The Dust Eaters - flash fiction - BM Inspired

[farfromhome]

If you wish - Please add to the story.

The nameless know who they are.

"Freedom in Anarchy" was painted on the side of the trailer. Dust settled about it as it rolled to a stop. Miles from nowhere, a man exited the chop-top Chevy Blazer and looked at the ground.

"Virgin Playa... No one has been here since the "lake" dried up. This is a good spot... maybe a little closer to Soldier Meadows would be better... Whadya think Baby?"

Inside the Blazer, the man's wife shifted as she finished feeding their child in the car seat. She hopped down, grabbed a handful of the hardened mud and felt the dust slide over her fingers as she ground it in her hand.

"Yeah... a little further up... no too far or else those idiots won't find the camp even with the strobe.."

The man grunted something in agreement and both climbed back into their seats. Pushing the transmission into gear, the man felt the freedon of this place wash completely over him like rain - this whole place was his church.

"How is my little Bella doing? We're going to see all your friends this weekend! Isn't that exciting?" The words were spoken in "Baby Goo-Goo" talk.

"Dammit baby, Bella is a human, not a fucking Tele-Tubby.."

"Don't be a prick Striker..."

"I love you too..." Striker said with laughter in his voice.

The rest of the journey only took about 20 minutes. A suitable spot was located and they started to set up camp. "Suitable spot" on the Black Rock Desert had nothing to do with the ground other than it being stable enough to support your vehicle... No, a "suitable spot" was everything about the 360 degree view around you. Pick and choose how much desert you wanted between you and the shore of the ancient lake bed, then figure out how far away you wanted the mountains.

The scene would be riduculous anywhere else... Striker sitting on a beach lounger in the middle of the largest expanse of flat lake bed in North America with Baby and Bella in the trailer getting lunch together, the generator humming to power the AC. A burn barrel was the only other "equipment" visible. Watching the horizon, cold Heinekin in one hand, cigarette in the other, Striker could imagine nothing purer than this. A wind shifted the dust created by their journey to this spot and he watched "ancestors" pick up and dance across the Playa. He watched a distant dust storm pick up in the area where Black Rock City was being built, took a long drag from his smoke, and a deep pull of his bottle.

Freedom in Anarchy... This is life without rules or government. Miles from civilization, they could live the ideal - nothing they were doing was affecting anybody but themselves. Black Rock City was the place they called home for 3 months of the year - whether building it or tearing it down, it was home. People would joke about them taking "vacations" from building the city, but they just didn't understand. People couldn't fathom that the construction of BRC was hard work... its existence was taken for granted by so many that, often times, those who built it felt a good deal of animosity towards those who lived in it. They were seperate - apart... Like the party girls and boys of any major city, the majority of people had no clue, and plumbers, carpenters, and garbage men were seldon ever thanked or acknowledge for their vital roles. This was freedom from freedom...

As Striker reached for his third beer, he noticed the plume of dust heading for the camp on the horizon. He felt happy - he was a little buzzed, free, and friends were coming.

[Fat SAM]

The flatbed bouced gently as it passed over the large gravelly chunks at Playa entrance, smoothing out quickly as the tires rolled onto the hard packed white expanse of the playa.
The moment the tires hit the dust, Fireball opened the cooler and pulled out a pre-mixed rum and coke for herself and a beer for me. The beer was cheap, something in a black can. It tasted like nectar. This first drink was tradition; this was also the beginning of traditions to come.
"I can't believe we're finally here," I said. "I didn't think last week was ever going to end." The hairs standing up on the back of my neck and arms waved their agreement in the cold, dusty breeze. Tension drained out of my body in a stream that must have been visible from behind the truck and trailer.
"I'm so excited! I can't wait to set up camp and ride out to the man and say hello!" Fireball clapped her hands and shook her hips from side to side, wagging the tail nature had forgotten to give her.
The line of cars stretched off in two directions, like the week ahead. One direction represented the had-been, the other represented the will-be and the will-have-been. This week, this road, this line of cars, the as yet sparsely populated city, lights already twinkling...all perfectly analogous of our lives. Something about this moment always makes me wax philosophical.
The time is 11:57, Sunday night. August 27, 2006. Today is my birthday. At once, this is both my present and my gift, dig?
The line and the trailer rolled on.