Dust 2_A New World Order

by S. E. Smith

  Of course, telling himself not to think about food only made him want it more. With a muttered curse that he had learned from his dad, he tossed his makeshift line into the water. His mind was just starting to drift when he felt a slight tug. Tensing, he waited until he felt the tug again, this time it was harder. Pulling sharply on his pole, he hooked the fish.

  Excitement built inside him when he pulled in a trout that had to be close to four pounds. Half afraid he might lose his much needed meal, he stepped into the water and grabbed the squirming fish by the gill. He turned and struggled back up onto the riverbank and unhooked the fish. Looking around, he noticed a cracked five gallon bucket under a low bush. He righted the bucket and placed the fish inside it.

  An hour later, he had caught five large trout. His attention turned to the darkening sky when he heard the familiar rumble of thunder. His shoes were full of water, and his pants were soaked up to his thighs. He needed to find shelter. Storms had been extremely unpredictable since the comet hit the earth. They could go from minor to deadly in a matter of minutes. At the moment, he didn’t have the strength to protect himself from it.

  Holding the heavy bucket of fish in one hand and his makeshift fishing pole in the other, he struggled up the embankment until he reached the concrete abutment under the bridge. Once there, he set down the bucket and began collecting wood to make a fire. He would need one tonight!

  Twenty minutes later, he dropped the last pile of wood on the ground. Even though he was hungry, he needed to get the fire going first. He winced when he felt the electricity surging in the air. Seconds later, the snap of a lightning bolt shook the ground.

  He was glad that he had chosen to get as close to the underside of the bridge as he could when the storm drew closer. The heavy concrete supports would help protect him from the rain and wind. He had also found a couple of blue tarps. They weren’t in the best shape, but they were good enough to create a tent of sorts.

  An hour later, he was sitting in his warm shelter with his pants and socks hanging up to dry. He had placed his wet shoes on sticks near the fire. Reaching out, he grabbed one of the sticks he was using as a skewer and picked at the moist, white flesh of the cooked trout.

  “Hot, hot, hot,” he muttered, pulling off a chunk of the sizzling, tender flesh and popping it into his mouth.

  A long, low hum of delight escaped him. He quickly pulled off another fish and devoured it. In minutes, he had consumed four fish to the bone. Once the edge of his hunger was appeased, he slowed down enough to savor his delicious meal.

  The sound of rain mixed with hail drew Dust’s attention. Once again, his thoughts moved to Sammy and the others. He wondered if they were still at the old gym or if they had moved on. The thought of them out in this strange new world worried him. What if Daciana returned? He shouldn’t have left them.

  Bowing his head, he stared down at the half-eaten fish, suddenly not hungry anymore. His swirling thoughts matched the storm raging around him. He’d had to leave. The changes inside his body were frightening. There was no way he would endanger anyone else until he knew what was happening with his powers.

  A soft scurrying sound drew his attention. He tilted his head and looked toward the bottom of the tarp. A small wriggling nose appeared in a gap where he had placed chunks of concrete to hold down the sides. A wry grin curved his lips when he saw another nose wriggling near the first. It would appear a family of field mice had decided to seek shelter under the bridge as well and smelled his dinner.

  His smile faded as a wave of loneliness washed through him. Without realizing it, he sent a thought to the mouse to come to him. He blinked when five tiny brown field mice appeared one at a time in front of him.

  “Are you cold and hungry, too?” he asked.

  One of the little mice sat up on its hind legs and sniffed the air. Dust pulled a small piece of fish off the skewer and held it out. The mouse leaned forward, placed one tiny forepaw on the ground, and stretched its body toward him. He released the piece of fish when the mouse grabbed it and sat back.

  “I had some pet mice before,” he murmured to them. “They lived in the barn. My mom wasn’t too happy when she found out I was feeding them.”

  He tossed some more fish to the mice when the others crept closer. It was nice having something to talk to, even if they couldn’t exactly talk back. The knowledge that he wasn’t completely alone brought him a small amount of comfort.

