Dust 2_A New World Order

  “We’ll need to find more food soon. I swear I’d give anything right now for a salad or broccoli or anything remotely green as long as it isn’t mold. I don’t even like vegetables in general, but I’m getting sick of eating junk food all the time,” Randolph groaned when Denise and Martha pulled out boxes of food and began unloading them.

  “Be thankful we have this,” Martha chided.

  “I know. I know. I don’t have to eat it if I don’t like it,” Randolph retorted with a wry grin. “I’d agree if I wasn’t so damn hungry.”

  “We’re all hungry, Randolph. Quit your whining,” Josie growled.

  “Oh-oh-oh! Sammy, look!! This is the box you grabbed at the last minute. The coach must have been a nutrition nut!” Denise exclaimed in excitement.

  “What’s in the box?” Sammy asked, sitting forward.

  Dust grinned at the expression of eagerness on Sammy’s face. She had pulled her hair back into a French braid and wore it over one shoulder. He lifted his hand and fingered the necklace he was wearing. A flush of pleasure washed through him when he remembered what she had said about choosing the brown glass because it reminded her of his eyes.

  “Dried fruit, dried veggie snacks, protein bars,” Denise shared, turning over each item and reading the labels.

  “Why would someone have a whole box of that stuff?” Randolph asked.

  “Oh, there is more under this. The box is loaded with cans. There are cans of vegetables, soups, pie filling…,” Denise added, holding up two of the cans.

  “This reminds me of when we had the canned food drive at school. Maybe they were doing something like that,” Sammy suggested.

  “I claim the green beans,” Randolph announced, grabbing one of the cans out of Denise’s hand.

  “Why don’t we have a nice dinner tonight? It would be a great celebration for Dust’s birthday,” Martha said, plucking the can out of Randolph’s hand. “Denise and I can do the cooking.

  “Oh, that is a fabulous idea, Martha!” Sammy exclaimed.

  “You don’t have to…,” Dust started to protest, his face flushing red again at Martha and Sammy’s excitement.

  “Shut up, Dust. If it means having a decent dinner, you can have a birthday again tomorrow and the next day and the next day,” Randolph joked.

  “I agree. I wouldn’t mind having a decent meal,” Raymond added with a sheepish grin.

  The sound of their laughter along with Martha and Sammy’s words warmed him almost as much as the fire. He turned and looked at Todd when the boy waved his hand. The young boy had a pensive expression on his face.

  “What is it?” he asked.

  Todd bit his lip. “Does this mean I have to eat all of my vegetables before Josie will roast me a marshmallow?” he inquired.

  “I might be able to sneak an extra one in if you do,” Josie teased, leaning over and tickling Todd.

  Dust pulled Sammy against his side when Todd kicked his feet in an effort to escape Josie’s wiggling fingers. Unable to resist, he leaned into her a little more.

  “Happy Birthday, Dust,” she murmured, watching Josie play with her brother.

  “It has been… because I’m with you,” he quietly answered.

  Early the next morning, Dust woke from a deep sleep. He turned his head when he heard whispers. Sammy was helping Todd put his shoes on while the little boy grumbled that he had to go to the bathroom—really bad!

  “I’ll take him, Sammy,” he volunteered.

  Sammy looked over at him and shook her head. Her cheeks turned a little pink. At first he thought it was because of the cold, the fire having almost gone out.

  “That’s okay. I’ve got to go too,” she mumbled. “Come on, Todd.”

  Dust sat up and pushed the cover aside. Josie had risen as well. She placed the last few pieces of wood into the fire ring and waved her hand over it. A small ball of flame shot out from her fingers and lit up the wood.

  “You make that look so natural,” he murmured.

  She looked over at him and gave him a crooked smile. Lifting her hand, she blew on the tips of her flaming fingers. He watched as the fire disappeared, leaving her fingers unmarked.

  “It is a totally cool ability,” she proudly informed him.

