Reno awoke from his dreamless sleep—or at least he assumed it had been dreamless since he couldn’t remember anything.

His eyes opened to the sound of the tent flaps violently flapping, as if a stormy wind was battering them from outside. But there was something else, like the sound of rain hitting the sides of the tent. However, something was off; the noise didn’t quite match the usual sound of rain.

Reno’s eyes suddenly widened, and he got out of his bed. Could it be what he suspected? He quickly moved to the whipping entrance of the tent and unzipped it just a tiny bit.

As soon as he did, a warm gust of wind hit his face, followed by an onslaught of tiny, painful sand particles carried by the stormy winds.

The sand hit his skin, causing him to recoil a few steps. Reflexively, he zipped the entrance back up almost immediately. Once it was closed, he wiped his face with his hands, trying to brush off the sand. Luckily, none had gotten into his eyes; otherwise, they would have stung terribly.

Finally, he turned his gaze back to the entrance of the tent. The situation was clear—a sandstorm had arisen while he was asleep. It was a bit unexpected because in all the time he had been traveling through the desert, he hadn’t encountered one. And now, suddenly, out of nowhere there was one.

Nature was truly unpredictable.

He let himself fall back onto his bed, his eyes focusing on the clock next to him on a table. The time indicated that it was already evening; the sun hadn’t set yet, but it would logically be low on the horizon.

Reno had slept through the entire afternoon.

He rubbed his eyes thoughtfully. What should he do now? He wasn’t really tired anymore, but there wasn’t much to do either. He had decided to talk to his father tomorrow, and he certainly wouldn’t be wandering back to the valley in the sandstorm. If anything, he’d have to wait until it subsided.

Now that he thought about it, how long had the sandstorm been there? Logically, it should have only arrived a few minutes ago because it had been the reason he woke up, most likely.

As he pondered, embraced by the whirling sand outside, protected only by the thin walls of the tent, he suddenly noticed that uneasy feeling inside him again. The feeling with its origins somehow linked to the ruins, at least he thought so.

So, it was indeed still there; the surprise of the sandstorm had only briefly overshadowed it.

Reno massaged his temples.

“You’re persistent, aren’t you?”

A humorless smile spread across his face.

In an attempt to distract himself, he started thinking about the sandstorm again and began pacing around his quarters.

Sandstorms usually lasted around three hours, but of course, that depended on many factors, and he should take that information he once picked up from some wild life documantery with a grain of salt—grain of sand, in this case.

Such sandstorms were one of the main reasons for desert formations and the changing patterns of dunes. They transported tons of sand from one corner of the desert to the next, constantly reshaping the landscape.

It reminded him of the stories his driver had told him on the way there. In the past, the locals in this region believed that sandstorms were manifestations of sand spirits that wandered the deserts forever, gradually expanding their realms over time.

Of course, he didn’t believe that, but it was still fascinating to think about such legends and the stories the human mind created to rationalize unexplained phenomena. It brought the most vivid fantasies to life.

The strange creatures carved into the walls of teh building by the unknown civilization were probably such fantasy constructs as well. Maybe Dr. Dieb and the others were imagining too much, and they were just altered forms of the already existing desert spirit engravings of other civilizations that lived in this region thousands of years ago.

The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

He sighed loudly.

"Whatever... I hope this sandstorm ends soon."

Time passed slowly in the spacious tent, and Reno had already grabbed an ice-cold drink from the mini-fridge and was lying on the couch, focusing on suppressing the ever-present feeling of unease.

By now, he could hardly wait to get out of there. He had considered talking to his father about the situation tomorrow but had already dismissed the idea again. Nothing would come of it anyway.

Why would his father listen to his suddenly heat-crazed adopted son, who classified his unfounded fears as not irrational but very real? Even he was confused by himself and wouldn't listen to his remblings. He knew he must've sounded like a lunatic earlier that day when he told him about his dark feelings in all seriousness.

All he could say for sure right now was that the farther he got from the ruins, the less significant the bad feelings in his heart became.

