A Sweet Smell
Brian James Lane
(written in US English)

Sheridan kicked a heavy boot against the door.  It didn’t take much.  The old weathered wood gave way with a splintery crack.  An old chain and lock fell noisily to the wooden steps below, snaking their way to the ground through a crack in the planks.

“You think the temple is still safe?” Edwards asked.

Sheridan didn’t answer.  He ducked down to avoid the remaining planks of wood and stepped over into the building.  Edwards followed, as did McDonalds, Glass, and Lee.  All had their service pistols drawn accept Glass who was holding on to the riot gun.

The place was dank and musty.  The night air had a real chill outside, but it was just as cold inside.  At least there was some semblance of security in the place.  It was a church, after all.

Glass cocked the shotgun, chambering a shell.  The result would have been comical if it weren’t for their situation. 

The effect was not lost on McDonalds, however.  “I feel safer already.” He said sarcastically.

Glass glared at McDonalds.  Tempers were already running high, and this could be the catalyst for a meltdown.  Sheridan was about to intercede when Lee interrupted.  “Shhh!”

The squad remained silent.  Dust rained down from the rafters.  It was very dark in the place.  The only light came in, filtered through the space in the slats of the roof.  Sheridan could see the full moon through the cracks in the slats, surrounded by a blurry halo.  It was a cold night, indeed.

Edwards said, “I don’t hear anything.”

“Shut up.” Lee admonished.

They remained quiet.  It was mirrored by the surroundings.  The only sound they heard was their own breathing, made visible by the frigid, still air of the place. 

Sheridan made eye contact with Lee and Glass.  He pointed to the rafters.  They nodded and he returned a single nod.

Glass withdrew a small flashlight from his utility pouch.  He held the light against the shotgun, using the beam like a scope for the barrel.  Lee took out a light, as well.  The two scanned the rafters.  The dark shadows receded with the two small circles of light, yielding no threat.

Sheridan nodded again.  “Might be enough left in the old place.”

The group seemed visibly relieved.  Truth was, Sheridan didn’t have a clue.  It might not have anything left, which would leave their fortress as nothing more than a pile of rotting wood.

The town was long since dead.  The crumbling buildings proved little shelter and the meager supplies they were able to scavenge were mostly rancid or stale.  Sheridan hadn’t slept in almost three nights.  Things were grim, but he could not acknowledge that to the team.  They pulled their strength from him.  It was exhausting.

Sheridan spoke.  “All right.  We can’t reach the compound before nightfall.  The jeep is totaled.  No other rigs looked salvageable.”

The group stared at Sheridan, waiting for the other shoe to drop.  “Good news is, we all made it this far.  Last night got a little hairy.  We’re all a little on edge.”

Glass and McDonalds exchanged hateful expressions.  Sheridan continued, “But if we stick together on this, we have a better chance of getting out of it.  Patrol duty don’t come up twice in a row, so you would be off the hook for a while.  Type A rations for a little while won’t be too bad, neither.”

“Not to mention all the tail we’ll get once they heard where we been.” Edwards said.

Nervous chuckles erupted from the group, save Sheridan.  He continued, “Okay, duty roster.  Lee, you got the front door.  Glass, you watch rafters and rooftop.  Edwards and McDonalds, you get some shuteye in the pews over there.  I’ll watch the walls.”

Lee furrowed his brow.  “What about you, Chief?”

Sheridan knew full well he would not be able to sleep.  He could rest a little and conserve energy by keeping still, but sleep would evade him.  Always did on these patrols.  “We’ll work something out.” He said.

The group got into position.  Within five minutes, he could hear Edwards snoring.  McDonalds sighed deeply, teetering on the threshold of sleep.  Lee and Glass remained steadfast at their posts. 

Sheridan’s wrist chron said 02:14 hours.  They just had to wait about four or five hours and they would make it.  Daylight was not that far off.  It was possible.  24 hours ago, he thought they had all bought the proverbial farm, so perhaps things weren’t as bleak as they seemed.

Time passed slowly, which gave Sheridan time to contemplate his ailments.  His nose and ears ached with the cold.  He receded into a crouching position, joints cracking in protest.  His entire body twinged with pain.  He thought, briefly, of taking off his heavy boots.  His head hurt. 

“Captain.” Glass spat.

Sheridan looked around.  “What is it?”

Glass pointed up with the barrel of the riot gun.  Sheridan and Lee looked to the ceiling.

Between the slats of the roof, they could see a lavender mist billowing over the roof of the church.  It swept past the moon, finally obscuring its detail and shape completely.  A soft filtered glow was all that remained.

