Lochlan Bloom - Dust - Sandstorms

I looked again at the tattered map. I did not even know where he was. I remembered when automated maps still worked, geolocation, satellites. It was part of that same dream that kept recurring, a dream that I viewed down a long dark tunnel.

In any case I had something better, ever since I had arrived in the region I had picked up his smell. I know it sounds fanciful, and objectively of course it was impossible, but I was bonded to him. I had a sense, a smell, he had been there. I was on the right track.

Despite the huge distances and the improbability of finding him in this vast mountainous country I felt confident, sure that I would track him down. He would not have failed to leave a mark in any case. Once I got close people would know of him.

The wind picked up, making the countless particles dance malevolently around me. A storm was coming. As darkness fell, the vehicles headlights picked out the thick suspense in front, a polluted sea. How long had this wind blown? It blew from a different place now than when I had first studied it, so many years before. How long would it stay?

The nights lasted longer these days. The thick clouds of dust that filled the atmosphere served to blank out the light of the sun as soon as it neared the horizon. Some days there were only a few hours of daytime. At this latitude, where the sun sat low in the sky half the year, the land was practically unliveable throughout winter. Along with the near total darkness the temperature fell sharply.

I must have been followed. The moment I stepped out into the storm I knew something was wrong. It is impossible to hear anything in that wind but sometimes you just know. I had barely stepped out of the door when I tensed, turning back to try and catch sight of whatever was out there. It was impossible, the sand drove at my goggles so hard that I could see no more than a few metres.

As I hugged the vehicle’s body, trying to get a better view at the obstruction, I heard a distinct rumble behind me. I had to jump backwards as a large truck ploughed into my vehicle, shunting it violently forward. It catapulted out of sight and I was flung backwards onto the ground.

The truck came to a halt where my vehicle had been. It was a hideous, rusted contraption. Its engine roared, pumping out thick smoke. Despite the sandstorm raging all around us and the protective material covering my nose and mouth, I could taste the acrid smell of the truck’s exhaust. I had been knocked flat on my back and struggled to catch my breath.

Before I could gather my wits a group of men had descended from the truck. Slowly they circled around me. I could sense their menace. These were dangerous animals, threatening violence. I had no idea what else.

My weapon had been knocked from my grip with the forcefulness of the collision. It was as good as lost now. They all wore dark clothes, rough garments designed for the dust. They were used to this. This wasn’t the first time they had rammed another vehicle. This was their bread and butter.

Why they had chosen to ram me I did not know. Did they know who I was? How long had they been following me? My mind ran back to my recent escape. Had they let me go simply to follow me. So that I would lead them to the prize? Or was this a different group entirely?

If they did not know who I was there was a good chance that I might survive. Once they had used me and taken my vehicle they may well leave, presuming that I would die alone out there in any case. That was the best option.

If they knew who I was and had now decided to cut their surveillance short there was every chance things would be thoroughly worse.

One of them, the leader perhaps, came closer and half knelt to examine me. His face was smooth and featureless, a surprising fact considering the excoriating elements. He pulled down the cloth that covered my face and squinted at me. I blinked helplessly as the sand blasted my cheek.

Without a word he dropped his hand and motioned to the others who took a quick step forward and hoisted me in their arms. For a moment I felt like a child, they were strong, their manly hands lifted me effortlessly. I was swept up and the whirling sand all around, for a moment, was like the swell of a lost symphony. The tiny vibrations of dust the striving of an alto violin.

Their stern grip was reassuring, they could pull me apart but they chose not to. There was something religious, a benediction, in their decision to support me like this. To be borne bodily by other human beings stirred something in me. I remembered stories, palm leafs, redemption, a saviour transported across the sands. Desert to desert. If the ultimate destination was to lead to pain then it was only because of my own sins.

I was dropped and the hard floor of the truck struck my shoulder. There was utter silence. The contrast with the wild wind outside was stark. The leader stepped up and motioned the others to wait outside. The inside of the truck’s rear was capacious. Despite the searing pain in my shoulder I had a worried thought for my bearers, waiting outside in the raging sand while their leader interrogated me.

‘Sit,’ he leant towards me. He had a kind face. ‘Have some water.’

‘Thank you.’

‘It was unfortunate.’

‘Unfortunate,’ I repeated.

‘We didn’t realise you had stopped.’

‘The sand,’ I said.

‘Yes, of course.’

I tried to smile. He was trying to be friendly.

‘This sand…’ He sat on a short bench attached to the side wall while I was propped in the foot well in front of him. ‘It never stops.’

‘Yes.’

It was clear there was something that he wanted, something more subtle than torture was likely to illicit. I had no idea what that could be.

‘You’ve caused a fair amount of chaos on your travels,’ he said. I could sense he was impressed, respected me because of the suffering I had inflicted.

‘Chaos?’ The idea that the world was somehow more chaotic because of my intervention amused me. That there could be any more chaos in the world was a joke.

He smiled.

‘We could have been friends perhaps.’

‘No doubt.’

‘You are looking for someone?’

This wasn’t about me at all. They were looking for Abel. How they knew my relation to him I don’t know. What they planned to do either. Abel was clearly more powerful in this region than I had imagined.

‘This person, that you are looking for,’ he smiled, leaning close to me and taking my empty glass of water to refill it from his flask, ‘we would very much like to meet this person.’

‘I don’t know what person you mean.’

He paused for a second the flask half-tipped above the glass.

‘You don’t know this person? Am I to presume you were driving, out here, in a sandstorm for pleasure?’

‘Something like that, yes.’

‘This must seem like a very inconvenient interruption.’ He continued pouring. ‘But, as I said, we are very keen to meet this person and securing an interview has proven rather difficult. We believe you might be the sort of person that could secure the sort of interview we require.’

It was clear they had not intended to encounter me so soon. Colliding with my vehicle was an unfortunate accident and now he had to salvage what he could from the situation. I doubted he even knew where Abel was. It filled me with confidence. They needed me, which meant that I was safe for the moment.

‘I can’t imagine it would be so difficult to arrange with you resources.’

‘We would be pleased if you would travel with us.’

He said it as though I had a choice in the matter

‘You will see that my car is very comfortable, far more so than the vehicle you have been using.’

There was nothing I could do. I was his prisoner. Whether he could make me lead them to Abel depended on my stamina. I had the feeling I was not so strong. An immense tiredness came over me. The thought of making even the slightest effort suddenly felt like enough to break me.