Be Careful of the Dust Devils

by: Dennis R. Humphreys

Every morning was the same, not similar...the same. Randy Kruegur, an older gentleman, stumbled from his dilapidated RV, rubbing his untrimmed, graying beard and kicking at the Mormon crickets heading for the shade of his vehicle from the rising desert sun. The man had been living out here in the desert for twenty years as an escapee from the outside world of stupidity and selfishness he loathed. He left behind some family but more importantly he left behind the headaches of interpersonal relationships. He came out to this Northern Nevada desert to look for gold. He found some but just enough to supplement his social security, which was the only money he had coming in, and not that much of that.

The only thing the old man wore was his boots and a hat, nothing else. He didn’t worry about modesty because there was no one for whom he had to be modest. There were no neighbors. He was out in the middle of nowhere. Each evening as the day finished he hung his clothes on a clothes tree he stood outside his RV, leaving the dirt from the day outside. There was a washtub he kept half full of water. There he would sponge bathe and clean up. Afterwards, he would cook his dinner over a propane gas stove in the small RV and settle in for the evening. He carried a smart phone with him for emergencies and to stay in contact with a few friends and family but he also loved to play solitaire on it in the evenings. After dinner he would play a few games and read from the bible and a number of other books he had in the small closet. Most of the time the only things he spoke to were the Mormon crickets or an occasional bird. There were stripped ground squirrels that appeared once in awhile that had gotten used to him. Not too often an antelope would wonder by but the nights were quiet even with the plaintiff cry of a coyote. It was quiet all right out there but it satisfied Randy. While at one time he may have been considered a social butterfly he had since changed his tune, avoiding people except his trip into town every two weeks for supplies.

It appeared to be shaping up to be another hot day. The nights out here dropped to the mid fifties normally but during the day it would get up to be about 120 degrees. The humidity levels were at about fourteen to sixteen percent so staying hydrated was important and not over-doing it just as much so. He had purchased a UTV to drive around in rather than walking in the harsh environment. It was today’s prospector’s answer to the donkey. In it he carried his tools, water and a rifle. He carried a gun on him but he barely even saw a snake out here. Even scorpions were rare.

Randy stepped several feet from his vehicle, squinting over the landscape which was peppered with sage brush. Traversing an area in a UTV was the only way to go. Doing it by foot would be a disaster. The woody stemmed plants could grow up to about four feet but their voluminous branches donned small weak thorn-like stems that snagged your clothes and made traveling slow.

Randy pulled out his cock and began to relieve himself. He noticed a Mormon cricket standing there watching him. They gave him the creeps. Often he would see them watching him or coming close if he were still to inspect him. Randy could throw the remnants of food out on the ground and it would be gone in minutes because a thousand of the insects would descend on it at once, as if by magic and devour everything. Their sense of awareness seemed amazing, even alien.

“Take that my weird friend,” he said as he focused his stream of pee on him and sent him running to the protection of a bush, disappearing into the shade.

The white soil of the desert was a mix of volcanic ash, dirt and fine sand. When first wet and after the majority of water percolates into the ground the surface can get rock hard. There was usually a breeze, sometimes upwards of seventy miles an hour cooling things off a bit especially at night.

Shaking his cock free of the last few drops of pee he decided to do more but that was useless after a minute or so. The memory of the excitement of sex is what spurred him to try but the failure of any follow-through was a cold shower of awareness that his days of sexual prowess were over.

Before going back into his home he looked out over the dry landscape. There were several different sized dust devils in the distance, moving across the valley. They would stir up the light dust and create a huge cloud of alkalinity. He laughed to himself about some of the old westerns he'd watch as a kid where the posse would sneak up on the bank robbers they had been following for three days to catch them. How in the heck could they ever do that? Whatever moved in that environment, a horse or a vehicle would kick up such a cloud of dust as to be seen from several miles away. A posse of a dozen or so horses would clearly be seen before ever getting close enough to catch someone on the run.

Yeah, it would probable break a hundred and five today and no rain In sight. He’d been finding some gold a few miles away on the eastern downside of a good size hill. He would head back there again today and maybe spend the night in the UTV to get an early start tomorrow That way he could finish early before the hottest part of the day which was around three or four in the afternoon.

Emerging again from the RV with his rifle and a couple extra jugs of water, Randy loaded things into the UTV. He adjusted his goggle sunglasses which protected his eyes from the sun but also from the dust because they rested snugly all around his eyes, closing them off to any irritants. He looked out over the land noticing several more dust devils moving in their erratic journey. ‘If only I could find more gold, all this harsh environment could be more easily handled. I’d give anything to find enough that if I wanted to I could have the choice of leaving here,’ he said to himself as he stood there.

