LEVEL SANDS

Crimson Rage Book 2

By Sam J Fires

Copyright 2021 by Samuel Fires Publications. All Rights Reserved.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, places, organizations, or person, whether living or dead, is entirely coincidental. This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment.

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BAD BOYS MAKE BROKEN MEN

Cole Denvers is a bouncer at the hottest nightclub in town, The Ballroom, when he’s approached by Gino Scanelli, Mob Boss and owner of the club, to be an enforcer for his gang. The big times are calling, and Cole wants to be a part of the big game.

He doesn’t mind hitting people, but it goes against his moral upbringing to kill anyone. He builds a reputation on the streets as being a hard-handed enforcer. But with each beating that he lays down, the voice of his dead brother calls out from the grave, forcing Cole to face his past, and relive the horror of his brother’s death when he was callously run down in the street by a hit-and-run perpetrator.

Sure, everyone has hardships, but as Cole’s about to find out the hard way... On the mean streets of New York City, Bad Boys Make Broken Men.

GET YOUR FREE COPY OF BAD BOYS MAKE BROKEN MEN HERE

Table of Contents

CHAPTER 1 - DONNA

CHAPTER 2 - ERIC

CHAPTER 3 - JANE

CHAPTER 4 - DONNA

CHAPTER 5 - JANE

CHAPTER 6 - DONNA

CHAPTER 7 – JANE

CHAPTER 8 - ERIC

CHAPTER 9 - DONNA

CHAPTER 10 - JANE

CHAPTER 11 - ERIC

CHAPTER 12 – SARAH LEE

Other books by Sam Fires

About the author

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CHAPTER 1 - DONNA

   In the two months since Donna had stepped into the first sandstorm, she had wondered many times what the world would eventually look like as waves of destruction had continued to blanket the city a hundred times over.

   As she walked past a window which displayed a large advertisement for clothing that should have hit the stores that summer, she remembered the last time she saw this display just before the sandstorms had hit. Then, it had been a vibrant colorful affair. Now she was walking level to it, her foot gently sinking an inch into the thick layer of sand.

   Eric, on the other hand, was holding up his camera within its protective plastic casing, pointing it in all directions, trying to capture as many different shots as he could.

   “Here, we are taking in the view of countless Los Angeles department stores, office blocks, restaurants and bars, now buried by the sandstorms; the remnants of a previously contented world shattered forever,” Eric narrated in a somewhat melodramatic voice.

   “Last time I checked, you weren’t asked to be a narrator,” called out Jane, rolling her remaining eye. “Unless you love the sound of your own voice.”

   “I’m trying to provide a context for everyone back at the shelter,” Eric replied, suddenly self-conscious.

   “And you’re telling me the only way people will be able to comprehend that the world has gone to shit is if they have you droning on in the background?”

   “Donna? What are your thoughts?” Eric was hopeful she would take his side.

   “Donna, you don’t have to feed his ego,” assured Jane.

   “Well, on the one hand, it can’t hurt to have a bit of context…” and just as Eric began to smile, Donna continued, “…on the other hand, just remember this is supposed to be factual footage. You’re not directing the next big blockbuster.”

   Eric’s face fell a little. “You got any better ideas? I’d love to hear them.”

   Jane held up her hands, a handgun in one of them. “No, thanks, I’m happy with my current job.”

   Eric smiles cheekily. “I thought you two were brought on board as my assistants.”

   If looks could kill, Eric would have died a thousand times over from the glare Jane shot at him. “Call me an ‘assistant’ again and I may ‘accidentally’ shoot you in the ass.”

   “You wouldn’t dare,” retorted Eric, though the uneasiness in his tone made it clear he wasn’t sure if Jane was just joking.

   “Nobody would know. ‘Why, last time I saw Eric, he was going into a giant sandcastle. But he died doing what he did best’.” Jane smiled with relish.

   “You’ve got a warped imagination, woman.” There was no malice in his voice. From when their paths had crossed during the first sandstorm, they had built up a sense of comradery. Nothing seemed to bring people together like the end of the world.

   But since arriving at the shelter, Donna hadn’t seen the other two as much as she would have liked.

   Since she’d arrived, Donna had been trying to find a way to fit in with the other survivors. She had made contact with her family. Her mom and her stepdad had survived the first sandstorm and been directed to the shelter. They were some of the lucky ones. There still weren’t any official death toll figures, but it was rumored to be at least in the millions. All contact with the outside world had been lost with much of the technology knocked out by the storm. While the government had been able to rely on a series of backup generators, any attempts to repair the damage, the city was constantly hindered by a slew of fresh storms.

   It quickly became apparent that the powers that now be - a new government hurriedly created by the few remaining survivors from the last administration - was hoping to maintain a sense of normality, assigning tasks to people so that everyone would ‘earn their place’. This methodology had been challenged when first announced but considering those in charge had control of the now dangerously limited stocks and the alternative was to take their chances in another sandstorm, the population quickly fell in line, taking tasks assigned and being rewarded with a points system, entitling them to certain privileges.

   Donna had used her points to obtain meds. But opportunities to obtain supplies were sporadic and with medication in particularly high demand, she was only able to get her hands on at best a couple of tablets a week.  I spend most of my life avoiding pills like the plague, and just when I agree to take them, can’t get any of the little bastards. The irony didn’t escape her.

   The city had been rendered uninhabitable and dangerous, but the authorities had still taken to sending groups of people to scavenge for food and equipment. And sometimes, there were more extensive tasks, the kind that couldn’t be wrapped up in a few hours and could require you to devote days of your time. The kind of tasks that would either see you rewarded for your efforts… or dead from a sandstorm.

Donna wasn’t sure how she could contribute to the group endeavor. The best argument she could provide for her presence was safety in numbers. In a way, she was thankful that this was a team effort, and that Eric and Jane were around to provide a buffer.

   Donna still thought back to the moment when she had been prepared to die. Every now and then, a part of her chided herself for not following through. And with the outside world offering so many opportunities to die, and the lack of medication, Donna was conscious that her desire could easily overwhelm her once again. Therefore, she figured she would have a better chance of avoiding it if she had Eric and Jane around to keep her grounded.

   But even now, she could feel her more manic side trying to erupt, her body feeling that added sensation of hyperactivity, and suddenly, the protective suit, or ‘casing’ as it had come to be called, felt a lot more restrictive and she felt herself straining to get out of it. Every movement emphasized how confined she was, along with a growing sense of suffocation and claustrophobia.

   I wish I could tear this fucking thing off, Donna screamed inside her head. Her fingers flexed into claws, reaching to loosen the neck of the suit, as if gasping for air.

   “Donna? You all right?” Jane had noticed Donna’s agitation and moved towards her.

   Donna worked to choke back the building anxiety. “Yeah, I’m fine” she reassured.

   I just need to last long enough to get my medication.

   They had been warned to stay on full alert. But as far as they were aware, another sandstorm wasn’t due for at least another six days.

   Though this did make Donna wonder what else could be out there that could require caution.

CHAPTER 2 - ERIC

    In a weird, roundabout way, I’m living the dream.

   Those words would never be spoken in the light of day if Eric didn’t want to give Jane yet another reason to deride him.

   The footage that he’d captured during the first sandstorm had been a major hit. Okay, the quality had been grainy and blurred at times, but considering that the government had been given very little else to go on and was in dire need of information, it was treated as a godsend.  The footage had been edited into an explanatory documentary and was regularly screened for the survivors at the shelter on a weekly basis.

   But now enough time had passed, and people needed more in the way of an explanation. They needed someone to venture into the eye of the storm. Of course, no one was surprised by the lack of volunteers. But, given Eric had already managed to do stellar work, albeit inadvertently, he had enthusiastically volunteered for the role.

   Had Eric journeyed out on his lonesome, chances were he wouldn’t come back. Thankfully, the value of human life hadn’t deteriorated to such an extent that they would send him out on his own. So, they had assigned Jane to accompany him as a security detail. Later, he discovered that Jane had volunteered for the job, along with Donna. He hadn’t yet got round to asking them why they had stuck their necks out to help him. Neither of them had shown any interest in filmmaking so perhaps it was because the first storm had brought them all together. Maybe it was the kinship that had been forged from sharing the life changing experience.

   All three had been equipped with protective suits. Having learned from Eric’s footage how glass could attract the sandstorm in clusters, the suits had been fashioned from flexible plastics and the joints of the suit at the knees and elbows had been further reinforced with duct tape. There just weren’t the materials and resources available now for professionally made protective equipment but this was the best that could be done in the circumstances. Given the urgency and the minimal resources available, they had only been able to construct a dozen suits that were only to be taken out for specific missions, such as this one.

   Eric knew that when they left the safety of the sanctuary, they would be on their own. There was no way of keeping in contact with the base, no rescue party to come to their aid. They only had each other.

