It only took the pair a few turns on the misty roads before they became hopelessly lost.
"Lilith," the Sheriff said, sitting at a bus stop bench that happened to be nearby, "We're lost."
She squinted into that swirling grayness, then finally nodded. "Aye."
He rolled over to his side, closing his eyes. "This is ri-friggin-diculous. I don't even know how we got here, let alone where we are! How are we supposed to leave?"
"Ka," she replied with a finality that told him she would broker no more of this conversation.
"Ok, yeah, I'm whining. Think of the solution, that's the trick."
Sam sat up and took stock of his surroundings. It was very difficult to make out any details of the town through the blanket of fog that covered the place, but from what he could tell, they were in a commercial area; he could make out a 7-11 and a Texaco.
He rose and pointed at the convience store. "I still have a headache. That place might have some Aspirin. Let's check it out."
Without waiting for her to acknowledge him, the Sheriff crossed the empty street and entered the parking lot. From his viewpoint, it didn't look promising; the windows were smashed and the electronic door hung at a skewed angle.
Still, the Sheriff wouldn't give up so easily. He strained at managed to right the doors somewhat, enabling him to enter. His hopes dashed as his eyes focused to the even darker gloom inside. The place was trashed, with shelves knocked over and snack foods laying about, half-eaten. Sam knelt and picked up a packet of the little orange peanut butter crackers, his favorite, that seemed unscathed.
Stars exploded in his vision. It was pure reflex that made him roll backwards, away from the direction of the attack. The Sheriff's hand went for his revolver, and he bounced up on the balls of his feet.
Before him was a young man holding a rusty iron pipe like a samurai would hold a katana. "You're not a gargoyle?" he said, more of a question than an actual statement.
"Ouch," was the only thing the Sheriff said, rubbing his previously injured head.
The young man grinned sheepishly, dropping out of his combat stance. "Hey, sorry about that. I couldn't tell what you were."
"Ouch," Sam repeated.
"Hey, my name's Mike," the stranger said, extending his hand. "What about you?"
It was then that the world, which had already been spinning, decided to rush up and slip him a birthday kiss.
Lucky me he thought, a strange detachedness in his thoughts. It ain't even my birthday.