Dust Storm!

by Terry Lynn Johnson

  Martin sniffed, gave me a funny look, and then ignored me. He pulled a sheet out of his pocket. It was the coordinate sheet for the Snake Byte cache locations.

  “How is that going to help?” I asked.

  “I’m trying to figure out where we are. The coordinates show the caches aren’t far from each other.” Martin squatted and started drawing lines in the dirt. “That first Snake Byte cache was a half mile from the road, here.” He poked a dot not far from the line he made. “And this was the arroyo we fell into.”

  I knelt beside him, and we both studied the drawing. “The road was more like this,” I said, drawing the curve I remembered from the map. “It came off the highway here.”

  “If we look at these other cache locations, you can see they’re all around the same area.” He pointed to the page. “Like, this one is just west of the first one I punched into the GPS.” Martin examined the lines in the dirt. “The coordinate is zero-point-zero-one degrees away from the first. That means it’s a little over half a mile away, around here.” He indicated a place on the ground over a clump of short cactus. “So there’s probably a road close to where they set up all those caches.”

  “How can you tell that without your GPS?”

  Martin looked up in surprise. “Because of the coordinates. Look: they’re just a few numbers different.”

  I stared at the coordinates listed on the sheet. “I’ve never thought about what the numbers mean. I just put them into the GPS, and it tells me which way to go.” I grinned sheepishly, but he only scowled back as if I’d offended him.

  Martin glared at the lines in the dirt again. “Did you draw this road exactly in the direction it was on the map?”

  “Yes,” I said. Now it was my turn to be annoyed. Martin knew how my memory worked.

  “So . . . if we’re somewhere around here, we need to walk in a straight line, due southeast, and we’ll cross this highway.” He stood and looked around, shading his eyes. “I wish I had a compass.”

  “A GPS would be handy,” I said.

  Martin pointed. “Sun’s setting over there, so that means that direction is west. More or less.” Then he turned toward our left. “And this is south. Let’s get going.” He toed something out of the dirt at his feet, then picked up a short steel pole. “Can use this for snake protection.” He swung it experimentally.

  I remembered that Martin’s book said if you got lost, you should stay still so rescuers could find you. But we had no water. The pounding in my head told me we needed water, and soon. I glanced anxiously around and saw that daylight was fading. Martin was right again. We had to find our way out of the desert before it got dark.

  Despite how thirsty we were, we had to keep walking. We’d surely die from dehydration if we stayed here.

  Chapter Eight

  “It’ll be cooler walking without the sun, at least,” I said. Despite the promising clouds earlier, they had eventually drifted off.

  The desert seemed to be waking up around us. A large bird that could have been a roadrunner flew between the shrubs on my left. A rabbit burst out near our feet and dashed away.

  The sky was a soft ocean blue turning rose pink over the mountain. Beyond the shrubs was a ridge that had simply looked like dirt earlier, but now with the muted light glowing on it, I could see the bands of rust red, orange, and yellow. The sound of crickets was everywhere.

  As we crunched over dead grass and hard dirt, I wondered if the club had made it to the meeting point and found the other teams. If a tow truck had gotten the van unstuck. Everyone might be at the hotel in Las Cruces by now. They’d have had supper, had something to drink. I tried licking my lips again.

  The games they’d planned for tonight were probably canceled because we were missing. In fact, maybe the whole event would be canceled. They must’ve called my dad at the courthouse. I wondered if he was in the middle of a trial. Mom might’ve been out walking with my baby brother, Jack, and Ma Ma, my grandmother.

  I wondered who was out looking for us right now. I was sure they had canteens of water. Gallons of it. Maybe they were right over the hill, just about to find us. They were probably going to find us very soon.

  What I wouldn’t have given for water right now. I’d never been so thirsty in my life. I didn’t even notice missing supper. I just wanted to drink.

  I rubbed my burning eyes. They felt like they still had grit in them, and I was having trouble seeing. I strained to find Martin in the low light.

