Dust Devil On A Road

Jenny and the Preacherman took off walking down the road. It was all they could do since whatever kind of aircraft it was that buzzed them had overturned their car. It was a hot sultry day. One of those Kansas days when the humidity sticks to you and sizzles on your arms and face and you are ringing wet with sweat in about twenty minutes of exposure. Thunderheads were building up behind them as they walked East on the dirt road, the sun blazing in front of them, merciless in its mid-morning heat. Jenny put her hand and forearm up to shield her face and teased the preacher. “Why don’t you put your collar back on?” She turned and looked to see if he was as miserable as she was.
“I might as well, I couldn’t get much hotter,” the preacher reached down and picked up a rock, chucking it at a rabbit on the roadside. His shirt was totally soaked by now and he walked with his head down, looking at the dusty track in the road instead of the sweltering sun. The buzz of insects in the weeds added to his misery, like a reminder of the heat, the noise of them adding another level of suffering.
“It’s a good thing you’ve got a white shirt on,” Jenny continued to tease.
“That’s all I have is white shirts,” Preacherman picked up on the joking and offered one back. “And black pants.”
“Don’t you have like an old Grateful Dead T-shirt somewhere, or a pair of bell bottom jeans? Jenny picked up a rock and threw it at the rabbit, nearly hitting it and picked up another to throw as the rabbit ran straight down the road, kicking up little puffs of dust.
“If we stand still, the rabbit will come back.”
“Not with that thunderstorm bearing down on us,” Jenny offered back her own expertise in Kansas nature. “That rabbit will hole up just ahead of us, you better get another rock and try to get closer than ten feet this time. And, oh yeah, you throw like a girl.” Right then they heard the first thunder and felt the rumbling across the plains. “There’s the tater wagon arollin,” Jenny laughed.
“The tater wagon?” Preacherman laughed and looked at her with a sarcastic smile. “The tater wagon?” he repeated. “I’ve never heard of the tater wagon,” he stretched out the words, poking fun at her.
“Hey, that’s what my grandma told me as a kid,” Jenny shot back, “What the hell did you call it anyway?”
“Thunder,” Preacherman beamed at his getting her goat. He liked to tease as much as she did. “Looks like we might get wet the way that storm is coming, we had better look for some shelter.
“Gimme, gimme shelter, or I’m gonna fade away,” Jenny sang as the first big, cold raindrops splatted in the dust and were immediately absorbed, leaving no trace of themselves behind.
“I’m melting, I’m melting,” Preacherman scrunched down toward the earth like the wicked witch in the Wizard of Oz. The rain stopped and they felt the coldness of the few drops on their clothes, a welcome coldness to respite them from the heat. They both laughed and kicked up dust with the toes of their shoes. The storm wheeled to the North and they were spared from any downpour, but that just made the heat and the humidity more intense. No cooling from the passing storm, just more heat and the noise of the grasshoppers in the tall bluestem grass.
“What do you think that thing was, Preacherman?” Jenny asked.
“Do you have to call me that?” Preacherman looked at her for her reaction.
“What do you want me to call you, then, Father?” She was embarrassed and hid her embarrassment by using this offensive defensive question.
“No, Jenny, you can just call me Jack,” He smiled at her and kept on walking. “Where are we headed anyway?” He ignored her original question.
“Well, there’s not much out this way. Farms are few and far between and the next town is the one we were headed for. So we’ve got some more walking to do, Jack.” Jenny emphasized his name but not in a sarcastic manner. “What was that, a plane?”
“Yeah, a jet, I suppose.”
“You’re lyin’ out your teeth, you saw it as good as I did.”
“OK, then, I don’t know what it was.” The wind picked up behind them and they heard the roar of more thunder and high wind in the receding storm. A dust devil kicked up in the track about a hundred yards in front of them. It stayed stationary as they approached. “Hey, did you ever try to jump in one of those?” Jack increased his pace to try to get to it before it dissipated.
“Yeah, you get dust in your eyes and grit in your teeth,” Jenny lagged behind. Jack quickly closed the gap on the mini-twister. He didn’t care about dust or grit. The dust devil that had began as a small, gentle zephyr was now about twenty five feet tall and six feet in circumference at the top, outlined by the dust it was continuing to pick up as it spun in one place at the top of the rise in the road. Jack got to within six feet of it and stopped. He was being pelted with dust and small pebbles. He wanted to reach out and touch the side of it or jump into the center but couldn’t, the wind was too strong. Jenny caught up with him and grabbed his arm, trying to pull him away from the vortex. “Come on, Jack, you’ll get hurt!” She had to yell in his ear because the wind from the dust devil was louder now and it was still increasing in size. Jenny was afraid now. She had never seen anything like this.
“Over this hill, you will find transportation to Kansas City.” They both heard a voice, but not a real voice. It was like it was being broadcast into their minds. They looked at each other, intuitively knowing that the other one had heard the same voice. Jenny was the first to think.
“Who are you,” Jenny thought in her mind and Jack was astounded that he could also hear.
“I am called Star-Laren and all will be made known to you in a little while. For now, take the ride to Kansas City in the truck over the hill.” The dust devil collapsed and they were looking down over the other side of the Kansas hill.
“Oh my God!” Jenny exclaimed, “It’s Rafe and Slim.”