The strange fog could be seen swirling outside the walls, as well, Sheridan noticed.  The hole in the door was the largest breach.  They could see the light-purplish fog swelling from the streets outside and seemingly crawling up the steps towards the open doorway.

“Get on that!” Sheridan commanded. 

Edwards and McDonalds immediately woke up.  “What?” Edwards said, noticing the eerie lavender mist.

“The pulpit, up front!  Let’s get that.  Lee!  Lee, wave something and keep that fog outside!” Sheridan directed. 

Lee looked around and grabbed a loose floorboard.  He flapped it up and down, sending the mist in spiraling retreat, blowing back down the steps.  More of the fog fell from above the doorway, and Lee fanned those tendrils back.

Sheridan helped Glass, McDonalds, and Edwards with the large wooden podium from the front of the church.  It protested with a squeal and crack of ancient wood.   “Hold together, damn it!” Edwards begged.

Lee frantically waved the board at more and more wisps of lilac-colored fog.  The rest of the troop placed the old pulpit into position, effectively sealing of the breach in the doorway. 

“Glass.  Edwards.  You two check the walls for any large openings.  We’ll see if we need to seal off anything big.” Sheridan ordered.

They responded immediately, checking the integrity of the place.  The whole structure was a sieve, Sheridan thought.  McDonalds and Lee awaited instruction.

“This ain’t anything like last night.” McDonalds said.

Lee remained stoic.  Sheridan nodded.

McDonalds continued, looking for comfort but not wanting to appear as if he were doing so.  “You ever seen anything like this before, Captain?”

Sheridan’s voice betrayed him, allowing the concern to seep through.  He said, “I’ve seen a lot of different types on these patrols.  Those things last night were bad enough, but at least they had physical form.  Took a hell of a lot of rounds to kill them, but at least we had something we could shoot at.  I have never seen anything like this.”

They remained silent for a while.  “Maybe it is just fog.” Lee supposed.

None of them wanted to find out, for sure. 

“Captain!” Glass shouted from a distant corner of the church.

“What?”

“Got a hole in the wall over here.  Near the corner.  Smells weird.  I think we could – “

Glass screamed a bloodcurdling cry of pure pain and terror.  Edwards rushed to help.  Sheridan said “Lee, stay on door.  McDonalds, come with me.”

Sheridan and McDonalds joined Edwards in a vain attempt to help Glass.  They all knew it was pointless when they got closer.

Glass had the lilac mist enveloping his arms.  Though partially obscured, they could see the appendage.  The fog was not entirely opaque. 

His arm was dissolving in the lavender cloud.  Blood spewed out, but the gore was also dissolved before it hit the floor.  Tendrils of smoke swathed each streaming jet of blood. 

The fog grew brazen, encasing Glass’s chest and neck.  He stopped screaming abruptly when the substance ate through to his voice box, exposing the dissolving organ for a brief second before moving into deeper layers of tissue and bone.

The mist drifted over his head, quickly liquefying his tightly shut eyelids.  It devoured through his eyes.  His muscular tissue, and eventually even through the bone disintegrated.   

Though it seemed to take an eternity, it was actually over in mere seconds.  Glass’ matt-black soldier suit crumpled to the ground, as did his utility belt, weapons, and underclothing.  The mist only dissolved living tissue, it seemed.

The others backed up instinctually.  Sheridan observed the fog withdraw, slightly, dissipating to a small layer on the floor in the corner.  It hung, motionless.

“How are we supposed to fight that?” Edwards screamed.

“Edwards.” Sheridan said, trying to calm him before hysterics took over.

Edwards continued, “I mean, you can’t shoot that! Where are you going to shoot?”

“Edwards!” Sheridan yelled.

Edwards calmed himself, at least audibly.  The group, though not facing Sheridan, clearly awaited direction.  Sheridan took in a deep breath of cold air to gather his thoughts.

“Look.  It’s not coming in any further.  This place is old, but it must have some residual spirituality left in the timbers.  I don’t think we have to worry if we stick to the middle of the church.” Sheridan said.

Edwards spoke up again.  He said, “This is why we should never go out on these things unless we have a holy man with us.  I mean this is just-”

“You think a holy man is going to be able to hold up to these things?  You think a holy man would have made it through last night?” McDonalds interrupted.

Edwards said, “You think we’re going to make it through this night?”

“Listen up, people.  It’s not a bad idea.  I’ll make the suggestion when we get back to the compound.  As for now, we need to stay in the sticks so we can last a few more hours ‘til daylight.  Got that?” Said Sheridan.

McDonalds, Lee, and even Edwards nodded.  Sheridan still commanded respect and if he said they were getting back to the compound, his men believed it. 

