Sandstorm
Light bloomed across the glinting watery surface, lighting Kevin's face. The planet Zapphira, a rich glinting blue, stretched across the horizon of the water, a beacon and a reminder of what he'll never have.
Kevin sat up, blinking. His blonde hair, styled in a curtains flow cut, was messy.
Disoriented, he looked around. His brown eyes squinted.
The blue waters of Lake Gorgon lapped at the shore, eliciting a peace undisturbed. The foam
Lake Gorgon was defined as the most peaceful place on X9, his beautiful place, but right now he wondered how he got here.
He got answers when he noticed his black bobber, Black Beauty, its huge wheels rimmed blue. It rested against the coconut tree, the engine silent.
Kevin sighed, one knee bent.
He spotted a couple of beer cans strewn beside him.
Now it all made sense.
He scrambled to his feet, yawning and stretching.
Elle's gonna kill him.
He got to his feet and plucked his jacket from the ground.
He trudged towards his bike, whistling a tune as he slipped the jacket on. He grabbed the scar laid on the seat and wrapped it around his neck, guarding his face.
He mounted his bike, the vehicle lighting up the minute he grabbed the handles.
He smiled, wiping some stray strands of hair back.
This was gonna be hell.
His body jolted as the Black Beauty traversed the coarse red land. The Death Valley Desert.
It hitched over a bump.
Hot sandy winds billowed across his face, stinging his eyes.
His face was shielded by a jagged brown scarf, his eyes squinted against the fierce gales.
His brown leather jacket flapped in the wind. His black trousers strained tight against his legs as he leaned forward. His boots stuck the to the foot pegs as he revved the throttle.
Sharp eyes scanned the red earth for a disturbance, his ears poised to listen for those Death Valley Burrowers. But nothing so far. They weren't active in the day, only at night to dusk.
Except the rarity that one's awake.
It didn't seem this time.
He didn't mind going to the lake. He just hated going drunk.
His mind rummage through excuses to tell Elle.
I lost track of time.
I got lost.
Honestly, why do you care where I go.
All three made him come off as pompous, uncaring and a massive jerk. Not great considering she's armed with a blaster.
And she never misses.
Maybe he should tell the truth.
He couldn't help but scoff at the thought.
The truth hasn't done him any good on X9—a red-brown moon of Zapphira where the trash is dumped. Lake Gorgon wasn’t enough to change such an opinion about this moon.
He's trash.
And he deserved to be treated as such.
The roar of the Black Beauty filed the empty expanse.
So he'll lie.
He's a good liar.
Kevin rode into the Chasms, the slums on X9.
He traversed through the narrow streets, avoiding trash and feces thrown out windows.
Red houses made of red sand towered over him. Clothes hung over clothing lines linked to other houses.
Children ran beside him, dressed in shirts, skirts, or long robes, shouting and laughing. They chased after him on his bike, their words incoherent. Kevin made the mistake of glancing to his left.
To look at one who's voice echoed in his ear.
A little girl stretched out her hand for food. Her big, round eyes pleadingly silently. She wore a brown tattered long-sleeved shirt with long ripped trousers. Her bare feet kept up as much as she could the motor bike.
He turned forward, his gaze was focused on the road ahead.
Once he gives her food, they'll all ask. He'll have to give to all.
And someone always loses a finger.
He picked up speed, his engine revving. He brushed past the children, ignoring their cries, their curses, and their quiet pleas.
It was cruel, but he was hungry too.
Reaching his home, he parked the Black Beauty, leaning it against the wall.
He pulled the scarf down, gazed up at the door and sighed.
He didn't want to do this.
Marching up the wooden steps, his hand reached for the doorknob. It opened and Elle popped her head out, the barrel of the blaster pressed to his forehead.
The gun had two barrels, separated, the trigger about to be pulled.
She was lithe, short, had bags under her eyes, blonde hair tied in pigtails. She wore an oversized "Messy Mouse" tee shirt.
"Give me a reason why I shouldn't kill you," she growled.
Hands raised, Kevin leaned back. "I don't have one."
"Seriously?" She raised a brow. "That's it? Twenty-seven miles you drove here and that's your answer."
"Reality is often disappointing," Kevin smirked.
Elle lowered her blaster. "You're lucky you're my favorite pusher."
The door widened.
Kevin walked in.
Travis looked up, smirking. "So you didn't kill him after all."
Elle grumbled, plopping onto the couch.