  “Slow down!” I called to him, stepping over piles of dried-up dung. It was everywhere. “I don’t want to bump into a cactus in the dark.” Soon we weren’t going to be able to see anything. Where was the road? Where were the people or towns? The desert was a huge space filled with nothing.

  The darker it became, the closer Martin and I shifted toward each other. I glanced down at another dried-up cow patty, but as I watched, it uncoiled itself and slithered away.

  “Snake!” I stopped dead, electric fear charging through me. “We can’t keep walking when we can’t see anything.” My heart pounded. “There could be rattlers anywhere!”

  “Yeah, okay.” Martin bent over and used his prod to scrape a clear spot on the sand where we could rest. When he straightened again, he grabbed his head. “Ugh. I stood too fast. I’m dizzy.”

  Growing up in Tucson, everyone knew the signs of dehydration. It made you lightheaded. But there wasn’t anything we could do about it out here.

  I sat down, feeling sick to my stomach. Sitting was worse. The sand was hot. And now that I was still, I noticed the noises all around us. Things were coming out in the darkness. I wondered about scorpions and snakes and biting lizards.

  When we heard the howls and yipping behind us, we locked eyes.

  “We need a fire,” Martin said. “I wish I had matches.”

  “Hey!” I pulled the Clovis point out of my pocket. “This is flint. Your snake prod is made of steel. We can make a fire with flint and steel!”

  “Really?” Martin picked up his steel prod. “How?”

  The coyotes seemed to answer. Their many voices sang an ominous song not far over the ridge.

  “We need fuel,” I said. “Collect some wood. Maybe some of these dried cowpies, but watch that they’re not snakes! Try those tall stalks. Oh, but we need tinder first.” I talked as though I’d done this before. Doing something was easier when you were confident. “To make a fire, we need ignition, tinder, and fuel. Do you have any lint in your pockets?” I found a little ball of it in my left front pocket. Would it be enough to ignite a spark?

  Martin pulled the Snake Byte papers with the cache coordinates from his pocket.

  “Oh, yeah. That’ll work,” I said.

  He ripped the bottom of the page and crumpled it up before tossing it on our pile. Once we had the fuel and tinder ready, I crouched over with the steel and flint.

  “You just have to hit them together, and it creates sparks,” I said, trying to sound sure. “Ye Ye told me about how he had to make fire with flint and steel back when he was younger. I looked it up because I wasn’t sure if he was telling stories. You know how he is.”

  Even though it was a while ago, I clearly remembered reading about flint and steel as if I had a website in my brain. But I had only read about it. I had never actually tried it.

  Chapter Nine

  I scraped the rock against the steel rod and was rewarded with a few sparks that were bright in the darkness.

  “That’s it,” Martin said, excited. He glanced behind us.

  The coyotes chose that moment to howl and yip again. They sounded like a large pack, and they were closer.

  “They’re coming,” Martin said, waving his arms. “Hurry!”

  I frantically sparked the steel and flint together. After a few tries, I figured out I needed to hold the flint down with one hand and strike it with the steel at a certain angle. Clack. Clack. Clack. Clack.

  A gust of wind blew our tinder around. “We need to protect the fire fro
m the wind,” I said.

  As Martin gathered stones to build a small rock wall, I leaned over the tinder and made sparks. Over and over again. Reading about making a fire was much easier than actually doing it. The sparks were coming out. Why weren’t they lighting?

  More coyotes yipped. The sound filled me with panic.

  I tried to calm my breathing. I needed to concentrate on making this fire. A shadow ran by. I couldn’t look.

  “They’re right here!” Martin yelled. “Come on, come on!”

  CLACK CLACK CLACK CLACK.

  My hands shook from the adrenaline coursing through me. I had heard coyotes from inside my house before, but the sound of them outside in the dark was way more terrifying.

  Finally, I aimed a long, hot spark into the center of the paper, and it smoldered. I blew on it gently until a tiny burst of flame flared.

  “Careful, not too much or you’ll smother it,” I said as Martin fed it some dried twigs.