  “I don’t know how Sammy would feel about you. Todd would probably think you were pretty cool. Of course, he’s a seven-year-old boy, and they think anything is pretty cool. I don’t normally talk so much. I think it is because I’m missing….”

  He shook his head. Lifting a piece of fish to his mouth, he took a bite and slowly chewed it. He missed the others. Their plan had been to head to Portland, Oregon where his aunt and uncle lived. He didn’t know if they were still alive or not. From the little that he’d seen so far, there weren’t a lot of people who had made it through the initial fallout of the comet. Still, it was possible that they had survived. The only way to find out was to go there.

  “I’m finished. You guys can have the rest,” he said to the mice that were quickly scurrying for the gap in the tarp.

  He rose to his feet and tossed the bones of his dinner into a bucket before he picked it up. Pushing the tarp aside, he shivered when he felt the cold, sharp wind rush in through the opening. The sky glowed with an eerie green light. From experience, he knew that meant the storm was going to be a bad one. Once again, he worried about whether Sammy and the others would be safe.

  He walked several yards away from his shelter and dumped the remains of his dinner. Walking over to the edge of the bridge, he peered into another bucket he had cleaned and set down to catch rain water. It was nearly full. He left that bucket to collect more water while he rinsed the dirty bucket and filled it with water that was pouring down from the bridge. He winced when several large hail stones struck his arm.

  Deciding it was safer to let the rain fill up the bucket, he snatched up the full one. He would need water on his journey, so he filled several plastic bottles he had found earlier. Drinking deeply from the bucket, he replaced it to catch more rainwater.

  By the time he was finished, he was shivering with cold. He hurried back to the small enclosure he had constructed and slipped under the tarp. He reached out and touched his jeans hanging near the fire. They were still damp. With a soft groan, he added more wood to the fire and held his hands out over the flames to warm them.

  Another flash of lightning, followed by the roll of ground-shaking thunder made him glad that he at least had his small shelter. He sank down and laid back against the concrete, deciding his best bet was to get some rest and save his energy. Tomorrow, he would catch more fish for breakfast before heading out. He needed to get as far away as he could before it began to snow.

  “Goodnight, Sammy,” he murmured, staring up at the blue ceiling of his shelter. “Stay safe.”

  Rolling onto his side, he focused on fading. At least in this form he couldn’t feel the cold—or the hard ground. The world around him came into sharper focus as he stared at the flames. It was strange how dissolving into invisibility made everything appear so much clearer, even down to the dust and mist that floated in the air.

  The warmth from the fire, the sound of the storm, and his full stomach soon lulled him into a fitful sleep. Dreams filled his mind, flashing from one scene to another. In each of them, he saw Sammy’s smiling face. If he had been in his solid corporeal form, his tears would have dampened the sleeve of his jacket.

  Chapter Four

  Not giving up:

  “Are you sure this is the way?” Sammy asked for the hundredth time, looking over the driver’s seat of the bus out through the front window.

  “I think so,” Randolph muttered. “Finding someone who is different isn’t exactly all that easy, especially if they are far away.”

  “I wish we hadn’t been delayed. I ca
n’t believe Dust could have traveled so far,” Sammy replied with a worried frown.

  “Maybe he made wings like he did before,” Todd suggested.

  “Josie, can’t this thing go any faster?” Randolph groaned over the noise of the bus.

  “You are more than welcome to get out and start pushing. If you need help, let me know,” Josie retorted in a voice laced with sarcasm.

  Sammy bit back a grin when Randolph blanched and pressed his lips together after Josie followed up her retort with a heated glare in the long, rectangular mirror above the driver’s seat. Between the storm and the bus breaking down—twice—the distance between them and Dust had increased.

