The Nightmare (The Mist Book 2)

It was a short ride up to the top floor. It opened on a disturbingly normal office space. The central area had an open floor layout with a dozen desks in two columns of three pairs of desks facing each other. Along the left and right sides of the room, a few offices with frosted glass walls lay empty except for one. I couldn’t see who the two people inside were, only their silhouettes. A small coffee station occupied a nook between two of the offices on the right. At the back, a large boardroom with its door closed led me to think the rest of the agents had gathered there. But it was the man in his early fifties standing in front of the open door of a big office on the right corner of the back wall that held my attention.

I immediately started moving towards him. He was tall, at least 6’3, with lovely blue eyes wrinkled by a welcoming smile, and brown hair sprinkled with grey. As expected, he, too, was dressed in a black suit, black shoes, and black tie over a white dress shirt. Instantly at ease, and grateful for the first agent to show any warmth, I returned his contagious smile as I closed the distance with him.

“Good evening, Ms. Connors,” he said, extending his hand towards me. “My name is Alfred Thomson, Director of the Mist Squad Program. Congratulations on making it this far.”

“The Mist Squad Program?” I repeated while shaking his hand, emphasizing the word ‘Squad’ that had never featured in any of the very cryptic literature about the program.