   Eric aimed his camera at the wall of a building, focusing on the brickwork. It looked as though some invisible monster had taken thousands of tiny bites out of it. It had decayed away, leaving a crater-sized hole in the side of the building. Eric looked up at the looming building which stood an unnerving forty storeys high. A few more sandstorms eating away at the structure and the whole thing could come tumbling down, adding to the destruction. The only upside was, with everyone safely sheltering, there would be few casualties.

   Assuming Leo doesn’t get caught by it. Eric remembered the last time he had seen his long-time friend, trapped in a car, the toxic sand clawing at him. As soon as he had gotten to the shelter, Eric had checked absolutely everywhere, praying that Leo might have made his way to the shelter. But he hadn’t.

   Two months had passed now, and it was most likely that anyone who hadn’t turned up in the time since the first storm was likely dead. Eric had consulted with a doctor who had been treating survivors of the storm. When Eric had last been to see her, she was removing specks of sand from a man’s shoulder, giving the skin around it a crimson-scaled look.

   “Son,” she had said, in a tone that was showing the early signs of exasperation, like a parent trying to shoo away a needy child. “No one can survive that long out there without adequate protection.” She had lowered her voice so that her patient couldn’t hear her. “If I’m being honest, if your friend has been out there that long, given what this stuff can do to the body… I’m not sure you would want to find him. This storm contradicts every rule of science I’ve ever studied. I’d fill you in on some of the more drastic side effects… but I think you have enough nightmares.”

   After that little pep-talk, Eric never mentioned Leo to anyone, he didn’t want to be told what he feared the most, that his friend was dead. Even when he had volunteered for what had become known as ‘the Documentary Mission’, he did not list Leo as a reason for journeying out. And he hadn’t mentioned it to Donna and Jane, knowing they would only tell him he was torturing himself with false hope.

   But if there was even a one percent chance of Leo still being alive, Eric had to take it. He owed it to Leo. He would have done the same for Eric had the situation been reversed.

   The body wasn’t there, Eric reminded himself, trying to keep the hope alight. Eternally optimistic, he was hoping that at some point on the filming tour, he could convince Donna and Jane to head towards the area where he had last seen Leo.

   “What do you think are the chances of running into any people out here?” asked Donna, interrupting Eric’s internal contemplations.

   “Not high,” Jane replied bluntly. “You’d have to be fairly adept at covering your ass to last this long.”

   Thanks for the vote of confidence. Eric wondered if Jane’s words were in any way directed at him. “It wouldn’t be such a bad thing if we ran into someone.” Noticing Donna and Jane’s quizzical faces, Eric quickly stammered out an excuse. “I mean, we can try and get a look at the long-lasting impact the sand has on the body.”

   “Frankly, I don’t need to know that.” Jane instinctively reached up to rub the eyepatch covering her ruined eye, forgetting the presence of her visor.

   Eric tried to lighten the mood. “Well, at least we’re in good company.”

   “True,” remarked Jane sardonically. “If it weren’t for Donna, I would have definitely shot you by now.”

   He had come to enjoy their friendly banter. “Come on, Jane. We’re in the middle of making history here.”

   “Yeah, we’ll be history if we’re not careful.”

   Before Eric could reply, Donna called out, “Guys?”

   Eric and Jane rushed over to her, alarmed by her apprehension. “You all right?” asked Jane.

   Donna pointed down to the monitor on her wrist. Her suit had been fitted with a device that was designed to respond to changes in air density.

   And it was going off like a klaxon.

   “That’s not possible,” said Jane, the color draining from her face. “We’re not supposed to get another sandstorm for another six days.”

   “Maybe it’s a glitch,” offered Eric. “You can’t expect such new technology to always be accurate.”

   “Oh, so you’re a weather expert now?” scoffed Jane. “And what have you got in the way of evidence?”

   Eric pointed ahead. “That.” He gulped loudly.

   They all looked. Even though the sky was now always permanently darkened into a crimson dusk, Donna, Eric, and Jane could make out the dark wave getting ready to descend on the city.

   Instinctively, Eric lifted his camera and began filming, fighting back the realization that the footage might well be delivered posthumously.

CHAPTER 3 - JANE

   This is the moment of truth, thought Jane. Time to prove you’re still worth a damn.

   Ever since they had arrived at the shelter, Jane had felt increasingly adrift, eager to find a role for herself, to prove that she could still be useful in this new world.

   She had been treated for her eye injury, which confirmed that it had been ravaged beyond repair, and given an eyepatch.

   Considering her experience as a police officer, Jane had hoped that would give her an elevated status. Yet, for some reason, she seemed to find herself frequently stuck with mundane tasks like guarding the food supplies. It was the new law that anyone who dared steal would be expelled from the shelter to face the mercy of the storms. Jane had been unfortunate enough to have already given offenders their marching orders. She had been unhappy about what she’d had to do but had learned to follow the only rule that still seemed to have any bearing in this strange time; always follow orders.

  Jane had never spoken in any depth about what her duties required of her with Donna and Eric. She wasn’t too bothered about what Eric thought. He’s probably got his head too far up his ass to care. He reminded her of a director she had previously arrested for drunk and disorderly behavior. Those Hollywood types carried themselves with a boundless sense of self-importance, a law unto themselves.

   But Jane hadn’t wanted to alarm Donna. She felt protective towards the younger woman, seeing her as someone who might easily go to pieces with little provocation. She wasn’t an expert in mental health, but she knew vulnerability when she saw it. If she could keep Donna safe, then she was at least doing something worthwhile.

   And now she was feeling that uneasy responsibility once again, as another storm was approaching.

   The three began running in the opposite direction, hindered by the limited mobility of their suits.

   Jane scanned the area for any signs of some sort of a refuge.

   It came in the form of a rusting car, with all the windows smashed in.

   “Get to the car!” screamed Jane. She got there first and quickly slammed her palms on the bonnet. In the event of getting caught up in a sandstorm, and in lieu of any other cover, the suits had been designed with built-in suction cups they could latch onto metallic surfaces. She was relieved at having something solid beneath her fingertips.

   Jane watched as Eric clasped the bonnet with one hand while clutching the camera with the other. One of these days, that camera is going to be the death of him.

   That was when she realized that they were a person short.

   Donna was running towards the car but tripped and stumbled. She was struggling to get to her feet and the storm was almost upon her, threatening to rain down in all its nightmarish ferocity.

   She’s not going to make it. Without thinking, Jane pulled her hands off the car and ran towards Donna, grabbed her and led her towards the wrecked car, bundling her inside. “You all right?”  Donna nodded, shaken.

   Jane resumed her position, placing her hands on the car roof. She noticed Eric shooting her a quizzical look, but didn’t respond, trying to keep the focus on staying alive.

   It was an odd sensation, frozen in place with only a thin layer of plastic separating them from the red sand battering down on top of them. Donna constantly checked the visor protecting her face, checking for any signs of damage.

   They waited until the storm had died down to the point no one was worried about being swept away before continuing their journey. Donna walked ahead, studying a map of the area, trying to see if she could recognize any of the landmarks buried beneath the ever growing desert. She had picked up a more energetic pace, moving ahead of Eric and Jane. Eric had taken a break from filming and spoke quietly to Jane.

   “You realize that we’re going to need to see that map too?” said Eric.

   “Just let her use it, okay?”  Jane said with more force than she had intended.

I know what you’re trying to do.”

   “What?” demanded Jane, all pretense now gone.

   “You’re trying to protect her. You think she’s a lamb that can be easily led to the slaughter.”

   “I’m just doing my job to look after my team” Jane said, through gritted teeth.

   “Oh, come on,” Eric said mockingly. “If that had been me lying flat on my ass back there, would you be taking on the role as my knight in shining armor?”

   “Are you saying I should have left her to die?”

   “Dear God, no,” said Eric indignantly. “The point is you threw yourself into the line of fire. How do you know she couldn’t have got herself to cover?”

   “She’s… got issues.”

   “She’s not a goddamn invalid,” snapped Eric. “Do you expect her to rely on you to keep her safe all the time? What are you going to do when she’s not got you or me around? When she has one of her episodes? She won’t know what to do because she’ll be used to you charging in there, guns blazing.”

   “Whereas you, on the other hand, wrote the rulebook on sandstorm survival,” Jane retorted.

   “I’m not just talking about sandstorms. There are other things to be worried about.”

   “Like what?” demanded Jane.

   “Events like this… they change people. And not necessarily for the better.” Eric continued, more gently, “I care about Donna and I want to see her safe. But she’s not a child that needs coddling.”

   “I’m just trying to help,” Jane was running out of justifications.

   “You want to help? Teach her how to use a weapon so she builds a sense of self-reliance.”

   “That’s actually a good idea. I could give her your camera; she can smack people around the head with that.”

   Eric held the camera out of her reach. “No one touches the camera,” he said in a serious tone but couldn’t disguise the humorous undertone.

   “Guys,” shouted Donna.

   They had come to a building, but not just any building. A bar, shattered window but its signage still intact even after everything that had happened. Donna’s face lit up with recognition.

