Dustfall

By E. S. Martell

CAN THEY SURVIVE IN A WORLD RUINED BY INTERSTELLAR DUST?

Interstellar dust is falling all over Earth, and humans are mutating into monsters. Raf can barely get enough food, and finding romance is the last thing in his mind. Then she shows up, and life suddenly isn't worth living without her. 

Now he wants her, she wants him, and the mutants want both of them - to eat! 

The alien dust has begun to free the monsters hidden in Earth's life forms, but will the two survive when the deadliest creature appears?

"An engaging and intriguing tale, full of suspense  and enough plot twists to make a sober person dizzy." John Earle

2021 Medal Winner! Florida Authors and Publishers Association President's Awards in Adult Science Fiction.
"You need to read this one!"

• Language: English
• Publisher: Second Initiative Press
• Release date: Dec 11, 2020
• ISBN: 9781948063036

E. S. Martell

Eric S. Martell set out to become a scientist when he was five. He has a Ph.D. in psychology. He taught himself programming and spent years in software design, creating everything from early childhood learning software to military training modules. His primary personality flaw involves being interested in a multiplicity of subjects. As a result, he learned energy healing, makes a living investing in and selling real estate, and is a black belt in Tae-Kwon-Do, an airplane pilot, a scuba diver, guitar player, outdoorsman, and naturalist. He admits to being addicted to both science and science fiction. He researches all of his books and works to offer believable science with compelling characters and realistic action. His science fiction books cover a trilogy based on an alien invasion apocalypse, possible interplanetary political structure, space travel, advanced weapons, quantum physics, hunting, war, romance, time travel, and strange worlds. His short stories are found in several anthologies, but he specializes in full-length science fiction novels. His creative process involves asking questions, such as what would happen if the Earth passed through an interstellar dust cloud that contained mRNA? That led to his 2020 novel, DUSTFALL. That story involves a young man meeting an attractive girl at a time when most humans have become flesh-craving mutants. The falling dust has released the inner monsters in Earth's life forms, but the real mystery is the identity of the most dangerous mutant of all. The Florida Authors and Publishers Association has awarded three of his novels (Dustfall, Cyber-Witch, and Pirates of the Asteroids) their coveted President's award. His primary writing goal is to provide readers with gripping stories they cannot put down. He encourages inquiries and takes reader suggestions seriously. You can find notices about new books, free short stories, opinion posts, and preview pages on his author blog at http://EricMartellAuthor.com. Facebook users can visit ESMartellbooks for additional information. He is also on GAB at https://gab.com/emartell and MeWe at https://mewe.com/i/ericmartell.

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ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

Thanks to 3P Editing and Adriana D’Apolitano for catching my inevitable errors. She makes my books far more readable.

Melissa Stevens of The Illustrated Author is responsible for the look and design of the interior. She makes the text easy to read and nice to view.

Finally, great thanks to Kelley York of SleepyFox Covers for the great cover art and design.

1

BASIC SURVIVAL

The line on the rig farthest to the north up the beach tightened, and the fishing pole bent, threatening to pull itself out of the deeply buried piece of PVC pipe that he used for a rod holder. Whatever was on the hook was big. He checked the four surf-casting rods to the south. Nothing there.

Before running for the active pole, he paused to look at his hands, a habit that he’d adopted once he figured out some of the possibilities. He shook his head negatively, recognizing the fear that was behind the practice. He wanted to quit worrying about it but couldn’t. He noted that his hands were still human, at least as far as their appearance. He breathed a deep sigh. Maybe he wasn’t paranoid after all. It was a rational fear, considering what had happened to many people, animals too.

The day had been clear, the wind was onshore, and the tide had just turned. The air temperature was cooling quickly as the sun vanished into the sea to the west. The water was cold, and the wind sucked the heat out of his body.

Rafael started toward the bent pole at a trot. The fish probably wasn’t too large, or it would have already taken the rod out of the PVC. He wasn’t worried. He’d learned to drive stakes into the sand to serve as anchors, securing each pole with a length of nylon cord.