  Once it caught hold, we could see pairs of green eyes flashing in the firelight.

  “Do coyotes eat people?” Martin asked.

  “I don’t think so,” I said. But that wasn’t much comfort. The dark made eerie noises seem so much worse, and the only thing between us and the coyotes was the fire.

  We crowded as close to the fire as we could, feeding it fuel. We’d need to collect more for the night. We had to keep the darkness away.

  “I wonder if they told my parents I’m missing yet,” Martin said. “Dad will be mad. Mom’s probably crying.”

  “They must have everyone from Search and Rescue out for us,” I said loudly. If I said it loud enough, maybe someone would hear me and find us. Right now would be good. “We’ll be home soon.”

  I thought of my baby brother, Jack. The fine hair covering his warm, soft head always smelled so good. I thought of Ma Ma, Ye Ye, Mom, and Dad, my bedroom with my gummy-bear night-light. My throat tightened, and I quickly shook my head.

  I picked up the outer piece of a wood stalk that grew tall out of some of the plants. It had two hollow bulges shaped like a figure eight that made me pause. Instead of feeding it to the fire, I used the Clovis point to poke it. The sharp stone carved into the wood. “Hey. I can make sunglasses with this!” I held it up in front of my eyes.

  “Don’t you need glass to make sunglasses?”

  “I’ve seen pictures of people in the arctic wearing goggles with slits in them to keep from snow blindness,” I said. “I think we need the same thing to keep from going sand-blind. I just have to cut the end off here and carve two slits to see out!” I held the wood up to the light of the fire.

  Just as I started to scrape, I heard a branch crack right behind us. I spun around and peered into the darkness.

  “What was that?” I asked. At the same time, a snort came from the bushes.

  “What is that?” Martin said. He picked up the steel rod and held it in front of him.

  Wordlessly we moved closer to each other and sat with our backs touching. Whatever was out there, it sounded bigger than a coyote.

  After a tense few minutes when we heard no other sounds, Martin moved away. He slumped over listlessly next to the fire. Both of us were hurting, feeling the effects of having nothing to drink all afternoon. I didn’t want to think about what would happen once the sun came out tomorrow. My muscles were already clenching. I needed water like I needed air.

  I looked up and caught my breath at the millions of white stars burning and twinkling overhead. “The sky is so big,” I said in a whisper.

  “The desert is big too,” Martin whispered back.

  Glancing behind me again, I picked up my sand goggles. I listened for any more weird sounds. There was a loud chorus of crickets. An owl hooted in the distance. A light tap-tap-tap came from the other side of Martin.

  I kept guard over the fire as I carved slits into the wood with my Clovis point.

  Chapter Ten

  Something was breathing on me.

  I opened my eyes. And screamed. Martin, sleeping near me, bolted up, screaming too. A large hulking thing loomed over me, its long face hanging inches above mine.

  “HAW-EEEE!” The creature jerked a few steps away, letting me get a better look at it.

  “Is that a donkey?” I pointed to the compact little animal. For such a scary beast, it had soft eyes set in a thoughtful gray face.

  “I think it’s a burro,” Martin said, hastily rolling to his feet. He held out a hand toward the animal, but it tossed its head and sidestepped out of reach. “Looks like a wild one.”

  Next to me, the burnt remains of last night’s fire gave off a smoky odor. The night had been colder than I expected, and I’d been glad for the fire. How could the desert be so hot and then turn so cold? I’d never spent the night out in the open like this before. We didn’t even have a tent.

  I rubbed my ankle where the cactus had got me and surveyed our makeshift camp. The sun was already up but hiding behind clouds. I hoped again for rain. Any drop of water that would help me peel my tongue off the roof of my mouth or soothe my swollen, cracked lips.

  “Aiya,” I said. I hurt all over. My voice sounded like a croaking frog with a mouth full of pebbles. I eyed the donkey from where I sat. A glance beneath her tail informed me she was female.

  “A wild donkey. Huh. I wonder what she wants with us?” I rose and tried to approach her, but the donkey avoided me, too.