   “Josie,” she whispered.

   As if on cue, the trio glimpsed something moving inside through the damaged window. “Josie!” screamed Donna, running for the opening. Eric had enough time to throw Jane a look that screamed, ‘I told you so’ before they went in after her.

   The bar was empty, and the interior was surprisingly untouched by the storm.

   The sound of the storm outside was replaced by a new sound.

   The cocking of a gun with Josie pointing it.

CHAPTER 4 - DONNA

   Donna wondered if this was some kind of mirage brought on by the sandstorm. Josie, the woman she had known for many years as a pacifist, was standing over her wearing a torn gray T-shirt, her skin flecked with grime and pointing a gun at her face.

   “Josie, it’s me.” Donna dared to step towards the barrel. I must have a death wish.

   Josie’s face relaxed slightly. “Donna?” She gently lowered the barrel a little. “Is it really you?” She gave a slight smile but dropped it just as quickly. “You’re one of them, aren’t you?” She raised the barrel again.

   “One of who?”

   “The authority bastards looking to shut me down. You want me to show you what happened to the last prick who tried to ransack me?”

   “Josie, I didn’t even know you were alive.”

   Josie’s hand wavered, as though considering the logic, before Eric cleared his throat.

   “Got to ask, is this how you greet all your regulars? ‘Cause I’m thinking a smile and the offer of a drink would win you more points.”

   Jane scowled, praying his banter wasn’t going to get them shot. Josie pointed the gun in Eric’s direction.

   “So why are you wearing those snazzy suits?”

   Eric chortled. “You honestly think these are snazzy? Woman, quality is non-existent to these people. They’re more than happy to stick us with second-hand shit.”

   Jane shot a look to Eric that begged ‘please shut up now’.

   But to everyone’s surprise, Josie chuckled. “You hit the nail on the head there. Those guys are as tight as a duck’s ass. I’ve come across a fair few folk in my time who can attest to that.” Josie’s smile vanished again as she lifted the gun. “So, what are you doing here?”

   “We saw someone inside, I wanted to know if it was you,” said Donna. “We’re not after anything. You know me, Josie. We’ve known each other for years.”

   “People change,” said Josie.

   “Maybe. But if you think I’ve changed enough to betray a friend, you pull that trigger.”

As Eric and Jane exchanged alarmed glances, Donna walked up to the gun and placed her visor against the barrel. “Come on, Josie!” she demanded, drawing confidence from a pool of energy growing inside her.

   “You hurt her, you’d better be ready to follow her,” snarled Jane.

   “Relax,” Josie said, wearily. “Still the same Donna. Same flair for the dramatic.” As she lowered the gun, she quickly added, “Don’t think I’m hugging you while you’ve got that monstrosity on. So, if you’re not in the looting and pillaging business, what business are you in?”

   “We’re filming,” answered Eric.

   “What? A horror movie?”

   “We’re filming for a documentary on the sandstorms, trying to find out more about how they operate to educate the survivors.”

   Josie raised an eyebrow, looking to Donna who nodded in confirmation. Taking the cue, Eric lifted his camera and held it up to Josie. “Would you care to share what you’ve learned about the storm for everyone back at the shelter?”

   Jane facepalmed herself. “You never miss an opportunity, do you?” she half-whispered.

   Josie looked into the camera and smiled sweetly. “Get that fucking camera out of my face or I will stick it somewhere the storm will never be able to reach it.”

   Eric gulped and lowered the camera.

   “Have you been here all this time?” Donna looked around the bar.

   “My grandmother made a killing during Prohibition thanks to this place. You really think I was going to leave it to the first shitheads who happened to stop by?”

   “But how have you survived?” asked Donna, disbelieving.

   “I had to adapt, for sure. The day of the first storm, it was chaos. People pouring in from off the streets, everyone clamoring for space, it wasn’t long before a punch-up broke out. I ended up taking a few hits myself. In a way I was glad you didn’t make it back here, Donna. It was nasty.

   “Luckily, I was able to get my hands on a baseball bat. I had to crack my fair share of skulls before they got the message.” Josie’s face looked haunted and Donna was taken aback by how much her old friend had been forced to harden herself.

   “After the announcement went out about the shelters, I stayed behind, which meant that any canned food and drink was up for grabs. Of course, I had to make sure I didn’t walk out into a sandstorm.”

   “How did you figure out when it was safe to venture outside?” asked Eric, who was trying to subtly focus the camera on Josie.

   “I didn’t. But I was able to pick up certain patterns. A full fortnight passed after the first storm and when the second one came I was lucky not to be too far away. Then, nothing for a week and a half. Then another storm. Then nothing for a week before the next storm.”

   “The gaps between storms are getting shorter,” said Jane.

   “Yes, the irony is that if I want to keep stocked up on supplies, I need to venture out further into the city. But unless I do it soon, I’m not going to have the time to do it.”

   “We can pick stuff up for you,” chimed in Eric. Everyone turned to look at him. “We’re heading in that direction anyway.”

   “You sure you’re willing to do that?” asked Josie, treating generosity like an old relic.

   Thinking sharply about how they could turn the situation to their advantage, Jane added, “Of course, if we’re going out, we’ll need better weapons.” She held up her handgun. “Somehow, I can’t see myself fighting off much with this thing.”

   Josie nodded. “Fair enough. I have a few guns available and I was lucky enough to get my hands on a rifle.” Noticing Donna’s surprise, Josie said, “What? I’ve got to protect myself.”

   “From what? The storms?” offered Eric.

   “No,” said Josie, serious now, settling into a seat at the bar. “There are people out in the city. Not everyone has gone to the shelters. I can’t tell you how many because I honestly don’t know.”

   “Any shooters?” asked Jane, remembering the unknown gunman who had taken shots at them on the day of the first storm.

   “No shooters that I can recall. But I’ve been hearing things about a group that has been forming. Talking about how survival is their divine right. It’s probably just some religious crap.”

   “How is it that there are still people out in the storm?” asked Eric, no longer bothering to hide the camera.

   “No idea. Some of them probably chose to stick around, like me. I know a fair proportion of them are exiles. You guys should know all about that?”

   “Know all about what?” asked Donna.

   “Anyone who doesn’t toe the line in the shelters is booted out to fend for themselves. With security providing the boot.”

   Donna and Eric turned around to look at Jane, who couldn’t shy away from their glares, aware that they were now seeing her in an entirely different light.

CHAPTER 5 - JANE

   For a moment, Jane just looked to Donna, silently imploring her to back her up. But Donna couldn’t meet her pleading eyes.

   “You’ve been throwing people out?” Eric asked incredulously. The revelation struck him with such force, he hadn’t noticed he’d dropped the camera to the floor.

   “They were stealing from the supplies. It would have jeopardized the safety and wellbeing of everyone in the shelter, yourselves included.” That was how it had been explained to her when she had displayed some hesitation in carrying out her orders. It alarmed her how naturally the words rolled off her tongue. As though she had accepted the cold logic as her own.

   “Fantastic message you’re sending out to the kids,” scoffed Eric. “Steal chocolate, death by hailstorm.”

   “Don’t be ridiculous. It’s never involved kids. Just greedy adults, and I was just doing my job.”

   Josie’s eyes flared as though a fire had been ignited in them.

   “I’m not proud of what I’ve been doing,” Jane continued to try and justify her position. “But we’ve all got to play our part moving forward.”

   “My job description didn’t include crowd control, Jane” said Eric, indignant. “Hasn’t the population been reduced enough?”

   “I need to do my part,” insisted Jane, all too aware of how unconvincing that sounded.

   “I get that,” added Josie. “But how many people need to die for you to play your part?”

Jane wracked her brain to find a satisfactory answer.

   “Those who put themselves above the security and wellbeing of all the others need to face the consequences of their actions.”

   There was silence in the bar, with only the gentle howling of the wind. Finally, Eric broke the silence in an attempt at levity. “So, Josie, I believe you have some guns you can point us towards?”

   “Sure,” said Josie, a half-hearted attempt to sound like a professional servicing her clientele. “If you’d like to follow me this way…” She paused to look at Jane. “You do understand that I’m not in a hurry to arm G.I. Jane over there.”

   Josie and Eric disappeared into the back room, leaving Donna and Jane alone. “Donna…”

   “Just tell me this,” said Donna, whose voice was devoid of emotion. “If it was me or Eric, would you boot us out the door?”

   “No,” declared Jane immediately. “Of course not, don’t even think that. After everything we’ve…”

   “Jane, let’s just do what we need to do, and hopefully do it without being killed by either the storm on some maniac bastard who might lay eyes on us.”

***

Gideon looked down at the bar from the rooftop, surveying the city that had become his domain.

   It had been a trying two months. There was a time when he wasn’t sure whether he would survive the storms. Thankfully, his survival instincts had been successful, and he had prevailed. He still wrestled with indecision as to whether he should have headed to a shelter like everyone else, if only to acquire a sense of clarity. But he could only imagine how they would react an ex-con fresh out of jail turning up on their doorstep.

