Sandstorm Box Set

by T. W. Piperbrook

  Akron’s triangular mark verified that.

  But that didn’t make sense, because stones covered the entrance. If Akron’s body was here, and the crawlspace was covered by stones, that meant…

  Someone else had been here.

  Darius shuddered, holding his torch higher. He spun in a slow circle, as if he might find someone watching him from the shadows. Another colonist must have explored the caves, making the risky decision to break The Heads of Colony’s rules. But why would they take the time to place those stones? Darius knew how nerve-wracking the trips to the caves could be. He doubted someone would take the unnecessary step to cover up his or her travels.

  Who else would have a reason—or the time—to cover up the passage? The answer sprang to his mind.

  The Watchers.

  Chapter 8: Gideon

  “What do you think?” Wyatt looked down his pointed nose at Gideon.

  Gideon blew a silent breath, looking around at the expectant men around the table. The Watchers stood rigidly, holding their spears. Thorne sat tall.

  “I think we are at the precipice of panic,” Gideon said. “It is imperative we keep our people calm.”

  Everyone nodded. They knew the gravity of that statement.

  “We need to maintain the people’s confidence in us and keep Red Rock safe,” Wyatt said, as much to Gideon as the rest of them.

  The others murmured their agreement.

  “Keep our hunters out of the desert for the time being,” Gideon ordered, “and forbid any hunters from going out.” To Thorne, he said, “Keep your best men on duty up on the cliffs, and at the colony’s edge. Have them keep a vigilant watch. In the meantime, set up an urgent meeting with your newest inductees. It seems we have some things to tell them before we address the people.”

  Chapter 9: Helgid

  By the time Helgid returned from her trip to the colony center, some of the sunlight had faded from the top of the cliffs. Reaching her hovel, Helgid hurried through the open doorway and asked, “How is Raj?”

  She surveyed the grim faces in the room. Amos, the healer, and Samel knelt around Raj in a vigil, blotting his bare chest with towels. Raj’s forehead was beaded with sweat. His eyes were narrow slits. If not for the rise and fall of his small frame as he breathed, Helgid might’ve thought his condition had worsened.

  Before she had an answer to her initial question, she asked another. “Is he stable?”

  Samel remained quiet and worried, looking from Helgid to the other people for some words he probably wanted to hear, as well.

  “We’ve been keeping him cool and hydrated, but he’s still delirious,” the healer said. “He’s not communicating well.”

  Pointing to a bucket on the floor near his bedroll, Amos said, “He vomited a few times.”

  Helgid nodded, feeling a pang of guilt. She’d failed on two fronts. She’d failed bringing back Neena, and she’d let harm come to Raj. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d rushed so fast. She felt as if her old bones might collapse. Emotion and physical pain were at war inside her. Seeing her distraught expression, Amos crossed the room and said, “He’s going to be all right.” He put a hand on her shoulder. Motioning through the open door, he asked Helgid, “Why don’t we talk outside?”

  Putting her worries into a reassuring smile, Helgid told Samel, “We’ll be right back.”

  She and Amos stepped outside, to a spot near the hovel where they could speak privately.

  “You didn’t tell Samel about Neena, right?” she asked.

  “No, I kept it quiet,” Amos said.

  A small relief filled Helgid. “The last thing he needs is another worry.”

  “What’d you find out?” Amos asked.

  “What you heard was right,” Helgid said with regret. “Neena’s in jail. The Watchers are keeping a tight rein on the Comm Building. They won’t let anyone close.”

  “Did you find out anything else?” Amos asked, leaning forward and patiently waiting.

  “I ran into Sandra and Stanley, lingering around the Comm Building.” Helgid relayed what she’d heard about the stranger from her other neighbors. She told of how he and Neena were dragged to the Comm Building, and Neena’s odd behavior. “The Watchers ordered us home before I could get more information.”

  “Did you found out where the stranger is from?” Amos asked.