He sped up because the PVC tube was shifting. The fish might be larger than he’d thought. That was unexpected good luck. A large fish could feed him and his mother for a couple of days. Two days without having to hunt or fish would be a welcome respite. It was getting more dangerous to walk the four miles to the gulf, and a bit of rest would be nice also.

He glanced back at the other poles as he approached the bending and vibrating rod. The sky looked different than it had just a moment ago. It wasn’t the setting sun, either. Except for some low clouds way out over the water, the sunset had been clear.

He looked behind him, fearful of what he might see. His heart-rate accelerated. It was a skein of dust that had approached from the east, hidden in the darkening sky.

He sped up. It was essential to land that fish quickly. Once the dust began to fall, things could happen fast, and he knew from experience that a single skein could quickly multiply to an all-out blanket of the space-borne particles. A massive fall could last for days or weeks.

The stuff had started months ago as a thin haze, but it had gradually increased in intensity, falling more often and more thickly. It seemed that the planet was entering a thicker cloud of the cursed material. The stars were barely visible at night. Only a few showed through thin spots in the dust cloud.

While society still existed and before most people had died or changed, a scientist had posted that they’d discovered RNA particles in the dust. The particles weren’t frequent or widely distributed at first, but their density gradually increased and the molecules began to cause problems.

The Internet had failed shortly after that, as had all forms of communication. Rafael wasn’t sure, but he suspected that there weren’t any people left to maintain the infrastructure. The dust had an electrostatic aspect to it, which meant it clung to electrical lines. The local sub-station, just down the road from their house, had attracted a covering quickly and then had shorted out, resulting in an explosion.

There had been no power since then, and that had been months ago.

He and Mom had learned to cope. His previous biology courses had been useful. He owned an antique medical-grade microscope that allowed him to sort through samples of dust for living creatures. There had been a few. Now there were more in each sample. He shook his head disparagingly. He had less and less free time. Finding food had turned into his main focus. Besides, it wasn’t as if there was anyone interested in his discoveries. As far as he knew, everyone still living had their hands full keeping fed.

He reached the pole and grabbed it. The circular hook required no jerk to set it. It was designed to slide out of a fish’s throat and hook on the corner of its mouth as it swam away. He began to crank the reel.

It was heavy. The fish was large and strong. He cranked and pulled the rod, then looked at the sky. The skein wasn’t thickening, but it was gradually moving in his direction. It wouldn’t be good to be directly exposed to the fall. Too many people had found that out the hard way.

The fish made a run, and the line stripped off the reel with a whining sound. He held tight, praying that it would tire while there was still some line on the spool.

It slowed, then stalled, exhausted from the effort. Rafael took the opportunity to look to the southeast. The skein was closer but looked to be thinning. Maybe there was time.

He cranked and worked the rod, then cranked again. The fish was moving toward shore, regardless of its preference. It moved to the side, then turned toward shore and accelerated, coming directly at him. He cranked wildly, trying to keep the line from tangling.

There was a splash beyond the breaking wave, and he saw its fin come out of the water. A shark! He kept the line tight and backed, dragging his catch through the final inches of water. It was big, maybe ten feet in length. Shark meat wasn’t the best, but one that size would feed them for several days.

The species wasn’t immediately discernible. Rafael pulled it onto the sand and started forward, then jumped back. It had rudimentary legs and was using them in a manner that suggested it had done so before. He had a momentary vision of the catcher becoming the caught.

Fortunately, it wasn’t fast. He dropped the rod and unhooked the club from his belt. It wasn’t a real fish billy, just a two-foot section of re-bar with a nylon lanyard. He took two steps to the side, then jumped in and thumped it hard on the skull. It thrashed toward him, but he had leaped back.

He circled, the shark trying to turn to follow, but its legs weren’t good at that maneuver. Besides, it seemed dazed. Another leap in and two solid thwacks finished the fight.

