Swallowed by Fog

A lone car was gliding down a winding country road. The landscape all around it was hidden in a dense fog from which the road and some trees were emerging in front of the car and disappearing again in the rear mirror like they never existed. Sometimes the blurred shape of a house would appear and then merge with the general whiteness again.

At some point they crossed and old bridge over a river bed which contained only a small creek. The sun must have been shining somewhere behind this whiteness, but it was impossible to say where. A constant drizzle was coming down from above. There had not been any significant rain in a while. The car stopped at an old cast iron gate which was decorated with swirly shapes and a large bronce star in the center.

Here, a young policeman was standing bored and rather unhappy about the weather. He went over to the car when it stopped at the gate and examined the two warrant cards which were presented to him through the window.

He nodded and took a step aside to let the car pass.

The gate opened with a creak. The driveway behind it went slightly uphill along a row of fiery orange maple trees. A shiny silver robot was floating a short distance above the dry grass, raking leaves with one of its four arms. Then it disappeared in the fog behind the car again.

At the end of the driveway and at the top of the small hill there was a large old house. It was just two storeys high and L-shaped, with a flat roof. The facade of white plaster ended in a wooden box on one end. An irregularly shaped awning was protruding out from over the main entrance at the corner.

The car stopped on a wide parking space at the front door. Part of it was already occupied by three bulky silver vehicles with blue lights on the roof. There was another car. It was old and bright red.

Two passengers exited the vehicle. The first was a tall young man in a dark jacket and trousers. He gave a disapproving look up into the rain before pulling the hood over his dark brown hair. He whistled as he looked at the red car.

'Amazing, I didn't know there are any of these outside of museums. An actual Vortex B57. The dream of every collector, I'm sure,' he peaked inside through the window ,'an actual steering wheel. And look how small the screen is! Looks like the original fixtures are all still there... although personally I'd make some modern updates.'

'Of course you would', said the woman who stepped out of the car after him. She was short with short, curly black hair.

A blurred figure in a protective suit emerged from the fog and slowly seemd to gain shape approaching the newcomers.

'Detectives Wolff and Miller? Please follow me.'

They followed a crunching gravel path which led them to the other side of the house, past a bed of vivid purple asters and an empty swimming pool. Somewhere in the distance, invisible through the fog, there were people talking. They soon reached the source of the sound: in the middle of a meadow stood a large glass house. It was shaped like a large round flower bud resting on a high cylindrical stone base. The glass was coloured blue at the bottom, getting yellow and then clear glass at the top.

More people in white protective suits were swarming the area like a group of chubby ghosts.

Tavaron