathinscudofcloud.
Itcamewithlazyspeed.Watchingitremindedmesomehowoflastevening’swaterspout.Therearebigforcesinnaturethatyouhardlyeversee-earthquakes,hurricanes,tornadoes-Ihaven’tseenthemallbutI’veseenenoughtoguessthattheyallmovewiththatlazy,hypnotizingspeed.
