by Sam J Fires
He took off down the street, hands still cuffed behind his back. His head darted in each direction, unable to ward off the specks of sand flying around his head.
By the time Jane got to her feet, the perp had already put a wide distance between them.
The specks were flying in all directions now, obscuring everything.
Flushed with embarrassment, Jane reached for her holster, tempted to fire at him. But the suspect was already disappearing from view. There was no way she could get a straight shot at this distance, and what if she ended up hitting a civilian by mistake?
Keeping her weapon pointing forward, Jane moved ahead, taking tentative steps. She was determined not to lose her catch.
She fleetingly wondered whether the bizarre storm would ease or intensify but pushed the thought to the back of her mind. Don’t focus on what you can’t control. Do your job and get the little bastard.
Jane picked up her pace until she was sprinting into the sandy chaos, as though she was in a Roman arena preparing to take a sword to a rival gladiator.
Unfortunately, more and more cracks appeared on her sunglasses with each step, but she didn’t dare take them off.
Everything in the street was slowly being swallowed up in a reddish fog. She could hear groaning coming from somewhere further down the street. No person could make a noise like that. Maybe it’s the storm?
When she happened upon the source, she realized the storm would have been a better option.
She’d found her prisoner. Only he wasn’t running away any longer. And he wasn’t lying on the ground. He was flattened against the side of a department store window, several feet up above her, as though some invisible hand was holding him in place. The groans coming from his broken jaw buried themselves into Jane’s soul, a sound she would never forget. Goodbye, beauty sleep. She gulped in hot red air, unable to will herself to look away from the nightmare taking place above her.
The red specks were careering through the air and had now formed a circular pattern, almost as if in coordination… directly towards the perp. They buried themselves into his body with such ferocity the likes of which Jane had never before seen in her life. In an instant, his entire torso was covered by the specks and within seconds there was more sand than man flattened against the window.
Pretty soon there was nothing there at all.
Jane’s stomach threatened to implode. Poor fucking bastard. No way for a man to go. She held her hand over her mouth, willing herself to remain in control.
What had been a mild breeze suddenly intensified threatening to lift her off her feet. Thinking quickly, Jane rushed towards the nearest lamppost, wrapping her arms and legs around it, unwilling to let go even for a second lest she share the same fate as the perp.
As she clung to the lampost, with her chin tucked in against the storm, Jane prayed she wouldn’t suffer the same fate as the perp. That she wouldn’t be dissolved into a nothing. Jane looked around at the sand bouncing off the buildings. She wondered if they would hold or if the sand would wear away at the bricks like water down the mountains.
Already, she could feel her arms starting to weaken. I could be here all day. What if the storm went on for hours, or even days? Would the sand do its damage before her endurance gave out? Human endurance had no place in the harsh, unforgiving sandstorm.
Deciding that she couldn’t spend all day clinging to the pole, Jane looked around for anything that might offer her some longevity.
Although the air was saturated with sand specks, she noticed that only a few sections were actually concentrated particles flying in close proximity to one another, united by a singular mission. The same particles that killed the perp. Jane figured that as long as she didn’t get caught up in the groupings, she might be safe. She hated betting her safety on a weak assumption, but it was all she had to work with.
All those years at the academy. Those worst case scenarios, those life-and-death situations, just to be taken out by a fucking red beach.
I am not dying here. I’m getting through this.
Just as she made the affirmation, Jane noticed a body lying in the middle of the road a few feet away. She was torn as to whether to go and help, at the risk of being blown away. The decision was made when she realized the body was lifeless, riddled with thousands of miniscule holes.
It was the last image her left eye would ever capture as the lenses of her sunglasses finally began to crack and the pain from what felt like an onslaught of tiny needles drove into her left eye, her entire socket becoming a fireball of pain, scorching every nerve in her body. She opened her mouth to scream, but her anguish was drowned out by the gushing storm.
It took every ounce of resilience to maintain her grip on the post. To not allow herself to get swept away.
Her mind flashed back to the perp again and his grisly demise. No way I’m ending up like that.
CHAPTER 4 - DONNA
Maybe this is another side effect of the meds?
Donna struggled to take in the rapidly changing scenery around her, the weird sandstorm and people scattering everywhere to avoid it. It was only when she had received a frantic phone call from Josie demanding she get back to the bar or find somewhere safe that she knew it wasn’t a hallucination.
Why do I feel so calm? Donna’s stoic demeanour sharply contrasted with the alarmist reactions of everyone around her. Maybe this is my kind of environment. Now the world looks as crazy as it usually feels to me.
Donna shook off the calming wave. No, that’s just your meds talking. You need a clear head if you’re going to get through this, Donna.
First thing she needed to do was find some kind of shelter. She had seen several people heading through the nearest door they could find, and she might have followed suit. But when everyone has the same idea, someone always ends up losing out. In one bar, Donna could see the cramped space inside, people squashed in like sardines, trying to find comfort among strangers but probably only finding claustrophobia. If I have to choose between a catastrophic, skin-burning sandstorm or an oxygen-robbing confined space, I’ll gladly choose the former.
