Duster 3000

“COME GET IT! Hot of the press, the new Duster 3000 is for sale at a new low low price!”

I turned to look at the newsboy standing on a box, waving the paper and a silver can in the air. Did he seriously have one? A Duster 3000? I turned from the bar to get a closer look. He did. He did have one. How did this kid get one? I looked around to see if anyone else had heard him, and a crowd gathered. Someone picked up a paper, scanned the words briefly, then took off down the street. Grey dust kicked up from behind as he ran.

“Mister, you gotta pay for that!” the kid screamed at him. Then, he covered his mouth and nose with his elbow as the dust made him cough. The man turned to run back, slid in the dust to throw change at him, and turned around to keep running, never breaking momentum.

I placed a few bucks on the bar and approached the kid. The heat was rancid. My monitor read danger levels, but I applied heavy Noss Radiant Cream this morning. My boots were stained with grey dust, and I could feel the heat on my feet when I stepped out. I watched others read the paper, give the kid money, and run in the same direction as the man. Something was definitely wrong. The longer the kid stayed there, a small, hazy grey cloud formed around him. He kept coughing and couldn’t handle the crowd in the dust.

I followed in a brisk walk in the same direction. What the hell is going on. I pulled back my jacket, revealing my revolver, just in case. A short, heavy man fell, dropping his paper. His dusty hands reached for it, but I snatched it before he could. He shouted curses at me, but I kept walking. It read: DUSTER 3000 NOW $150 WITH USE OF COUPON ON PAGE 2.

There’s no way. I felt the sudden weight of the man on top of me and his arm reaching around for the paper. I spun to throw him off me and aimed my revolver at him. “Stay down.” I said, “Go buy another paper.”

“Why can’t you just go buy one?” he squalled.

I said nothing. I shot him in the foot. I couldn’t trust him. “It’ll heal.”

He gripped his foot with blood oozing between his fingers. Blood dripped on the ground, causing dust mites to appear and wallow in the blood. A crowd of people rushed past us. One tried snatching the paper but failed. He ripped it, but I was still gripping the coupon. I ran with the crowd to the camp to get a Duster. The grey sand lifted slightly in the air, and a wave of it went east. That’s not good. East means beast. Beast means danger. Danger means run. I immediately ran towards the wind into a saloon, Hargords. It was filled with men and women in uniform. The stench of coffee and black-market energy drinks filled the room. I folded the coupon and stuffed it in my breast pocket. No one seemed to care that I walked in. I sat at the bar and waved the bartender over.

“What can I get you? We’re out of Nitro Supreme, boss.”

“Water, please, before the storm comes.”

“Storm? Oh, God, here we go again. Let me see how bad it’ll get.” He walked away, grabbing a glass and dialing on his radio phone. “Eh, bugger, you hear there’s a storm?—No?—Just started?—Thanks, brother.” He slid the glass to me, “Anything else I can get you, boss man?” I shook my head. He gave me a nod.

“All right, everyone, there’s a storm coming. We’re locking up for the next hour. Strap in and make your calls. You’ve got five minutes!”

People started taking out their phones, radio phones, and communicators. I leaned back on my stool and waited for the storm to pass.

The heavy blinders shut and locked airtight on the windows, doors, and any crevasse leading outside. No one was getting in or out now. As the storm hit, it shook the building. Streams of grey dust fell through the ceiling. Most of us looked up to ensure the roof wouldn’t collapse on us. I watched as a stream of dust fell into my water. It piled on top before sinking in and turning everything to grey. I didn’t want it anymore.

“Now would be the perfect time for a Duster.” Someone said.

I felt my breast pocket while turning to the man. The coupon was still there. My cup got my attention when droplets of water splashed on my face. In my cup was a tiny dust mite swimming along the edges and trying to climb out. The hole was bigger than I thought if a dust mite could get through. And these weren’t typical dust mites. I looked up at the hole in the roof. It was small like the others, but this hole was particularly taking a beating from the storm. Gradually getting bigger. I covered my revolver and moved to the next seat with my cup. The bartender saw and gave me a new glass of water in the house.

“How tight is your dust shelter system?” I asked.

“We need an upgrade, but it’s summer. We don’t expect a lot of dust storms right now. Hopefully, we’d make enough to install a new one by fall.” He said.

“So everything covers up with a click of a button? What’s the time.”

“Yeah, the controls are under the bar right here.” He tapped near me. “I had it installed here, and it has easy access for any bartender. We could close this place up in about three minutes.”

“Impressive.”

“Well, it was.” We looked up at the ceiling, and he smiled back at me. “Don’t worry, we’re safe.”

“Sure,” I said. More dust seeped through the ceiling. “Sure.”