  “No one knows.”

  “Hearing that reminds me of the visitors from rumors, all those years ago,” Amos said, with wondrous fear. “Do you think it could be one of them?”

  “I’m not sure,” Helgid said. “Stanley said that The Heads of Colony are bound to make an address. In any case, getting near the Comm Building seems like an easy way to join Neena in jail.”

  “I think you’re right,” Amos said, shaking his head.

  Hating her dire predicament, Helgid said, “All I can do now is take care of Raj and Samel, at least until I can figure out how to help Neena.” She bit her lip, unable to quell the awful pit in her stomach. “If something happens to me, I don’t know what they’ll do.”

  “I spoke with Samel while you were gone,” Amos said. “He opened up to me.”

  “Opened up?”

  “Samel said some boys were picking on them recently. He said one of the boys in particular, a boy named Bailey, threatened Raj.”

  “By the heavens,” Helgid said, shaking her head. “I knew nothing about that.”

  “Samel felt horrible for keeping it from you. He wasn’t sure if they had something to do with this, but it certainly looks as if Raj has been roughed up,” Amos said.

  With an old woman’s intuition that she wished weren’t true, Helgid said, “Those boys attacked him.”

  “It is a guess,” Amos said. “But we won’t know for sure until Raj is more lucid. For now, all we can do is treat his injuries.”

  Helgid nodded, praying his condition would improve. “We’ll keep watch over him. When things settle, I’ll figure out what I can do about Neena.”

  Movement from the doorway distracted her attention. Looking down, she saw the tip of a child’s boot sticking around the bottom.

  “Samel, is that you?” Helgid called. The boot retreated, but no one emerged. “Samel?” she called again.

  Slowly, Samel reemerged, guilt on his face. “I didn’t mean to listen,” he said, looking at the ground.

  “It’s okay, child,” Helgid said, motioning him outside. “Come here.”

  Samel walked out, shame on his face. Tear tracks lined his cheeks. The poor boy looked as if he’d been flung in the river and dragged out.

  “How much did you hear?” Helgid asked.

  “I heard you and Amos talking, before you left a while ago. Is Neena really in jail?” Samel asked.

  “She is,” Helgid said, wishing she had a better answer.

  “Why is she there?”

  “No one knows for sure,” Amos said quietly.

  Samel buried himself in Helgid’s shirt. “When is she getting out?”

  “I’m not certain.” Saying those words hit Helgid like a jagged knife to the heart. “But you don’t have to worry, Samel. We’re going to figure out how to help her. We’re going to get her home.”

  “Do you promise?” Samel looked up at her with large, brown eyes.

  “I promise.”

  A guilty expression crossed Samel’s face. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about those boys before. Raj made me promise we would handle our own problems. And now they might’ve hurt him. And now Neena’s in jail…” Tears filled his eyes.

  “It’s not your fault,” Helgid said, pulling him close. “None of it. Your brother is going to be fine. And so is Neena. We’ll get her home, and all of you will be together again. I swear by the heavens.”

  Chapter 10: Darius

  Darius retraced his path through the dark, humid caves. Too many questions plagued his mind. He couldn’t stop thinking about the guess or realization he’d made in the cave.

  Had The
Watchers really been here?

  Maybe his first guess been right, and some scared colonist had stumbled upon Akron’s body and took his things, covering the passage behind him.

  Too many questions furled and unfurled in Darius’s mind, but he didn’t have time to process them all. Darius knew how quickly torches were expended. He knew how quickly the water in a flask dwindled. It wouldn’t take more than a few misjudgments to end up like Akron.

  Another fear drove him.

  What if The Watchers discovered him missing?

  Darius had no relatives, but a few colonists looking for a spear or a knife might ask questions. Those questions might become problems.