   No. He was much safer out here. More prepared, alert.

   He knew that he was not the only one who inhabited the city. There were increasing numbers moving through the sands with a renewed sense of purpose. So far, Gideon had done his best to avoid them. No point in starting a confrontation that would drastically diminish his resources. But that meant time was limited, and he needed to move quickly.

   Someone was coming out of the building and stopping in the middle of the street.

   He took out his binoculars and focused on the lone figure.

   He couldn’t believe it. It was her.

   There was no waiting to be done now. He would move quickly, taking one last glance at his new target.

***

Jane walked outside the bar, which, in hindsight, probably wasn’t the smartest thing she could have done. But she could feel Donna’s silent scorn.

   Are they right? Sure, she’d had certain misgivings about what she’d been asked to do at the shelter, but it hadn’t been until she was confronted with disgust of the two people she had come to value that she’d felt the full reality of what she was having to do to people.

   It was at that moment that a small ball of what looked like yarn landed at Jane’s feet. She looked at it quizzically, wondering if it had been blown in her direction by the storm.

   Then the ball exploded, and Jane felt as though an avalanche was rushing up to greet her.

***

Donna had watched Jane leave the bar. She hadn’t motioned for her to stay. Nor had she followed her out.

   Her first instinct was to feel let down. But then again, in reality she barely knew Jane and she couldn’t really understand the position Jane had been forced into. She didn’t know the circumstances. For all she knew, she or Eric could also find themselves in a position where they would have to face a similar dilemma.

   Once she had gotten over her initial shock, Donna remembered that Jane had just saved her life at great risk to her own. She valued her enough to do that.

   Before she could follow her out, a shockwave reverberated through the bar, blowing forceful gusts of sand inside, knocking Donna off her feet.

   Josie and Eric raced back in, Eric trying to juggle several handguns and his camera. “What the fuck was that?” exclaimed Josie.

   “Please tell me those storms don’t come with earthquakes now,” moaned Eric.

   Donna picked herself off the floor and ran out through the open window into the deserted street and looked around. But there was no sign of anyone. Not even…

   “Jane?” Donna called out.

   Only the gushing wind answered.

   Starting to feel panic, Donna ran down the street, hoping to catch sight of her. But it quickly proved futile. Jane wasn’t there.

   She was gone.

   Eric stumbled out of the window, camera in hand. He looked back at Josie, who had remained behind in the bar. “What?” she asked. “She’s not my problem.”

   Eric shrugged and went to join Donna. “What the hell happened?”

   “I-I don’t know” stammered Donna. “I really don’t know.”

   The answer came in the form of static over the communication device built into Donna and Eric’s suits. Donna pressed the intercom button on the suit. “Receiving.”

   “Listen, carefully. You are going to do exactly as I say. Otherwise, the next time you see your companion will be when I throw you her head.”

CHAPTER 6 - DONNA

   “Who is this?” demanded Donna.

   “Who I am is not important,” replied the voice. “The only thing you need to be concerning yourself with is what I want.”

   Eric spoke into his own intercom. “What do you want? Money?”

   There was silence for a few moments and both Eric and Donna wondered whether they had lost the connection. Then laughter. “What would you expect me to do with money, pray tell? What I want is something much more important. Here’s what you’re both going to do; you’re going to go back to your shelter, and ask around for Andrea Chapman and Milo Chapman, a mother and son.”

   “And what do you want with them?” asked Donna, dreading what the answer would be.

   “That doesn’t concern you,” said the voice. “I’m assuming you have a certain regard for your friend’s wellbeing?”

   “Wait!” demanded Eric, joining the conversation. “How do we even know you have her? How do we know you’re not using her as a red herring?”

   Really? Donna mouthed at him. In Jane’s absence, Donna seemed to be taking over the sarcastic banter, rolling her eyes at him.

   “Don’t be a damned idiot. How do you think I’m communicating with you people in the first place?”

   “So…” said Donna, silently thinking of how they could possibly negotiate. “… say we find these two people, will you let her go unharmed?”

   There was another pause. “Of course,” the reply eventually came, although Eric sensed some mild reluctance in the voice.

   Trying to balance the compulsion to play devil’s advocate, Eric asked, “Let’s say, speaking hypothetically, we can’t find these people, even after a solid effort… what happens then?”

   “That’s actually a very good question” said the voice, cheerfully. “But I think I’ve got a better one; do either of you know what happens to any poor bastard left out in the sand for too long?”

   Donna and Eric froze. It was a scenario they had often contemplated but never taken the time to dwell on for long, partly because they were only too aware of what the answer was.

   “If you want to find out, just ignore what I’ve just asked you to do, and your friend will show you. Remember, Andrea and Milo Chapman. Mother and son. I expect to hear back from you within the next three hours. If I don’t…”

   And the line went dead.

***

Back inside the bar, Donna, Eric, and Josie considered their options.

   “Josie, do you have any idea who might have taken her?” asked Donna.

   Josie rubbed her forehead. “Honestly, I don’t know. You have to fight off the odd bastard out here every now and then. It could be anyone who’s decided to take their chances. Whoever it is, they won’t go down without a fight. If they can survive these sandstorms, they’ll have no problem taking out you two.”

   “Well, maybe we can go and get some reinforcements,” tried Eric.

   “Oh, come off it, Eric” exclaimed Donna. “They’ve barely got enough people to guard the shelters as it is. They wouldn’t send anyone out with us. You really think they will give a shit about Jane?” Donna stopped herself when she realized how cold she sounded. But it was the brutal truth.

   Josie picked up on this newfound sense of ruthless pragmatism. “My, my,” she muttered. “Looks like recent events have done a number on you too.”

   “We could just go back and find these two people,” suggested Eric.

   “And what if we come up empty-handed?” asked Donna. “That’s hours’ worth of time we could have spent getting Jane back.”

   “We are NOT leaving her.”

   Her insistent sense of loyalty burned Eric. “Where was that touching obligation when you left my friend trapped in a fucking car?”

   Donna swallowed audibly. “There was nothing we could have done.”

   Eric continued his onslaught. “You really know how to pick and choose when it comes to which people to help, you know that don’t you?”

   Now, Donna found her own fire. “I did what I could to save you both. I wish I had done things differently, believe me. There hasn’t been a single day in the last two months where I don’t think about how I might have done things differently. But if we hadn’t acted quickly, we would have all died. And let’s be honest; we’d have been dead a hell of a lot sooner if it weren’t for Jane. Now, you want to continue to throw a stink-eye over Leo? Then fine, I don’t give a shit. You suit yourself Eric, but I am not leaving Jane out there.” Donna started to realize how manic she was sounding, like an emotional firework going off, before it finally died down and she knew she needed to reel in those pent-up emotions. “Sorry,” she murmured. “I went too far.”

   “So, what do we do?” Eric decided to put on a show of planning while still needing some direction.

   “’We?’” repeated Josie, bemused. “There’s no ‘we’ in this game plan. There’s just you and Donna. Jane’s nothing to me. The only reason I have any shits to give is because she knows Donna. I certainly don’t care enough to stick my neck out for her.”

   “Josie… please,” begged Donna.

   Josie sighed and for a moment, Donna caught the semblance of the cheerful barmaid who had always been on hand with a kind word. “I’m sorry, Donna. I really am. But the only reason I’ve been able to survive for as long as I have is because I know when to pick my battles. And this is not one I fancy picking.”

   Donna thought about protesting but knew that wouldn’t do any good.

   “Hold on,” interrupted Eric. “I’m a film director, not a martyr.”

   “She’d do the same for us.” Donna remembered how Jane had thrown herself into a storm to save her.

   “Even if we were going to do anything, how are we supposed to go about it?” asked Eric. “LA isn’t exactly a short trek. We won’t be able to cover the entire area in three hours.”

   The impossibility of the task ahead weighed on Donna. She started to feel dizzy and the world began to blur. But before she could begin her descent, Eric and Josie rushed forward to catch her, lowering her to the floor.

   “Is there anything you can give us that would help us?” Eric asked Josie.

   “Besides a few guns, a pat on the back and a prayer for you both? Not really.”

   “Okay,” said Donna breathlessly. She pulled herself up off the floor, trying to recapture that burning resolve she had possessed minutes ago. “We can do this,” she said, mainly to herself.

   “I’m not worried about if we find her,” observed Eric. “I’m worried what we’re going to do when we come up against the bastard that took her. Two months living out here, what do you think that does to a person?”

CHAPTER 7 – JANE

   Jane stirred slowly, feeling hot air around her face. Her face…

   Panic-stricken, her hands went to move to her head… only to be stopped by tight shackles strapped around her wrists.

   She was sitting on the ground, propped up against a large circular metal pillar. Around it, was a chain connected to the shackles around her wrists.

