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There
came
the
sound
of
sand
sliding
behind
him
.
He
tried
to
see
up
the
slope
in
the
darkness
,
was
almost
knocked
over
by
the
cascade
.
It
trailed
away
to
silence
.
“
Mother
?
”
he
said
.
There
was
no
answer
.
“
Mother
?
”
He
dropped
the
pack
,
hurled
himself
up
the
slope
,
scrambling
,
digging
,
throwing
sand
like
a
wild
man
.
“
Mother
!
”
he
gasped
.
“
Mother
,
where
are
you
?
”
Another
cascade
of
sand
swept
down
on
him
,
burying
him
to
the
hips
.
He
wrenched
himself
out
of
it
.
She
’
s
been
caught
in
the
sandslide
,
he
thought
.
Buried
in
it
.
I
must
be
calm
and
work
this
out
carefully
.
She
won
’
t
smother
immediately
.
She
’
ll
compose
herself
in
bindu
suspension
to
reduce
her
oxygen
needs
.
She
knows
I
’
ll
dig
for
her
.
In
the
Bene
Gesserit
way
she
had
taught
him
,
Paul
stilled
the
savage
beating
of
his
heart
,
set
his
mind
as
a
blank
slate
upon
which
the
past
few
moments
could
write
themselves
.
Every
partial
shift
and
twist
of
the
slide
replayed
itself
in
his
menory
,
moving
with
an
interior
stateliness
that
contrasted
with
the
fractional
second
of
real
time
required
for
the
total
recall
.
Presently
,
Paul
moved
slantwise
up
the
slope
,
probing
cautiously
until
he
found
the
wall
of
the
fissure
,
an
outcurve
of
rock
there
.
He
began
to
dig
,
moving
the
sand
with
care
not
to
dislodge
another
slide
.
A
piece
of
fabric
came
under
his