He started the utility vehicle and began moving forward only to see a large dust devil coming at him across the landscape. It kicked up a huge dust cloud that obscured the background. He stopped his vehicle figuring he would wait until the whirlwind passed. He sat there watching, looking closer, thinking he saw something else within the dust devil. Considering everything behind it was obliterated he wondered what this shadow was. Was the wind carrying a large bush with it? So he watched it, straining his eyes to get a better handle on it.

Just as the cloud came within fifty feet of him it dissipated and a figure emerged from the dust. The figure wore a long dark coat that was free of dust. The man emerged walking directly towards Randy in a straight line which seemed impossible because of the all the sage brush between the UTV and the man. He seemed to walk through them unhindered by their existence.

“You’re a distance out here,” Randy called to the man as he approached, “and you’re not quite dressed right for being out here.”

“Good morning, sir,” the man spoke in an uncommonly deep voice, with a slight accent that was somewhat discerning.” It is a beautiful day out.”

“If you like the kind of heat that’s comes with it, yeah…maybe,” the old prospector replied with a slight laugh. “What brings you out here anyway? In twenty years I’ve never run into another person out here.”

“Well, actually you do. I’m somewhat of an amateur geologist and I have some pertinent information for you that can make things easier for you,” the man mentioned. He was overall, dark and handsome. The kind of man women would be attracted to and attempt to gain his attention. He was tall too with curly, long hair brushed back with a couple of unruly pieces falling over his forehead. He had a large, endearing smile of white teeth that made you feel at ease, but a little uncertain as well.

“So you came to help me,” the miner asked suspiciously not knowing this guy and then out of the clear blue says he can make his life easier for him Last time he bought that crap, it cost him fifteen hundred dollars..

“Yes, that’s right… well… actually it’s a reciprocal thing. I can help you and you can help me,” he told him as he took a leaning position against the vehicle where Randy was sitting.

“Now how the hell can you help me?” Randy asked but his curiosity was aroused. At least the stranger was to the point and not a bunch of small talk. The old man hated small talk.

“A little while ago you said something to yourself. You said you would give anything to find enough gold to fulfill your dreams,” the man told him.

“How do you know what I said to myself? Yeah I said it under my breath but it wasn’t loud enough for anyone to hear let alone you because you weren’t anywhere in sight,” the miner questioned him.

“Listen, I can tell you exactly where to go and find a lot of gold…a lot of it, my friend. But I need something in return. I need your promise to recover your essence when you pass away,” the man said without hesitation.

“What!,” Randy answered incredulously as if the man were joking,” you mean you want my soul?

“Is that what you call it? You said it…then I guess I want your soul,” the visitor replied seriously.

“What asylum have you escaped from?” Randy asked as he started to move the UTV but then suddenly the engine stalled.

“Think of it, all these years you’ve been looking for gold. You’re not getting any younger but in the years left wouldn’t it be nice to realize your dreams? Besides, you already think I’m a crackpot. What do you have to lose? I’ll tell you where to look and you promise me your essence when you pass. If I am a crackpot you have nothing to lose but a half a day. If I’m serious you’re rich and everyone will envy you,” the man painted the picture Randy would like to see.

“Yeah, alright…you can have it just tell me where the gold is,” Randy said knowing full well the man was a lunatic.

“You have to tell me I can take your essence in trade for the gold,” the man said specifically.

“You can take my essence in trade for the gold. There…you happy? Now where the hell’s the gold?” the prospector retorted getting tired of the young man.

“Good. I’m glad you see it my way. Do you have a compass? Good. Go to where you are digging now. Walk two hundred feet due east exactly and dig by the large basalt boulder you will see there next to a smaller boulder of green andralucite.

Wow, Randy thought. This guy is really out there. He gives me a load of crap that sounds specific and real but easily made up, because until he goes to check it out, there can be no confirmation.

It took him about a half hour to get to his spot. He was tempted to just head to his dig and continue what he was doing but he was intrigued now. He was pissed at this dust devil guy but at the same time curious. He thought about it all the way to the hill where he was working. He finally figured he’d count off the steps and check to see if the basalt rock and the andralucite rock were where this guy said it was. At least he figured if he was right he had taken the time to check out the area at some time. A lot of work for a joke but then who knows what stupidity people consider.