The dustfall was getting thicker again. Rafael hit the fish once more. It didn’t move. Dead. It was now urgent to get what he could, grab his poles, and head for shelter.

He hacked off rough fillets, folded them into his backpack without taking time to clean off the sand. It was a shame that he couldn’t take the time to butcher the fish properly, but the dust was moving up the beach faster than before.

He grabbed the rod, cut the line rather than trying to unhook the shark. It might still have a snap left, and he couldn’t risk injury. He shifted the backpack, then started at a trot toward the other five poles.

It was now a race, and the dust seemed to be gaining. Rather than take the time to wind in the lines, he slashed them, tucking the rods under his left arm. It hurt to lose the hooks and fishing line, but he could get more at the marina if he were careful.

He’d parked the two-wheeled cart by the third pole. It had rod holders, and he stored the four rods, then turned toward his last two. It was clear that he wouldn’t make it. The dust was moving toward him on a strengthening wind. He looked up and saw a major plume extending behind him for miles to the north and parallel to the beach. It might fall for hours.

Home was out of the question. It was the safest place, but there was a maintenance shed on the far side of the parking lot across the road from the beach entrance. He could lock the door from within, and that was the deciding factor.

Rafael dragged the cart through the interminable stretch of dry sand, panting with effort. He passed the lifeguard station and the picnic pavilion, then reached the road. The parking lot offered a better surface of packed sand and shells. He accelerated to a near run, pulling the cart as quickly as he could toward the shed’s sanctuary.

There was a crunching sound, and he turned, startled. A small RV was coming directly at him. He gaped. It had been months since he’d seen a moving automobile. Lack of power meant that gas couldn’t easily be pumped. Besides, there weren’t many people willing to risk driving.

His heart sank. The driver was a woman with skin the color of light mocha. She probably intended to run him down, then take his equipment. He dodged to the side, expecting the RV to speed up and swerve. Instead, it stopped, and the passenger window rolled down.

2

CANNA֙E

Get in! The dust is nearly here.

He shook his head and pointed at the building, meaning that he’d go there. He didn’t trust people. They weren’t helpful these days, even those who were still completely human. Besides, her skin was much darker than his. He allowed himself to look at her face. It was pretty, surrounded by curly hair and graced with a dazzling smile.

Don’t be stupid, boy. The door’s unlocked. There might be one of them in there. My van’s all you’ve got, so get your ass in now.

Obeying the direct order without thinking, he opened the sliding door and threw his rods on the floor, followed by the cart, then jumped into the back area, shrugged out of the backpack, and closed the door just as the larger particles of dust began to patter on the roof. Get up here and strap in. I’ve got to drive fast before this mess gets worse.

He slid beside her, trying to squeeze into the passenger seat without touching her. Society had died in the past months, but he’d lived his life as a second-class citizen before the dustfall started, and habits died hard. He looked at her dark skin again and couldn’t think of anything to say. Before he could collect himself, she addressed the issue head-on.

I’m Canna֙e. Canna֙e with no last name. I gave that up a while back, and I don’t care about your race. Living people are too few and too valuable for that old way of thinking. Besides, my grandmother was white, so...

Her voice trailed off. Rafael looked at her face more closely. The dust was getting thicker, and the light was fading, but he could see that she was quite pretty. Even more so than he’d initially thought. Dark, thick curls of hair flowed down in a way that could almost have been dreadlocks but wasn’t. She had brushed her tight curls smooth.

He summoned up his courage and asked, Canna֙e?

She turned her face directly toward him, and his mouth dropped. One of her eyes was brown and the other a startling light blue.

Yeah. That’s the reaction I usually get from guys. Shut your mouth. I can see that you’re a good looking male, but mouth-breathing doesn’t enhance your looks. And don’t go asking about my name. My mother was interested in history. Canna֙e was where the North Africans under Hannibal beat the pants off the Romans.

Her voice sounded angry. He closed his mouth, almost biting his tongue, then said, Uh. Thanks for picking me up. I wasn’t looking forward to the maintenance shed. It can be locked from the inside, but the tin walls aren’t dust-proof.