  He nodded in agreement. He was about to respond when he heard movement behind the thin flap where Randolph and Denise had made their sleeping quarters. Denise muttered a soft excuse before she hurried outside.

  Rising to his feet, Dust began helping Josie fold the blankets while Martha put a pot of water on the fire to heat. She pulled out some oatmeal packets, which had been among the goodies in the box. It wasn’t Dust’s favorite, but it was food.

  He looked up when Sammy and Todd entered the makeshift shelter. A wave of dizziness suddenly struck him, and he tilted to the side. He bent over and braced his hand on the mat. Drawing in a deep breath, he waited for the wave to pass before straightening with a blanket in his hand.

  “I need to…,” he said, briefly looking at Josie before his eyes moved to the opening.

  “I’ll take over,” Sammy said, taking the blanket from him.

  “Thanks,” he mumbled, releasing the blanket.

  He started to brush by her when she reached out and touched his arm. She looked at him, her eyes filled with an expression of concern. He wanted to smile, to reassure her, but all he could do was shake his head and motion at the opening.

  “It’s cold. Don’t forget your jacket,” she said as she picked it up and handed it to him.

  “Thanks,” he repeated.

  He slipped through the opening and stood still for a moment, breathing in the cool, refreshing breeze. His feet made a crunching sound as he walked on the thin layer of snow. Looking over his shoulder at the opening to make sure no one could see what he was about to do next, he took off at a run.

  When he reached the rise thirty feet from the bus, he imagined a dark set of wings emerging from his back. It was strange how that worked this time. He could feel the wings extend and become an integral part of his body. This was different from the first time the wings formed when Sammy, Todd, and Josie had been in danger. That time, he had used the sands around him to create the wings he required to get to them quickly.

  This was like the time after his battle with Daciana. These wings were formed from his thoughts and actually grew out of his back. He heard the sound of material ripping as they emerged and felt the cold air through the gaps in the fabric before the wings unfolded and insulated him.

  He flew over two miles before he spotted what he was looking for—animals and blood. His body shook with the need for it. Soaring downward, he landed several hundred yards away from where a herd of horses pawed at the snow-covered ground, searching for food. He slowly walked forward, the wings on his back folding around him to protect him from the cold.

  Lifting a hand, he quietly summoned an old mare that had lagged behind the other horses. The dark brown mare lifted her head and turned it toward him. Even nearly thirty feet away, he could see the white film covering one eye.

  The mare shook her head and softly whinnied. Once again, he called her to him. She slowly stepped forward, carefully testing the ground with each hesitant step. Regret washed through him when she stumbled on a low bush that she didn’t see. There was no doubt in his mind that the old mare’s time was drawing to a close.

  “Hey there,” he greeted, holding out his hand.

  The mare lowered her head and brushed her soft muzzle against his palm. He knew she was searching to see if he had any food for her. He wished he could do something to help the old mare. Growing up on the farm had taught him at an early age that there was a cycle of life that couldn’t be broken. The comet also proved this heartbreaking lesson and demonstrated how unpredictable life and death could be.

  He gently ran his hand down the horse’s neck. The mare shivered and stepped closer, leaning into him. He stood stroking the mare and murmuring soothing words. The mare turned her head and rested her for
ehead against his chest.

  There was no way he could draw blood from the old girl. Time slowed as he felt the life slip from her body. Tears slid down his cheeks, and he gently cradled her head as her legs trembled and finally folded underneath her.

  Together, they both sank to the snow-covered ground. He continued to hold the mare’s head, tenderly caressing her as her breathing slowed and her eyes closed. He ignored the cold seeping through his clothing.

  “It’s okay. You did good, surviving all this time. You’ll be alright,” he continued to murmur, unsure of what else to say.

  The mare drew in one last shuddering breath before her body relaxed. Dust bowed his head in grief. His shoulders shook with his intense emotion.

