Carnage, Aer-ki Jyr [beautiful books to read .TXT] 📗

a Triple L hazard rating. The second highest they have. Hardly anyone goes there.”

“What’s the hardest?”

Cal-com pulled out the folded up plastic map he’d been given at the supply store and checked the legend. “Skull and crossbones. Those aren’t allowed at all due to specific hazards.”

“Any of those close by?”

“Not if you want to get away from people. The ones I’m seeing are nearby establishments or popular trails.”

“For example?”

“A decommissioned fuel processing facility that has a number of hazardous chemical leaks that leeched into the sand and couldn’t be fully cleaned up.”

“Couldn’t be?” Paul asked.

“That’s what the info bubble says.”

“Sand sea it is then. You’re navigating, and don’t cheat.”

“That would be counterproductive,” Cal-com agreed, not accessing his armor shoulder blades hidden beneath his robe. He checked the map again and correlated it to the visual markers on the otherwise bland horizon that seemed to go on forever without definition as heat ripples and dunes seemed to blend together everywhere. “This way…”

9

Paul and Cal-com walked through the sand alone for the next 7 hours, following a barely visible trail of footsteps that were already disappearing before the wind kicked up. Now it was starting to get bad, and Paul was grateful to have the hooded robe to keep the sand off his face, though Cal-com didn’t have to worry about it getting into his eyes thanks to his visor.

Neither man used their Essence, nor their psionics, nor their armor…and it was the first time in a long time that Paul had to deal with blowing sand and wind the old fashioned way, with him starting to gain a newfound respect for the usefulness of his powers that had somehow become the norm.

In fact he was realizing that had happened a lot more than he’d noticed. Just walking through the sand as his feet dug in several inches with each step provided an old challenge that he hadn’t bothered to try in recent years because he had better ways of traveling. Just walking through it was inefficient, required awkward muscle movements, and his shoes were somehow still filling up with it.

“Maybe we should have got those boots,” he noted as he kept his left hand on the top of his hood to keep it from blowing completely across his face and blocking his vision as the wind was coming from their left.

“No. We would be even more sore now if we had. They were not built for our pace.”

“If I didn’t have a skin upgrade I’d be bleeding from the grinding on my heels by now.”

“That’s because you chose to wear low socks and running shoes.”

“For some reason I thought that wise.”

“And now?”

“I have a newfound hate for sand. Do you want to keep going in the dark?”

“I can with my nightvision. The question is do you want to continue?”

“Can you navigate if the storm gets worse?”

“No,” he said, stopping and pulling a 360 as he scanned the horizon as Paul stayed put and continued to shield his face with his hood. “And it’s considerably darker to the north. I estimate no more than an hour before it reaches us, and it will be nightfall before then.”

“Can you see any terrain within walking distance?”

“Nothing but shallow dunes. Where we are standing is no less desirable. Shall we make camp here?”

Paul responded by slipping his backpack off his shoulders and letting it ‘thump’ into the soft sand that was moving a little on the surface in the wind squirrels. “Thought you’d never ask. I hope this gear is as good as advertised.”

“We can always ask for a refund?”

Paul looked his way, then squinted as a bit of sand hit his eyes. “Was that a joke?”

“Perhaps some sarcasm. I have learned a great deal more from you on this trip, and you may be right about picking up on some of your tendencies.”

“No I like it. It suits you,” Paul said, kneeling next to his pack and pulling it in front of his robe to shield it from the flying dust as he opened it up and pulled out their tent.

Cal-com came over and helped him stretch it out, so it wouldn’t fly away in the wind. Unlike Star Force tents, this one was a flimsy material that resembled cloth, and would be held aloft by ridge poles. The fabric acted as a good sail, and the two of them had some difficulty spreading it out on the sand without it blowing away, but then managed without having to use any of their powers, though both of them had to stand on it with their knees to keep it in position as they began scooping sand with their hands onto the two rigid ‘wings’ that extended 4 feet out on either side.

They, when unfolded, made a platform at ground level, and onto that the sand was dumped for stability. They got a few inches thick covering it before they risked standing up, and seeing that it held firm, the pair began popping up the fabric dome from the inside and fixing the ridge poles in place as they fought the wind to make all the connections fit.

Once done they went back outside and scooped another foot of sand over top the wings to ensure it didn’t erode away enough to move the tent, then they did a little landscaping around the entrance in order to direct the newly sprouted dunes from building up in a bad place…like directly over the tent.

By the time they got done the sunlight was nearly gone, and not from the storm to the north. It was completely black in that direction, but a little spec of sun was still visible in the west, though it gave almost no light on Paul’s footing. A small lantern on the top of the tent