  Randolph reluctantly admitted to her that he couldn’t really sense the strangeness in Dust the way he could in others who had been Changed. They had been relying more on the hope that Dust was still heading to Portland and whatever clues they could find. Randolph didn’t want his sister to know that though. The first day on the road, he and Josie had a huge fight about his ability to sense the Changes in others and how he had used it against his own sister. When it turned out he was practically hopeless at repairing the broken down bus as well, Josie said that if Randolph wasn’t going to be of any use to them, they should just leave his ass on the side of the road.

  It had taken all of them to calm Josie down. Sammy couldn’t blame Randolph for lying about sensing Dust miles away. It had finally cooled his sister’s temper. Thankfully, Raymond and Martha knew a bit more than the rest of them about working on engines. Sammy had decided it would be better if she and Todd kept Josie distracted while Denise and Randolph did what they could to help with the bus repairs.

  After they were finally on the road again, they discovered the hardest part was trying to determine where they should begin their search. It had taken two days of searching before they found the remains of a campfire. Fortunately for Randolph, he had been the one who stumbled across it. Unfortunately, that had been nearly three weeks ago, and Josie was eyeing her brother with that suspicious glare again.

  “You won’t let her leave me behind if she tries, will you, Sammy?” Randolph quietly asked.

  Sammy grinned at his soft plea and Denise smothered a laugh. Randolph had been asking the same question at least three times a day—or whenever Josie looked at him the wrong way. Her expression softened when she saw Denise reach over and grip Randolph’s hand. Seeing the affection between the two gave her hope for the future.

  “No, we won’t let her leave you,” Sammy promised.

  Randolph’s expression changed, and he sat forward. Sammy followed the movement, her lips parting at the same time as his excited exclamation rose above the sound of the bus. Her eyes widened in relief.

  “There! I told you I could find him!” Randolph said triumphantly, pointing.

  “I admit I had my doubts,” Josie loudly retorted as she ground the gears in an effort to slow the bus down.

  Her comment drew relieved laughter from the small group riding in the short, faded yellow bus. Josie winced when the brakes squealed loudly as they pulled alongside the solitary figure walking along the highway. Sammy was already out of her seat and working her way down the aisle by the time Josie pulled the door open.

  “We have room for one more if you need a lift,” Josie called down in a teasing tone.

  A Few Minutes Ago:

  Dust stroked the trembling rabbit whose blood he had been drinking and murmured a few soft, reassuring words before he lowered it to the ground. The frightened creature took off as fast as it could, disappearing back down the hole from where he had coaxed it and three others a half hour ago. He always made sure he took only enough to keep his hunger at bay.

  He had finally taken control of the constant hunger that had plagued him over the last few weeks. Sighing, he turned back toward the highway. He was running low on water and would need to find a place to set up camp within the next hour.

  His journey today had been a slow and depressing one. It was his sixteenth birthday. Today was supposed to be a day of fun.

  By now he and his dad would have finished working on the old truck that had belonged to his grandfather and then his dad. He would have been excited to go down to the local Division of Motor Vehicles so that he could take the test and trade in his learner’s permit for a real driver’s license. Then there was the fact that there was a month of school left, and he would have been able to drive his new truck instead of riding the bus. When he got home, his mom would have made one of her famous German Chocolate cakes and added sixteen candles to the top. It was his favorite. He would have blown out the candles while she and his dad sang Happy Birthday in an off-key tone, making them all laugh.

  He shoved his hands in his pocket and kicked at a rock in the middle of the road. Instead of celebrating his birthday with family, he was walking in the middle of nowhere, and drinking the blood of rabbits. His chest ached at the thought of his parents. If he could have one birthday wish come true, it would be to tell them that.

  “I wish the two of you were here. Today of all days, I wish I could talk to you both,” he muttered.

  He lifted a hand to brush it across his burning eyes. The last couple of days had been hard to endure. It wasn’t the struggle to find food and water that made it difficult. It was the shattering loneliness.

  He frowned and shielded his eyes against the glare of the setting sun reflecting off a pane of glass. In the distance, he could hear the sound of a vehicle approaching. He tilted his head and listened to it. It sounded like a diesel engine that had a slight skip in one of the cylinders.