He went to the spot he had been digging at for a couple of years now. He pulled out his lensmatic compass and sighted the exact direction east. His shoes were exactly twelve inches from heel to toe so it would be easy to measure off the footage by walking head to toe over and over which he did. He saw it ahead of time but as he came to a stop there was the basalt boulder about three feet across. Next to it was a greenish looking rock of andralucite about two feet by one and a half feet across. A slight chill went up the back of his neck regardless of the heat. This was beyond a guess but the trade completely left his mind at this point and the only thing he could think of was the gold. He said there would be gold there to make his dreams come true so he could now only think about that. What did the guy say ‘wouldn’t it be worth a half day’s time…’ something like that?

So he started digging using his mattock, pick and shovel alternately. He pulled out his metal detector after an hour or so and took a reading. It was high pitched and over a fairly large area. His heart raced and he tried not to get overly excited. The heat was getting worse but he continued in his excitement. Reading after reading the screen showed he was getting closer. He was familiar with his machine and while the gold reading would be similar to iron he knew there was a slight difference and it was there.

In his third hour he scraped up something interesting. It had a coating of brown on it similar to a really hard dirt but when he scraped the surface that color he was looking for showed through sending his heart into double time. It was a large nugget maybe twenty ounces, he thought one ounce for each year he was out here. That one rock was worth about thirty grand. It was here on the land he filed a mineral claim on several years ago to work the spot he had been working at all this time. It just shows how close you could be to the real find and not discover it. That guy was right. Heck he didn’t even know his name.

He continued to dig and found more gold he had ever hoped to find and the vein seemed to run downward into the hill. It was a good foot thick and who knows how far it might go.

The day ended and he had dug up more gold than he had in the entire twenty years he had been out here. He was excited but tired. The expectation of finding something is what kept him going. Now, after finding it he realized how tired he had become.

The newspapers were kind to him. They raised Randy Krueger’s efforts over the last twenty years as miraculous even otherworldly in a tireless effort in his search for gold as something of a story along the lines of Jason and the Argonauts search for the golden fleece. By the second month the media had changed their tune about him regarding him as a capitalist exploiting the poor. But who did Randy exploit. The only person involved in the entire experience of finding gold was himself but somehow the media felt this story more to their social liking.

When he found the gold he put about a million dollars worth away enough for him to live on the rest of his life comfortably. Then he approached a mining company about his mineral rights and the gold that was there. After a thorough investigation, the company offered him nineteen million dollars for his rights. He promptly sold his rights with a requirement, that the company pay him one hundred thousand dollars a year as a consultant for ten years with the remainder held in stock in the company. After all Randy considered the price of gold had been going up steadily and with this find his stock would steadily rise. In the meanwhile he would have plenty of money to live on well.

Yes, Randy made quite a media splash and a new gold rush even occurred because of his notoriety. It was the largest in recent years but Randy didn’t care he was too busy liberating his new found wealth. He began frequenting bars and buying everyone drinks. He was everyone’s best friend. Then because prostitution was legal he frequented the brothels, not necessarily for sex but companionship. However the stories he was some sex fiend were rampant and rumors about him having two and three women a night were common. Imagine at my age? Randy thought. But he was making up for lost time. He bought an entire wardrobe to impress those around him and took up residence in one of the casino hotels. He became a high roller so his hotel stays were cheap and he was able to partake of free buffets but he won a lot of money and then he lost a lot of money. He refused markers because he felt it was a fools path.

A few months into his new found wealth the old prospector felt funny. Something was quite not right so he went to the doctor.

“Mr. Krueger, you have a heart condition,” the doctor said as he came into the office and sat on the edge of his desk facing Randy.

“Doc, I’ve never had a problem with my heart, how can I have a condition?” the patient asked him.

“Well you’ve had this condition for awhile it looks like and that’s not unusual. People can experience mild heart attacks and not realize they had them. They might attribute it to something else…indigestion…a strain, but no one typically thinks it a heart attack and they need to go to the doctor,” the doctor explained.

“You say I had it for awhile?” Randy asked quizzically not fully understanding how this just came up.

“Yes, you have some blockage and what appears to have been a couple of heart attacks before…this was your third one and you’ve had damage,” the doctor further explained. “We need to get you into the hospital for surgery to repair the blockage. You could have a more serious heart attack if we don’t.”

“Sure Doc, when were you thinking?” Randy asked.

