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1.
Kenna
“So, uh...you’ve done this a ton of times before, have you?” I ask nervously and I could just kick myself.
It’s so damn typical of me to get into this kind of a mess. I’m in Egypt, which is the only thing that’s going according to plan but the rest seriously isnot. As a journalist, I’m here to cover a story about the Nile River and its effect on the wild life, and so far so good. The problem is I’m out here all on my own. My photographer ditched me, muttering something about food poisoning and the helicopter I’m about to climb into looks like it was manufactured around the same time that dinosaurs roamed the earth.
It seems to be as ancient as its pilot but he was the only one available, and I hide a sigh.
“Don’t you worry, little missy,” Mr. Cairo says, twirling his white, bristly mustache. “In my hands all beautiful women are safe.”
Ugh...what a charmer. Boy, am I looking forward to the ride with Casanova here...
Sweat drips down my spine and I tug at my clothes, fully aware that I’m inappropriately dressed in a too tight pencil skirt, sandals and an oversized shirt. I should’ve worn something lighter, linen maybe but it’s not like I’m used to this kind of heat. Or these kinds of jobs. Usually, I just get the mundane stuff nobody ever bothers to read and even though I’m a little cranky, I’m also excited for this opportunity.
This is my chance to show my boss I’m not some spoiled heiress who’s had everything served to her, which is exactly what that old grump thinks. I’m a serious woman and I want to be taken seriously. In my stuck up family, I’m the only female who doesn’t believe a useful way of passing your time is drinking protein shakes and gossiping over lunch at a five star bistro. They all think I won’t last, my family, my boss, probably even my cat, Mrs. Potts.... all think I’m going to give up at the slightest bump in the road.
But I, Kensington Lane will prove them wrong. Yes I will, and with my head held high and a determined pucker to my mouth, I climb into the helicopter as if it’s not a big deal. But it is a big deal. It’s crammed and the windows have roughly the thickness of a napkin and I fan myself.Don’t freak out, don’t freak out...
Mr. Cairo jumps in beside me, assuring me that I don’t need to be afraid. That obvious is it? I pick up my water bottle and take a sip and I’ve already popped a pill for motion sickness. Tightly holding on, I try not to yelp when the helicopter lifts, going higher and higher, and then we’re flying in the air. I refuse to look down, trying to convince myself I’m with an experienced flyer and that I’ve just been spoiled with those big, safe airplanes.
Tugging at the straps of my purse, I stare straight ahead as we glide over rooftops and buildings. A sane person would’ve bailed but if I tried, I bet my boss would’ve laughed his socks off. Shaking my head, I nod to myself to strengthen my willpower. This is going to turn out great.
I drag a deep breath when we cross the desert and Mr. Cairo tries making small talk but gives up when my responses come out choppy. Gulping, I look out the window but I shouldn’t have done that because it’s a really long way down.
Tensing when we hit a bump, I look at Mr. Cairo. “What was that?” I ask frantically and he grunts, shaking his head. On edge and feeling like my heart is in my throat, I clutch my seat. The weather’s fine so shouldn’t this go smoothly? There’s a sound of something popping in the back and I feel my face pale.
Is something wrong with the helicopter? Did Mr. Cairo not maintain it properly?
“Please tell me everything is as it should be?” I whine and I let out a whimper when he turns to me with dread in his eyes.Oh, just don’t let us...!
I scream when the helicopter drops like a bullet shot out of a cannon and Mr. Cairo grunts, trying to steer it upright but it’s not working. We’re falling in a dizzying speed and he barely manages to somewhat steady us before we crash into the sand. Dragging a panicky breath, I jolt forward, only kept in place by the seatbelt.I’m safe...I’m alright! I turn to the pilot.
“Mr. Cairo...?” I say hysterically and I shake him, slapping him in the face a couple of times. “Mr. Cairo!”
His eyes flare open, the whites huge as he looks around and he grabs me around the shoulders. “Get out!” he screams so ferociously he’s spitting. “Now!”
“Ahhh...,” I yell and we both rip our seatbelts off and that’s when I realize why he panicked so hard. Terrified, I freeze on the inside. We landed but we landed on...
Quicksand.
Flooding with fear, I run faster than I ever have in my life, gulping for air in panic when I feel my heel sinking. With a yelp, I throw my body as far as I can, flooding with relief when I roll around on a steady surface. But where is the pilot...? My eyes turn wide when only the propeller of the helicopter is sticking out and tears flood my face. Mr. Cairo is missing. The sand took him.
It just swallowed him right up!
Rubbing tears from my cheeks, I choke on a sob. Squinting at the sun, I drag a couple of deep breaths and let out a scream in surprise when I feel something stinging me on the inside of my thigh. Jerking, I look down in shock and I yelp and thrash until the black scorpion falls off my leg.
I’ve been stung. Oh for real! Shite, I survived a crash and quicksand but it’s the king of the desert that delivered the death blow.
Panicking, I stand, running away from the insect and I look down at the redness on my thigh. I need medical care and I search for my phone. Dammit! It was in my purse that went down with the quicksand. I need to find a hospital and panting, I look around and I go dizzy.
There’s no hospital. Nothing except sand and more sand.
Rubbing the sweat off my forehead, I feel my skin prickle and I clench my fists, swamping with anxiety when my fists feel weaker than usual.I’m okay, I’m okay. This is gonna be okay. I’m not sure where I’m going but I know I’m going somewhere and I use all my strength, deliriously wandering around and my throat is dry from thirst. My head’s spinning, my sight growing hazy and then worst of all...I feel my legs go numb.
Just what I needed and whimpering, I fall to the ground because I have no other choice. I crawl as grains of sand brush my eyes and the sun burns the back of my head. I have to make it. In movies they always make it.
Yeah, but I’m not an action hero. I’m just a foolish chick, rash enough to think she could be a serious journalist. Those tears start streaming down my face again, my fists gripping chunks of beige powder as I try dragging myself forward.
