by Angela White
“They fled.”
Alexa nodded at Billy’s comment, “See the pall in the air? They had no choice.”
The refugee camp was spread out in front of the cave entrance where cords still swung in the heavy wind, their light bulbs absent. The doorway they had once lit was dark and empty, as was the rest of the camp.
The weary travelers saw boxes of dust-covered supplies next to rusting animal pens, many with graying skeletons inside. There were personal items set up for use, construction equipment covered in grit, and even spotlights still plugged into huge generators hung from poles staked deep into the ground. These people had left everything, and that only happened while running for your life.
Alexa moved away from her men, “Find the message. Spread out… and watch your six.”
They moved with space between them, trying not to let tent poles and dusty equipment block their view of each other. Pieces of debris moved with the wind, and each of them walked with their hands ready.
“There. Left side of the cave,” Daniel called.
The men gathered around the sign with a calmness that belied pounding hearts. Was their quest now over? Would she leave them? Could they let her go without trying to follow?
Radiation Zone! Get out!
And below that, in hastily chiseled letters, was what Alexa had come for, what deep down, even before finding the notebook, she’d known.
7/2013
Pitcairn Island
60 Lat, 120 long.
Pitcairn Island… Safe Haven had gone on that merciless ocean.
The silence was thick as each of her men considered what that meant. Nothing had halted their mission thus far, not storms or fires or even the wolves they’d had to fight their way through in the bloody fields of Nebraska. Alexa was as relentless as the ocean itself.
The woman surveyed their surroundings, again seeing the mutations and areas of poison. This land was contaminated. No true life would grow here, and really, was there any other choice? She’d spent her life following him. She would not stop now.
As if in reward for her indifference and determination, the wind shifted, and all of them were suddenly seeing a different refugee camp. No longer was it lifeless!
The ghosts of people past swam into hazy view, becoming clearer, sharper, and each of the fighters stared, spellbound, at what they’d come for… Safe Haven.
2
The dust storm bore down on the refugee camp like a swarm of insects, first invading with fierce winds that ripped tent pegs from the ground and then hitting them with a thick wave of sand and grit that blanketed everything.
The sky darkened as it neared and then turned almost black as it came over the last ridge, swarming over the land and farms like darkfall, and they watched in amazement as huge parts of buildings were ripped away, sent flying.
It raced toward Safe Haven like a missile looking for a target, and Adrian felt his stomach clench even as his heart thumped. He hated it that his people weren’t safe, but he loved the fury of Mother 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 making 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 where ever Adrian told them to.
“Brace for impact!”
They moved to the center as the winds picked up, slapping tarps 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, just missing the end truck. The winds increased, dust burning its way through their masks, and men began to cough.
“Bandanas 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, and only the two trucks on the end kept it from going further. Dust flew up in huge clouds, filling the gritty area with a blinding whirl of dark sand they could hardly see through.
“Get those edges closed! We’re billowing! It’ll rip us apart!”
Men rushed to grab the ends of the snapping plastic, tying it back to the poles, and it immediately became easier to breathe, the clouds of 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 the noises in the background of each made Adrian wince. Crying kids, panic-edged voices, arguments, and as soon as the last one checked in, he hit the button again, “Turn your radios up, Eagles. Let them hear me.”
He lit a smoke, knowing his herd needed good words and calm tones, “We’re watching the storm from about ten feet behind you. 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. Those are the thumps you hear, but so far, everything’s good here. I repeat. We are 5 by, and so are you. We’ll do bathroom breaks now, groups of four from each truck, women and kids first, as usual.”
He paused, blue eyes hazy as he sang to his herd, voice almost hypnotic, bringing them down, “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.”
The vision was gone then, as suddenly as it had come, and Alexa turned toward the ocean without speaking, letting her men make their own choice. When they fell in step, she heard their unspoken words of loyalty.
“We’d go where you go.”
The woman pulled up her hood, the smell of salt heavy in her nose, “And I accept you gratefully.”
Five
1
There were Sand Demons guarding the beach.
To get to the water’s edge, to follow Safe Haven, they would have to defeat the constantly shifting and totally remorseless masses of grit and glass. This would not be the easy victory of their last few fights. Controlled by Mother Nature, these Creatures would never stop. They had no fears to prey upon, no weakness.
Alexa’s mind spun furiously for a solution, and the men around their clever guide waited silently. They had no experience with the seven-foot monsters watching the coastline, but there was little doubt their mistress did.
