Sand Red

44

I walked alone through the desert, the wind blowing in my face, a sack of water on my back, a knife at my ankle, and the sunset in my eyes. I thought a storm was brewing: there was a current in the air, and it blew roughly in my face, and my eyes stung with sand. I kept a sharp lookout for a place I could shelter down.

Dust storms move quickly, and I began to run as it swirled closer, looking around wildly for a ruin, rubble, a wall- anything. There was not a thing in sight for miles. Stopping, I covered my mouth quickly, looking fearfully back to the wall of dust hurtling my way. There was no time to check behind the next dune. Thinking fast, I flattened myself to the ground, squeezing my eyes shut, and the wind howled in my ears. If I was hit by a stray needle of thorn, I would be badly injured. I curled up, protecting my face and organs, and waited in trepidation. I lay in the loam like a fool, waiting, anticipating, nervously, fearfully. And then it was upon me.

The grit tore at my hair with a suddenness that shocked me anew each time, and my jacket flapped in the air, leaving my side free to sting in the ferociously windborne sand. My eyes were tightly shut, buried in my elbow, and my lips pressed together, but I could not fight the urge to cough as silt wormed its way in past the rag on my face and into my airway.

The dust swirled all around me and I felt like I was choking, dying, being buried alive, gasping for breath and only coming up with sand. It was terrifying. My last days on Earth, and I thought I would die.

And then it was gone. Just as quickly as it had come, it raged past me, sweeping everything dune in its path along, blazing onward- and disappeared. I lay still until a remnant breeze lifted feathery dust upon and past me, and I opened my eyes, confirming that it was over. I stood up slowly, sand coursing down my body, and shook my hair out. The rag across my face I dusted and then wore again, racking as my lungs wheezed for clean air. I spat the dirt out of my mouth, and bore on.

Thorn lay in splinters after the storm, and the landscape was changed. I could have been anywhere. Rocks stood unburied, and other stones previously visible had disappeared below the sand.

A flash of green stopped me. I trudged over to it, wondering if by some miracle there was growth beneath the sand. But there was not. I froze as I recognized him. It was Syenin.

Lying flat on the ground, half buried in dirt, his lips were blue, and there was a wall of sand in his eyes, wide open in death. His kin hung off his skeleton, and the moisture was half sucked from his body, covered in insects and such. It was gruesome. I had known and loved this child, he had betrayed me and now he was dead. I did not know what to feel. In the end, I just crouched down and gently shut his eyes against the sand, as far as I could. Then I left. I went on, feeling empty, because life is so fleeting.

The evening Sun glowed weakly through the dust still suspended in the air, and I strained to see far enough to spot the band from a distance. Dusk fell, and the Sun dipped below the horizon in the far West, and I felt a sudden, overwhelming love for this world, and a sense of wonder. The Sun, so big, so far, and I depended on it to live.

Cerulone had a star, too. It was called AR-62 in the typical scientist naming fashion. I wondered why the scientists never named anything more thoughtfully than just numbers. A star must be beautiful enough to have a name.

At nightfall, I spotted it. In the brightness of the full moon, my eyes made out a misshapen ruin in the far distance. I stopped. I didn't want to get too close for fear they'd attack me. After a minute of thought, I gathered some thorn and lit a fire. I sat down by it, holding my knife, keeping an eye on my surroundings.

Half an hour later, sure enough, it arrived. A soft rustle behind me made me jump up. My nerves tingled in release as I scanned my surroundings, immediately alert. A distance away, a body lay flat against the sand, trying to evade detection.

'I mean no harm!' I yelled, with an effort not drawing my blade. 'I have a message!'

The figure lifted itself slowly from the ground, and almost immediately, a bow was pointed at me. 'What do you want?' a girl called.

I put my hands in the air, fighting to remain unguarded. 'Cerulone,' I said, trying to grasp her attention. 'We have a ship.'

She laughed, pulling back her bow, and I jumped out of the way as an arrow whistled into the air and past me. I drew my blade with a hiss, and she fired again, missing me now that it had blown up into a real conflict.

'It's true!' I shouted desperately. Why had I put myself in danger like this? 'I wouldn't put my life in danger for a joke!'

She paused. 'That's true, you wouldn't.' She held the bow in place. 'Where is this ship?'

'Nearly five hundred kilometers from here. I have a map.' I scrambled to take out my map. 'Here.'

'You sure are strange,' she said half to herself. She didn't move forward to look at the map. 'Why are you here?'

I was getting annoyed. Try to help people and you still get shit for it. 'Look, you move every day as it is. You either believe me, or you die on Earth.' I lifted the map. 'This is you. This is the ship. Keep to the left of the Hugh star and you get there in two or three days. Okay? I warned you.' I stuffed the map back into my sack. 'Bye, now. Direct anybody you see to the ship.' I turned to leave.

Something about my audacity to turn my back on a trained bow must have perplexed her because I was not shot in the back. I had made an error in approaching this camp this way. It was a dangerous gamble. I would have to think of a better way to get the message to the next camp.