by Angela White
Observant eyes watching, Kenn joined Adrian and opened his notebook without being told, erasing his neat mental chalk board with one swipe. He wasn’t sure exactly what had just happened, but it gave him a flash of the determined woman on the way to her son, and he kept his eyes on the page, so Adrian couldn’t see the guilt there.
“We’ll only have an hour. It’s moving fast.”
Kenn’s eyes followed Adrian’s, and he too frowned. Their mountain view to the South was becoming obscured by the wall of danger racing towards them, the sandy wind beginning to beat on their tents, tarps, and cars. The dogs were now barking in an agitated manner, the livestock trailers able to be heard too, and the Marine’s gut unclenched from the boring resignation he’d woken with. This would not be an average day. “I’ll keep ‘em rolling.”
Adrian lit a Winston, working on details, and Kenn shook his head at the Level Two Eagle from Neil’s team, who’d stopped nearby. Jeremy kept going at the denial, frowning.
“We have to roll in the camp by at least half a click. It’s too big to protect.” The leader took his knife from his boot and knelt down to draw in the dirt. He made deep marks to keep the wind from distorting it, thinking the sound of tent flaps smacking harshly in the heavy wind was a warning few would understand. This storm would kill as many survivors as the blizzard had. Nature was pissed.
“The Mess in the center. Line up seven rigs on the redline in front of it; back them in as close as you can get. Make the wire tight and put a bathroom camper on each end. The weight of the water will hold them better than a semi. These two ends have to be right up against the corners of the Mess, and then line the other vehicles up behind us, sideways, big to little. It’ll create a barrier. Put tarps on the sides to close it off. Tie ‘em to the trucks, but watch for gaps. If they billow in the wind, we’ll be one big sail.”
Both men looked up at an odd whine to the wind, just in time to be hit with a small tornado of dust as high as a car. It slapped at them with hundreds of bits of stinging sand, and Adrian’s dirt map disappeared.
Wiping his face with a gritty hand, the blond went on like it was still there. “Put the ends under the tires and heavier stuff. Make sure it’s secured right. Everything else has to be broken down and shoved into the outer trucks to add weight. Cover the livestock and dogs. They go in the very front.”
Kenn was copying – orders and the map - and those nearby watched alertly in the gritty dimness as the wind increased. The sense of something big about to happen was starting to spread.
“The sheep in the center trucks?”
Adrian’s blade flashed through the dirt again, ringless fingers nicked, scarred. “Yes, here and here. Make the weight as even as possible. Do the best you can. One bag allowed and put those stickup dome lights inside, so there are no fumes or flames. Gear: goggles, boots, ski masks, orange safety vests - all Eagles on shift inside the area.”
Kenn finished writing, looked up. “What about the guards on the perimeter?”
Adrian’s eyes went back to the brownish black wall of sand that was noticeably closer, vaguely aware of raised voices as people started to see what he and Kenn already had - danger heading their way.
“Only in the front trucks - anywhere else is voluntary, and I don’t recommend the rear. Even inside cabs, there’ll be flying glass and debris if the windows go, and they probably will. Make it clear that anyone crazy enough to do it, better bring the right equipment.”
Still writing, Kenn wanted to volunteer just for the credit, but he also knew Adrian would need him to help with the herd. Waving Eagles over, Kenn barely hid a grin of excitement. He thrived on shit like this, couldn’t wait for it to begin.
2
The dust storm bore down on them like an angry swarm, first invading with fierce winds that ripped tent pegs from the ground, then hitting them with a thick wave of sand and grit that blanketed everything. The sky darkened, turning almost black as it came over the last ridge. It smothered the land like night falling and they watched in amazement as great chunks of buildings were torn away from their foundations and sent flying.
It raced toward Safe Haven like a missile looking for a target, and Adrian felt his stomach churn even as his heart thumped. He hated it that his people weren’t safe, but loved the fury of Nature. There was nothing else like it.
“Here it comes.”