She nodded. This little RV is sealed. Caulked all the cracks with silicone sealant myself. The air-con system goes through a HEPA filter. We’re safe in here unless enough of them come around to stop us. That’s why I’d like to get over the Intracoastal bridge and into town. I’ve got a big garage downtown that’s safer. Now hold on.

She hit the gas and tore out of the parking lot, cornering sharply onto the bridge road. They flew over the raised bridge, then shot down the far side.

There was a human form standing in the dustfall directly in the road in front of them.

Canna֙e said, A dumb one. Some of them are smarter.

She didn’t slow. There was a bang, and the van lurched.

You shouldn’t hit them like that. You might damage your radiator, he said, wondering at her disregard of what had once been human.

I’m not the dumb one. Didn’t you notice the reinforced bars on the front? I could plow through a whole crowd of them without damage.

He leaned back, holding to the armrests with white knuckles. Okay. I guess you know your vehicle.

I guess I do. What’s your name, boy?

He looked at her profile. Pretty, but not polite. I’m Rafael DiGenoa, and I’m not a boy. I’m eighteen.

Hmmph. You look like a boy to me. She glanced at him, then seemed embarrassed. Sorry. I’m eighteen, too. I’ve been fighting men off for so long that my attitude isn’t always the best. Oh, and I’m sorry about jumping on you about my name. It’s been a problem for me all my life, so I kind of overreact. She returned her attention to driving. The dust was thicker, and the road was difficult to make out.

He made a non-committal sound. Ergh. I guess I can understand that. Make a left just ahead.

Huh. What? We’re going to my place. I know the way.

I’d really better get back to my home. My mother is a worrier. Besides, she’s hungry. We haven’t had any food for a couple of days.

You got food? In your backpack?

Her attitude betrayed her interest. This could mean danger, especially if she was armed. He looked discretely. There was no sign of a pistol, but that didn’t mean anything. She could have one in the side-pocket of the door. All he had was his knife and the piece of re-bar attached to his belt.

They had a gun—a .38 revolver, but he always left it with his Mom. Just in case someone or something broke in. He could run faster than most of the Others, but his Mom had a bad hip. The gun had to stay with her.

Canna֙e turned left, with no further prompting. Maybe she wasn’t going to be a problem after all.

Look, boy, uh, Raf. You don’t mind if I shorten it, do you?

That’s okay. I answer to Raf as well as Rafael. It’s another four blocks, then right.

Okay. Uh, Raf, would you? I mean, do you have enough to share?

He thought of the shark meat. He could give her a third and still have enough for two days. He was sure he’d catch something else in that time. He amended that thought. The dust storms were becoming more frequent, and that made fishing difficult. He could scavenge through some more of the nearby houses, but everything had already been picked over.

The only things worth finding were canned or bottled. It had been long enough that some of the cans out of the few he’d discovered were leaking. Those were no good. He didn’t even bother picking them up. Bottled fruit was usually better, but there’d been a bottle of peaches that had made both him and his mother ill for a couple of days.

Still, scavenging could be done quickly, and it was mostly inside in case there was a dustfall. The main problem was sometimes the houses were occupied. Others or maybe animals. He threw rocks through the open door or windows to test. If there were an Other inside, it would always respond to the sound. Animals tended to run away.

Canna֙e slowed the van. Which way now?

Oh, I wasn’t paying attention. Sorry. Right, then straight for a mile.

Well? She glanced at him showing her blue eye for a moment, then switched back to the road ahead.

He thought about it for a second longer, then decided. She was being helpful and going out of her way for him. Fair was fair.

Sure. I’ve got enough shark meat to split. You might have to soak it in saltwater overnight to get it edible. I don’t know. I’ve never seen a shark like it before.

