I was straddling consciousness, but awake enough to make out the shapes outside the passenger-side window. Strewn about and forgotten in the hazy landscape were rotting corpses and ruined vehicles, the result of failed attempts to penetrate the fog. So, either Matt figured a way through, outsmarting the best scientists and military experts on our side, or a Simulant brought him in.

Nothing good comes from bare feet on the highway. I knew something important was in the sky, because the driver in front of me came to a full stop in the center lane and got out of his car. For whatever reason, he wasn’t wearing shoes. I didn’t have much time to ponder the reason. I put my sedan in park, followed his gaze and stared. In the daylight, what I saw threatened to collapse my psyche.

If I close my eyes, I can still taste the salt on my lips. The shrill cries are no longer from the patient down the hall but the mournful calls of circling gulls. I hear the buoy clanging, a relentless and poetic intonation. Eventually, it tolls for all of us, and I fear my time is soon. At night when I lie awake, I think about that sound, but mostly, I think about what we pulled from the sea. I wish I could put it back. Once you take it, there's no tossing it overboard, like a catch under the legal limit. I'm writing this with the hope that you'll believe me. No one else does.