But it were so many things at the same time, he realized. Not just tension and fear, though those were the strongest, but also repulsion, contempt, and even a bit of hatred mixed in.

Reno wasn’t sure and confused by this cicrumstance. But that didn’t matter. As soon as he left, everything inside him should settle down again. He was almost certain of it.

That’s why he would ask his father this evening if he could fly out by helicopter tomorrow. That would save him some time in comparison if he only talked with tomorrow morning.

Of course, he would have preferred to fly out tonight, but logically, it was too dangerous and difficult to navigate in the dark. He wouldn’t take that risk; he hadn’t lost his ability to thing logically, after all.

***

An hour had passed since he woke up, confirmed by his clock, but the sandstorm continued raging outside the tent.

At the moment, he was lying on the couch, holding another refreshing drink in his hand. Reno had gotten used to the flapping of the tent and the drumming of the sand against the walls. It was almost relaxing, not like the sound of rain but close to it.

His eyes stared at the ceiling, no particular thoughts in his head when he suddenly noticed something - a barely perceptible change in the wind and the sand particles lashing against the walls from outside.

His eyebrows furrowed.

Had the wind gotten a little stronger…?

Had the sound of the particles hitting the tent walls grown louder?

He listened a bit longer, and his pupils dilated slightly as he found confirmation.

The answer was yes to both questions. The pattern had suddenly changed.

His mood shifted, and he became slightly tense, but not because of the ever-present feeling inside him - this was a different trigger.

A few more seconds passed, and Reno got up from the couch. His attention was focused on the wind outside the tent. Then, suddenly, he heard something—the distant sound of metal scraping against metal—the vehicles.

His face suddenly turned visibly pale.

The roar of the wind grew even louder, as if someone had drastically turned up the intensity. The scraping of metal didn’t stop, and he suddenly heard the shouts of people from somewhere—panicked and muffled by the strong winds and sand in the air.

Reno didn’t stand there paralyzed for long. He had a bad, really bad hunch of what was happening.

With a frantic movement, he wrapped a turban around his head, slipped on his shoes, and threw a long cloak over his shoulders.

As he headed for the exit, he grabbed his medical kit, which he had already repacked, and unzipped the tent entrance.

The stormy winds immediately pressed against his body, so forcefully that he struggled to step out of the tent.

But somehow he managed and soon found himself outside, a sudden adrenaline rush gifting him more physical power than usual. The winds whipped around him, causing his ears to ring. Masses of sand swirled in the air, threatening to obscure his vision.

He ignored these conditions as best he could, squinting his eyes into narrow slits, his head slightly lowered, bracing against the wind.

Without wasting time, he started moving in the opposite direction from where he had come from a few hours earlier, the direction of the excavation site.

Behind him, the roar of the wind grew stronger and louder. The distant screeching of metal had mostly ceased but still lingered, transported by the winds. But now he could hear another sound - the sound of tents collapsing.

He more heard shouts, but far quieter and fewer than a minute ago. There weren’t many people left in the camp; most had trekked into the valley in the last few days. He also didn’t see any silhouettes of people nearby.

This didn’t calm Reno in the slightest; if anything, it only heightened his terror.

He would have liked to help the people, but how? If he ran back, he would surely just become another victim. Besides, he had no orientation and was in a panic himself.

'Damn it! Damn it! A damn tornado in a sandstorm!'

His teeth ground together as he fought against his panic and berated himself for not being able to help the workers.

Nevertheless, he kept running into the darkness of the storm—it was darker now, the light of the sun barely coming through, and soon it would set completely. Then it would be pitch black.

Reno fixed his mind on one thing—running. Always in the same direction.

He had already covered a certain distance and could no longer hear the creaking of metal or the shouts of people. Only the deafening lashing of wind and sand echoed in his ears. His muscles burned with every motion.

Now he found himself facing another, though not unexpected, problem.

His obvious panic from the current situation mixed with the noticeably growing tension inside him as he got closer to the ruins.

Reno’s heart seemed to grow heavier the closer he got.