Her tongue touched her lips for an instant. It made her look more attractive if that was possible. Raf sighed. She wasn’t likely to pay attention to him. Society had changed years ago while he was just a child. He’d read enough to realize that history was always like that. One group fell from power and status to be replaced by another. Most of the newer history books told a different story, but Mom had an old one that he’d read. He knew that things had been different in the past.

The presence of more melanin in one’s skin gave status in the new order. Unfortunately, the focus of society had been on social justice, not on hard science. No one had foreseen the Earth moving into an interstellar dust cloud. No one could have predicted that the cloud would carry mutagenic RNA.

Society hadn’t been ready. Humanity hadn’t been prepared, and ninety-five percent had died within three months. Of the five percent left, over half of them were gone within another six months. Now there were a few people—real people, like him and his Mom, and this odd girl left. They were, by necessity, creative and dangerous. Canna֙e had to have a weapon somewhere, or she’d never have risked picking him up.

Were you planning on robbing me? he asked.

What? No! I was down the beach road poking around in some of the mansions. You’d think those rich people would have plenty of stored food, but I didn’t find anything. Maybe it was already looted, I don’t know. Anyway, I saw you cross the road before I turned to go over the bridge. The dust was getting thicker, so I took a chance on you.

Thanks. I’m safe. I don’t attack people who don’t attack me. Like you said. There’s too few of us left. Human life is valuable. Besides, I figure you have your resources, too.

She laughed. Yeah. Well, sure, I do. I can’t afford to take too much of a chance.

What I figured, he said. I’ve only got my billy and knife. I’ll willingly share my catch with you. You’re going out of your way for me.

Canna֙e slammed on the brakes and cursed simultaneously. Damn! There’s a bunch of them, and they’ve dragged something across the road.

He’d been looking at her and not where they were driving. The Others had dragged something—it looked like a boat trailer—into the right-of-way. They weren’t going to be able to push through that.

Back up and take the first right. We can detour around them if we’re lucky. I haven’t been that way for a long time, but the road should be open.

The van’s tires spun in the dust as she reversed hard. The corner appeared, and she turned the wheel, shifted into drive, then accelerated down the side street. Some of them had started to chase the vehicle, but they were left behind. Like most of their kind, they were slow. It was only the odd one that was super-humanly fast.

Now, where?

I’d like to take the first turn, but we’d better go a couple of blocks farther. This road dead-ends at a canal. We can turn and parallel the canal for a half-mile, then get back onto the main road. If we turn too quickly, those things might catch up to us, if they’re smart enough to come through the yards, rather than staying on the streets.

They’re smart enough for that. They figured out how to block the road, didn’t they?

I’d say you’re right. The dumb ones couldn’t have done that. Maybe you’d better drive faster.

She accelerated just as a figure shrouded in the dust jumped in front of the RV. There was a thump as the passenger side jumped a few inches.

Ha! Won’t try that again, will you, Dummy?

Raf gulped, trying to quell his stomach. Despite their differences, the Others were or had been human before the dust came. He didn’t much like the idea of killing someone. He amended that to killing something. Something that had been someone once. The Others weren’t human any longer. There was a range of susceptibility to the biological mutagens in the dust. He suspected it had to do with blood type. His Mom was type O-negative. She’d showed him his hospital birth record, and he was type O- negative also.

Of course, that wasn’t definitive. It wasn’t like he’d carried out a survey or something. There weren’t many real humans left in the area, and those he knew of weren’t forthcoming. They were hostile and defensive and not given to conversation or even helping each other aside from a little cautious bartering. He supposed that their attitude was due to the shortness of food and necessary supplies. Everyone had to look out for themselves. There wasn’t enough to go around, so their hostility was to be expected. Why be nice to someone who might take the resources that you needed?

Another thought occurred to him.

Uh, Canna֙e, what’s your blood type?

She snorted, a distinctly feminine sound. Huh. What’s it to you? You thinking of qualifying me for your baby or something?

Sorry. I shouldn’t have asked. I was wondering about whether blood type had anything to do with the Others. You know. Why we don’t mutate, but they do. I’m O-neg, and so is Mom, so I just thought... He trailed off. He wasn’t used to talking to girls, or anyone, for that matter.