   There were no windows in the room. What should have been a deserted building seemed to have been converted into a makeshift workshop. There were an array of tools and devices stacked on a wooden table. Jane strained to try and get a better look at them. Then she saw the man next to the table.

   He was dressed in a leather trench coat, mid-to-late forties, shoulder length brown hair and an unruly beard like some aging rock star, yet his manner and the expression on his face implied an inquisitive, thoughtful demeanor.

   “This,” he held up her helmet, “is honestly the best they could come up with? Wasn’t exactly expecting any ground-breaking technology, but I would have thought they could have fabricated something less … amateur.”

   He set the helmet down on the table and walked towards Jane, his face darkening as he approached. He didn’t say anything at first, his eyes looking her up and down. Finally, he said, “You don’t recognize me, do you?”

   “Should I?”

   The man’s response came in a smack across her face and Jane felt the side of her head explode. “Ow,” she said through gritted teeth, trying not to let her pain show.

   “I guess I shouldn’t be too surprised you don’t remember me,” the man remarked. “We only met briefly, and back in the day, you probably had encounters like ours all the time.”

   Jane looked at him more closely, sifting through her memory trying to find something to connect to that face. But her mind came up black. The lack of recognition clearly disappointed him.

   “That’s a shame,” he said. “Because I’ve been thinking about you every single day for the last ten years.”

   Ten years ago… Jane had been starting her career as a police officer. Back then, fresh out of the academy, she had been determined to make a difference, to the point her colleagues had quickly labelled her a fanatic. All of Jane’s conquests had been for taking one more step up the career ladder.

   And now this one was looking to drag her all the way down to hell.

   “So, what’s this all about? You going to kill me?” she said without fear. She wasn’t afraid to die. She’d been – was – a police officer. She’d always known that potential death was one of the hazards of the job, and she didn’t see that had changed. She’d gotten used to the idea of dying a long time ago. The only thing she cared about was how she died. And she didn’t want to die chained to a pillar, put down by an ex-con she couldn’t even remember.

   “Kill you? You know, while you were lying unconscious, I thought about it. I could pump you full of bullets like I tried to do on the day of the first sandstorm.”

   “That was you firing at us?”

   “That may have been impulsive,” he said, simply, then his face twisted in fury. “But put yourself in my position. I was separated from my wife and son. I never got to see my boy grow up. I spent all those years inside, because of you.

   “Sure, I can blame a lot of people for the way my life panned out, myself included. But you, coming in there blazing like the fastest gun in the west, you were the one who sealed the deal for me.

   “My wife wanted nothing more to do with me. She took our son. Said she ‘didn’t want him to have any negative influences in his life’. I never got to see him grow up. I never even got a picture. I missed out on his birthday parties, his baseball games, everything.

   “There were times when I knew he would have needed me.” His voice was starting to break. “A dad needs to be there for his son. And you took my son’s childhood from me. And snatched a father away from a little boy. Every day, I thought about you. And I always wondered, ‘what would I do if I ever saw her again’? And then – in a twisted fate – there you were, standing in the street. Sure, you’d aged quite a few years and you were missing an eye. But it was definitely you. And I was looking down on you, with a gun in my hand. You honestly think you would have done it any differently?”

   Jane didn’t answer. She had spent so long living on one side of the law, she had never thought about those on the other side. She had persuaded herself that they were scum who deserved what they got, and he was right that she had no idea who he was. He had been no one to her. The same mentality she now employed when evicting all those people from the shelters.

   “And now that I have you here. I could kill you. And given the weather we’ve been having over the last few months, I can be creative about it.” The man’s face gleamed with sadism. He went back to the worktable and picked up a small ball, much like the one that had landed at Jane’s feet. Now that she had had more time to soak up the details, she could see it looked like a ball of yarn. He was holding it gently in a gloved hand.

   “It’s amazing what you can learn living in this red hell when you can get your hands on a pouch of sand, the right kind of sealant… and the right kind of explosive.”

   He held it inches from Jane’s face. “I could set this off right in front of you and it would take out your other eye, I can promise you that.”

   Jane stared at the ball defiantly, refusing to let him have the satisfaction of seeing the terror that roiled in her body.

   “But I figure since you were responsible for having my family taken away from me, now you’re going to get them back for me. I’ve searched high and low for them and found nothing. The day of the storm, I went to their house and saw it had been ransacked. Family pictures, mementos, the things you’d take if you needed motivation for keeping yourself and your loved ones safe. The only place they can be is the shelter.”

   “And it never occurred to you to just knock on the front door?”

   “I’d have been turned away,” he said. “Thanks to you, I’m a marked man. But now, I will get confirmation they’re safe and maybe they can join me, and we can be a proper family again.”

   “And how are you going to pull off this family reunion?”

   “I’ve already sent the other members of your search party back to the shelter to confirm they’re there. I’ve seen you with them. Even from a distance, I can tell there’s a certain comradery between you all. I don’t doubt they would go to hell and back to help you.”

   “And what if your wife and son aren’t at the shelter?” Jane already knew the answer.

   The man leaned down until their faces were inches apart. “Then, Officer Benson, when you get to hell… tell them Gideon sent you.”

   Jane lashed out with a defiant headbutt, knocking him backwards… sending the sand-ball into the air.

CHAPTER 8 - ERIC

   Might as well get what we came out here for. Eric continued to focus his camera on the disarray surrounding them. He had dropped the idea of doing a commentary, no longer seeing the point. The only reason he had done it before was as a distraction from the impact of what he was seeing.

   He and Donna had left Josie’s bar with the few weapons she had allowed them to take. And now they were searching for Jane in the sand-ridden metropolis.

   Eric had tried to offer helpful suggestions as to where they could go or what they could look out for but there were no leads for them to follow and he began wondering about the futility of their mission.

   The storm had almost completely died down, adding yet another layer of sand to the landscape. Under most circumstances, Eric would have been relieved, but he was also thinking about the people and groups that had supposedly been forming in the wake of the first sandstorm. I really don’t want to be coming across those bastards. Eric knew that now the sandstorm had abated, this would give them the perfect opportunity to venture outside.

   Donna was moving ahead at a rushed pace, not wanting to squander a single second.

   Eric was worried for her. He didn’t know much about bipolar and he couldn’t tell if she was going through one of her manic moods.

   He wanted to ask her how she was doing, feeling a pang of guilt about throwing Leo’s disappearance in her face. He knew that deep down it wasn’t Donna’s fault. He’d just needed someone to blame. He hoped she hadn’t taken his comments to heart.

   Eric was about to rush to catch up to her when they heard a noise in the distance.

   An explosion, maybe? Not unlike the one at Josie’s bar…

   “Eric! Over there!”

   Eric rushed to catch up to Donna, who had stopped in her tracks and was now pointing at a building in the distance. There seemed to be red smoke billowing from the side.

   “You think it’s Jane?” Eric didn’t want to dive in headfirst without any idea of what could be waiting for them.

   But Donna didn’t appear to share Eric’s concerns. “Only one way to find out.” She was already taking off in the direction of the smoke, not letting the thick carpet of sand slow her down. Eric took off behind her.

***

Gideon dusted himself off, more taken aback by the woman’s audacity than the impact of the blow. The explosive ball had not entirely managed to break the wall, but there were now a few cracks visible in the structure.

   He marched over to Jane, grabbing her by the throat. “You’re really trying my patience, woman.”

   Jane choked and spluttered beneath Gideon’s iron grip. “Come on, shithead. Make my day. You want me dead? Get it over with. Anything so I don’t have to listen to any more of your fucking monologues.”

   His face was a picture of fury and he pulled back his fist, preparing to drive it into Jane’s face… but he stopped himself.

   “Feisty,” he said in a tone that begrudgingly contained a small iota of respect. “But for now, I need you alive. If you’re really that valuable, then your patrol will have no problem carrying out my instructions.”

   “And… what happens if they come looking for me?” asked Jane, letting her strong façade slip for the first time, conscious of Donna’s ‘no-one-gets-left-behind’ mantra.

   Gideon’s eyes lit up. “That would be a very big mistake on their part.”

***

Donna and Eric approached the entrance to the building with an increasing apprehension.

   “So… how do you want to go about this?” Eric lowered his camera.

   “Well, I don’t see anything in the way of guards,” said Donna with burgeoning confidence.

   “We still don’t know how many there are” said Eric, looking up at the building, wondering why the thing hadn’t come tumbling down on top of them.

   “We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it.” Donna stepped into the doorway. As she did so, there was a very audible click.

   “Donna, move!” Eric threw himself forward, tackling Donna to the ground … just as the frame around the doorway exploded, releasing streams of red sand.

   “Booby trap. Sneaky son of a bitch,” murmured Eric, surveying the now empty sandbags lined up either side of the door, empty after having been triggered by the thin trip wire which ran along the floor to the entrance.

   Eric rolled off Donna’s body, dusting himself off. “Word of advice; next time, don’t go rushing into a giant death-trap without checking beforehand.”