  Beneath his hands, he could feel the warmth slowly drain from the mare’s body. Shaking, he thought of his parents and wondered if there had been anyone with them when they died. He hoped that they had been together. He had seen his dad’s truck parked in front of the diner in town. His mom’s car had been parked down at the grocery store. He suspected that they had met at the diner since there had been no groceries in the car.

  Tilting his head back, he parted his lips and took a gasping breath. The image of what their death could have been like haunted him. Why? Why did this have to happen? How could it have happened? Pain and grief rushed through him even as he traced the coarse whiskers along the mare’s muzzle.

  “Why is this happening to me? Were we so horrible that we deserved to be punished like this?” he cried in anguish.

  Closing his eyes, he fought against the dark depression that threatened to engulf him. He wasn’t alone. He needed to remember that. Life went on, even after death. There was no divine reason for the devastation. It was a cosmic phenomenon—something that had happened hundreds, if not thousands, of times as the Earth was formed, as well as to innumerable other planets in the universe. That knowledge and understanding did not help with the pain.

  The sound of a desperate whine nearby drew his attention. He opened his eyes, turned, and looked in the direction of the sound. A coyote stood watching him from twenty feet away. The coyote’s eyes moved from the dead mare to him and back again.

  Dust was about to scare it off when he heard another whine, this one softer. It was repeated. The coyote looked behind her. Five pups, about ten weeks old judging by their size, peered at him from behind a large bush. He looked down at the peaceful, lifeless body of the mare.

  “The circle of life continues,” he murmured.

  As much as he wanted to bury the mare, he knew that a part of the cycle was the food chain. The coyote had birthed her pups out of season. Winter was coming, and she would be desperate for food. By leaving the old mare where she was, the meat would provide for the other animals for a short while. In some ways, she would live on because of it.

  Taking a deep breath, he wiped the icy tears from his cheeks. He gently lifted the mare’s head and slid it off his lap. Carefully, laying her head on the ground, he stiffly rose to his feet, turned and looked at the coyote.

  “I’ll leave her for you and your pups, but I need your help too,” he said, staring the coyote in the eye.

  The coyote whined again but did not resist his silent command to approach.

  Ten minutes later, Dust landed on the other side of the small rise not far from the yellow school bus. His wings dissolved.

  He bent over and grabbed a handful of snow. He cleaned his hands and face, making sure there were no signs of blood or dirt. Running his fingers through his already disheveled hair, he saw that the others were loading up the last of the items from their makeshift camp.

  Guilt coursed through him because he’d been gone longer than he planned. He walked down the rise toward the bus, shoving his cold hands into his pockets to warm them. He smiled when Todd squealed in excitement and took off running toward him.

  “Dust!”

  Everyone turned and looked at him. His face heated at the dark scowl on Sammy’s face. Josie stared at him with a raised eyebrow while the others looked at him with curiosity. He turned his attention to Todd when the young boy literally slid into him on the slick snow.

  “Careful,” he said, pulling his hands out of his pockets and steadying Todd.

  “Sammy thought you had disappeared again. I told her that you hadn’t. Josie said you were probably visiting the library. I told her you wasn’t at the library ‘cause there ain’t no libraries near here,” Todd excitedly explained.

  A soft groan of embarrassment escaped him when he heard the others chuckling. His mom used to accuse him and his dad of being in the ‘library’ whenever they spent too long in the bathroom. He was seriously contemplating opening up the ground so that it could swallow him when a low rumbling sound filled the air.

  They all turned and looked in the direction of the sound. His gut twisted in warning as the sound magnified. They were about to have company.

  “Todd, get on the bus,” Dust urged in a quiet voice.

  “What’s the matter?” the young boy asked, looking down the highway with a frown.

  “Go on,” Dust repeated, wrapping his hand around Todd’s arm and guiding him down the rise.

  The others must have felt the same premonition of trouble. Randolph and Raymond finished pushing the large canvas into the back of the bus. Raymond slammed the emergency door shut. Martha and Denise reached out for Todd when Dust released him, and the three of them hurried to the door of the bus and climbed up the steps.