It had been so long since things had changed. Raf felt out of practice. He frowned. No, that wasn’t right. He’d never been in practice. He’d never dared to talk to girls, even when things had been normal—the old normal. Now the new normal was even worse. Besides, he had been cautioned never to act too casual with anyone with darker skin than his. It was or had been, he corrected himself, too easy to be accused of overstepping his place.

He tried again. You can’t just ask an Other, you know.

Canna֙e laughed. You could, but they’d be too busy trying to eat you to answer. If they were successful, they wouldn’t be able to talk for their mouth being full. They eat quickly, you know.

Yeah. I know. I’ve seen them attack each other. Some of them are weaker.

True. It’s funny how the slow ones are stronger than the quick ones. I guess it works out. The quick ones survive by being quick. The slow ones are easy to catch, but they’re usually stronger and harder to kill.

He nodded, wishing he hadn’t asked her anything that seemed intimate. It hadn’t been appropriate in the past. Before the dust, her type didn’t associate with his kind of people. He knew a bit about history, and things had been reversed for a long time. There was a brief period of almost equality, but forces that wanted political power had exploited the situation and changed the groups’ roles. His people had become the minority and had been subject to discrimination as a result.

He shook his head. He wasn’t sure about the exact sequence of events, but it wasn’t anything to bring up with this strange girl. He corrected himself again. He thought of himself as a man. Maybe a young man, but a man, so being the same age as him, she probably thought of herself as a woman. Best not to think of her as a girl. That could be interpreted as insulting.

The van slowed, and he looked up. Canna֙e was looking at him strangely.

Why are you looking so sad? I’m helping you. Do you want to get out and go it on your own?

No. I’m sorry I asked you about your blood type. It’s none of my business.

That’s foolish. I didn’t mean to be off-putting about it. I don’t know what it is. You didn’t take that baby thing as a put-down, did you?

He recognized the turn ahead. Turn right here, and we’ll be back on the main road again. Uh, I guess I, well, I thought I offended you.

Raf, I’m hard to offend. Maybe I’ve been on my own too long. I know I’m difficult. Back when my parents were alive, they always told me I was a problem. I don’t know my blood type, okay?

Sorry.

Sorry, what? Why are you always sorry?

I’m sorry your parents are dead, he said, looking at the road in order not to meet her eyes.

It happens. Where’s your father? Dead? Mutated?

I don’t know. He left us way before the dust came. I don’t know where he went. He paused, wondering if he should explain more, then added, Drugs.

She nodded without saying anything, then turned the van onto the main road. How much farther?

Oh. Just down to the next corner, then right three blocks.

You’re maybe too close to where those Others were. Is it safe there?

It has been, but there haven’t been many Others in the area that I’ve seen. That was the biggest group of them that have been around. I hope she’s okay.

Canna֙e stopped in front of the small concrete-block house. This it?

Yes. I’d ask you in, but Mom would be frightened. Besides, she’s not used to visitors. She, uh... Best not to get into it. He changed the subject. Let me get some of the shark meat for you, then I’ll get out, and you can go to your garage.

She nodded slowly. Got it all figured out, don’t you? Think I’m too good for you, right?

For some reason, that hurt him. He could feel his face flushing. Maybe he was angry or embarrassed. He couldn’t tell, but then he found himself answering bitterly. That’s right. Your people made it clear that they were better than mine. But, you know... He paused, collecting his thoughts. It’s funny now. Now there aren’t enough people for it to matter much. Besides, nobody is friendly now. Everyone is on their own. Thanks for the ride and all that, but I could have done without. The maintenance shed would have been fine. I don’t need comfort or rides.

She drew back slightly. "Touchy, aren’t you? Look, I’m sorry. I said I was difficult. That should have been warning enough for you. Sometimes I say things in ways that come out wrong for what I meant. I hurt people’s feelings without even trying. I’m glad I picked you up, and I’m happy to drop you off