   “I’ll bear that in mind,” said Donna, sounding like a child who had been scolded.

   They walked carefully through to the first floor, which looked like it had once been a lobby and saw an elevator shaft at the far end. Eric pressed a button on the panel, waiting for any sign of life from the elevator. What followed was something rushing to meet the ground at an accelerated speed, followed by a muted thump and a thin cloud of dust seeping through the closed doors. Eric and Donna looked at each other hesitantly and said in unison, “Stairs.”

   They climbed the stairs, both gripping the handrail as tight as they could. With each new floor, Donna looked around for any signs of life, finding none.

   As they were making their way up to the fifth floor Eric’s foot suddenly disappeared into one of the stairs. His whole leg had almost gone through the newly made hole. Donna retraced a few steps to help him out. There was a distinct cracking sound. Eric and Donna looked up.

   Up above, entire steps had started crumbling away, sandy rubble littering what was left behind. Realizing that the steps they were standing on could give way at any moment, they clung onto the railing, gingerly continuing with their ascent. “Whatever you do, don’t let go,” instructed Eric.

As they finally made it to the eighth floor, they saw a red light glowing from one of the rooms… followed by screams. “Help me,” came from the distance, a strangled cry that no longer sounded entirely human.

   Eric rushed into the doorway.

   “Eric, what the hell are you doing?” demanded Donna.

   “It could be Jane,” Eric answered breathlessly. “Stay there. Whatever you do, don’t move.” He disappeared into the room and out of sight.

   Donna waited for a sign from Eric or for him to emerge from the room with Jane. She was about to follow him into the doorway when a thick cloud of smoke blew into Donna’s face, with enough force to almost knock her off balance, but she was able to maintain her grip on the handrail.

   “Eric!” She yelled. There was no answer. It was as if the cloud had swallowed him whole.

CHAPTER 9 - DONNA

   First Jane, now Eric. Everyone is dying because of me.

   That wasn’t strictly true. Donna knew Jane was being kept alive for the time being and she hadn’t seen what had happened to Eric.

   “Eric!” she called again, trying not to sound so frantic.

   A reply did come. Only it wasn’t from Eric.

   “Donna!” Jane’s voice echoed down the remains of the stairway above her. “Donna, don’t come up here!”

   Not wanting to see anyone else die on her watch, Donna clambered up to the ninth, and last floor and jumped into the doorway without any caution.

   The sight that met her was unlike anything she had ever seen.

   Jane was standing at the far end of the room, her hands cuffed behind her back, her suit removed and a man in a trench coat holding her close. Donna was separated from them both by a gaping hole in the floor such that she could see below into a room on the eighth floor beneath them. At first, she thought she was looking at a large sandbox. But as she looked closer, she could see something shifting in the sand.

   A person. At least it looked like a person. It had the normal head, torso, and arms. But where there should be skin, there was sand. It looked like a life-sized sand model slowly eroding. Donna watched as a hand broke off, revealing what might have been dried blood, but now resembled a beach after the tide had swept over it. And there were at least six other bodies in varying states of decomposition.

   It was one of those moments where you realized that even your imagination can only take you so far.

   Donna did not – could not – take her eyes off the decay taking place beneath her.

   “Did you do this?” asked Donna.

   “Me?” said the man with restrained disgust. “You honestly think I have anything to do with that monstrosity?” The man looked down at the bodies once again and though his mind must have had some time to accommodate the images, he still observed it with the same feeling of sickness and horror he had felt all those months ago.

   “I saw these bodies out in the streets after the first sandstorm. I thought they were decomposing. But then I went to touch one, and it started crumbling. I don’t know how, but bone, tissue, blood, everything ends up turning to sand.”

   Now Donna fought the urge to retch, realizing that she, Jane, and Eric had been walking in a sea of the dead. She remembered when she had first stepped out of the shelter, observing the first footprints left by her suit. For all I know, I might have been stepping on somebody’s face. She was repulsed.

   “So where did all these people come from?” asked Jane, who also couldn’t take her eyes off the sandbox. “Did you kill them?”

   Now the man looked insulted, as though the very idea of murder was beneath him. “Course I didn’t kill them. I gathered the bodies up from the street before they had a chance to fully decompose, dumped them here.”

   “Collecting bodies? What did I arrest you for, serial killing?”

   “Drug trafficking, actually. And I collected the bodies because I wanted to see what would happen to them.”

   The man’s morbid fascination with the sandstorm and its gruesome effects reminded Donna of Eric’s own insistence on recording every last facet of horror that befell the city.

   Eric, who Donna just realized would be down there in that pile, now indistinguishable from the other million grains of sand.

   “I thought I gave you a task to do,” said the man indignantly.

   “I’m not going to leave my friend out here with you, you bastard” came the defiant response.

   Though now was not the time for sharing it, Jane was grateful that their last conversation hadn’t soured Donna’s sense of loyalty.

   “I want my family back,” said the man. “I stopped caring about what I needed to do to get them back a long time ago.”

   Despite the circumstances, Donna found herself feeling a small pang of sympathy. “Why don’t you just let her go and come back to the shelter with us? We can look for your family together.”

   The man smiled sadly. “I wish I could believe you, I really do. But let’s be honest, you’d never let me get close enough to the shelter, so I need a middleman. And who better…” He moved to the edge of the hole with Jane in front of him until her feet were precariously close to the edge, before pulling her back. “…than the bitch who put me away.”

   That’s when an idea occurred to Donna, a spark in her brain had ignited. “Okay,” she said simply and began removing her helmet, gloves, boots and eventually, her entire suit. Once she’d shed her protective cocoon, Donna stepped forward, hovering one foot over the sandbox below.

   “What are you playing at?” Of all the moves he had expected Donna to make, this was not one of them.

“You need at least one of us to get you to the shelter.  If you kill her, they’ll kill you for murdering a security officer. But if the team she’s with are dead, then you’re going to have to keep her alive.”

Jane tried to wrench herself from Gideon's steel grip, but her captor wouldn’t yield. She could only watch as Donna was gearing up for an obvious suicide ploy. "Donna, what the fuck are you doing?" she pleaded.

Donna replied, "This is how it will go, Jane. Either we all live, or we all die. Depends on whether this guy lets you go."

   Jane looked puzzled. “Wait, what about…”

   “Eric’s dead,” Donna said, heavily. “He died from one of this bastard’s booby traps. So, there’s only me and you left. This son of a bitch is gonna have to decide quick if he wants to get to the shelter and find his family.”

   Unfortunately for Donna, the man seemed to call Donna’s bluff as he pushed Jane forward until she was dangling over the sandbox, his grip on her shirt being the only thing stopping her from falling in. “You think I care whether this bitch lives or dies?” he spat. “I’ve been wishing she was dead for the last ten years. I have no problem making it a reality.”

   But Donna was not so easily deterred. “Well, then you’re just going to have to decide what matters more; killing her or getting your family back.”

   The man hesitated, hit with the full force of the dilemma. Donna wondered how long it would take for him to decide. And whether she could actually follow through with her threat if Jane was thrown to her death.

   But before either of them could act on their thoughts, their attention was distracted by the sandbox below where the mass of sand seemed to be shifting again, and reforming. The man leaned over the edge to get a better look. “It’s not supposed to do that.”

   Suddenly, something shot out of the sand, hitting the man in the face. The force of the blow caused him to fall to the ground and loosen his grip on Jane’s shirt and she began to tumble forward.

   Donna was able to react in enough time to grab Jane’s shirt, trying to support Jane’s weight. “I’ve got you!” she shouted, hoping she sounded confident rather than frightened.

   As Donna began to pull Jane back, she looked at the object that had hit the man, knocking him unconscious.

   A camera in its protective casing.

  Out of the blue, something grabbed at Jane’s leg and almost pulled her down into the sand pile. Eric. Like a phoenix rising from the sand pile.

   Once Donna had managed to pull Jane back up, they both worked on hauling Eric up too. The three finally sprawled out on the ground next to the hole in the floor, bewildered that somehow, against all the odds, they were still alive.

   Eric finally got up and recovered his camera/makeshift weapon.

   “I sure hope that thing is still working after all this.”

CHAPTER 10 - JANE

   “I put him away a few years ago. It must have been back when I was starting out ‘cause I barely remember him.”

   The trio had managed to restrain the man to the same pillar and with the shackles that had held Jane. He was still unconscious. Once they’d made sure he was no longer a threat, they checked out the building and discovered a put together living area consisting of a mattress, a change of clothes and a supply of food and weapons. He’d obviously been there for a while.

   They were all fascinated by the makeshift workshop he had set up. Eric was hovering the camera over the table holding the array of weapons he had created utilizing the sand.

“It’s incredible,” he said, in awe. “He’s actually managed to weaponize the sand. The man could be a genius.”

   Jane shook her head. “While I’m glad that you’re alive, do you think we can go five minutes without playing Michael Moore?”