Adrian and the three levels of Eagles were in the much smaller Mess, thick telephone poles a great anchor. The tarps kept out a lot of the grit, but all the men wore the gear they’d been given, ready to assist wherever Adrian told them to.
“Brace for impact!”
They moved to the center as the winds picked up, tarps slapping violently, and then the air came alive with tiny, stinging bits of sand that filled every inch of the rolled-in camp.
“Damn!”
“Look at that!” Kenn pointed excitedly to a shed, faded red and breaking apart, rolling by in the thick grit, and just missing the end truck. The winds increased; dust burning its way through their masks, and men began to cough.
“Bandana’s too! Use your shirts!”
Adrian pulled his turtleneck up over the bottom of his mask, struggling to stay on his feet as the storm engulfed them. The wind was awful, whipping, slapping at them, pulling violently, and the air around the area and trucked-off camp was alive with flying debris of every shape and size.
Caruunncch!
“What the…”
Bang! Rriippp!
Baammmm!
The men closest to the actual Mess truck stumbled at the impact as the rig was hit, pushed forward on its side. Only the two trucks on the end kept it from going further.
Dust flew up in monstrous clouds, filling the area with a blinding whirl of dark sand they could hardly see through.
“Get those edges closed! It’ll rip us apart!”
Men rushed to grab the ends of the snapping plastic, tying it back to the poles. It immediately became easier to breath, the dust sinking down to their knees.
Adrian nodded, keyed his mic. “Check-in. One, clear.”
“Two, clear.”
“Three, all good here.”
“Four, no problems.”
There were a lot of trucks, and noises in the background of each that made Adrian wince. Crying kids, voices on the edge of panic, arguments, and as soon as the last one checked in, he hit the button again. “Turn your radios up, Eagles. Let them hear me.”
Adrian lit a smoke, knowing his herd needed good words and calm tones. “We’re watching the storm from about ten feet away. It’s unbelievable, scary. We can’t see anything outside the Mess, but we’re hearing it, same as you. Lots of stuff flying through the air, slamming into the trucks. That’s the noise you hear, but so far, everything’s good here. I repeat. We are five-by, and so are you.”
Adrian turned to watch a huge sheet of wood go tumbling around the edge of the far truck, barely missing it. He fought to keep that close-call out of his tones. “We’ll do bathroom breaks now, groups of four from each truck, women and kids first, as usual.” He paused, eyes growing hazy as he sang to his herd, pushed his calming magic over them. “I’ll be by each truck in the next few minutes, and I know I’ll see card games and people spending time together, not working themselves and others into a panic. This is nothing we can’t handle.” His voice deepened, “Nothing I can’t handle.”
As if to prove him wrong, the wind whipped through the Mess from a billowing gap, ripping the tarp free, and they were again covered in a vortex of spinning sand that tried to invade every inch of space available, and then space that wasn’t.
“Grab that!”
“I’ve got it!” Kenn rushed to the loudly flapping tarp and hauled it down, securing it better as he fought against the wind trying to pull it out of his grasp.
The Marine had a huge grin on his face, Adrian could almost feel it under the mask, and his eyes narrowed thoughtfully. Was he ready? Only one way to find out.
; The leader looked around, saw men helping with the tarp, Eagles watching alertly, trucks holding against the wind. Rigs, seven of them, full of his sheep and protected, but still vulnerable because they had no one on duty in the rear, where the sand was hitting them the hardest.
Anyone could sneak up on them just by following the wake of the storm and they wouldn’t know until it was too late. There was almost no visibility and the tales from the refugees they’d been picking up were a warning Adrian wouldn’t ignore. The Slavers liked to hit during bad weather, and they were only two hundred miles away as of last week, which wasn’t nearly far enough. Sooner or later, Safe Haven would attract their attention, may have already. The pictures Kenn and Kyle had brought back from Cheyenne Mountain had indeed been worse than the other places, and they’d been keeping a weekly watch on the big group.
Adrian waved a handful of Eagles off to start the bathroom breaks, hating the thought of so many using only two campers, but there was no other solution in this wind and it had been his experience that sand storms usually took their time to pass through.