  Using one of his last torches, Darius wound through the auburn tunnels, traipsing over piles of rodent scat. By his estimate, it must be close to late afternoon, or later. It was the longest he’d stayed in the caves since his early explorations. Too many years of reality had taken away his childhood sense of invincibility. He’d seen too many bodies withered by sickness, crushed by sand, and killed in hunting accidents. He’d seen too many mothers mourning their children, or young children burying their parents.

  Every dust-filled breath brought the colonists closer to the heavens, and being discovered by The Watchers might be another road to death.

  The discoveries he made were a burden he needed to safely carry back. It would be too easy for his revelations to perish in the cave with him.

  Making his way past a few of his familiar, circular markings on the walls, Darius rounded a bend in the cave, spotting the sliver of light in the distance where he’d entered the cave last night. He stopped and appraised it.

  The sun glowed orange through the distant opening.

  It must be late afternoon of a new day.

  The prudent part of Darius wanted to wait in the caves until day bled to night. But the nervous voice in his head—the one that told him people might be searching for him—battled with his fear of being discovered. After staring at the light for some time, he decided to creep closer to the entrance before making a decision.

  With enough light to guide him, Darius extinguished his torch, leaned on his cane, and snuck close to the cave’s opening, sticking close to the reddish walls. A few hundred feet away from the cave’s entrance, a trickle of colonists moved past the sides of the closest dwellings, talking rapidly, motioning with their hands. It seemed as if they all flowed in a certain direction.

  Darius wasn’t aware of any meetings or processions.

  Either way, the colony’s distractedness might give him cover. If the colonists were busy, so might The Watchers be.

  Stuffing his torch in his bag, Darius hurried as fast as he was able out of the cave, keeping his head down. He focused on the nearest alley, praying he’d chosen a good moment to leave.

  He waited for a yell, a parade of running men, or an unseen hand to grab his shirt, spinning him around.

  Relief struck him as he reached the alley, blending with a cluster of men and women, none of who looked twice at him.

  **

  Approaching his home, Darius half-expected to find a band of Watchers, pointing their spears and rifling through his possessions. None waited. He trembled as he unlocked the door of his hovel, stepped through, and looked around the empty dwelling.

  Nothing in the small house was overturned or missing.

  Piles of unfixed weapons and tools sat on his workbench. He could still smell the musk of the caves on him, and when he glanced at his boot, he saw a bit of rodent scat clinging to its side. The weight of those damming clues felt like a secret he needed to keep forever.

  It felt as if he’d escaped some dark, hellish world. Staring at the walls, he envisioned tentacle arms springing from the mud brick and ripping him back into the caves, or strange monsters breaking down his door and dragging him back into their depths. He’d been inside the caves more times than he could count, but his entire perception of the planet had changed.

  Who would believe what he had seen?

  And whom would he tell?

  Darius glanced nervously around his house. In the caves, his only thought had been to determine what he’d found and make it safely back.

  Now that he had returned home, he couldn’t make any rash decisions.

  Perhaps he’d talk over his findings with Elmer.

  Creeping over to his door, he peered through the crack into the last of the day’s light. A few voices carried over from his neighbors. Most were inside, out of view. A wave of exhaustion crept over him, making him blink. He was lightheaded. His bones ached. The weariness of a night’s missed sleep caught up to him at once. Perhaps some sleep would give him clarity.

  In the morning, first thing, he’d speak with his friend.

  Chapter 11: Neena

  Neena stared at the shadowy cell three down from hers. In the last of the dying sunlight, she asked, “Kai?”

  Kai sat out of sight in the cell, maintaining his silence.

  “Kai?” she repeated.

  Something moved from within his cell. Slowly, Kai sat forward and peered through the bars, so she could see his eyes and the beginning of the dark markings on his forehead through the thin light of the window. A pang of fear worked its way through her stomach.

  Slowly, her eyes roamed to the bars keeping her in her cell, and the ones in front of his. At the moment, she felt grateful for them.

  “Are you all right?” Kai asked, in a convincing tone she didn’t believe.

  Neena nodded, watching him carefully. “I’m fine.”