   “But look at what he’s been able to make,” protested Eric, holding up one of the sand-balls. “He’s practically a pioneer…”

   “Don’t touch that!” shouted Jane. “Firstly, you don’t know what that shit is supposed to do or how to handle it safely. Secondly, that ‘pioneer’ almost killed us. Maybe if you had been the one nearly thrown into the sandbox, you wouldn’t be so quick to kiss his ass.”

   “I was in the fucking sandbox. I thought I was going to die choking on dead people. If it weren’t for this suit, I probably would have. So, if we’re going to compete with near-death experiences, I think I win.”

   “People,” yelled Donna, halting Jane and Eric’s bickering. “Can we save the bitching for later? He’s waking up.” The trio surrounded Gideon as he returned to consciousness.

   Their prisoner looked to Jane, perturbed. “Can you tell him to get that camera out of my face?”

   Jane gave a slight smile. “No, I don’t think I will.”

   “First thing’s first” said Jane. “What do you really want?”

   Gideon winched, his head still throbbing from the blow by the camera. “Have you not been listening to a word I said, woman? I want my family! That’s all! Nothing more!”

   Jane gestured around the workshop. “So, if that’s all you want, you want to tell me why you decided to go all ‘sandy warfare’?”

   “I did it to protect myself. And to protect my wife and kid if I ever found them.”

   “Bit excessive, isn’t it?” asked Eric, holding the camera over Gideon as if interviewing him. “Brilliant, I will say, but turning an entire building into some kind of apocalyptic funhouse…”

   “Look, I just needed to protect against the storms.” He looked into the lens, resigned to his new situation. “Sure, you’ve got guns, you’ve got shelter, but what good will all of that do in the long run? Weapons and ammunition will run out eventually. I figured I could either defend myself the old way. Or I could learn from this new setup and use it to my advantage. And obviously, it’s paying off, because I’m very much alive. You look at all the people crammed into the shelters, letting themselves be mollycoddled, trying to block out reality, pretend that there aren’t never ending sandstorms that are turning an entire city into a mass grave. You really think anyone of them would survive for as long as I have without the government’s support?”

   Jane couldn’t argue with the logic. The shelters worked as a short-term solution. But when it fell to the eventual task of trying to put the world back together, they would be inadequately prepared if they didn’t accept that the sandstorms could be here to stay.

   “So, let’s speak hypothetically here,” offered Donna. “Let’s say we’d done what you wanted. We’d gone back to the shelter, found your wife and son. Reunited you with them. What then?”

   He didn’t answer at first, then said, “I would take them with me, protect them, show them how to survive out here. Make up for lost time.

   “When I went inside, my son Milo had only just turned nine years-old. I loved that kid. I love that kid. I would have done anything for him. Same for his mother, and my wife, Andrea.” The man spoke with a fondness that seemed to have laid dormant for some time. “They were the big drivers in my life. I made some questionable decisions. I won’t deny that. Not that it changes how I feel about you, Officer,” he said to Jane sharply. “But everything I did, I did for them. To make sure that they could have a good life. So that my son Milo would have plenty of opportunities open to him growing up. I’ve worked most of my career in dead end jobs, mainly because I never had the skill or the brains for anything else. But not Milo. I didn’t want him to turn out like me. I wanted him to be a doctor or a lawyer.

   “But once I was put away, Andrea severed all contact. I don’t know anything about Milo over all these years. I didn’t even get to see any pictures of him growing up.” His face remained stoic, but Donna could see the emotion stirring inside him. “Once I got out, I went to find them. But there was nobody in the house. But based on what they took, I knew they had to be alive. I looked all over the city trying to find them. Eventually I figured they must be at the shelter. Hence…” he shrugged his shoulders by way of an explanation. “So, what’s the plan now? Kill me? Throw me into the sandbox?” He gave a wry smile. “I’d be lying if I didn’t see the irony there.”

   “Donna, Eric,” Jane said, not taking her eyes off the man. “Could I have a word in private?

   “What are your thoughts on what we should do?” Jane asked in a hushed tone. Donna and Eric were having trouble getting a lead on what Jane was thinking.

   “I say we take him back with us,” Donna suggested calmly.

   Jane went bug-eyed. “You’re not seriously letting him get to you, are you?”

   Eric joined in. “That’s how people beat you these days. They don’t use guns, or knives. They use sob stories”.

   “He almost killed me,” hissed Jane. “And I’m not letting that go anytime soon.”

   “Well,” offered Eric. “You did get him sent down. So… maybe this makes you even?”

   Not taking Jane’s flaring nostrils as a sign to shut up, Eric continued. “Besides, I think we need to help you break out of the habit of killing anyone who pisses you off.”

   Jane softened a little. Eric did have a point. The experience had been a revealing one for Jane. It had forced her to confront parts of herself that she didn’t really like.

   “Another way of looking at it,” Donna offered. “If he’s in the shelter, he won’t need to hurt anyone.”

   “And we can certainly make use of his expertise,” added Eric.

   Jane sighed. “Eric, God forbid I ever ask you to be my conscience.”

   “Oh, no, that’s Donna. I’m the one who helps you keep your head out of your ass.”

CHAPTER 11 - ERIC

   Eric, Donna and Jane were now dressed in their protective suits again, while their captive was draped in layers of whatever thick clothing they’d been able to find which hopefully offered some level of protection from the storms. His hands were handcuffed behind his back, attached to a chain held by Jane. It was difficult and unpleasant, navigating around the risen sand – each member of the group now nauseated by the knowledge that they were traipsing through human remains.

   “How are you feeling?” Jane asked Donna.

   “I’d like to say clear-headed, but I think it will be quite a while before I feel anything like that.”

   “Have to say,” Jane observed. “You handled yourself pretty well in there.”

   “Really?”

   “Yeah. I didn’t expect you would come after me, let alone save me. Then again, shows what I know. Shows I need to give you more credit where it's due.”

   “Anyway, enough about me, how are you holding up Jane?”

   Jane shrugged and waved her hand. “I’m practically over it already. I’m used to putting this kind of thing into my daily planner; 3pm get shot, stabbed or taken hostage.”

   The two shared a weak laugh until Jane finally worked up the nerve to say what had been praying on her mind since they’d left the building. “Listen, Donna, about what we discussed back at the bar about my job at the shelter.…”

   “Look, forget it,” Donna said, more sharply than she had intended. “It’s not worth going over.”

   Jane was grateful for the lack of animosity on Donna’s part. But despite her newfound contriteness, she wondered whether she would be able to walk away from her questionable duties altogether.

Jane worried for Donna. She had seen first-hand how the woman was beginning to develop a taste for danger, throwing herself into life-or-death situations. It made Jane wonder what would happen if neither she nor Eric were around to keep an eye on Donna.

   The only one who didn’t seem weighed down by the recent events was Eric, who was walking alongside the man, keeping his camera directed at his face, taking advantage of the fact that he couldn’t swat it away with his shackled hands.

   “So, how did you manage to accumulate the materials you used for the sand-weapons?” Eric chided himself for choosing such a cheesy name, deciding that he would change it during post-production.

   “Are they employing you as some kind of torturer?” Gideon asked dryly.

   “Come now,” said Eric, annoyed. “You might as well take advantage of the fact that your genius is being appreciated. Most geniuses have to wait until they’re dead to get any acknowledgement.”

   “Carry on pestering me and I might get that cop cow back there to put me out of my misery.”

   Before Eric could respond, a wall of sand exploded in front of them. The group hoped that a new storm wasn’t upon them. But slowly, the sand faded away, and within a short distance, Eric could make out three figures. They were standing so still that Eric briefly wondered if they were a mirage but as they started to move closer Eric knew mirages would have been preferable.

   Three figures were draped in crimson cloaks and hoods that looked like pieces of cloth stitched and stapled together by shoddy craftsmanship.

   As they moved, Eric could see they were all armed with machetes.

   They stopped just in front of the group. The figure in the middle spoke. Jane noticed his machete was caked in blood.

“What’s your business going through here?” he demanded, his voice muffled by the cloth covering his face.

   “What’s it to you?” Eric was trying to buy into the idea that these men could be bought with bravado.

   “You’re trespassing on hallowed ground,” the middle figure spoke with an air of authority. “This city and everything in it now belong to the Desert Rats.”

   “Who the fuck are the Desert Rats?’” Jane stepped forward to reinforce her role as the leader. “I think some of that sand has gotten into your brains, guys.” 

   “The sand has elevated us,” the middle figure stated. “Most perished in the storms because they were not strong enough. They did not possess the will of God which would have shielded them. They have been ferried into the next life.”

   “And you have faith?” Jane asked, skeptically.

   “We carry God in our hearts. She will lead us in taking back this land as our own.”

   “She?” Jane wasn’t sure what to make of it. “And what about those of us who don’t buy into this quasi-religious bullshit?”

   The middle figure’s eyes narrowed behind the slits in his hood. “You will be given the briefest of opportunities for Conversion. After that, it is up to the will of God as to whether you will continue to walk over her new Eden… or whether you shall move onto the next life.”