  “Raymond, you might want to drive. We may need Josie,” Dust said.

  “I already figured that,” Raymond agreed, hurrying to get the old bus started.

  “Randolph, do you sense anything?” Sammy anxiously asked.

  Randolph silently stepped forward and held his hands out. Dust studied the other man’s expression. Randolph remained still for several seconds before he turned and looked at them. His face was grim and he nodded.

  “Yeah, and it doesn’t feel good,” Randolph grimly replied.

  Chapter Seven

  Old threats evolved:

  The approaching group had at least a dozen bikers. He had a plan, but a key factor would be getting enough of a head start.

  “Get on the bus and head down the road,” Dust said.

  “What are we going to do?” Josie asked, stepping up beside him.

  Dust turned and gave her a grim look. “We’ll need to eat a lot of marshmallows,” he said.

  “Ah, crap. This is going to be bad,” Randolph muttered under his breath.

  Dust looked at Sammy. She lifted her chin and returned his gaze with a steady one of her own. He had already dealt with death once today and probably would again—but it wouldn’t be Sammy’s or any of the others on the bus if it happened.

  “There is a bridge six miles ahead. We need to get there before they can catch up with us. You guys take off. Josie, make sure you fuel up in case they need you,” Dust instructed.

  “What about you?” Sammy demanded, not moving when the others did.

  Dust turned and looked at Sammy. He lifted a hand and ran it down her cheek. A solemn expression darkened his eyes.

  “I’m going to try to slow them down. Don’t worry about me. I’ve got this. I’ll catch up with everyone at the bridge,” he promised.

  He continued to stare at Sammy until she reluctantly nodded. She paused in the doorway of the bus and looked back at him with a worried expression. He motioned for her to go. A moment later, the old bus started to move away. Dust noticed that Raymond was smoother with shifting the gears than Josie, not that he would ever admit that.

  Turning back, he waited until the bus went over the small rise in the road. He knew it would conceal what he was about to do. Randolph had said that he sensed those approaching were Changed. Dust didn’t know what types of powers they might have. They could be a lot stronger than he was.

  His eyes glowed with an unnatural dark red as he knelt and placed his hands above the ground. Focusing, he created a long dee
p crack in the ground that went several hundred yards in both directions across the highway. Standing back, he forced the ground to spread apart. Only when there was a ten foot gap did he feel confident that it would slow the group down. The bikes wouldn’t be able to handle the soft sand very well once they left the paved road.

  Dust was alerted by a sound behind him, signaling that he was not alone. Turning, he defensively lifted his hands. He jerked back a step when a bag flew towards his face. Catching the bag, he scowled in irritation.

  “You are supposed to be on the bus,” he said, clutching the bag of marshmallows that Josie had tossed at him.

  “Yeah, well, you aren’t my father, so I figured I’d make my own rules. Besides, the others were all in favor of me helping out,” Josie said, popping a white morsel into her mouth. “I wish we had the flavored kind.”

  Dust’s scowl deepened. “Josie, this is dangerous. The others might need you if these guys get past me,” he said.

  Josie lifted an eyebrow. “We’ll have to make sure they don’t. We aren’t going to run with our tails tucked between our legs and leave you to face these jerks alone. You’re not the only one with a plan,” she retorted.

  His frown turned into a look of confusion. “What’s the plan?” he asked.

  Josie held up the bag of marshmallows. “We get fueled up and kick some butt, then meet them at the bridge. They’ll take up a position on the other side. I saw you when you took off this morning, by the way. I hope you can carry me because I hate running unless absolutely necessary. Now, fuel up because those guys are almost here,” she ordered with a playful grin.

  “You’re crazy,” Dust muttered, opening the bag and pulling out a handful of miniature marshmallows.

  “I know. Just don’t tell anyone else,” Josie laughed.