  “I don’t think they’re letting us out,” Kai said resignedly.

  Neena swallowed. Fear caught her tongue. The man with whom she traveled was once again a stranger. For all she knew, she was imprisoned with a vicious, violent individual, whose intentions she knew as little about as his past. She wanted to confront him and find out the answers, but the thought of accusing him gave her a new, dark fear.

  Who knew how he would react?

  They stood in the semi-darkness for a few moments, watching the sunlight fade, until Neena could no longer control her cascading thoughts.

  “They told me what your marks mean. They told me you are a criminal.” The words hung in the air after she said them—regretful, nervous words.

  For the first time since she’d met him, Kai shifted uncomfortably in his cell. He clenched the bars, looking at her. Neena held his gaze, swallowing back her fear.

  “In the desert, you told me your hunting party was killed. Was that a lie?”

  Kai stayed silent.

  Neena took a step back from the bars. Her father had taught her better than to believe blindly. The Heads of Colony must be right. She’d made a mistake.

  “I’m sorry, Neena,” Kai said finally, looking away.

  “Was there a hunting party?”

  Kai paused a moment, before shaking his head. “I lied about them. I did it so you would help me. Would you have given me water if I had told the truth?”

  The question was deceptively simple. She would’ve helped almost any man in his condition, but she wouldn’t have helped a criminal, that was for certain.

  “You told me a story to earn my trust. You convinced me to help you.” Each word was a revelation, slamming into her like a mud brick.

  “I’m not proud of my lies,” Kai said. “I’m sorry they led us here.”

  “When we were first thrown into these cells and I asked what was happening, you lied then, too,” Neena whispered, putting more things together. “You told me you didn’t know why they brought you here. Why would you do that, when you knew I would find out the truth?”

  Kai snuck an arm through the bars, palm-up. “I clung to a hope that we might see our way out of here. I didn’t want to give them another reason to mistrust you.” He shook his head, ashamed, or perhaps, just sorry that he was caught. “I did it to protect you, thinking that if you knew more about me, it would only incriminate you. Obviously, my plan failed.”

  She stared at the
markings on his head. More than a dozen examples of criminal actions ran through her head, each more egregious than the last.

  “Your leaders are right about me,” Kai said, unable to meet her eyes. “I am a criminal.”

  “What did you do?”

  The door at the end of the hallway banged open, and a Watcher stepped inside. “Quiet!” he ordered, his voice ringing through the hallway. He took another step and shut the door behind him, making it clear he was staying inside.

  Without another word, Kai slipped back into the shadows.

  Chapter 12: The Abomination

  Warmth. Darkness.

  The beast couldn’t see the sunlight, or the light of the twin moons, but it knew them. It knew when the soft, pliable ground gave way to frictionless air, and it no longer had to push and pull the earth to move. It knew the feeling of its quills spreading and unfolding, launching it from ground to sky and to freedom, as the sun beat down on its subterranean skin.

  More importantly, it knew the soft flesh that awaited it on the planet’s surface.

  The beast tolerated the surface light, because it meant food.

  All it needed was to wait for the noises.

  The beast sensed them from far away—soft at first, rippling the sand and the ground’s firmer, deeper layers. Those vibrations lured the beast through the dirt and toward them, whispering promises of a meal. Years ago, it had taken its share of missed leaps, landing from ground to sky without satisfying its urges.

  Over time, it had perfected its rituals.

  It waited until the vibrations overwhelmed its senses before it took those last few pushes through the ground and broke into the light, hunting its prey.

  If the beast were more aware, it might know that the louder, higher-pitched noises were the shrieks of fright from lesser beasts, who knew a fear the beast never knew.

  It had always been the largest predator.

  It had no concept of worry.

  Its only concern was opening its maw, biting, and feeling the pleasure of soft skin, filling its stomach and sating its urges. It lived for the simple satisfaction of the juices spilling over its gums.