This belief began to waver as Donna continued trudging along the street, lifting up her arms to prevent sand from flying into her eyes or mouth.
As she walked, she saw the bodies of those unfortunate enough not to have found shelter, lying on the streets or in doorways, frozen in their last horrific moments of living. It was hard to tell how long they had been out there for. That could be me in a few minutes.
Not for the first time since she started her trek, Donna pondered the point of her arduous trek. The struggle began to sap away at a will Donna wasn’t sure she possessed anymore.
This storm was untameable. Nothing could stop it, that much was clear. It was hacking away at the street and at people, with no apparent respite.
Maybe I should just stop. Though the notion should have alarmed her, she found a soothing calm in the idea of no longer struggling, just lying down in the middle of the sidewalk and letting this newfound nature take its course.
She knelt down on her hands and knees, the growing layer of sharp sand threatening to burn away the fabric of her clothes. Maybe, here, in the street will be my grave. Am I going to be buried along with so many others? Will anyone even know I died here?
Part of Donna wanted to care enough to find out. But she was already being seduced by the promise of peace…
…which was shattered by a loud crunching crash in the distance, snapping Donna out of her self-destructive stupor.
Curiosity took control and she found herself taking off in the direction of the sound, her mind racing as to what carnage might await her, all thoughts of giving up temporarily pushed into the background. For now.
When she arrived at the origin of the sound, she couldn’t decide whether it had brought her back to reality or severed the last tethers.
A vehicle had crashed and had rolled onto the sidewalk, it was lying overturned on its roof. A moan came from insi
de the car.
Donna approached the vehicle, trying to get a closer look for possible survivors.
Peering through the shattered windshield, she could make out two figures, both men, both appeared to be unconscious. Cuts and bruises covered their faces and bodies.
They were so still Donna was certain they were dead. But then the man in the passenger seat gasped out loud, gulping in air.
“You’re all right?” she called out in an attempt at reassurance, before quickly realising that the gasping man probably felt anything but all right. “What’s your name?”
“…Eric…” the man spluttered.
“Listen to me, Eric. We need to try and get your friend out of there, he’s not looking too good. What’s his name?”
“Leo. His name’s Leo.”
“Okay, Eric. What about you? Is anything broken?”
“No, I don’t think so.” But he grimaced at even the slightest of movement.
“Can you get out?” asked Donna.
Eric shifted in his seat, reaching for his seatbelt. Finding it, he clicked it open, instantly slumping against the battered roof and shattered glass.
“What do I do about Leo?” asked Eric.
“We’ll have a better chance of getting him if you’re out here helping me.”
Every movement was a struggle as Eric tried to manoeuvre himself out of the wreckage. Finally, he was free. But as Donna reached forward with a hand to help him up, she noticed he was holding a video camera.
“Is that important?” she asked.
“It might be,” said Eric, catching his breath.
“Right, let’s get your friend out.”
The pair moved around to the other side of the car, driver’s side. The window glass was broken and Eric reached inside and gently tapped Leo on the cheek. “Leo? Leo, listen to me.”
Leo murmured. Blood was oozing from his eyes and ears.
“We’re going to get you out bud, but you need to …”
Before he could say anything more, a gust of wind blew against the car, with such force causing it to shift where it lay, rocking it on its roof, like a child’s ride.
Undeterred, Eric tried to reach through the thin layer of red sand, but he was forced to quickly withdraw his hand, as though he had put his limb into a raging furnace.
As if on cue, the specks started picking up speed. Donna hated herself for what she was thinking right now, but self-preservation ruled. “We should move.” She grabbed Eric by the forearm as if to drag him along.
“No!” he shouted, shaking her off. “I’m not leaving him.”
“We’ll come back for him later, I promise,” Donna shouted back through the noise of the wind. “But if we stay here, we’re going to get caught up in this and then we won’t be able help him. Come on.”
Resistance finally giving out, Eric reluctantly followed alongside her, clutching the camera to his body to shield it from the sand.
They made their way along the street in an ever increasing chaos, with windows breaking and cars being blown down the street. Donna would have been grateful for the sight of just one person. I wonder how many are left?
As the pair turned a corner, Donna could see one life the storm was struggling to claim.
A woman in a police uniform was waving her gun about erratically while her arm was wrapped tightly around a lamppost, her other hand was covering her left eye. It was a bizarre sight.
Donna ran over, stopping in her tracks when the officer turned the gun on her. “Who are you?” the officer screamed, and Donna could see blood seeping beneath the fingers covering her left eye. “What do you want?”
Neither she nor Eric said anything, unsure what could be of relevance given the current situation. “We’re just trying to survive,” Donna said finally. It was the only fact that seemed to matter right now. Donna stretched out her hand, making sure the officer could see it was empty and she was unarmed. “Come on. Let’s try and find some shelter.”
Realizing she had few alternatives, the woman took Donna’s hand, clasping it tightly, as if grateful for the touch of another human being. The three made their way down the street, Jane keeping her gun pointed forward.
