The leader took a careful look around, seeing only the guards' eyes on him, and he closed his own, concentrating. "Show me!" he demanded silently, and as his lids opened, the wind gathered strength. A two-foot dust whirl rose off the dry ground, spinning wildly toward him. It broke apart against his legs, covering his jeans in thick dust, and Adrian's heart thumped. A sand storm.
Observant eyes watching, Kenn joined Adrian and opened his notebook without being told, erasing his neat mental chalk board with one swipe. He wasn't sure exactly what had just happened, but it gave him a flash of the determined woman on the way to her son, and he kept his eyes on the page, so Adrian couldn't see the guilt there.
"We'll only have an hour. It's moving fast."
Kenn's eyes followed Adrian's, and he too frowned. Their mountain view to the South was becoming obscured by the wall of danger racing towards them, the sandy wind beginning to beat on their tents, tarps, and cars. The dogs were now barking in an agitated manner, the livestock trailers able to be heard too, and the Marine's gut unclenched from the boring resignation he'd woken with. This would not be an average day. "I'll keep 'em rolling."
Adrian lit a Winston, working on details, and Kenn shook his head at the Level Two Eagle from Neil's team, who'd stopped nearby. Jeremy kept going at the denial, frowning.
"We have to roll in the camp by at least half a click. It's too big to protect." The leader took his knife from his boot and knelt down to draw in the dirt. He made deep marks to keep the wind from distorting it, thinking the sound of tent flaps smacking harshly in the heavy wind was a warning few would understand. This storm would kill as many survivors as the blizzard had. Nature was pissed.
"The Mess in the center. Line up seven rigs on the redline in front of it; back them in as close as you can get. Make the wire tight and put a bathroom camper on each end. The weight of the water will hold them better than a semi. These two ends have to be right up against the corners of the Mess, and then line the other vehicles up behind us, sideways, big to little. It'll create a barrier. Put tarps on the sides to close it off. Tie 'em to the trucks, but watch for gaps. If they billow in the wind, we'll be one big sail."
Both men looked up at an odd whine to the wind, just in time to be hit with a small tornado of dust as high as a car. It slapped at them with hundreds of bits of stinging sand, and Adrian's dirt map disappeared.