“In a couple of weeks…that’s the earliest I can do something for you but in the meantime I need you to cut certain things from your diet. Cut back on the booze. I’ll give you a list but you need to be going into this physically prepared. The operation isn’t unusual or anything and you’ll be back to normal in several days doing what you’re doing…well most of what you’re doing. You still need to continue watching yourself and what you do after the operation, the same as what you do over the next two weeks. Any questions?” asked the doctor matter-of-factually.

“Yeah, sure Doc, I got it,” the miner said getting up to leave. He always considered himself invincible and healthy living out in the desert all these years and being in relatively decent shape from working and not eating a lot of junk food those typical townspeople often ate. Oh well…he wasn’t about to tell anyone anything, he didn’t want anyone treating him any different if they thought he had a problem. He definitely wouldn’t tell his new friend, Myron, he met in one of the casinos. Myron and he were drinking buddies and they placed bets at a couple of the casinos together. What he liked about Myron was he took nothing seriously. They played jokes on each other constantly and died laughing about it. It would be hard to play jokes and laugh with the new knowledge of the old man’s condition. They played jokes on others and sometimes there were complaints because the casinos took their business seriously. But both Myron and Randy were considered high rollers and efforts were made to look the other way at times. Of course the more the two drank the worse they got. Most of the others around them just laughed it off as two old fools having fun but there were those who took offense as well.

“Where the hell have you been? It’s Mexican night,” the elderly gentleman said to Randy as he walked into the restaurant. “They’re already into the second trays.”

“I fell asleep in the hotel, sorry. I forgot to set the clock,” the prospector replied. “I’m not very hungry so I’m going to keep it light.”

“Are you alright, you seem a little out of it,” Myron asked concerned.

“Yeah, yeah…I just woke up, what dya expect?” he answered Myron a little brusquely.

They sat down at the table they normally took. It was a booth just beyond the wall separating the dining room from the buffet table. The top of the four foot wall had planters with fake philodendrons in them but the wall was short enough that you could sit in your seat and watch the buffet table to make a run for trays of fresh food coming from the kitchen.

“Hey watch that table over there of women. They just left to go get food. I dropped some fake dog pooh on their table,” Myron sided to Randy. Sure enough they got back to the table and one of the women jumped back and screamed causing one of the other women to scream. One of them covered the realistic pile with a napkin and they went to another table. Myron would makes piles of fake dog crap using chocolate, corn meal and wax and a few other things he’d throw into the mix. While it was still hot he would push it through a plastic bag where he he cut a hole and let it drop a few feet to the floor with just a few short squeezes so it dropped in segments. It was amazing he achieved such realistic crap but he did. He was the Michelangelo of fake dog pooh. Amazingly the reactions never got old. Among women there were basically three reactions that they never got tired of and elicited severe laughing among Myron, Randy and a few others they knew.

“That’s always funny,” Myron was saying as the attending waiter went to the women’s table. He came back by near the table where Myron was busy laughing and Randy was giggling and shot them a look. He knew the two and was use to their antics, so he was aware who created this masterpiece.

Randy didn’t go for seconds like he normally did but wiped his mouth with his napkin and wadded it up throwing it on his plate.

“You sure everything’s OK? You only ate half of what you normally do,” Myron inquired looking concerned at Randy. They were new friends but he liked him, and Randy was one of the few people to put up with sense of humor. Most people wanted to punch him out but the one thing standing in the way was his age. He was only a few years younger than Randy but he looked older. Randy was in good shape and being lanky looked younger. His hair was only partly gray and since he shaved his beard off coming in from the desert, he looked younger. The beard protected his skin from exposure all those years and shaving the beard got rid of a lot of gray.

“I told you I wasn’t very hungry,” Randy replied.

“I thought maybe you and I could play some craps tonight. That cute chick is on that passes out drinks at the table.

“No. I think I’m going to take a leisurely hot bath and read a little tonight before I turn in early,” Randy informed him taking another swig of water.

“Are you sure you’re OK. This isn’t like you,” Myron pushed further.

“I’m fine. I’ve just been having a little too good a time lately. I need to take it easy one night,” the old man said rising from his seat.

“You’d tell me if something were wrong?” Myron asked as he stood too.

“You’d be the first to know, believe me,” the buddy replied as he walked towards the door.

The next few days the old prospector was in the same mood. Myron tried to cheer him up recognizing his buddy was in some kind of funk. He played all kinds of jokes on the people around them and he’d laugh but not quite the laughs he normally got from him. Something was on his mind and he just wouldn’t tell him. He was off his eating as well. The buffets didn’t do what they used to for him. The dinner down the street where they met for breakfast wasn’t the same experience. Fran down there who was their regular waitress saw there was something wrong too and said something to Myron one morning. Myron agreed with her but he told her he couldn’t get anything out of his friend.

