Sandstorm Box Set

by T. W. Piperbrook

  Was he one of the strange visitors her people had seen, in that visit years ago?

  Too many questions.

  The strange word Kai had told her rang in her head. The Abomination.

  The name was almost as terrifying as the beast she’d seen.

  “Earlier, you said that the storm confused the creature,” Neena remembered.

  Kai nodded.

  “But it found the Rydeer,” she recalled.

  “The Rydeer panicked,” Kai said, brushing some of the sand from his face. “It made too much noise. Its bleating and its frantic hooves brought on its death. Or maybe the Abomination got lucky.”

  Kai tried using his shirt to clean some of the debris near his eyes. He cursed and blinked.

  “Take my water,” she said, handing over one of her flasks. “But use it sparingly.”

  “Thanks,” he whispered. He tilted his head back, washing some of the sand from his eyes, but careful not to spill too much. “If you hadn’t found me, I probably wouldn’t be alive.”

  “Do you have any supplies?” she asked, looking him up and down as if she might’ve missed something.

  “I lost them days ago,” Kai said, shaking his head. “I haven’t had time to do much more than run. I barely managed to eat and drink. I dug water from tree roots. I ate whatever plants I could find, while I avoided that thing.” A gruesome expression took over his face. “A few times, I scared some birds away from a carcass and ate the leftovers. Sometimes the food made me sick, but I did what I had to.”

  Neena grimaced, but they both knew eating was better than dying.

  “Before you found me, I had a sharp stick.” Kai patted his pants in confusion, as if the weapon might appear. “I must’ve lost it when I fell.”

  Neena nodded. It was probably buried in the desert, where she’d found him. Of course, there was no going back for it now.

  Holding up the flask, he asked, “Do you mind if I drink some?”

  “Go ahead.”

  “We should stay hydrated, “Kai told her. “We might need to run.”

  Neena removed her other flask, and they both drank while the wind shrieked outside. The storm seemed to have intensified. Clouds of dust and sand drifted into the cave, like some translucent monster, swirling around the cave with wispy arms. They put their goggles back on. More questions rattled around Neena’s mind.

  Before she could voice them, a flash of light illuminated the cave.

  The walls around them brightened, revealing a multitude cracks and crevices. Neena looked on either side of them, as if she might find another threat, skulking nearby. Or maybe the lightning attracted the Abomination. She didn’t know enough about the monster to be certain of anything.

  She recalled her time on the dune, hunkering down and watching for lightning. If only she knew how prescient that thought would be.

  But lightning seemed like the lesser worry.

  Another grumble sounded from further away.

  “Was that it?” she hissed over at Kai, wondering whether she heard something worse than a side effect of the storm.

  Kai looked frightened. “I’m not sure, but we should stop talking, in case.”

  He handed back her flask. Together, they grew silent and listened, and Neena held on to her many questions.

  Chapter 9: Gideon

  Gideon looked around the Comm Building at the men gathered around the table. A few of the men turned their heads in unison as the wind shook against the brace holding the door. Others looked at the skulls, a few more of which rattled. If the storm worsened, he would order the strictest precaution and have them hunker down.

  Each of the men knew the value of their lives. He and his Heads of Colony were the sand and mud that glued the hovels outside together, turning a crowd of people into a society.

  And they had no small duty.

  In the aftermath of the storm, they would have tallies to take, crops to count, and buildings to mend. Depending on their fortune—or misfortune—they might have people to bury.

  In a way, the storm was only the first of the tests.

  To his right, Wyatt, one of his Heads of Colony, stared over at him with a severe expression. He scratched at his long, crooked nose, as he did when he was steeped in worry. Next to him, Brody slid one hand over the other. Both men were skilled in estimations and numbers. Their aptitude would assist Gideon in assessing the damage to the crops. Saurab and Horatio, his other two Heads, studied the strength of the ceiling. After the storm, they would gauge any widespread damage, recruiting volunteers to assist in the repairs.

