36: A Novel by Dirk Patton Page A

and didn’t feel like carrying an empty pack.  Left it behind.  What the hell is going on?”
    I was making it up on the fly, now.  Unsure what the right response was.  Should I be indignant that I was being treated like a criminal, or should I be polite and cooperative.  I decided to settle for a little of both.
    “What am I going to find out if I run your license?”  He asked.
    “Nothing.  Am I under arrest?  I just want to get to town before that storm hits.”
    I hooked a thumb over my shoulder and saw him glance at the swiftly approaching wall of dust.  Saw something in his eyes.  He didn’t want to get caught out here any more than I did.
    “You’re being detained at the moment,” he finally said.  “Go stand in front of my car.”
    “Seriously?  I haven’t done a damn thing!”
    “Sir, we can wrap this up here, or I can put you in cuffs and take you to the station.  Which would you prefer?”
    I looked at his face and saw the sincerity and determination.  With a sigh, I nodded and walked to the front of the cruiser and leaned my ass against the heavy duty push bar.  I heard him open the door, then the car shifted slightly when he got in.  The door closed and the locks thunked into place.
    Resisting the urge to turn and look through the windshield, I crossed my arms and looked at the horizon.  Ten minutes and we’d be in zero visibility.  Could I stretch things out that long?  Escape under cover of the storm?  Maybe.  But what was the point?  He was calling my name in right now.  That meant there was a record of me being in the area.  I was fucked.
    A couple of minutes later the door opened and the car shifted again when he stepped out.
    “Mr. Tracy?”
    I turned my head to look at him without moving my ass off the push bar.
    “You’re good to go.  Thank you for your cooperation.”
    I shook my head, playing the role of aggrieved, upstanding citizen.  Standing up, I headed for the back of the car to retrieve my belongings.
    “Don’t suppose you’re going to tell me what that was all about,” I said, shoving my property into pockets.
    “There was an incident a few miles from here,” he said.  “We’re looking for people that might have been involved.”
    “Un huh,” I said, shaking my head and turning to continue my way into town.
    “Hang on,” he said before I’d taken more than a couple of steps.
    Heart falling, I stopped and turned to look at him.
    “Saw your VFW card.  Sandland?”
    “Iraq.  Two tours,” I said.
    “Did two myself.  With the Corps.” he said, meaning he was a Marine.
    I nodded, unsure what he wanted.
    “Look,” he said.  “That fucking haboob is going to hit any minute.  Where were you supposed to meet your wife?”
    I looked at him for a long moment, trying to decide if this was a trick or not.  Making my decision, and hoping it was the right one, I named a truck stop adjacent to the one Monica was waiting at.
    “Hop in back,” he said, nodding at the car.  “I’ll get you there in five minutes.”
    “I’m good,” I said.  “I was infantry.  I’m used to walking.”
    “In that?”  He asked, pointing at the front edge of the storm which was now within a couple of miles of where we stood.
    “Actually, yes,” I said, and couldn’t help grinning.
    He grinned back and gestured at the car.  Nodding, I opened the rear passenger door and got in.  And was immediately claustrophobic in the confines of the rear seat of a police car.  He came around and shut the door, which had bars over the window and no handle on the inside.  Fuck me, I hope I didn’t just make the second biggest mistake of my life.
     

14
     
    The storm hit a minute after we started driving.  Wind buffeted the cruiser, rocking it violently.  Dust and sand were driven against us so hard it sounded like the paint was being blasted off the sheet metal.  Visibility was poor, but we were still in the leading edge of the cloud and it hadn’t dropped to