He looked at Kenn, seeing the excitement held under perfect control, the leadership rolling off him in waves, and he waved a hand. They’d find out now if he was ready for leadership. “Eagle Two has point. I’ll be around.”
Adrian stepped out into the storm, leaving surprise among his army.
“Boo’yah, baby!” Kenn’s grin had widened. It was official to him now. He was second in command.
Adrian ran to the trucks first, calming, assuring, jumping and grinning with them, taking care of his flock as debris slammed into the trucks and sent clouds of sand rolling. He didn’t hurry the stops, understanding people needed him, but he didn’t let them cling either. They had to learn to stand on their own.
Yanking his shirt back up, Adrian went next to the animal area they had covered with sheets of plastic, frowning at the sloppy job Danny and Zack had done. The dust was coming under the edges in small waves, and the animals were coughing, pacing.
“On a dark, desert highway, cool wind in my hair…” Adrian sang as he weighted down each side with the heavy cages, adjusting the edges until the dust began to settle and the animals began to relax.
“Last thing I remember, I was runnin’ for the door…” The sand he’d already been blasted with gave him a rough rasp, and the blond grinned in the dimness of the vibrating plastic dome. Kenn wasn’t the only one who felt alive when confronting danger.
Holding his breath, Adrian headed for his semi. The winds back here were so strong he had to punch his way through with low, powerful steps.
Doing what no one expected despite all he’d done for them in the beginning, Adrian watched over them, staying in his rig throughout the storm. He’d secured the lives he needed to, the camp now in Kenn’s capable hands, and he rode out the fury in his truck, marveling at the unchecked power while he watched for trouble.
Adrian was one of three men to take the Drag position. Seth - who wasn’t an Eagle, but wanted to be - and Kyle, were on either side him. The cop and the mobster guarded him, as he guarded his sheep, and neither mentioned, not even to each other, that they heard the warning he sent out.
Not over a radio, but rushing out in powerful mental waves designed to get ahead of the storm, it rang through the air and into their heads until the urge to go to the blond’s truck had them both fighting tight grips on the door handles. There were times, later, when both men doubted themselves, but at night, while watching their leader do rounds after a twenty hour day, they’d think about it, and admit the truth to themselves - that he had tried to save survivors in the storm’s path, cared enough about the loss of life to risk using his gifts and maybe be banished…to help people he didn’t even know. He wasn’t like the rest, he was...special.
The secret bonded the two men, and earned Adrian their complete loyalty. Both males were sure he’d known they were there, trusting them with his secrets. He was their Guardian, and either would give their life if called upon.
3
The storm raged around Safe Haven for hours, wind forming and then moving tiny cities of sand that vanished as quickly as they’d appeared. The Eagles handled themselves well, rushing to anchor tarps, secure trucks, and comfort their people during the nonstop bathroom breaks, as the storm grew stronger. When the winds finally began to die down, everyone was glad, even those who loved the excitement.
It was almost lunch before Kenn decided it was all right to come out. The Eagles noticed that Adrian waited for the Marine to make the call, and that Kenn didn’t look to him first for an okay when he did. They used snow blowers to clean up the piles of sand, moving them outside the shrunken camp’s perimeter.
Adrian’s eyes took in the damage with worry deep in his heart for his country and her people. The landscape had been completely altered; nothing looked the same. Piles of brackish sand in feet-deep drifts covered ripped-up tents, and grit blanketed everything, including his army. The damage was extensive, total. How many more American lives had been lost?
“Eagle Two will keep point. Everyone else, shift.”
Kenn nodded at him from across the camp, and then motioned Seth to go along on his rounds. In time, the redhead would be one of his, too, Kenn thought, like Zack and maybe Kyle. No one else knew Seth was Adrian’s undercover guard and Kenn supported it completely. The detective was good and someone had to do it. Adrian had to be protected.
Kenn knew what his Boss wanted, knew how to get things done, and three short hours after the storm was gone, Safe Haven looked almost like it hadn’t been hit, a stark contrast to the destruction outside the perimeter. Full-sized again, retaped, clean, and running normal, Adrian was more than pleased. They were growing stronger. Soon, more would be expected of them.