  Watchers filled the rest of the room.

  The sweat and stink of a few dozen, anxious men turned a hot space into a sweltering one, but everyone stayed silent. No one complained. They had survived plenty of storms before.

  Thorne, Gideon’s Head Watcher, looked toward the northern side of the room.

  Jutting out from the other side of that door was the prison annex, which extended past the round building. In the days of the first generation, that secured extension had housed extra rations, but now it served a more judicial purpose. When things ran smoothly, most of those dusty, dank cells remained empty. But storms like this taxed even an honest man’s heart. If the rations ran thin, some of the colonists might resort to stealing, or breaking the rules.

  If things went poorly, Thorne and his Watchers would fill those rooms, under Gideon’s jurisdiction.

  They would survive, because they had no choice, in this inherited wasteland.

  Chapter 10: Darius

  The torch on Darius’s wall died, leaving him alone and in the dark. He didn’t bother relighting it. He knew it would do no good. The flame wouldn’t repel the storm, nor would it erase his nightmares, which always seemed to come during storms like these.

  For a long time, he stared at the dark walls and listened to the wind battering the outside of his hovel. Eventually, his eyes grew weary, and he closed them.

  The next thing he realized, he was in a hazy desert. Darius stiffened and looked around. The ground was made of fine white sand—pure and unblemished, more magnificent than anything he’d seen. Looking down at his boots, it seemed as if he were floating rather than walking. He saw no footprints that showed how he’d gotten here.

  Of course, he couldn’t see farther than twenty feet through the haze.

  Darius’s heart rammed against his ribcage as he felt something staring at him from a place he couldn’t see. The longer he waited, the more certain he was that an ominous entity lurked nearby. His only thought was to get away from it.

  Darius took a step, then another, cutting through the encircling dust. Somewhere in the distance, he heard the howl of the wind, but the haze was surprisingly still, as if he was in some walled-off place, far from the storm, far from everywhere he’d known.

  The entity stalked him.

  His cane felt immeasurably heavy, pinning him to the ground rather than supporting him. The landscape provided no clues as to where he was. All around him was the nearly impenetrable haze, and the white sand. He might as well be running in a circle.

  A gust of gentle wind caressed the back of his neck. Darius shuddered as the hairs above his collar prickled and the cold wormed its way through his skin, bringing a chill to his bones.

  Not wind.

  An icy breath.

  Darius spun, intent on confronting the strange entity, but he saw only dust. It felt as if the landscape was swallowing him, turning him into part of it. He couldn’t let that happen.

  He needed to escape.

  With each step, he felt the entity chasing, grazing the back of his clothing, ready to invade his mouth and nose, ripping away his breath with icy tendrils.

  “Leave me alone!” he screamed, thrusting out his cane.

  He slashed his free hand through the haze, as if he might be able to break through it.

  A glowing white door appeared in front of him.

  Darius blinked, as if he might be hallucinating. Or may
be he was being tricked. But the door was there, about ten feet away: bright, impenetrable, and projecting warmth. Slowly, he gained enough courage to walk toward it.

  Maybe he’d found a way out.

  He forced himself to believe that, as he approached it. He raised his cane, watching the stick pass through the door and disappear. His heart thundered. The door had no physical appearance, other than light. He pulled his cane back, unblemished.

  The light rippled.

  Darius lowered his cane and took a step back.

  A person’s face poked through the center of the door, at eye-level. The person’s visage was fuzzy at first, imperceptible. They turned their face, stopping when they found Darius. A pair of white, colorless eyes sat in the middle of featureless skin. Darius tensed. But the person coming through didn’t seem threatening.

  The person solidified.

  They took a step.

  Darius’s breath caught in his throat.

  Akron.

  The boy became flesh-colored, skin became skin, and his mouth curved into the same, wide smile that Darius remembered. And then Akron was out of the light and in the desert, standing in front of him.

