“And I needed a rock. Something to hold onto, to stand on. Something solid. Because everything was going soft, turning into mush, into marsh, into fog. Fog closing in on all sides. I didn't know where I was at all.”

“Something in the fog!" he screamed, and Billy shrank against me-whether because of the man's bloody nose or what he was saying, I don't know. "Something in the fog took John Lee! Something-" He staggered back against a display of lawn food stacked by the window and sat down there."Something in the fog took John Lee and I heard him screaming!”

“I have learned to smoke because I need something to hold onto.”

“the fog was fog and yet was not fog. it was liquid and solid, then gas, then a roiling putrescence expanding like a balloon blown with filth.”

“This isn’t working, Brooke. Don’t get me wrong, the sex is amazing. But it’s turning into something else, and I need to know where I’m standing. I need to know whether we’ll ever be together.”

“I must go in, the fog is rising.”