Alexa's Travels: A Prelude by Angela White Page B

whine.
    Slamming into her with the power of a gunshot, it blew her cloak back and covered her in sandy grit.
    She calmly wiped her face. “Get us nailed down. It knows we’re here.”
     
    3
    The dim, purple glow of dusk found them all standing in a back and forth row, watching. Not the storm, but the rest of their dusty surroundings. Using bad weather to cover an attack was a skill that more than just people had perfected, but Alexa’s men had to hide grins of anticipation. They were in the Waterline, a nearly impenetrable formation that had served them well, and they waited eagerly waited for the storm… the thrilling excitement of facing it all at their leader’s side. Alexa had chosen well.
    The pale wall of sand was slowly devouring the barren landscape. It moved steadily closer, advancing like an immense column of soldiers intent on destroying anything in their way. The gusts tugged at tent stakes, as if testing, and dust showered their boots. Hearts sped up as the wind shoved harder, pulses starting to pound in that familiar, unpleasant thump of danger. Then the dust wall was within a mile, and the cold, hard shield of battle fell into place.
    “Stakers, hit them again. Everyone else get inside.”
    Two of the cloaked fighters rushed to pound heavy, flat stones on pegs as the rest of them ducked into the large, black tent. It was a battle they had fought many times, an enemy they knew well, and they fell into their routines easily.
    Two men went to the carefully sewn, glass portholes, two moved toward the back, near the wall for added weight where it mattered most, and Alexa settled in the center, not hiding from a vicious blast of grit that hit her in the face as the stakers ducked inside.
    Normally, the huge tent was hung with sheer canopies to create three rooms. One was a very small wash area with heavier curtains, one a sleeping room covered in pillows and blankets, and the last, a sitting area for those who were having trouble with the dreams… nightmares, that were a common part of the new world.   Now, the tent was barren, their gear in the kits on their backs to keep from being lost if the storm succeeded in tossing them out.
    It was zeroing in with a single-minded fury, as if angered by their very presence. Before it hit them fully, the portholes were already useless, flying sand all they could see. The front edge of the storm slammed into them with such force, they felt the rock wall shudder against their meager shelter. Then the wind became an enraged force trying to rip the tent apart.
    Sand hit them in waves, hard enough to punch dents that faded into the next blast, and the howling increased, thrumming through their heads like a scream. The ground vibrated, canvas walls slapping violently, and the entire group gathered in the rear of the tent, waiting tensely for a hole to appear.
    “Masks up.”
    Face-covers were quickly donned, and hoods were tightened over them to provide another layer of protection.
    Alexa felt the air shift, watched the sand-filled hits blast at new parts of the tent, and realized the storm had changed directions. Coming from the side, they would be blown away.
    “Make a hole!”
    Letting in clouds of dust, she slit a wide gash in the floor of the tent, and the males hurried to get ropes and lights out as they realized what she meant to do.
    Alexa and David wrenched the iron grate free, turning their faces from the waves of dusty showers now coming into their shelter. They tossed it to the side and began digging through the debris.
    “Got it!”
    The metal lid had a simple pull-ring handle, and the man grunted as he jerked. With Alexa and Daniel to add an arm, the heavy steel slid, revealing a dark, alien world.
    Rip!
    The tent was shredding, stinging dust trying to consume them. Alexa quickly made the call.
    “Go now.”
    Edward dropped the greenish flare into the abyss and then followed it down, his foot secure in the looped rope that Jacob and David were