36: A Novel by Dirk Patton

dust storm was noticeably closer than the last time I checked.  Two minutes ago.  And it looked like a monster.  It was probably still twenty miles away, but the leading edge of the solid, roiling brown cloud completely filled the horizon and soared high into the sky.  I knew powerful winds would be pushing it and estimated I had no more than twenty minutes before I was completely engulfed in its fury.
    I turned at the sound of another car approaching, my breath catching when I saw the outline of a police car silhouetted against the lowering sun.  Turning back east and continuing to walk, I didn’t stick my thumb out, hoping the cop would drive by.  But of course, he didn’t.
    The cruiser, belonging to the Department of Public Safety – what Arizona calls the state police - slowed as it drew closer, gliding past me at an idle.  I looked over and met eyes with the officer driving.  Without thinking, I raised my right hand and waved.  He didn’t wave back, just accelerated enough to get thirty yards past me before pulling over and turning on his overhead lights.  I could see him speaking on the radio, looking at me in his mirror.  I stopped where I was, waiting.  Panicked.  Scared out of my mind.
    It didn’t take long for him to finish his radio call, then the driver’s door popped open and he stepped out.  He was about my age, and looked as tough as old shoe leather.  Thin, but the kind of whipcord thin that has a lot of strength behind it.  His hand was on the butt of his holstered pistol as he stepped to the back of his car.
    “Sir, please step to the side of the car and place your hands on the fender,” he called, sunlight glinting off his mirrored glasses.
    “Why?  What did I do?”  I called back, desperately trying to come up with a way out of this.
    “Sir, now.  Step to the side and keep your hands in sight.  I’m not going to ask you again.”
    With a sigh of resignation, I moved my hands away from my body and slowly walked the short distance to the idling police car.  He pointed where he wanted me, stepping back and keeping some part of the vehicle’s sheet metal between us.  I did what he told me, winding up on the passenger side with my hands resting on the burning hot rear fender.
    He moved around the car, circling wide until he was coming up behind me.  I started to turn my head to keep him in sight, but he barked at me to face forward.  I complied, and a moment later a strong hand pushed on the back of my neck and shoved my upper body forward across the trunk.
    “Do you have anything on you that I should know about?”  He asked from behind me.
    “No,” I said.  “What the hell is wrong?  I didn’t do anything.”
    “I’m going to search you.  We’ll talk in a minute.  Do not try to raise up or take your hands off the vehicle.  Do you understand?”
    “I understand,” I said.
    He searched me thoroughly.  Removed my phone, wallet and keys and placed them next to my face on the trunk of the cruiser.  When he was finished, he picked my wallet up and stepped away.
    “You can stand up now,” he said after having returned to the driver’s side of his car.
    My wallet was in his hands and he began looking through it.  He rifled through the cash, then looked at a couple of slips of paper that were tucked away.  One of them was my boss’s cell phone in case I needed to call in sick, the other my VFW card.  He put them back and extracted my drivers license from behind a clear plastic window.
    His eyes flicked from the photo on my ID to my face, making sure they matched. 
    “Long way from Phoenix, Mr. Tracy.  What are you doing out here?”
    “I was hiking in Casa Grande Mountain Park,” I said, having had a few moments to think up a story.  “I got lost and came out a mile or so back down the road.  Trying to get back to town where my wife’s supposed to pick me up.”
    “Hiking without water or a hat?  No pack?”
    “I ran out of water a few hours ago