“Now, we go sit in the center.  We’ll all put our backs together and watch a section of the church.” He said.

The four of them ran across the ancient floorboards to the center of the church.  They pushed the pews back to make a wide enough area for all of them.  The floor creaked with their combined weight. 

“Damn,” Said McDonalds, “I forgot my pack on the pews over there.  I was using it as a pillow and-”

“Forget it.” Sheridan said.

“Might need the ammo.  We are dangerously low on firepower, and every bullet might count.” McDonalds protested.

“You can’t shoot that stuff!” Edwards said.

“Not that!  It’s for anything else tries to get in here.” McDonalds explained.

“Negative.  We stick here, strong and long.  The different types don’t usually intermingle, so I think we’re safe for a while.  If this mist eats flesh, it may not be too discerning on whether it is the good guys or the bad guys.  We’re safe if we hold tight.” Sheridan stated.

The group got into position on the floor.  Sheridan faced the breach in the wall, staring at the rumpled pile of clothing and gear that used to be Sergeant Glass.  Regret lumped in Sheridan’s throat. 

Wafts of the mist occasionally drifted over the pile of clothing.  The lavender fog probed the clothing, as if to make sure it hadn’t missed anything.  After a brief moment, it retreated.  Sheridan was hypnotized by the undulating gaseous mass.

McDonalds stirred.  He was definitely uncomfortable when it came to waiting for something to happen.  Sheridan ignored the man’s nervous energy.

Sheridan had turned his head when McDonalds had moved, so he hadn’t noticed the retreat of the mist.  Everyone else was looking in other directions, so they hadn’t seen it, either.  It was too optimistic to presume that it had given up, though Sheridan had outlasted the enemy before in a similar fashion.

Sheridan waited twenty minutes before saying something.  “Anyone see it anymore?”

“No, sir.” Edwards exclaimed, realizing that they may now be safe.

“Negative.” Chimed Lee.

McDonalds scanned the doorway and the pew covering the entrance.  The last vestiges of the fog had disappeared.  “All clear.” He said.

The group stood, taking their cue from Sheridan.  Sheridan looked up.  The haloed moon shone brightly through some planks on the western side of the roof.  He could see it clearly, without the lavender filter.

“Permission to check it out, sir?” McDonalds requested. 

Sheridan thought about it briefly and nodded.  McDonalds rushed to the door.  He cautiously peered out between the planks.  After a moment, he shook his head.  “Nothing.  I don’t see anything at all.”

The group relaxed somewhat, backing up from the huddled mass in which they had been standing.  McDonalds turned back to the doorway.  “That’s strange.  Smells like candy.  Sweet.  Like the stuff street vendors sell when-”

McDonalds didn’t even have time to scream.  The fog poured relentlessly in, masking his face and dissolving flesh instantaneously.  He fell backwards, tendrils of the mist attached to his bare skull like an umbilical cord as he dropped to the ground.

The insidious fog swooped inwards, encasing McDonalds in a purple gaseous shell.  Edwards screamed in terror.  In seconds, it was over and McDonalds clothing and gear lie in a pile near the doorway.

The fog dropped to the floor and edged back in slowly.  Sheridan looked around quickly for escape.  They could bust through the wall and run for it.  The fog seemed fairly slow.  But there was no guarantee that it wasn’t hovering just out of sight waiting in ambush. 

“What about that?” Edwards asked.

Edwards was pointing up to the west wall.  Almost indiscernible from the wall planks, a large wooden cross hung on the wall.  “Worth a shot.” Sheridan said.

The three of them ran towards it.  It was just out of reach.  Edwards was the lightest, so Lee and Sheridan boosted him up on their shoulders.  He wrestled with the cross for a while, but it eventually came loose. 

Edwards climbed down and they ran back to the center of the room.  They all hung on to the cross and sat back down on the wooden floorboards.  They watched the swelling mist pouring into the building. 

Whirling wisps of the mist encircled them, but stayed at bay.  The cross seemed to be the only thing left with any holy energy left in it.  For the time being, it had saved their lives.

Minutes passed, and the fog looped around them like a small hurricane.  Minutes gave way to hours, and the lilac mist still circled.  Sheridan dared not hope aloud, but it seemed like they just had to wait. 

The boards beneath them began to creak.  Their collective weight was weakening the old timbers.  “Oh no.” Edwards gasped.

All at once, the boards cracked and broke, sending them into the murky depths beneath the church.  It was only about four feet down, but the fall was terrifying.  Sheridan, Lee, and Edwards scrambled to their feet. 