  “Hawww-eee. HAWWW-EEEEEE.”

  “Probably wants food,” Martin offered.

  “HAWWWWW-ee.” Her nostrils flared wide toward me.

  “Maybe if we catch her, we can ride the donkey out of here,” I said.

  “Burro.” Martin groaned and covered his eyes. “Ow. My eyes feel like they’re all scratched.”

  “That’s what I was telling you. We’re going sun-blind.” I waved the sand goggles I had finished. “But I only made one of these.”

  “Figures.” Martin squinted at me and then pulled his hat down low.

  I rubbed my face, which was caked with dried salt. My head felt muzzy and weird when I turned it. But I caught the movement of Donkey as she walked away. “Come on! We have to catch our ride.”

  “We could catch her easy if we had food to offer,” Martin said, joining me.

  “I wish we had food,” I said.

  “I wish we had water.”

  “I wish we knew where we were,” I said.

  “I wish we’d stayed at the windmill,” Martin said. “It feels like we’ve been walking in circles ever since. I can’t even tell which direction to go now.”

  I tied my goggles on with the lace out of one of my shoes and looked around. “Hey! I can totally see through the slits. I wasn’t sure if I made them too small. My eyes feel better already. We can take turns with the goggles. Even with your hat, you need protection from the glare.”

  The donkey walked up an incline. As we followed her, our feet spun clumsily in the sand. My shoe that was missing a lace filled with annoying little pebbles.

  “Ah!” Martin suddenly clutched his calf and fell over.

  “What?” I asked in a panic. “Snake?” I tried to run to him but was overcome with dizziness. A wave of nausea hit me, and I bent over, breathing hard.

  Martin rubbed his leg. “My calf muscle just cramped up.” He got slowly to his feet and looked about as sick as I felt.

  “Your muscles are cramping because we need water,” I said, my voice gritty. His lips were peeling, and every part of me ached for something to drink. All my thoughts and actions felt sluggish, like I was in a bad dream, struggling through wet cement. I wasn’t sure how much farther either of us could go.

  We were so close to the donkey now that we could almost touch her. She twitched her ears and eyed me over her back.

  “Haaw-eeeee.” Her nostrils opened wide and round and then relaxed.

  “If she would just stop for a moment, I could convince her we’re friendly,” I said, following after her. “Getting to ride anything would
be a relief. Even a ride on a donkey.”

  “Burro.”

  I kicked a tin can and bent to pick it up. How did this get out here? I wondered if I could use this to lure the donkey somehow. Maybe pretend it still had food in it. When I straightened up again, I almost dropped the can in excitement.

  “Martin, look!” I pointed. The donkey was heading toward a row of willows. They grew together in a line, along with other small bushes. It was the most green we’d seen since we’d been out here.

  “What?” He shaded his eyes. Our clouds had broken up, and the broiling sun blazed down.

  “Come on!” I stumbled faster toward the trees.

  “What is it? I thought we weren’t supposed to run.” Martin lurched after me.

  When we crested the rise, we could see down to where a shallow arroyo snaked across the terrain. It looked like a river, but without the water.

  “Willows mean water,” I said. Donkey stood at the outer bend of the wash and pawed the ground.

  “What’s she doing?” When Martin and I rushed forward, her head came up to look at us. Her white muzzle dripped with water.

  We threw ourselves down the cut bank and fell into the shallow puddle she’d created by digging with her hoof. All three of us slurped, and I dug down farther to make a deeper hole. The water was muddy and stung my cut lips, but I didn’t care. Drinking felt wonderful.

  Once I got a couple of mouthfuls, I paused to wonder if the water was safe to drink. It was full of sand; what else might be in it? But drinking right now was more important than worrying about getting sick. I took off the shirt around my head. “Here,” I offered. “We can use this to filter it.”

  I spread the shirt out on the ground, and then wrapped up a wad of wet sand inside. When I hung the shirt over the tin can and squeezed hard, I was excited to see clear water trickle out.

  “That’s pretty smart,” Martin said.