Page 112 of Dustwalker
Back in Cheyenne, she’d weathered many such storms. People hunkered down in their shacks, tied down doors and shutters, andhoped everything would hold together. If you were well enough to repair your home the next day, it was a victory.
She’d never been caught by one in the open.
“Hold on, Lara.”
She clutched Ronin as he ran.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
Even before he broke into a sprint, Ronin knew there’d be no outrunning the storm. Their only hope was shelter. He overclocked his processors, scouring his memory bank for any semblance of shelter nearby—a building, a cave, even a partially collapsed wall to hide behind.
Lara clung to him with her face buried against his shoulder. The wind was strong at his back, pushing him forward, whipping her hair, which had come loose from its braid, into his optics. Had they been able to resupply before leaving Cheyenne, he could’ve found her better face protection, perhaps even a respirator. That would’ve diminished at least one of the dangers they were about to face.
Lightning flashed, followed two and a half seconds later by a peal of thunder. Lara lifted her head and wadded his coat in her fists. “Ronin!”
“We’re going to be fine,” he said, amplifying his voice so she could hear him over the roaring wind.
He ran up a hill into a copse of trees, several which were still living. If there were no alternatives, the ancient boughs would help break the wind a little, but they wouldn’t provide adequate shelter for Lara. He should’ve kept their course closer to the old road. At least then he might’ve located a culvert or something similar to take shelter within.
Finally emerging from the trees, he stopped on the hill’s crest. The land before him leveled out into a wide expanse littered with brush, weeds, brown grass, and dirt before sloping back upward in thedistance. As Ronin swept his optics across the area, he caught a contrast in color several hundred yards out.
Buildings.
Ronin worked his way down to the open ground. Between Lara, their clothing, ammunition, tools, food, water, and two hauls of scrap, he was carrying hundreds of kilograms of extra weight, forcing his actuators and compensators to operate well above normal levels of strain. But if his speed and heavy steps jostled Lara, she made no complaint. She simply clutched him tighter.
The only structure standing was a house, and time had not been kind to it. Paint was peeling off the wooden siding, which had been so exposed to the elements that the gray, splintering boards were warped and falling off the underlying framework. The whole building leaned three degrees to the side. The roof sagged, the windows were shattered, and the front door hung on a single bent hinge.
He slowed when they were within fifteen meters of the house. The buildings around it lay like the remains of massive beasts, slowly sinking into the dust, but this home had defied the odds, had defied nature itself, by remaining upright.
Humans might’ve called it a miracle, but Ronin was not willing to risk Lara’s life for so nebulous a concept. It couldn’t be trusted to endure the punishment the storm was about to unleash.
North of the house was a tin roofed barn that had collapsed upon itself. Tufts of grass and weeds grew from spots on the roof where dirt had accumulated in the grooves.
He looked east. The wall of dust stretched across the horizon for countless kilometers, already flowing over the hills they’d just crossed. At best, they had three minutes before the storm hit them.
Ronin carried Lara around the side of the house, between it and the barn. The rusted carcass of a tractor jutted out of the brush that was slowly overtaking it. Normally, he would’ve stopped, pried open the engine housing, and picked it for scrap, but now he walked past without a second glance.
The house would have to do. There was no other choice. He’d keep Lara shielded with his body in case of structural failure.
“Ronin, there!” Lara pointed and wiggled free of his arms. “I’ve seen something like that before.”
When he released his hold, she raced toward a grass covered moundseventy feet from the collapsed back porch. A metal door, covered in rust and grime, stood on the side of the mound, framed in concrete.
Lara grasped the handle and pulled, throwing her weight into it, but the door didn’t budge. Baring her teeth, she pulled again with a growl. “I can’t get it open!”
When Ronin reached her, she stepped aside. He wrapped his fingers around the handle and exerted gradual force. It was immediately clear that the door hadn’t been used recently. He increased the pressure, knowing it was more likely to break than to turn. Wind howled and thunder rolled across the heavens, loud enough for him to feel the soundwaves vibrating over his skin.
The first stinging dust particles struck him.
Lara twisted away from the wind, crouched, and raised her arms to shield her head.
Time was up. The needed to get inside the house and hope for the best.
With a metallic groan, the mechanism gave way, and the handle swung up. Ronin tugged the door open, battling the oncoming wind. The hinges whined. The only thing darker than the sky was the entrance to the shelter.
He took hold of Lara’s arm and helped her onto the concrete steps. Ronin followed her, turning to close the door. The nearby house was completely obscured by the storm. Wind blasted Ronin, pelting him with dirt.
The heavy door slammed shut, its sound echoing in the sudden silence.