It had taken them only another day to reach the vast expanse of the ocean and the sights were even less encouraging than what they’d found on other shorelines, though the blonde leader was sure all of them were guarded now. The main difference was the water. It stank here, horribly, like mildew and rot, and it was strong enough to make eyes water and noses sting. They’d had their bandanas around their faces since dawn.
The Ocean was sour. There were no signs of life in its dark depths, no birds overhead, and nothing moved on the beach except for the evil-colored Sand Demons, who had just noticed them standing on the rise half a mile away. Waves of menace surged in their direction.
With a heart not quite thumping nervously, Edward made a gesture to the other men, and was rewarded by them falling into the protection detail they had learned together so long ago. Controlling the grin that wanted to spread across his face - he was indeed XO now - Edward circled the group with his hands resting on the well cared for butts of his guns… the first gear she’d given each of them.
The dark-haired Horseman pushed away the di
stracting thoughts, grip tightening as the wind increased, hurting his eyes and nose with the stench. In this new world, a gun was more needed than water.
Alexa turned slowly, evaluating gaze sweeping over each man with a vision that saw into their very hearts and knew great worry. They would not survive. She would need more like herself. Mere mortals stood no chance against Sand Demons, even ones as well versed in battle as hers.
She looked at Edward, tone emotionless, “Keep them tight.”
He nodded, face asking her not to go alone, but the blonde turned toward the beach with a curt motion that none of them could mistake. Stay here!
The cloaked leader moved down the roughly sloping hill of stinking sand at a fast pace, the dark grains shifting treacherously beneath her boots, and found not a single place to slide through the line of sword-wielding warriors. Nature’s monsters guarded the water’s edge as far as she could see. One would not get by alone, and yet, she moved steadily closer as the wind howled in warning. She needed to see the battle line.
The beach Guardians were moving now, flexing, and Alexa marked the spot with a memory of the rock pattern. She saw their cone-shaped bodies spread eagerly into long, clawed hands and fast, sleek legs. That was the alert line. Good to know, but she needed the point that would make them charge, and she kept moving as each creature drew its stone sword and hissed angrily.
The sound was revolting, like nails on a chalkboard and she swallowed an automatic flinch. That would have to be taken into account as well. If it could draw such a reaction from her, it would likely disable her men during the fight, another strike against them surviving.
Glittering, malicious eyes watched eagerly as she approached the tangle brush that lined the beach. Alexa saw their shifting muscles ripple, and their tense, gritty fingers tighten on glinting hilts. Before her boots touched the foul-smelling shoreline, the Guardians were leaving their posts, coming to greet her - all of them.
Alexa stopped abruptly. That was it, then.
The Demons moved like tornadoes, their legs spinning furiously as their long arms stretched out for her, but the woman stayed still a moment longer, noticing how they automatically adjusted for two of the largest monsters that were cutting viciously through the mob to get to her first. They were the Generals, and she marked them well.
Alexa turned suddenly, the creatures almost to the brush, and she moved the way she had come at a very fast clip, not looking back. Glad to not hear them on her heels, she didn’t stop until she was at the top of the slick rise with her men.
She spun around to find the Demons had already resumed their constant vigil near the murky water, swords sheathed. There was only one more thing she needed to know.
“When did they turn back?”
Edward answered, noting she didn’t sound winded. Despite being with her so long, he still knew very little. “The second you were out of the tangle brush they stopped. The two with the ruby eyes went a few feet into the weeds and then motioned the others back. They were the last to resume their posts.”
She waved a hand to the dense thicket of decaying trees that lined the road to their right.
“We’ll stay here.”
Further into these scraggy trees, it would become a forest to be hunted in, but her gaze stayed a moment longer on the restlessly rolling black waves. There were jeers in the roar of the ocean, arrogance in its Defenders. No one like her had been here yet, challenged them. Instead of feeling better about having an edge, she turned away with a grim heart. Had no one else survived? Was she now the last of her kind on this soil?
2
They set up camp two miles to the east, out of the heart of the gusting wind. Deep in a rare thicket of brittle trees, where branches were struggling to grow moldy leaves and the sly sand was inches deep instead of feet. The patch of Petrified Forest was half a click wide and much deeper, the only shelter or cover for miles. Close enough to allow the winds to scrub away some of the ash that had fallen when Yellowstone erupted in 2013, it was also out of sight of the sand guardians still watching for them from the shoreline.
Finally at the ocean, the view that met these relentless warriors was the same as everywhere else; a drab, dusty landscape with nothing moving but grit and debris. The sky remained clouded over by a thick orange and green haze, the fallout still visible, and the piles of sand glittered brightly with their poisoned layers. They would sleep again on sour ground, as they had been for most of their journey.
