LITMIR.BIZ

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making him look like some kind of demented Bedouin.

      “Just...like the...proverbial goose...my milk-haired friend....” Doc wheezed with every limping step.

      “Save your strength, Doc,” J.B. said. “Need every bit of it to get through this.”

      Despite her injury, Mildred didn’t seem all that affected by the heat, nor did Krysty. In fact, Krysty was scanning all around them, at times lifting her nose almost as if she was scenting the air.

      “Something up?” Ryan asked.

      “Don’t know. The breeze is rising, but it doesn’t feel right, somehow.” Shading her eyes with her hand, Krysty scanned the horizon all around. “Something’s coming. Surely there has to be some kind of shelter somewhere.”

      “We could dig a hole in the ground, cover up and wait for the bad weather to pass, right?” Ricky offered.

      “You take a shot at it, Ricky,” J.B. replied. “This hardpan is rock solid. I might be able to blast a hole in it with plas-ex, but it wouldn’t be large enough to do us any good.”

      “Right now I’ll settle for any moving air. That breeze should feel good,” Mildred said, eyes on the ground in front of her as she walked, her combat boots kicking up small puffs of dirt with every step.

      “Mebbe—if it doesn’t bring anything with it,” Ryan replied, keeping his tone neutral. If a storm blew up here—sand or dust or anything else—they were as good as dead if they couldn’t find any cover. Squinting, he tried to pick out anything that might serve as refuge for them from the surrounding wasteland.

      “Our real problem is dehydration,” Mildred continued. “It’s so hot out here that we’re losing water but not realizing it because our sweat’s evaporating as soon as it comes out.”

      “Always ready to give us the good news, aren’t you, Millie?” J.B. said with a quick smile to let her know he was kidding.

      “Nothing funny about it,” she replied. “Facts are facts—if we don’t find water soon, we’re done for.”

      The breeze was freshening, but even it was deceptive; a hot, dry wind that plucked at their skin and clothes, but provided no relief.

      In the end, Ricky spotted their salvation. “There,” he said, pointing off to the south. “I think I see a stone building?”

      Ryan and J.B. both shaded their eyes. “Hard to tell...” J.B. said. “Out here everything looks like dark smudges against light smudges.”

      “If it is a building, we’d best get to it,” Krysty said, glancing behind them. “A storm’s definitely coming our way.”

      Ryan glanced back as well and saw a dark cloud a few miles away. “Yeah. Best move out double-quick. J.B., I’ll spell you with Doc.”

      “It is not necessary...my dear Ryan....” Doc whispered. “I just need...to rest...a spell....”

      “Close those lips and move those legs, Doc, and we’ll be safe and sound before you know it,” Ryan said as he draped the older man’s arm across his shoulders.

      The wind was already blowing harder now, ruffling hair, kicking up dust and driving everyone forward with more urgency. As they traveled, the smudge far ahead solidified into what looked like a large, low, stone building.

      “What if it’s a ruin?” J.B. asked as they went.

      “Any shelter’ll work to protect us from whatever’s coming,” Ryan said, leaving the rest of his thought unspoken. Deathlands was home to all sorts of crazy weather, from chem storms to acid—real acid—rain. “It’s gaining on us,” Mildred said, casting a glance to their right. “Since we’re no longer moving ahead of it, it’s going to catch us pretty soon.”

      “I can see the building now. It’s old, but still standing,” Ryan replied. “We’ve just got to get there first. Everybody keep moving.”

      Somehow, they all managed to quicken their pace. Ten more minutes of trotting and walking brought the companions close enough to see the large, solid stone building in the distance, squat and immovable. And just in time, too, as the storm was almost on them. Visibility was falling rapidly, and everyone was covered in grit from the swirling wind.

      “Almost there! Keep your eyes on it—don’t look away, or you’ll lose it!” Ryan shouted over the now howling wind.

      “Everyone join hands!” J.B. said, grabbing Mildred’s. If someone got separated or lost, it would be nearly impossible to find the person in the dense cloud.

      Staggering through the rising dust storm, the companions pushed on toward their destination. By the time they reached the building, the wind had risen to a deafening howl, and they all were shielding their faces as they fought to stand against the gale. The dust whipped up by the storm was everywhere, caking, blinding, choking.

      Ryan was practically carrying Doc along when he reached the old wooden doors. Even in this deserted landscape, they were stuck or locked. “Shit! Won’t open!”

      “Let me try!” Jak shouted. Ryan hauled Doc away from the entrance while Jak backed up a few steps, then ran forward. When he was a couple of yards away, he leaped into the air and drove his foot into the seam between the two doors. Ryan faintly heard a loud crack above the storm. “Again—do it again!” he said between coughs.

      Now hacking himself, Jak backed up and ran at the door again. This time his kick broke the doors open, and he fell in the entryway. “C’mon!” he said, holding one of the doors open.

      The rest of the group piled inside, and Jak and Ricky struggled to push the doors closed, wedging them shut with pieces of the broken crossbar Jak had smashed through.

      “Looks like this might have been some kind of school back in the day,” Mildred said as they looked around.

      They were standing at the end of a long hallway, with several doors on each side of it. Old gray metal lockers lined the walls between the doors. Lights that hadn’t turned on in a century hung from the ceiling, and faded papers hung on the walls, unreadable after all this time. Although it was easier to breathe here, dust could still be seen filtering in through cracks under doors.

      “Let’s see if we can find someplace as far away from the dust as possible,” Ryan said after trying to bring up enough saliva to spit, but failing. “Bet there’s not a drop of water to be found in here either.”

      “Doubt it,” Mildred said. “This place was probably abandoned even in my time. Small town, maybe a mining or oil community once, then the mine closed or the oil dried up, and the town dried up along with it. It happened all the time.”

      “Lucky for us they didn’t tear everything down when they moved on,” J.B. said as they walked farther into the hallway. Jak tried opening one of the doors, but a gust of wind and sand blew into his face, and he quickly shut it again while pawing at his eyes.

      “Damn dust—hurts like hell!”

      Ryan’s concern seemed to be well founded. In the center of the building they found a larger room that looked to have been a cafeteria in another lifetime. But when he tried the taps in a large, industrial-size sink in the kitchen, they didn’t even move, frozen shut by a century of nonoperation.

      “Looks like we made it here, only to die of thirst,” Mildred said.

      “We’re not dead yet, and there’s still more to explore. Might find a cache no one knows about,” Ryan replied. “Let’s keep going.”

      They reached the end of the corridor and found a stairway behind a wooden door with a wire-reinforced window in it. The stairway led down.

      Mildred frowned. “That’s weird. I didn’t think most buildings in tornado country had storm cellars, although they sure needed them.”

      “Let’s take a look.” Ryan grabbed the rusty knob and

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