Several days passed and he was halfway to his operation. With one week left he figured he better come up with a story about his future disappearance for a few days. He decided he would tell them he was taking a plane back east to see his daughter he hadn’t seen in over twenty years and make amends. Myron was trying to get him to do that anyway and put together some will for family he would leave behind.

That night over the buffet Randy told Myron he was going to fly back east.

“I’ll go with you to the airport,” Myron suggested.

“No you won’t. I’ll be nervous enough flying without you making me more nervous with your jokes. I’ll take a taxi and I’ll take one back from the airport in several days. I figure I’ll leave Sunday night and get back here the following Sunday,” Randy told his friend.

“Did you call her to tell her you were coming? You can’t just spring it on her by showing up. She probably thinks you’re dead,” suggested Myron.

“I called her. Do you think I’m stupid?” responded Randy irritated.

Maybe thinking about doing this made his friend out of sorts. Myron thought if he had to do the same thing it would probably take weeks to get up the nerve. That was probably it but he wanted to do something memorable to get his friend and make him die laughing when he figured the hoax out and be in a better frame of mind to leave town. Finally figuring out the joke he mentioned it to Fran at the dinner and figured he’d execute the joke there when Fran would be around to support the whole thing. He went to a local printer and told him what he wanted. He needed the front page of the local paper printed with the headline and news he gave him as part of the hoax and he needed before Friday morning which was the day for the Friday special they never missed at the diner.

The days went slow. The evenings were the same, Myron as always, would execute practical jokes on various people including Randy, but never got more than a chuckle and then he would just go back off into mood. His appetite was still off and the dog pooh routine just didn’t hit him the same way.

On Thursday afternoon Myron went to the printers and got the front page and the back page in one piece so Randy wouldn’t become suspicious of tape or glue marks attaching just a front page to the rest of the paper he ordered it printed on newspaper stock. It was perfect. All he needed to do was to replace the outside page of the actual paper. The headlines and the top story were the important part of the joke.

Friday morning came and Myron walked to the diner as he always did. He made sure he got there before his friend and he sat down to a cup of coffee that Fran brought him.

“Now remember to just go along with me. Don’t offer any more information than I told you because if something doesn’t sound right the old fool will pick it up and smell the joke,” Myron warned her.

“Here he comes now,” Fran told him. “I’ll get some coffee for him.”

Randy came loping over to the table as Myron started just about the time Fran brought coffee.

“God Almighty did you hear the news this morning? It’s in the paper and all over the television,” he shouted slapping the newspaper in front of Randy.

It took Randy a moment to focus but he looked at the newspaper and the headlines.

“Yeah read it buddy,” Myron said jabbing the newspaper with his index finger,” some seventeen year old kid in Texas synthesized gold…synthesized it with his chemistry set or something. The price of gold already dropped this morning with the opening to the price of copper. They say the kid’s going to be rich now beyond belief but a lot of people with gold holdings will be bankrupt!”

“Yeah, governments that are holding a lot of gold are going to be in trouble,” Fran added not quite the planned response but it was OK. Randy wasn’t paying much attention anyway but was busy staring at the newspaper gliding over the lead story there.

Gold was worth the price of copper. How could that be? Twenty years of his life...poof. He had a million dollars in gold in safety deposit boxes in the bank. The deal he had with the mining company…their stock would be worthless and they’d be bankrupt. The hundred grand a year…that was gone. Randy’s reaction wasn’t quite what Myron expected. His hand moved to his arm in a frenzied, frightened motion he the blood rushed from his face. Fran immediately became worried and Myron suddenly thought maybe he had gone too far.

Fran ran to the phone while Myron went around the table to his friend as he collapsed falling from the booth to the floor. The talking in the room stopped. Silence fell on everyone as they turned to watch the man in the booth have a terminal heart attack. He was lying on the floor as Myron sat over him.

“Don’t die Randy. It was a joke,” Myron cried. “I was trying to make you feel better.”

But Randy just lay there on his back with one arm over his stomach and the other at his side. He had a slight smile on his face unaware of Myron or his surroundings. Then he saw it…a dust devil zigzagging across the desert valley. As it came to rest in front of him he saw a dark man step from it.

“It’s time to pay the piper Mr. Krueger. You got your gold now I get your essence. Come with me,” he said, as he led him into the whirlwind.