“I’m Donna, this is Eric.” It seemed ludicrous to be making formal introductions in the midst of the sandy mayhem. Donna wondered about any other survivors they might come across. She questioned how trusting they could afford to be in the apocalypse.
“I’m Jane,” she yelled back, sensing that an introduction was the right thing to do.
“In there!” Eric pointed toward an underground parking garage. The three ducked in, just as the storm roared into its next level of ferocity.
Once they made their way into the deserted space, Donna and Jane slumped where they stood. It felt like they had spent a lifetime fighting their way through the storm, the hot air pulling at their bodies so that they had almost forgotten the simplicity of standing up straight. Jane’s legs instantly buckled, and Donna tried to ease her fall.
Eric remained standing, looking out into the street where everything was now coated with red dust. “We should go back out,” he said. “My friend’s out there.”
“You go back out there, you’ll die,” warned Donna. “I said we would get him later.”
“You can’t just expect me to leave him.”
“Look,” said Jane, finally taking her hand away from her face, revealing the bloodshot left eye from which a few specks of red sand fell. “We don’t know what this thing is, where it came from. All we know is it’s killing people and turning LA into a fucking red beach. I bet there are a few thousand people who would rather be in your shoes right now. Most people haven’t been this lucky. You want to go back out there and squander that? Be my guest. Or you can stay here, and we wait it out until we’re in a better position to find out what the fuck is going on. We need survivors, not martyrs.”
A huff from Eric told her he accepted her reasoning, even if he didn’t agree with it.
CHAPTER 5 - JANE
“All right, be honest; how bad does it look? And now would not be a great time to tell me you’re squeamish, cause I really don’t need you puking on my shoes.”
Donna leaned in close. The eye was completely destroyed. It was as though someone had driven a knife directly into the socket and twisted it.
“It looks…” Donna struggled to find the vocabulary to match the sight before finally settling on, “…Okay?”
Jane scoffed. “Don’t bullshit me, honey. It’s alright, I can take it. I’m officially a fucking cyclops, right?” She managed a mirthless chuckle. “Still, thanks for coming along when you did. I’d have probably lost both eyes had I’d stayed out any longer.”
Jane took out a pocketbook and pen. “This is some crazy shit going on. We need to be organized. This storm…” she began writing. “This is some highbrow Mother Nature retaliation or something. People get caught up in a snowstorm, they take all kinds of steps; they clear roads, coordinate traffic. You don’t really worry about losing too many people. But this? Never seen anything like it in my lifetime. And probably not in anyone else’s lifetime. I don’t know how we can work around it. So, until some bigwig with a desk comes around and tells me otherwise, we’re going to need to work out as much as we can about this fucking storm.
“Now, as to where it came from… fuck knows. Environment fighting back, toxic clouds, aliens invading, the list of possibilities is endless. But what we do know is it turned the sky red… which doesn’t really help us one iota. So, I’m presuming everyone felt the burning sand, correct?”
Both Donna and Eric showed the marks on their clothes and skin caused by the microscopic incisions.
“Okay, we need to find some way to protect against that. Padded clothing is probably the best bet for now.”
“’Padded clothing’?” repeated Eric incredulously. “That’s seriously your best defence?”
Jane glared at him pointedly. “It’s the only one that’ll be easily availabl
e to us. There’s plenty of clothes stores around here we can raid. And I didn’t get round to reading the Idiot’s Guide to Sandstorms from Hell yet, so forgive me if I’m not a fountain of knowledge.”
Jane turned to Donna. “You seem like a fairly sensible woman. What are your thoughts?”
Donna blinked. “Who, me?”
“Can you see anyone else around here fitting that description?”
Donna couldn’t remember the last time anyone had bothered to ask for her opinion, or at least hold it in any esteem. “I say we try to make contact with someone in government, or some sort of official. We need people to help set up boundaries. I saw looting everywhere.”
“That doesn’t surprise me,” remarked Jane, nonplussed. “When the world goes to shit, people aren’t far behind.”
“Have you heard from anyone?” asked Eric.
“Can’t say I have” said Jane. “I tried getting them on the radio, but I lost the signal.”
“What do you think they’ll be doing?” queried Donna.
“Well, knowing these fat cats as I do, they’ll probably be taking care of their own, retreating into whatever jewel-encrusted shelter they own. For now, I say we either wait until the storm passes or work out some plan on how we’re going to get through it.”
“And what do we do if the storm doesn’t pass?” asked Eric.
Jane shrugged. “Then we’d better start getting used to calling this place home. Yeh, we don’t have any food or water, but at least it’s shelter. Even so, it mightn’t be long before someone else discovers this nice little hideaway. Whatever resources we have, knowing what we know about human nature, do you really think we’re going to share with just anybody?”
Neither Donna nor Eric answered.
Jane continued. “It’s best if we can find another place for shelter. One that will allow us to stock up and isn’t so accessible to others. Hide out until someone in authority turns their minds to something other than self-preservation.” She sighed. “There’s no way around it. We have to go back out into the storm.”