By 1 a.m., Adrian was once again roaming the sea of tents, unable to sleep. He was satisfied with the way they’d come through, happy with the job Kenn had done, but he hated the aftermath more than the actual storm.
The land around them now looked totally devoid of life, instead of just isolated. It was foreign - like what the surface of Mars might be like. Even the smells had changed. The rot was still here, along with a hint of salty smoke, but the strongest was a thick, stomach-tightening mildew he didn’t need John to tell him was from all the dead. The sand not only covered them, it scraped away tiny bits of decaying flesh that were flung about by the wind. It wasn’t comforting.
“Did anyone see you?” questioned a man’s voice, one he knew well, and Adrian’s sharp eyes found the shadow just outside a dusty supply truck.
“No. Let me in.”
The woman’s voice was also familiar and the leader wondered if the guards had seen them. Probably not, but they would if Kenn wasn’t more careful. It didn’t bother him, but it would the camp. Adrian grinned suddenly. Hell, maybe Kenn could straighten her out a little and put her to use. Surely Tonya had a skill that didn’t involve her knees or her back.
4
“You look tired.”
The Marine had fallen in step as Adrian came out of his tent. He nodded, but didn’t offer details as he opened his book. He had dreamed Angie was here. After that, sleeping again had been impossible. “I am a little.”
Adrian eyed the three-foot gray and brown piles of sand that were now their perimeter, the caution tape gone again during the night. “I need Seth and Mitch to come see me around 9:30 and make sure he doesn’t leave the radio unattended again. I need ten minutes with the doctor around noon, and then we’ll do a lesson with the rookies at 3. We’ll have a little surprise waiting for Kyle and his team right after that.”
Kenn nodded. Adrian had sent them out immediately following the storm to do a recon to the Southeast. The blond wanted to know if the Slavers were closer, and of course, to search for any survivors.
“We’ll keep it simple. Use the laser tag vests.”
Kenn wrote, and Adrian ignored the stomach wanting light toast with heavy butter. His people ate before he did, and
they were low on bread. Flour was one of those things they just didn't find much of.
“We’ll need crews to clean up after the contest and to help with the targets during. You’ll have to look through the schedules that end today to see who’s already got their hours in or has a shift tonight. Set the contest up just like last time, over in that softball field. People not shooting will stay behind the gate.”
Adrian paused to sip his coffee, eyes on the line where Kenn’s boy was. All of his people looked healthy, normal, and he knew they had been lucky to have so few medical problems despite spending so much time on sour ground. They’d had a couple of deaths in the last weeks, mostly heart failures, and an EKG machine was one of the things on his constantly growing list.
“That it?”
Adrian snorted, watching the lines grow as more people started to come to the Mess and the noise levels increased. Coughs, moans, groans and laughs - to Adrian it was beautiful, the sound of normal life continuing. “Until lunch. Here’s some FND work - a faster Mess, one that has them in line for less than five minutes for both food and drinks.”
Having finished writing, Kenn picked up Adrian’s cup. “Refill?”
“You know it.”
When Kenn moved toward the line, Charlie slid by and put a small plate in front of Adrian. He kept moving toward the table he usually shared with Timmy and Mike, one of the guards’ teenage boys, but Adrian stopped him with a question. “You busy later?”
Checking to see that Kenn was busy, the boy moved back toward Adrian, shaking his head. Crew cut like Kenn’s when they’d first come, the leader was glad to see the boy loosening up, dressing in what he wanted.
“No. Do we get new schedules tomorrow?”
Adrian watched closely, despite appearing absorbed in taking the plastic from his light toast with heavy butter. He’d spent a lot of time thinking about their talk in the bowling alley, and had come to the conclusion that Kenn was not gifted, but was in contact with someone who was. This quiet, blue-eyed boy perhaps? Claiming it to protect the child? If so, the lie was acceptable...almost. At least it explained why the Marine had flat out refused to use his “gift” when Adrian had mentioned it a few days after the freeze.