  Darius smiled back at his friend, relief overtaking him. Akron wasn’t dead, after all.

  He’d found Akron!

  He opened his arms as Akron stepped forward to meet him. Darius was inches away from an embrace when the light in the door rippled again, and a bony hand shot out, tugging Akron backward. Akron cried out in terror, horror lighting his face as a dozen more reaching hands came from the light, pawing and groping, pulling him back. He thrust an elbow behind him, trying to break from their clutches.

  Darius screamed his friend’s name.

  He lunged and latched on to the boy’s shirt, but the hands on the other side pulled harder, ripping him away. Darius stumbled back. With a soundless thud, he fell onto the white sand.

  Akron’s face distorted as he fell back through the door. His nose bent and twisted; his eyes bulged and melted. The last thing Darius saw was one of his fingers, reaching out for Darius. With a final, terrified scream, Akron vanished.

  The door solidified into a wall of blackness.

  Darius woke up with a yell, as the sandstorm continued raging around him.

  Chapter 11: Neena

  Lightning flashed, cutting through the darkness that enveloped the cave. Each thunderous rumble might be the beast, or it might be the storm. Kai was little more than a shadow sitting next to Neena, visible in those intermittent moments when the cave brightened. They kept mostly still, shifting only when they needed to avoid cramps. Neena kept a cautious eye between Kai and the desert.

  With too much time to think and fear, she replayed the events from earlier. She’d never forget the enormous, jagged teeth of the creature, tearing the Rydeer in half, or the gaping hole in the sand, left in its wake. She thought of what Kai had told her. She couldn’t imagine surviving a beast as large or as deadly for so long—and especially without water, or a weapon.

  Those thoughts led to another that she’d temporarily put aside. She’d lost her main weapon.

  My spear.

  That last thought hit her so hard and so fast that a pang of grief accompanied her fear. The spear had been her father’s. He had left it for her before he departed for the desert for the final time. Now, the weapon was probably buried so far underground that neither person nor beast would come across it again.

  She might not miss it for long, before she died.

  Looking out at the whipping wind, Neena couldn’t assure herself that she’d survive another day. She no longer had any sense of day or night. With no sun or moons to gauge the time, she could only guess by the temperature.

  The heat was fading, which meant night was coming.

  The desert nights were as cold as the days were sweltering. Most nights, she slept close to her fires when she was lucky enough to find enough wood to burn, staving off the bitter cold. The few blankets Neena carried in her bag were barely enough to keep her warm.

  They remained in place for a long while, listening and watching, until Neena changed positions again. She sat back, clutching her knees and keeping a tight grasp on her knife.

  A forgotten feeling struck her.

  Hunger.

  With all the running and hiding, she’d ignored it. Neena hadn’t eaten since morning. She recalled hunkering under the shade of a rock outcropping, consuming a few pieces of sand rat while escaping the bright rays of the sun. She couldn’t imagine eating anything now, with the dread of the monster outside, but Kai’s warning came back to her: they might need their strength.

  Slowly, she removed the pack from her back, feeling around inside. Kai looked over anxiously, thinking she’d heard something. In a flash of light, she signaled she was okay. Feeling around in the dark, her hands came across a few thin blankets and shawls and some empty game bags. Eventually, she found the small pouch containing the last of the meat she’d saved. Digging out some sand rat, she handed it over to Kai. He was surprised, until he realized what she gave him. He took it gratefully, stuffing it into his mouth and chewing wordlessly.

  Neena ate some, saving a little.

  Together, they consumed the meat in silence, watching the flashes of light through the storm. Another, strange feeling came over Neena.

  For too many years, Neena had hunted alone, sharpening her spear in similar caves, collecting her water and her game. It felt good to have someone with whom to share her worries. But she had to remind herself that Kai was a stranger, about whom she knew less than the monster.

