Dust: (Part I: Sandstorms) Read Online Free PDF Page A

generally devastating. As cooler air passes over heated ground it becomes unstable and in desert areas, dust and sand storms commonly appeared in the wake of intense thunderstorms. The dust and sand thrown up by these winds could be lifted as high as 20,000 feet.
    I had studied much of this. I had spent hours sweating over books on Atmospheric Physics but none of it added to anything. The chaos that now reined was unintelligible to anyone. No doubt the same fundamental laws still governed the movement of individual particles but the planet as a whole was out of control. It had happened to fast no-one knew what drove it. Every day was the same, a constant swirling sandstorm. We had given up expecting anything else. All the understanding and explanation in the world would have done little to change the reality in any case.
    As a child I had viewed sandstorms as something mysterious, exotic. They occurred in far flung locations and devoured everything in their path. They happened to Pharaohs and their armies, they descended on weary adventurers trekking across the desert, they swept down and changed the course of battles, cloaking the enemy and filling soldier’s boots, they were not something real.
    This was as much as I knew about sandstorms as a child. I had trouble picturing the ferocity.  The largest stretch of sand I had seen was the thin beach near our house. The seaside I knew was mainly rocks and cliffs. The power of the ocean, waves smashing against rock, that I could understand but a wave of dust was something else altogether.
    I remembered the two of us as children. We had stood at the edge of the cliffs by the yellow house.
    ‘I dare you,’ he said.
    We were a metre or two from the edge but close enough that my head swam as I looked over at the pounding sea below.
    ‘I dare you to throw it,’ he said.
    ‘Maloney is not an it,’ I said defensively. ‘He is a He.’
    I was holding Maloney tight, protecting him. His fat body squirmed in my thin arms.
    Abel looked at me. I knew he could snatch Maloney from me easily.
    There was a warm wind blowing in from the sea. I wore a summer dress and felt a tingle across my skin.             
    ‘Don’t worry,’ Abel spoke matter-of-factly, ‘Maloney can fly.’ He stretched out his arm towards me.
    ‘No he can’t.’ I desperately wanted to believe him. There was something magnetic about Abel. His dark hair and pale face stood out three dimensional against the scene. For a moment it seemed everything else was a painted stage, two dimensional.  I was drawn into his vision, pictured myself standing on the cliff top, on the brink, releasing Maloney to fly free out across the sea. I knew it was not true.
    ‘Give him me.’ Abel took a step closer to me and I felt the warm wind lick at me again. It blew between my legs and inside my dress. I felt a shiver as my body tingled. It was only when Abel was close.
    It was impossible to resist him, I knew that much. Meekly I transferred Maloney into his arms. He lifted him delicately. I could see the love with which he handled him. In comparison, my movements felt crude, unloving as I had grasped Maloney, struggling with him. In Abel’s arms he was docile.
    With a brisk movement Abel jumped to the cliff edge. I gasped, unsure if I was afraid for Abel or Maloney or both or neither. Abel was fearless. His body trembled but only with excitement, with energy. The same energy that animates the world.
    I felt my clothes fizzle against my body. I could not tear my eyes from Abel, standing on the lip, the absolute edge of the void. He held Maloney up over the edge.
    ‘He can fly,’ he said. ‘He can fly.’
    ‘Yes,’ I said.
    He let go.
    Maloney left his grip and I saw it was true. The cat lifted up into the sky and flew out across the ocean. Slowly he picked up speed. We both stood and watched, entranced. I was standing on the edge with Abel and he had his arm around my waist. My thin dress felt wet with excitement.