Darius wandered through the beaten Red Rock alleys. Most of the pathways were covered in a fresh layer of sand, erasing the tread of the colonists' boots. Those paths, he knew, would soon be beaten down, as more and more people returned to their normal duties and carried out repairs. Earlier, he heard the distant cries of mourning women, but those cries had long since ceased. He prayed that the casualties were few.
Slowly, the fear in the colonists' eyes turned to a bustling determination, as more and more of them flowed past him and to the river, filling up buckets of water and mud to make their patches, or waiting in line for their disbursement of straw. Their children helped, all wrapped in the same shawls and goggles they would wear for most of the day, until the last of the dust had cleared and they could breathe without worry.
Darius pulled his shawl tight against his face. Too much walking and grasping his cane made his fingers ache. Normally, Darius knew his limitations, but sometimes, like today, he had a reason to break them.
He had someone on whom to check.
Adjusting his goggles, he headed east, in the direction of the red rock formations that towered high above the colony, passing a few streams of people. A few nodded curtly.
Eventually, Darius reached a home built a little distance away from the others, on the end of a row. He was relieved to find it intact. The faded, round house had stood since long before Darius was born, and he expected it would survive much longer.
"Elmer?" he called.
Darius blinked, as if that might allow him to see through the remaining haze of sand that encircled the house. He wiped his goggles.
"Elmer?" he called again.
The door stood ajar, but he didn't see movement. A shuffling noise drew his attention to the rear of the house, where a man even older than Darius ambled around a corner, clutching a rusted shovel. Patchy white hair stuck up around the man's weathered face. His face lit up when he saw who visited.
"Is that you?" the older man asked, blinking one blue, cataract-covered eye, struggling to see through the other. A half-smile tugged at Elmer's wrinkles as he confirmed that it was his friend. "Darius! You made it."
"We both did," Darius said with a smile of relief.
Elmer placed an appreciative hand on Darius's shoulder. "It is good to see you, my friend."
"Another day alive is a blessing," Darius said.
Elmer took his hand away, scratching his bristly chin. "How did your house fare?"
"A few cracked bricks," Darius answered. "Nothing I can't manage."
"I keep waiting for the day this old shack goes over," Elmer said, lifting his shovel and pointing at his house. "Maybe by the time it does, I'll be too blind to notice."
Darius smiled. Even on a dreary day, Elmer kept his humor.
"Do you need help clearing the sand?"
"I'll be fine." Elmer waved a hand. "As long as I have sight in one good eye, and the strength to shovel, I'll keep digging."
Darius nodded. He had expected that answer. Elmer was determined, as he was.
"I haven't seen you in a few days," Elmer noticed.
"I've been…busy," Darius said.
"Too many spears to fix?" Elmer asked, making it clear that he wouldn't push for an answer.
For the past few days, Darius's leg had been bothering him. Or maybe it was the memories of Akron, which never seemed far from his thoughts. The sudden sandstorm made those memories even worse. Akron had disappeared in the midst of a similar storm, several years ago.
Elmer smiled sympathetically, probably picking up on Darius's resurfaced pain.
Elmer knew the grief that could sap a man's will, making it hard to step outside of his home. He knew about the despair that lived within a suffering man's heart, making his grief deeper when he saw the honest smiles around him. Years earlier, Elmer had lost his wife to sickness. Ever since, his bond with Darius had strengthened. That wasn't their only commonality. Elmer knew secrets about Darius that a less trustworthy man might use against him.
"I'm glad you're okay," Elmer said, relief evident in his voice.
Darius looked around at the people cleaning their homes. "Have you seen The Heads of Colony?"
"They already came past, assessing the damage," Elmer said. "I overheard them talking. Three people died during the night."
Darius shook his head. "Any idea who?"
"A woman our age to the north, near the front of the colony. I didn't know her." Elmer shook his head. "And a few Crop Tenders, a dozen alleys west."
"It is a shame."
Darius looked around, as if he might catch a glimpse of Gideon and his men, but they were gone. For most of the day, they would direct the clean-up, tally the dead, and oversee the handout of straw, along with their Watchers. Likewise, they would assess the damage to the crops, while the Crop Tenders saved what they could.
"I am sad about the deaths, but the destruction of the crops will make for even hungrier stomachs, which could lead to more casualties," Elmer said.
Darius knew that was true. They might have a surplus for a day or two, but a meal today meant a deficit tomorrow.
Elmer said, "I suppose we will have a ceremony to attend tomorrow morning."
Darius nodded.
"Will I see you there?" Elmer asked.
"Possibly," Darius said. "Depending on how my leg feels."
Elmer nodded, but he didn't ask any more probing questions.
Darius headed in a westerly direction, taking a different route home. A few people looked over, tentatively waving. In one doorway, a mother scolded a child who had exited a dwelling without shutting the door. The child skirted away, avoiding the mother's reprimand. Catching the child's attention, Darius raised his cane and smiled.
He hobbled on.
When he was halfway down the alley, Darius slowed to a stop next to a gap in the houses, close enough that he could see through the clouded next alley. He stuck close to the wall of the closest dwelling, verifying that no one paid him any mind.
Through the alley, he glimpsed the squalid, dilapidated house that he'd come to find. A wave of relief washed over him as he found the house standing. The door was shut. He watched for a while until the door opened and a woman thirty years his junior popped out, holding a shovel. She kept her head down as she walked to a mound of sand on the side of the house, scooping it up and depositing it into a pushcart. Later, Darius knew, she would bring it to a dump area closer to the cliffs, where The Watchers would bring it out into the desert, like they did for the other colonists.
A few moments later, a man joined the woman, clothed in his protective garb. Neither spoke as they did their work. A few neighbors came out from their houses, looking over, but they refrained from speaking to the couple.
Eventually, the man and woman completed their task, and the man wheeled away the unwanted sand. The woman stuck her shovel in the ground, adjusting her shawl. When she finished, she gazed up through the dust clouds.
Slowly, she appraised the outline of the giant, red rock formation that hung in the distance—an enormous, towering reminder of a loss neither she nor Darius would forget.
Darius felt as if someone had punched his stomach. Sadness washed over him as he watched Akron's mother. He wanted to reach out to her, console her, and share his sympathies.
But she hated him, just as her husband did. They blamed him for telling the stories that had inspired Akron to go into the caves, leading to his death.
They were right. It was Darius's fault.
One day, he would give Akron's parents peace.
Darius watched Akron's mother for another moment, until the guilt in his stomach got the better of him and he hobbled along.