  Finally, when the chill of the setting sun prickled her arms with goose bumps, Kai leaned over, breaking their silence.

  “It is almost night, judging by the cold,” Kai whispered, solidifying her guess.

  Neena nodded. “That’s what I thought, too.”

  “Abomination or not, I don’t think we would have much luck traveling in the storm. The winds will blow out a torch.”

  “And we will lose direction,” Neena finished. Even if she wanted to leave, she couldn’t imagine stepping out into the darkness and the wind. Looking in Kai’s direction, she asked, “Do you think it will hunt us at night?”

  “I don’t think it cares about days or nights,” Kai said. “I think it rests when it wants, underground. But either way, I usually stay off the sand when it gets dark. We are at enough of a disadvantage during the day.”

  Neena nodded gravely. With the decision made, she dug into her bag again, fishing for her blankets. Despite her reservations about Kai—about everything—they needed to stay warm.

  “If we are staying, you’ll need this,” she said, handing him one of the blankets.

  “Thanks,” Kai said appreciatively. She heard him drape it over himself in the dark.

  “Where have you slept?” she whispered.

  “Sometimes in caves like the one in which we are in,” Kai said. “A few times, I found a small patch of rocks between which to tuck myself. I don’t sleep much. Each time I close my eyes, I fear I will not awaken.”

  “Have you built fires?”

  Kai shook his head. “I’m afraid the crackling will draw it. It might be an irrational fear, but it has kept me alive. And it is hard to find wood, of course. I keep praying it will lose interest in me. So far, that hasn’t happened.”

  And now, it had an interest in Neena, too. She shuddered as she thought of that.

  She couldn’t imagine sleeping, knowing the creature was out there. On a normal night, Neena slept fitfully. Most nights, she woke at every noise, ready to defend herself. The fires she lit warded off some of the animals, but more than once, she’d fended off some desperate, hungry predator.

  “The sandstorm will help us,” Kai repeated, as he shifted in the dark, sounding as if he was trying to convince himself.

  A rumble preceded another flash. In the bright light, she saw Kai holding a finger to his lips, making it clear that they should return to silence. She studied
his face, wondering if she would have to fend him off, too.

  Kai had saved her from the beast.

  He’d pushed her to the ground before she was devoured.

  Neena couldn’t forget that.

  And yet, she was still uneasy. For now, she had no choice but to trust the strange man with whom she was trapped. Holding her knife tight in her hands, she traded her focus between the cave’s entrance and the strange man next to her, knowing they were both in for a sleepless night.

  Chapter 12: Raj

  When Raj opened his eyes, a thin haze of dust hung over the room, sneaking underneath the threshold, filtering through whatever small crevices it could find. He cleared off his sand-splattered goggles and did a slow inspection of the room.

  “Is it over?” Samel whispered, still huddling close.

  “I think so,” Raj answered, blinking hard at his brother.

  He said a silent prayer, thanking the heavens that the roof and walls had held.

  “Do you think everyone’s all right?” Samel asked.

  Raj paused a moment, listening for voices outside, hearing a few echoes between the walls of the neighboring houses.

  “I hope,” Raj said. “We need to find Helgid. She’s probably worried about us.”

  Raj slowly got to his feet, stretching his cramped legs. He walked to the doorway, with Samel behind. Looking over at his brother, he verified he was unharmed. The story of that young boy came back to him, as he recalled the child buried beneath the wreckage of the storm, but Samel seemed fine. He looked like a strange insect in his shawl and goggles. If the situation were different, Raj might’ve laughed. Reaching the door, they paused.

  More voices came from outside as people emerged.

  “Keep your face covered,” Raj said.

  Samel nodded as Raj opened the door to daylight. Memories of the fitful night’s sleep came back to him. Each time he’d felt sleep coming, some new screech of the wind had ripped him awake, or the pelting debris on the roof made him fear it would collapse. He blinked his tired eyes under the light of a new day.