Free Evil Jester Digest, Vol.1 by Peter Giglio (Editor)

frightening.”
    www.holliesnider.com
    www.swansongediting.com
    www.csfwg.org

     

DUST DEVIL
    Gary Brandner
     
    One minute Harry Keyes was cruising along I-15 in bright sunshine. His pretty wife Laura dozed beside him, her head canted toward his shoulder. The air inside the classic Impala was a comfortable 71 degrees while outside the desert blistered in triple digits under an August sun. Harry tapped the steering wheel in time with the classic rock his radio picked up from a Barstow FM station. In a couple of hours he would be home in Santa Monica with winnings of three hundred Las Vegas dollars in his pants. He and Laura could enjoy a modest night on the town.
    That was one minute. In the next a blast of wind hit the car like a fist, driving it toward the median strip of the Interstate. A grating hiss drowned out the sounds of Eric Clapton and the interior of the car went dark as an opaque brown wall cut visibility in all directions.
    It took Harry’s brain a second to process the sensations and take him from What the hell is this? to Oh shit, now we’re going to be late.
    Laura jerked awake as her head bounced against his shoulder. “What is it?”
    “Sandstorm.”
    With his jaw clamped and eyes squeezed into slits Harry fought the Impala back to the right while the wind battered the car. He did not want to cross over into the eastbound lanes and be hit head on by another blinded motorist. He tried the headlights, but there was no effect. Every muscle tensed against the shattering collision he expected now from the rear.
    After interminable seconds Harry felt the tires on the right side leave the pavement for rougher ground. He continued until all four wheels were on the more dirt surface. Here he hoped he would be out of the way of other traffic. Was there a ditch? What the hell, it didn’t matter now. He brought the Impala to a grinding stop, set the brake, and killed the engine.
    Outside the sandblast continued without letup. This was going to cost him a paint job at the very least. Would his insurance cover it? Not likely. Kiss the Vegas money goodbye.
    A fine dust filtered in as the car rocked from side to side. The temperature rose rapidly.
    “How long is this going to last?” Laura said.
    “How would I know?” he snapped. Then more gently, “I’ve never been in one of these before.”
    Laura coughed and used a tissue to dab at the perspiration on her face.
    “I guess we could keep the AC on,” he said. “I’ll set it so it uses only the interior air. Don’t want any more of the desert blowing in here.”
    He started the engine. It made an unpleasant growling sound. The air conditioner came on and cooled the interior, but circulated the fine dust that was growing thicker and sifting into Harry’s eyes and nose.
    The digital dash clock blinked once and went dark. Not a good sign.
    “I wish it would stop,” Laura said.
    Harry ground his teeth. They had a gritty feel. He checked his wristwatch. The hands pointed at five minutes to four. He held the watch up and squinted at the second hand. It pointed straight down at 6 and did not move. Could the abrasive dust have somehow got into the watch case?
    He punched the radio from one end of the dial to the other. Nothing but crackling static. He and Laura looked at each other, their faces lit coldly by the dome light. Harry shook his head. Outside the gritty wind kept up its assault on the car.
    Time passed. The fuel gage read a quarter full. The roar of the storm slackened a little. Harry leaned forward and peered through the windshield. He could see the sloping hood, once a shiny black, now scabrous gunmetal gray where the sand had ground away the paint. The wind eased, and the land became visible for some thirty feet around them.
    “I think it’s stopping,” Harry said.
    He banged the Impala into gear and started cautiously forward. “Now where is the damn highway?”
    The car crawled ahead, and for the first time Harry wished he had splurged for a