  He stepped to the side of the road as the short and faded yellow school bus drew closer. A shudder ran through him, and he winced when he heard the sound of grinding gears. A few seconds later, the sharp, piercing screech of the brakes as the bus drew to a jerky stop beside him made him want to cover his offended ears. A ghost of a smile curved his lips when he heard Josie arguing with Randolph about her driving. A moment later the doors popped open, and he could sense Josie’s gaze on him.

  “We have room for one more if you need a lift,” Josie invited with a smug tone of satisfaction.

  Dust shoved his hands into his front pockets and looked down at the road. “I’m good,” he replied, running the toe of his tennis shoe along the rough pavement.

  There was no mistaking Josie’s unladylike snort. “Yeah, well, I’m sure as hell not. Do you have any idea how many back roads and potholes I’ve driven over the last three weeks? I’m surprised this thing is still running. Besides, we could always use a good mechanic on board. Randolph doesn’t know shit about working on engines,” Josie retorted.

  Behind Josie, Dust heard Randolph’s sarcastic response to the jab. “Ha-ha, Josie. I don’t see you fighting us to get under the hood,” Randolph replied.

  “Uh, Randolph, you might want to watch it or Josie might follow through with her threat to leave you behind,” Denise warned him with a pointed look.

  Dust forced himself to stare straight ahead down the road. Deep down, he was afraid—almost terrified—that he was hallucinating and none of this was real. What if some bizarre part of his imagination had created an illusion of them being there?

  The last few days had been rough. Even the rumble of the engine, the sound of Josie’s voice, and the smell of the diesel exhaust weren’t enough to give him confidence that he wasn’t asleep somewhere and just dreaming. Then, he heard Sammy’s soft voice calling his name.

  “Dust….”

  Straightening his shoulders, he swallowed and slowly turned toward the bus. A soft sound of distress slipped past his lips when he saw her standing on the steps of the bus. He stumbled back a pace when she hopped off the bottom step and stood a couple of feet from him.

  Unsure of what to say, he forced his gaze away from her face. A frown creased his brow when he noticed a small box wrapped in the Sunday comics of a newspaper in her hands. On the top was a tiny bow made of string that hung cockeyed against the present.


  He slowly lifted his gaze to her face. “What’s that?” he asked in a voice that sounded funny.

  She stepped closer to him and held it out. “It’s your birthday present. You weren’t with us, so we had to come find you.”

  He looked at the box again and swallowed past the lump in his throat. Lifting a hand, he reached for the box. Sammy released a low hiss when his fingers brushed against her knuckles. He knew she must have seen his hands were trembling. Clutching the box, he blinked back the tears that suddenly burned his eyes.

  Shaking the box, he looked up at her. “What is it?” he asked.

  She laughed and shook her head. “Open it. We all kind of worked together to make it. It isn’t much,” she said with a regretful sigh.

  He looked up and drank in the wonderful sight of the line of faces staring at him through the bus windows. He could feel his cheeks warming at the unexpected attention. He carefully removed the paper.

  Under the wrapping was a small white cardboard box with a matching lid. He pulled off the lid and looked inside. Lying on a bed of cotton balls was a colorful glass necklace. The glass segments were twisted together into a series of long spirals that wrapped around each other. The way the glass was formed and shaped was unlike anything he had ever seen before. Each unique section was a different color, but they were all fused together and there were randomly placed small blobs of silver on the segments. A black piece of string made up the chain.

  “The green one is mine. I found it,” Todd said, leaning out of the front window.

  Sammy reached out and touched the brown piece of glass with the tip of her finger. “I like the brown one. It reminded me of your eyes,” she said, looking up at him. “Josie melted them all together. Denise did the design.”

  “Raymond and I found the silver. We figured you could use it if you ever meet the She-Devil again,” Randolph said with a grin, standing in the doorway of the bus.