Lee was first to climb out of the hole.  “Fog is going down beneath the floorboards!” He warned.

“The cross!” Sheridan exclaimed. 

He searched around blindly with his hands in the debris.  Edwards followed.  “I can’t find it!” Edwards screamed. 

Lee yelled, “It is almost all down there with you two.  Come out!”

Sheridan said, “We have to find that cross.  We’re just sitting ducks without it.”

Edwards found it.  He grasped the large wooden cross, pulling it up from the darkness.  Edwards pushed the cross out onto the floor of the church.

Sheridan grabbed him, heaving him out of the hole.  In doing so, Edwards snagged a sharp timber in his side, ripping open his uniform and cutting through his skin.  The man screamed in pain. 

Blood ran down to the dirt below.  Immediately, a tuft of purple smoke devoured the crimson liquid. 

Sheridan jumped out of the hole, grasping for Edwards.  Edwards pulled Sheridan, falling backwards and sending another creak in the floorboards.  Sheridan looked back to see the fog swooping in right where he had just stood. 

The trio stepped back from the hole.  It was then that they realized their mistake.

The cross was on the opposite side of the hole.  The fog began to pour upwards and into the church, spilling onto the floor.  It made a wall between them and the cross.  They were trapped.

The mist began to sidle towards them.  It undulated its malevolence with every swirl and waft forward.  Edwards laughed.

“What is so funny?” Lee asked.

“I have an idea.” Edwards exclaimed. 

Before waiting to be asked what it was, Edwards grasped at his bloody side and squeezed with his hand.  He gasped in pain, but withdrew a bloody hand.  He flung the blood away from the cross at the opposite wall. 

The mist followed, leaving a small gap between them and the cross.  Edwards advanced, but Lee pushed him out of the way.  “Good idea.” He said, running towards salvation.

The fog devoured the small blood spatter.  Lee ran.  Edwards threw another handful of blood at the far wall.  Lee reached the cross.

The fog encircled Sheridan and Edwards.  “Run towards us!” Edwards panted. 

“No time!” Lee yelled back. 

Sheridan was sure they were gone when Lee drew back and flung the heavy cross at them.  It twirled in the air, slicing through the fog as it flew end over end towards them.  Edwards and Sheridan made a collective effort and both caught the heavy wooden cross.

The fog retreated from them, but not from Lee.  He ran towards them in a last ditch effort to penetrate the mist.  It didn’t work.

The fog tore into Lee immediately.  He yelled in anger and pain.  “They were right,” He screamed, “it does smell sweet.  Like Candy.  Or bread, maybe.  Honey bread!  Sweet honey bread.  ARGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”

Lee yelled in defiance of the fog, holding his muscular arms to the heavens.  A hollow sound overtook his voice as smoke billowed from inside him and out his mouth.  It turned back over and engulfed his face.  For a brief second, his skeletal form remained standing in sheer insolence before evaporating into another lifeless pile of clothing.

Edwards and Sheridan huddled together, grasping the cross tightly.  They both edged their way to a pew, sitting down carefully and withdrawing their feet from the rickety floorboards.  It gave them more of a facade of security. 

The fog grew bolder and bolder still.  It would swarm around them until they jabbed the cross at it.  When the cross made contact with the mass, Sheridan smelt burnt popcorn.  It was obvious that only the cross would remain free of the mist in a few moments.

It was then that Sheridan smelled it.  A sweet smell, not unlike the cake his mother had made him when he was a child.  A vanilla cake with white frosting and…Sheridan’s skin began to tingle.  He heard Edwards screaming.

The two men held firmly onto the cross, but the mist was overtaking them.  Sheridan felt his skin burning, now.  He closed his eyes firmly.

The pain subsided.  The smell of cakes or candy quickly turned to burnt popcorn once again.  Sheridan opened his eyes.

From behind them, the first rays of daylight shone through the slats in the ceiling.  The morning glow cut through the fog like a knife.  Small sections of the mass escaped through the floorboards and down to the dark depths below.  Other sections were trapped and burned into nothingness when the sun hit them. 

Edwards kissed the cross.  Sheridan followed suit.  He would put Edward’s plan into motion when they got back to the compound.  It had been a good idea, and it might help the next patrol.

The two men respectfully rested the cross against the west wall, setting it down carefully.  Sheridan and Edwards grabbed their equipment and looked around.  Even the smell of burnt popcorn was no more. 

Glass, McDonalds, and Lee picked up their gear and joined the squad.  Lee winked at Sheridan, who smiled widely back at his friend.  Edwards pushed the rickety pew away from the door.  The five men headed out of the church and into the sunlight beyond the threshold into the next realm of existence.