Chapter 5 - The Crossing
The high desert flats of the northern county line were a ghost world of wind-scoured sandstone and endless grey-green sagebrush under a vault of brilliant, indifferent stars.
For three days and two nights, Delia and Nico pushed north, avoiding the graded dirt tracks and picking their way through narrow arroyos and rocky washes. The burros proved sure-footed and steady, carrying Seb and Eva in their custom-rigged panniers with stoic patience. The twins slept through most of it, lulled by the rhythmic sway of the pack saddles and the cool night air, waking only to feed before drifting back into dreamland.
Nico’s strength returned slowly, driven by pure, unadulterated willpower. By the third night, he was moving without a limp, his rifle held ready across his saddle horn, scanning every horizon with the tactical precision of a seasoned commander.
Around midnight on the fourth day, they reached the crest of a low ridge overlooking a wide, dry salt flat that marked the New Mexico border.
"There," Delia whispered, pulling her burro to a halt beside a gnarled juniper tree. She pointed across the white, crusty expanse of the flat toward a faint cluster of distant lights twinkling miles away in the valley. "That's San Vicente. Once we cross that alkali flat, we're out of Marcus’s primary jurisdiction. My uncle's old line shack on the other side of the ridge has a landline and a secure satellite link we can use to contact federal marshals I trust."
Nico studied the expanse through his night-vision monocular. The landscape was flat, open, and completely devoid of cover for nearly two miles.
"Too exposed," Nico muttered, lowering the device. "If Marcus has aerial drones or mobile scanners sweeping the flats, we'll look like beacons out there in the open."
"We don't have a choice," Delia said, her voice tight with exhaustion. "A storm front is rolling in from the mountains. If we get caught in a haboob out here on the flats, we'll lose the trail and freeze."
As if on cue, a sudden, cold gust of wind swept across the ridge, carrying the unmistakable scent of ozone and fine, powdery dust. High in the western sky, the stars began to wink out one by one as a massive wall of black dust rolled over the horizon, blotting out the moon.
A haboob. A desert dust storm of apocalyptic proportions.
"Move!" Nico barked, kicking his mount into a trot. "Keep close to the burros! Hold onto the lead ropes!"
They plunged down the ridge onto the salt flats just as the storm hit.
In a matter of seconds, the world vanished into a screaming, swirling vortex of blinding white dust and howling wind. The air became thick, choking, and impossible to breathe without a bandana pulled tight across the mouth and nose.
Delia leaned forward over her saddle, her eyes clamped shut against the stinging grit, her hands locked white-knuckled onto the burro's lead rope. The wind shrieked like a banshee, whipping the canvas panniers and threatening to tear the baby carriers loose.
Crash!
A blinding flash of sheet lightning illuminated the flats, followed instantly by a deafening crack of thunder that shook the ground beneath their feet.
Startled by the thunder, Delia’s burro let out a panicked bray and bolted sideways into a deep alkali sinkhole.
"Whoa! Hey, steady!" Delia shouted, pulling back hard on the rope, but the footing gave way beneath the animal’s hooves. With a sharp gasp, the burro slipped down the steep embankment, dragging Delia off her feet and into the choking dust.
"Delia!" Nico’s voice roared over the wind.
Before she could hit the bottom of the sinkhole, strong hands caught her by the tactical vest, hauling her upright against a solid, unyielding chest. Nico had abandoned his own mount, fighting his way through the blinding dust to reach her.
"Are you okay?" he shouted directly into her ear, his face inches from hers, covered in a thick layer of white dust.
"The babies!" Delia coughed, pointing frantically down into the pit where the burro stood trembling, the carrier holding Seb and Eva tilting dangerously toward the rocky wall.
Nico didn't hesitate. He slid down the crumbling embankment into the sinkhole, ignoring the strain on his healing stitches. He grabbed the side of the pannier just as the strap gave way, catching the twin carrier in his arms a second before it tipped completely over.
Clutching the carrier tightly against his chest, he scrambled back up the slope, hauling Delia up with him into the shelter of a limestone overhang that jutted out from the edge of the flat like a protective stone shield.
They collapsed against the back wall of the alcove, coughing and gasping for air as the dust storm raged outside, turning the world into a howling, blind chaos.
Nico gently unzipped the weather flap of the carrier.
Seb and Eva blinked sleepily up at him, entirely unfazed by the apocalypse unfolding around them, warm and safe inside their insulated shell.
Nico let out a ragged, breathless laugh, pressing his forehead against the top of the carrier before looking over at Delia.
May you like
She was sitting beside him in the dirt, her face streaked with gray dust, her hair escaping its bun in wild disarray, laughing through her tears.
In the howling heart of the desert storm, surrounded by enemies and uncertainty, they looked at each other, and the last remaining walls between them simply crumbled to dust.
