Fog

We both came-to at the same moment, in the moonless dark.

We staggered to our feet in a thick, thick fog. We could have lifted ourselves on the haze.

In the near distance marched dozens of shapes. They slowly resolved into hundreds of hooded sweatshirts. Sweatshirts without faces.

We faced roughly north, and they were moving south. Silently they approached, silently they parted where we were shivering in our hypothermia and confusion.

Soon they passed, the fog filling quickly behind them.

To this day, we both remember this as being the single most bizarre incident of our young, stupid lives.