   “You know what? Screw this.” Jane drew her weapon and pointed it at the middle figure, who didn’t flinch. “How much do you want to bet ‘God’s will’ will protect you from a lump of lead?”

   One of the men stepped in front of the middle figure and spoke with a voice that sounded simultaneously aged and youthful. “We are the legion. You strike one down, many more will take our place.”

   He pointed behind Jane, who turned around to see a group of seven more cloaked figures approaching, all of them armed with machetes.

   Eric’s attention was not focused on them. He was looking at the one who had just spoken. The one whose voice sounded familiar.

   Eric moved towards the figure, raising a tentative hand towards the facial covering. He didn’t want to believe it. He wanted it to be somebody else. But he’d recognize that voice anywhere.

   “Leo?”

   Leo stared back at him; eyes unblinking. If he recognized Eric, nothing in his body, language or demeanor showed it. “We don’t answer to our slave names.”

   “Leo, it’s me, Eric!” He desperately shook Leo by the shoulders. “Goddamn it, man. We’re best friends.”

   The middle figure moved forward and struck Eric in the face, knocking him to the ground. “You have no business laying hands on an anointed one.”

   The approaching group was now surrounding them.

   Jane was at a crossroads. She could probably take out one or two, maybe even three. But there was no way she could get through this without risking the others in her group.

   Reluctantly, she raised her hands in surrender, silently gesturing for Donna and Eric to do the same. “So, what happens now?”

   “Now?” The middle figure leaned forward, and Jane could see his eyes were sparkling.

   “Now, we’re going to meet God.”

CHAPTER 12 – SARAH LEE

   The four were brought to an abandoned zoo and locked in a cage containing the rotting carcass of a lion. All the way there, Eric had pleaded with Leo to acknowledge him and say something. But Leo hadn’t responded. It was as though the two were complete strangers.

   They waited for nearly an hour, wondering if the ‘Desert Rats’ were going to wait for the next storm to finish them off. The group had taken their weapons and protective suits.

   Jane had half expected Donna to go into a hyperventilating panic. Instead, she had retreated into herself. Gideon hadn’t said much of anything since their capture, as though the whole episode was a small inconvenience.

   Finally, they met ‘God’.

   “Y’all getting comfy in there?” came a voice dripping with a thick Southern accent. The owner of the voice stepped forward, flanked on either side by four guards.

   She was in her late thirties, only a few years older than Jane. She wore a cowboy hat that had seen some wear and tear, and a sleeveless vest of faded white. The lack of sleeves revealed her arms had been stained unnatural red. Her auburn hair was tied back in a ponytail and she wore thick sunglasses. Heavy boots lent her approach some gravitas as they crunched against the sandy floor. For a woman living in the apocalypse, she seemed remarkably well-groomed. In a holster on her belt was a large machete just like the guards.

   “Pleasure to make your acquaintances,” she said, the voice of a Southern Belle contrasting with her tough appearance. “I’m Sarah Lee. And y’all were unlucky enough to happen upon my disciples. Now, in most circumstances, they would have cut you down without thinking twice. But it’s the will of God to be merciful, and it’s the role of the Desert Rats to carry out said role. So, here we are.” She waved her arms flamboyantly. “Sorry we can’t lay out the red carpet,” she added with an inappropriately cheeky smile.

   “So, we gonna swap names?” She looked expectantly at the group, waiting to see who would speak – and break - first. When nobody answered, Sarah Lee’s smile flickered a little. “Little shy, I see. Don’t worry, we can work with that.

   “You see, my dears, this city – and everything and anyone in it – is my property. And I can choose to do with it whatever I desire. So, you’ve got a choice. You’re either with me, reaping the rewards... or you’re under my boot making up the unholy ground.”

   “Now, I like to think of myself as a fair leader. Hell, I must have done something right to get these boys on side.” She gestured to the guards. “Now, I know you’re probably thinking, ‘Why should I listen to this woman? What has she got to offer me?’ The answer to both of those questions is ‘everything or nothing’. The entire world out there is ours for the taking. We’re no longer following the laws. We’re making the laws.”

   Jane tried very hard to choke down her anger.

   “And no, it’s not perfect. What in life is? But give or take a small adjustment period and we’ll get the world up and running just the way we need it to. America was always said to be the land of opportunity. No reason why it still can’t be.”

   Sarah Lee paused, clearly relishing the sound of her own voice, and having an audience for her speech. Given how well-rehearsed it sounded, Jane imagined Sarah Lee had come across quite a few audiences in her time. She shuddered at the implications.

   “I’ve been talking a fair bit now and I’m hoping to get a bit of feedback at this point. Hoping to take some of you off of the fence.

She rubbed her lips and Jane could see what looked like lip gloss coming off on her fingers.

“Of course, no one’s saying you have to follow my will. We had our fair share of non-believers back in the old days; atheists who didn’t think they needed God in their life to survive. You’ve seen the sandy results of how well they did out of that.” Her face hardened. “That’s a tradition I plan on keeping. Non-believers drag the whole world down, making it difficult for the rest of us to prosper.”

   She pulled her machete out of its holster and held it to the air for all to see the gleaming, glistening silver.

   “Now, I could get you all to kiss God’s Silver along with your blessing, that would be the advice I would pass on to each and every one of you. If you’re smart, you’ll take that advice.

   “But if you’re still not convinced that my way is the right way…” Sarah Lee’s face turned into a painful grimace. “…then it becomes a much simpler matter. Many a non-believer have fallen prey to God’s Silver. You wouldn’t be the first.” She chortled, as though it was some inside joke that only she understood.

   “But I’ve found that all the heavy lifting can’t be left to little old me. Why should I have all the fun?” She clicked her fingers and four guards moved forward, each one clasping a machete. Eric could see that Leo was one of them.

   “Leo don’t do this,” he pleaded.

   Sarah Lee’s eyes lit up with surprise. “Oh, so you two know each other?” She beamed. “Well, let’s make this a bit more interesting.”

   She took Leo by the shoulders and pushed him over to Eric so that Leo was now standing over his former friend.

   “Leaving the old world behind means being able to leave behind all the ties that would have dragged us down,” preached Sarah Lee. “I’ve also found it’s great character-building. Gives the disciples a way to take control of their lives.”

   “This is bullshit,” exclaimed Gideon, finally deciding to speak up.

   Sarah Lee crossed over to him, eyes narrowing. “Begging your pardon, sir?”

   “I’m not playing your game, you Kentucky-fried bitch.”

   The group could see Sarah Lee making a physical effort to twist her grimace into a smile. Then she looked closer at Gideon, squinting. “You look familiar, dear. Where have I seen you before?”

   It was only a few seconds before her eyes widened and her beaming smile returned, as though Christmas had come early. “Oh, yes. I’ve definitely seen you before. Not face-to-face, of course, I’ve never had the…” She cleared her throat. “…pleasure. But I’ve definitely seen you before and I think we can certainly make this a lot more interesting.” She turned to the guards. “Wait here.” She disappeared into the distance, leaving the four sitting in the cage, terrified what would happen upon her return.

   When Sarah Lee reappeared minutes later, she was escorting a young man. He seemed barely out of his teens with an innocence in his face showing that life hadn’t quite succeeded in roughing him up yet, despite Sarah Lee’s head start.  They stopped in front of the cage, she unlocked the door and ushered the boy inside. The lad’s face was expressionless.

   “This should make for a nice little reunion. Five minutes. If you haven’t decided to come with me by that time, my boys are going to step in there and chop you all into dog food. So? What’s it going to be? Tick tock…”

   Gideon took one look at the wide-eyed young man and his world crumbled all over again.

   “Milo?”

   END OF BOOK 2

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Other books by Sam Fires

MAYHEM & MADNESS

Bad Boys Make Broken Men (The Prequel) - free story

Book 1 Burning Rains

Book 2 Holy Hell

Book 3 Girl in the Sewer

Book 4 We, The President

SCAVENGERS

Book 1 Dog Meat

Book 2 Shark Tactics

Book 3 Sharks’ Fury 

About the author

Sam Fires is a poet, writer and best-selling author of his debut novel ‘Dog Meat’, the first gripping book in the trilogy series ‘Scavengers’. He has since published his second series in the world of post-apocalyptic fiction ‘Madness & Mayhem’ and is currently publishing his third ‘Crimson Rage’.

When he isn’t exercising his imagination for ingenious ideas for his next book, Sam can usually be found in his local coffee shop, sipping his oat milk cortado and voraciously reading books, usually in the post-apocalyptic/dystopian genre but also psychological thrillers.

Being a published author was always Sam’s dream, and finally with his three-part series ‘Scavengers’, this has become a reality.

When he doesn’t have his head buried in a book, Sam loves cooking Indian food and enjoys driving his beautiful, bashed-up classic Citroen and of course spending too much time on his computer.

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