'No human should have to get up this early,' Marcus muttered under his breath. Not that muttering made any difference, the sand whipping around his heels made the same amount of noise as a hurricane. Except this was a hurricane made entirely of sharp grains of sand that cut into his skin.

Marcus swallowed, his mouth impossibly dry. He'd better find shelter soon, before the sand cut him to ribbons.

He tugged the weathered map from his pocket, squinting his eyes to examine it properly. So long as he was following the north trail, the emergency outpost should be less than a mile away. And he was walking north, at least according to his ancient compass.

So with hope somewhat restored, Marcus re-shouldered his pack and set to walking.

Three quarters of a mile away, Nelson was hotwiring the only computer in the emergency outpost. Well, hotwiring was probably too technical a word for what Nelson was doing, which involved a lot of cutting wires and pressing them together, only for nothing to happen.

Nelson cursed, cursing again when a hollow knocking made him jump and knock his head on the underside of the desk. Pain was quickly replaced by fear.

Someone was knocking. Someone was outside in the storm, knocking to get in.

'H-hello?' Nelson called, immediately feeling ridiculous. There was no way the knocker would hear him over the storm.

Grabbing a wrench, because it looked somewhat menacing and the knocker could be anyone, Nelson approached the door. It was easily twice his size, and five times as wide, with a wheel set into the centre. Nelson was loathe to put the wrench down to turn it but then the knocking started up again.

'Yes, alright, I hear you!'

It took him three full turns to get the damn door open, only for Nelson to nearly get flattened by the knocker falling on him like a toppled domino.

'Gerroff!' Nelson yelped, scrambling out from underneath the knocker like an overturned ladybug. His heart was pounding so hard it hurt, his breath the only sound, at least until the howling wind brought sand into the outpost.

Side-stepping the mysterious knocker, Nelson shouldered the door shut, noticing the other man's shoulders crumple in relief.

'Thank you,' the knocker said hoarsely, before taking desperate gulps from an almost empty flask.

'You're welcome,' said Nelson, only because it was polite. Then curiosity got the better of him and he added, 'What on earth possessed you to go walking in the sandstorm?'

'Name's Marcus,' the knocker replied.

Nelson crossed his arms over his chest. 'That doesn't answer my question.'

Marcus shrugged, clearly not bothered by social niceties. 'Is that computer working?'

'No,' Nelson said curtly. 'I'm... fixing it.'

Marcus looked doubtful, and really, who could blame him when the computer's guts were all over the floor?

'I need that computer,' Marcus said, 'I have to send a message.'

Nelson was loathe to admit he didn't know what he was doing, so in the end he settled for, 'I'm afraid it can't be repaired.'

Marcus scowled, climbing to his feet like every movement was an effort. 'Fine. Guess I'll keep walking.'

'You can't!' Nelson spluttered. 'The sand will rip you to shreds - more than it already has! If you're going back out there you need...'

'Need?' Marcus echoed.

'Transport.' Nelson said flatly. 'There's a... truck, out the back.'

Marcus looked somewhat abashed. 'I don't suppose you... I don't know how to...'

Realisation dawned on Nelson then about what this stranger was trying to ask him to do.

'Oh no, absolutely not! I won't drive you, I don't even know you!'

Marcus' mouth was a grim line as he looked at Nelson and said three impossible words. 'Don't you, Nelson?'