Now about to leave the Country where they’d been born, no emotions were allowed to disrupt the flow of their quest, but they were felt by them all. The group of fighters couldn’t see the endless waters they were about to cross, wouldn’t camp close enough to be in danger as they had in their earlier days, but they could hear its mocking tones. It warned them the coming battle would be fierce.
Nestled between two thick trunks, Alexa sat outside the flap of their tent, enjoying the warmth of their large bodies around her. “We’ll have a story now.”
She was aware of their immediate eagerness to listen. Her tales of past battles and triumphs provided glimpses of who she had been and what she had come through. It gave them what they wanted most - her.
“The War was a constant thing. Ever growing, devouring, even after the government went below and left us to our fate. It snuck up while we looked the other way, and when the fury fell from the sky, few were ready,” her tone grew ominous, “Where we’ll head first, is back. Listen well, my pets. For this is the tale of how we came to be.”
3
The lone woman limped into the Utah town on a sunless day in July. The tattered American flag flying over one of the tents drew her, and she ignored the other hawkers and vendors rushing to offer precious supplies. She had dust, but give it to these sharks, she would not.
Despite her limp, the woman was clearly someone to be wary of. When her hand dropped to the dusty Colt on her hip, the merchants quickly moved back in fear. A second more of this ready stance found them banished to their stoops and sheds where they watched her with eager greed; sure she had need of something.
The blonde was filthy, covered in glowing desert dust, and her fiery blue eyes said she’d been to hell… likely, more than once. She moved with a sure grace despite the injury, and her long hooded cloak and black boots made no noise on the dirt hardpan as she headed for the fluttering flag.
Putting it there was the equivalent of suicide for a businessman in this new Hell: proclaiming them to still honor the old ways that had destroyed the world. Alexa instantly respected the one who’d had the stones to do so. Love of country was part of what she’d come for - as was courage.
Before the woman reached the grimy, green vinyl behind the flag, the flap opened. From the dimness, a cloaked man of tall stature and wide shoulders stepped into the gritty wind with no hesitation.
He held the flap for her without showing his face, and the woman moved inside with a hand still resting on one of her Colts.
She evaluated the layout in seconds, marking weapons, signs of no employees or customers, and she turned to observe the merchant. Was he the one she’d come for?
The man kept a clear distance, able to feel her judging him. Would he be enough this time? The others who had searched here hadn’t liked his bravado or anything else. Would she understand him and what he needed?
“May I offer you a drink?”
He slid his hood back as he spoke, and the woman studied him closely. Yes. He was a killer. It was evident in those pale eyes and the way his hand stayed near the 9 mm on his lean hip.
She shook her head, sending bright dust flying from her filthy braids. “I have no thirst. Only a hunger.”
The raspy voice echoed like a bell, made his face darken a bit with desire… the kind she’d come for.
“What would please you, Mistress?”
That one word settled her choice and brought a short-lived smile to her weathered face, “To be a man up when I leave this place.”
Alex
a took a step closer, not caring about the scarlet drips she was leaving, or the exhaustion surging through her body. “Do you have a mind to fill that need, tradesman?”
End of Prelude
Notes
Alexa’s Travels is another long story, which will be broken into several editions and cover only a short amount of time. Each town, challenge, or part of the quest will have its own book. The one you’ve just finished is a prelude, setting up the action and giving a small taste of what their adventure will be like. The first book, Bone Dust & Beginnings, is now available.
This new tale connects to my popular fantasy series, Life After War, which takes place right after the bombs have fallen. The hero that leads Safe Haven refugee camp is Alexa’s family. He was forced to leave her behind when they fled the United States, but he trained her to be strong, and nothing will stop her from being reunited with her father.
This spinoff carries my usual end of the world obsession to another level, and I can’t wait to explore all of the dark and dreadful places this group of fighters will cross through on their quest to find the impossible myth called safety.
Interested in a little more? My website (below) is a great place to look for contact forms, new releases, and my complete library.
http://www.law-angelawhite.com
Have a wonderful year,
Angela White
Extras
Bone Dust & Beginnings
The Survivors
Bone Dust & Beginnings
When they reached the bend of the Little River, the sight of the small town gave no comfort that what Alexa had come for was here.
River City hadn’t existed before the War. Set near the back hatch of NORAD, the town had begun as a refugee camp that was wiped out by foreign invaders and then rebuilt. A few months later, it was destroyed again by the emerging government, who’d also come searching for what was left. Now there was a new war between the old tyrants and the sacrificed citizens surviving on their own. Few groups of people remained this far west.