Travis had dark skin, his black hair styled in 360 waves, and was dressed in a tank top worn under a trench coat and brown khaki pants. His face was spray-painted white with red lips, black eye shadow and lipstick.
Kevin was told that Travis came from a cult that worshipped a God called the Harbinger of Death
He's heard he wiped out the whole cult in an afternoon, not agreeing with the sudden rise in the blood sacrifices of young women. He carries the face paint because he's still a believer.
Travis winked. "She was up all night trying to find ways to kill you."
Kevin picked up a pack of Moondust, smiling.
"I'm glad she had a change of heart," Kevin nodded.
He lifted the Moondust to his face. "Busy were we?"
"I needed that peddled yesterday," Elle snapped, leaning forward. "You're the only pusher I got left."
"I know, I know," Kevin cut in. "The rest are dead or gonna be."
"Glad you remember," Elle said grimly.
"I was cursed with a good memory," Kevin frowned.
"You sure he can go?" Travis asked. "At night?"
"It doesn't work like that," Kevin smile assumingly.
"If you say so," Travis shrugged.
"How much?" Kevin inquired.
"Three thousand credits," Elle replied. "Of course, that price has decreased since you didn't show up earlier."
She glared. "I'm certain he'd want my head. Thanks."
"No, I mean how much Moondust?" Kevin pushed.
"Twenty pounds a pack," Elle said, watching Travis smash the white-grey block into dust. "You do the math."
Kevin whistled, setting down the Moondust. He glanced over at the pile—at least fifteen.
Three hundred pounds of Moondust meant for speed, not hauling.
"Okay sure," Kevin nodded, though his back pained at the thought. "And I'll grovel at his feet as an apology, lamenting my uselessness, and kissing the ground he's walked on."
"Good," Elle nodded, the tension leaving her shoulders. "Now get pushing, pusher."
Travis scooped up from the pile and stuffed it into the bag.
"I promise I won't let the burrowers bite," Kevin winked.
Elle narrowed her gaze, a slight smile forming despite her hardened expression. "More like swallow you whole, pusher."
Kevin chuckled lightly to himself.
He wasn't dead—yet. Good.
He's getting good at appealing to her humanity.
The Black Beauty rose over a hill, sand kicked up into the air. Kevin narrowed his gaze at the wind bit his skin.
Skidding to a stop, Kevin fished for binoculars. He peered through them, intently.
The swirling mass of dark sand clouds loomed afar. It swept up dangerous levels of sandy soil, propelling them like bullets.
He lowered his binoculars, squinting.
Sandstorm.
He should take cover. Hide until the storm abated.
He revved instead.
He sped off as the sandstorm inched closer.
The winds picked up speed, whipping his hair into his face.
He pulled up his scarf.
Sand grains melded into his hair, he blinked to keep them out of his eyes.
The winds swallowed him up, fully immersing him into the storm.
It was unbearable. He couldn't hear his own thoughts. His sight obscured, he leaned forward into the winds. The winds howled loudly, sand clogged his nose.
The light was blocked out.
Sand was shifted and thrown into the atmosphere, plants pulled from the ground.
He glanced up, shocked to see a sand tornado coming towards him, trees and cacti rotating around it.
He gunned towards it, his heart hammered in his ribs, overshadowed by the roaring winds.
Miles away, the windows of the house were closed, rattling from the winds.
Elle lay on the couch in the living room, chewing gum. The static from the TV didn't improve her mood. She kept glancing at the window, her chest heaving and fists balled.
Travis set down mugs, filled with hot brown tea. He glanced over at her, sensing her nervously.
He didn't ask. Simply waited for her to speak.
She exhaled, eyes closed for a minute before she opened them.
"You think Kevin will be okay?" She whispered. "Genuinely. I mean...the storm."
"He's a pusher," Travis shrugged. "He'll be aight."
He handed her a mug which she took. She raised it to his lips and took a sip.
"Kevin is stronger than he looks," Travis continued, a smile forming. "He'll come through and before you know it, he'll walk right through that door, and tease you about your shirt."
Elle huffed as Travis straightened and headed for the kitchen.
Elle curled up on the couch, and turned to the windows. The glass covered in red sand, which spread every minute.
She took another sip. Her brows furrowed in worry.
She shouldn't have been so harsh. Why does every time—that could be the very last—he has to leave, she yells at him like an aggressive Death Valley Burrower.
She can't apologize now. He's probably okay.
She just hopes so.
She switched off the TV, and kept drinking.
