“It doesn’t seem like anyone is around,” Kala replied. “Sand storms are much more intense than this. “I can’t come out or Mouse will get sand in its joints. The robot turned its head to the left and right before quickly ducking back inside. “What’s going on?” Mouse exclaimed, crawling from the pocket. John lifted his bag all the way to his face and maneuvered its flap over his head to protect his mouth and eyes from the wind as he spoke to Mouse. “John!” Mouse called again against the wind. The landscape was prosaic, looking as if a lifeless programmer had copy–and-pasted the image of a generic sand dune over and over again in some lazy attempt at creating a desert panorama.
Night had fallen, wherever he’d landed, but a large full moon illuminated the edge of each mound of sand rising from the ground around him. John forced a pushup and rose to his feet. He ended on the ground two feet below with a rush of sand piling down upon his back. The movement had an opposite effect than intended he quickly lost his lodging and twisted down the dune with a small cavalcade of sand following just behind. John regained more strength in his body and moved his left arm out to steady himself. John heard a muffled voice calling his name against the swirling air. Rolling desert filled his vision as howling winds filled his ears. He painfully craned his neck to the side and fought one of his eyes open. Grains of that sand, swirling in the wind off the mound, entered his nose and mouth as he shallowly inhaled. Instead, he found himself prostrate, turned sideways, and implanted in a mound of sand. For the first time since he’d put the watch on his wrist, he’d not landed peacefully on top of a toilet seat. John crashed into the side of a tall, sandy dune.
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