The Fog

Very recently, a lethal fog descended over Kingsmouth. There had been no indications of bad weather or low visibility on any forecasts, and the citizens were caught completely by surprise.

The fog was preceded by the overdue return of a local fishing vessel that was believed lost at sea. The fishermen had an amazing story to tell. They had been caught in a storm and dragged far out to sea. When the storm blew over they found themselves in the midst of a deep, dark fog. Everywhere around them were shipwrecks, old and new alike, the hulls coated in glistening, thick wads of seaweed.

They spent days trapped in the fog. When asked what happened in the ship graveyard, the men seemed unwilling or unable to explain, but by luck or fate they had managed to navigate their way into clear weather, instantly setting a course to their home of Kingsmouth. Their triumph was short-lived, however, as only days after their return the dense fog bore down upon the quiet town.

In the wake of the fog came death. Only a few hours after its foreboding arrival, most of the people in Kingsmouth had vanished. Mesmerised, they followed it to the sea, like rats to the Pied Piper. An eerie silence filled the town as one person after another walked into the cold waters - there was no panic or terrified screaming, not even a word. Cars were left running, dinners were left on tables and playground roundabouts were still spinning. Kingsmouth became a ghost town.

The fog only stayed a few hours before it slowly retreated to surround the island like an impenetrable wall. It hasn't come back into town since that first, fateful day, but remains a persistent threat to the island and the few people left behind.

Only a handful of people escaped the fog - either by cunning or dumb luck. When they took their first trembling steps outside, they were met by nothing short of a nightmare. Their hometown was reduced to a scene from a horror movie with its abandoned streets and strangely silent houses. All the survivors could hear were their own frightened sobs. Filled with dread, they had to pick up the pieces of lives that had been normal only hours earlier, but were now in shambles. Perhaps they were dealt the worst hand of them all: to be trapped in a town with everyone they knew either dead or in despair.

To make matters worse, the people who disappeared came back the next day. Not alive and well, but as rotting, walking corpses. Zombies - as people commonly call them - rose from the depths of the sea and brought other, terrifying monsters with them. As aggressive and predatory as in popular fiction, they killed many survivors, picking them off as easy, defenceless prey. Soon, streets and houses were splattered with blood and chunks of human flesh; the stench of death filled the air. The once peaceful and quaint streets of Kingsmouth were now dominated by the undead.

Those who were left were forced to defend themselves against what used to be their friends, neighbours and family. Despite the shock and despair, the survivors found enough strength to put up a defence; fortifying homes, building crafty traps or turning into stone-cold zombie killers. But as much as they fought back they were still trapped on the island, with no possible escape - not by land or sea or air. Several people died trying to flee, but the fog kills anyone who enters it by stripping their sense of direction, affecting the central nervous system, and finally suffocating its victims. Eventually, people stopped trying to run away.

There has been no contact with the outside, and the survivors are resigned to the idea that all rescue parties have been stopped by the fog. No TV, radio, Internet, satellite or phone signal comes through. There isn't a single soul in the little town who hasn't tried every desperate measure to call for help, but no one answers.

Left to their own devices, and without anyone coming to save them, many of the remaining citizens have turned to people of the secret world for help. After all, the existence of secret societies and the abilities of their members are not entirely unknown to the people of Kingsmouth. Their magic and protection can keep them somewhat safe, even if it can't help them leave the island.

Many theories about what the fog really is have surfaced among the survivors. Some think it's a new kind of bio-chemical weapon, tested on them under the scrutiny of the government. Others believe it's a punishment from whatever god they believe in for all the atrocious things that have happened in Kingsmouth - especially for hiding the truth when lives could have been saved. A popular theory is that the fog is an assault on Illuminati interests. There have been as many reasons as there are people left in Kingsmouth to spout them. Their notions are often wild breeds of speculation, desperate and inevitable attempts to explain the horrors.

One theory is less like the others, for it has been around - in the form of old tales - for generations. A few individuals among the local Wabanaki tribe say the fog is merely a tool used by a hidden evil force in Solomon County. The nature of this force is obscure; there are only subtle hints and grim warnings in legends, but no evidence. They claim that hope lies in a Wabanaki warding circle that has protected the area for centuries. No one knows exactly what the warding circle protects or guards, but it could be the only thing keeping the fog at bay.

Regardless what people believe, the fog will kill everyone if it swallows Kingsmouth once again. Everything people have done to stay alive will be for nothing, and their deaths will pile up with those of their friends and family, leaving the small town as nothing but a graveyard.