Archaea 2: Janis Read Free

located on route 12, two clicks south of exit 14 with one, unable to proceed, disaster activation requested.” the patrolman said into comms.
    “Copy Lima-three-four-two, stand by.”
    “Ten-four” he said, clicking the mic back to his dash.
    “What was that all about?” I asked, having to speak up against the howl and rattle of the wind against the glass of the grounder.
    “We're stopped, miss. I can't make any headway, and had to let dispatch know where we are, and that conditions out here are serious.”
    As he spoke, a terrific gust of wind hurled the grounder sideways into the concrete barricade on the side of the breakdown lane. I gripped the temper foam of the seat cushion tight enough to leave permanent dents, and hoped my belt was tight.
    All around us, grounders slid and crashed into each other as the winds tore the top off the world, and threw it to the horizon. The patrolman in the front seat tried to say something else, but the horrible roar of the wind drowned him out.
    A hauler in front of us smashed sideways against the barricade. I watched in horror as the height of the load was caught by the wind, and the double wheels started to lift and slowly rotate. The wind blew harder, and in a terrible scream I will never forget, forced the trailer skyward. It seemed to hang briefly in balance against the barricade, then in a rush, pivoted up and over while other grounders slid sideways, wedging into the space it left behind.
    The patrolman reached to open the door, but pinned against the barricade as we were, and with the press of vehicles against us, It was a futile effort. There was nothing we could do but watch in silent horror as as the hauler flipped sideways off the expressway with a gut-wrenching squeal and crashed below out of sight.
    My eyes unable to look away, I watched in shock as one by one, windows started to blow out by the increasing force of the onslaught, filling the sky with sparkling clouds of glass... and other things too terrible to remember.
    Our grounder was rocking violently up against the barricade, slowly wedging higher and higher as the vehicles to windward pressed in tighter and tighter.
    The front passenger-side window blew out with a mighty pop, turning the front compartment of the patrol grounder into a maelstrom of dust and debris. I could hear the patrolman yelling in pain or horror, maybe both, as I reached for my ankles and prepared to say goodbye to this mortal life.

Chapter 2
     
    The wharf quickly cleared out as people sought shelter from the coming storm, looming like a wall of shadow against the mauve sky. The onrushing darkness cast the gleaming arcologies of New Turiana into sharp relief, lit by the purple light of Vega setting into the inner sea.
    It was already tremendously windy, and I knew that I needed to get a move on. What I should have done is beat feet right on out of there on the double-time, but I was moving with a purpose and had the winds at my back.
    My ears were filled with the hiss of rolling whitecaps blowing out to sea along the quay, leaving small runners of foam, white against the gunmetal gray of the dark water.
    The dock workers were yelling, securing everything in sight, a frenzy of last-minute activity while increasingly powerful gusts of wind began raging down the wharf. Further out to sea, spray was being thrown high into the sky from the bows of ships, desperately beating upwind, straining at flank speed to reach port.
    I pressed on, almost flying with the stronger gusts, trying to reach shelter. My rendezvous was close, a lone warehouse at the end of the wharf, set back from the quay behind a storeyard full of racks, floats, rollers, and other miscellaneous odds and ends. Increasingly dense runners of dust blew past, filling my eyes and teeth with grit and burning my throat. 
    My hackles were up, more so than usual. I kept my eyes on swivels, but this far down the wharf there were no other people in sight, just boarded-up warehouses