The Perimeter Fence

The wall was a giant gray cliff that never ended. It went up so high that the top was often hidden in the clouds. Hamish stood on the metal walkway, his boots making a heavy clink-clank sound with every step. The air was wet. It was spring, and the world outside the wall was waking up. He could smell the flowers from the forbidden woods. They smelled like sugar and old dirt. It was a smell that made his nose itch. The humidity was thick. It felt like trying to breathe through a wet sweater.

"The atmosphere is truly offensive tonight," Kyle said. Kyle was older by two years, which meant he got to carry the heavy flashlight. He adjusted his stiff collar and looked out into the white soup of the fog. "My uniform is beginning to adhere to my skin in a most undignified fashion."

"It is just fog, Kyle," Hamish said. He wiped a drop of water off his nose. The metal railing under his hand was cold and slippery. The fog wasn't just white. It was glowing. The big spotlights on the wall hit the mist and turned it into a bright, blinding wall of light. You couldn't see more than ten feet in front of your face. It felt like being trapped inside a giant lightbulb.

"It is not just fog," Kyle corrected. He spoke like he was acting in a very serious play. "It is a tactical disadvantage. If the monsters from the stories decided to strike, we would be quite unaware of our impending doom until they were shaking our hands."

Hamish rolled his eyes. There were no monsters. There were just trees and grass and the things the teachers told them were dangerous. But the wall was there for a reason. It had wires that hummed. Bzzzzzt. The sound was always there. It was the sound of the city staying safe. It was the sound of the electric fence telling the world to stay away. The spring air made the humming louder. The dampness made the electricity jumpy.

Suddenly, a high-pitched whistle cut through the air. Wheeeee-oop! Wheeeee-oop!

"The Ghost Alarms," Hamish whispered. His heart started to beat fast, like a trapped bird in his chest. The sensors on the outer wire were going off. They did this when the fog got too thick. The machines got confused. They thought the heavy water in the air was a person or a thing trying to climb inside.

"It is a glitch," Kyle said, though he gripped his flashlight tighter. "A mere malfunction of the optical sensors. The moisture is playing tricks on the laser grid. It is quite a common occurrence during the vernal season."

Hamish didn't look away. He leaned over the railing. He squinted. The fog moved in slow circles. It looked like it was dancing. And then, the dance stopped. There was a shape. It was dark. It was tall. It didn't move. It was standing right next to the electric wire, where the ground turned into the scary woods.

"Kyle," Hamish said. His voice was small. "Look."

"I am looking at a wall of vapor, Hamish. There is nothing to observe but the failure of the weather to cooperate with our shift schedule."

"No. There. Right by the third post."

Hamish pointed. The silhouette was perfectly still. It looked like a person wearing a long coat. But nobody lived outside. Outside was where the air was bad and the ground was broken. That’s what the books said. But the person in the fog didn't look broken. They looked like they were waiting for a bus.

"I see nothing but light refraction bullshit," Kyle snapped. He used a word he wasn't supposed to use, which meant he was actually scared. "The spotlights are bouncing off the water droplets. It creates a shadow where none exists. It is physics, Hamish. Do not be a child of superstition."

"It has arms, Kyle. It has a head. It is looking at us."

"It is looking at nothing!" Kyle yelled. He turned his back to the wall. "If you report a ghost, the Sergeant will make us scrub the lower vents. I have no desire to spend my Saturday covered in grease because you saw a shadow in the soup."

Hamish felt a weird coldness in his stomach. It wasn't the fog. It was the feeling that Kyle was wrong. The shape shifted. Just a little bit. It raised a hand. It looked like it was waving. Or maybe it was pointing at the gate. The gate was a small door at the bottom of the wall, used for repairs. It was made of heavy brass and steel.

"I am going down there," Hamish said.

Kyle spun around. "You will do no such thing! To leave the post is a violation of the highest order! It is theatrical madness!"

"I need to know," Hamish said. He reached for his chest. He found the small switch on his body-cam. He clicked it off. The little green light died. He felt like he had just turned off his own heart. Without the camera, he wasn't a guard anymore. He was just a boy in the dark.

Hamish didn't wait for Kyle to stop him. He ran to the ladder. The metal rungs were wet and bit into his palms. He climbed down fast. The air got thicker as he got closer to the ground. The smell of the spring flowers got stronger, too. It wasn't a nice smell anymore. It was heavy and choking. It smelled like the world was growing too fast.

He reached the bottom. The ground was made of gravel that crunched under his boots. The fog was so thick here he could only see his own feet. He walked toward the gate. The humming of the wires was so loud it made his teeth ache. Bzzzzzzzzzz.

He reached the gate. The brass handle was big and round. It felt like an ice cube. Hamish looked through the small glass peep-hole. He saw the white fog. And then, he saw a hand. A real hand. It pressed against the glass from the other side. The fingers were long and pale. They weren't monster fingers. They were human fingers.

Hamish’s breath came in short, jagged gasps. He reached for the heavy bolt. He knew he shouldn't. The city was a bottle, and he was about to pop the cork. He pulled the bolt back. It made a loud clack that sounded like a gunshot in the quiet night. He pushed the door open just a crack.

A gust of wind blew in. It didn't smell like the city. It smelled like wild things. It smelled like freedom and danger. The fog poured through the gap like a river of milk. Hamish stepped back, his eyes wide. The shadow was right there, standing in the opening. It wasn't a ghost. It was someone who knew exactly what they were doing.

Hamish looked back at the ladder. Kyle was shouting something from the top of the wall, but the sound was muffled by the mist. Kyle looked like a tiny toy man up there. Hamish looked back at the gate. He had left it open. He had broken the only rule that mattered. The silence of the figure in the doorway was the loudest thing he had ever heard.