In the Desert
While I was going through some of Mom’s stuff, I ran across some of my own writings that I thought might have been lost with the crashing of a computer hard drive. One was a short work of fiction that I wrote for a college class.
The assignment had been to write a story composed within certain parameters. There were few directions as to how the story was to be written, but most of the other students took it seriously. Their stories turned out to be very serious too.
You know me, although I took the assignment seriously, the story was anything but serious.
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Mr. Bowland told us the title of our pieces was to be “Death in the Desert.” In the story, we were to be part of a rescue mission to save the lives of some people who had been in an airplane crash. There were nine survivors and I could only carry out five of the victims.
A huge sandstorm was moving in so those I left behind would probably die. My challenge was do decide which I would save and which I would leave. Our teacher gave us a little information on each of the survivors, and I had to decide which to take.
I played fast-and-loose with the part about the rescue crew and wrote my piece. With that all in mind, I give you my story.
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Death in the Desert
by:
Scott Matthews
I was on a routine flight out of Marine Air Station, El Toro, California with my three-person crew, when I received a warning of an approaching sandstorm, over my radio. I started to call-in that I was returning to base when my two-way radio sputtered and went dead. I had previously had trouble with it, so I wasn’t too worried.
I turned back toward base.
As I flew over the desert, my mind wandered back to the argument that I’d had with my wife earlier that morning. She had said that I didn’t know how to handle a check book and should let her take charge of paying our debts.
Suddenly, a flash of light caught my eye, instantly returning my mind to the present. Thinking it might be an infantry patrol which could contact main side for me, I dipped lower for a closer look.
On my first pass I saw nothing, but, as I circled back, I made out the wrecked fuselage of a twin-engine plane, nearly buried in the drifting sands. I landed my chopper and made my way to the craft.
Inside the plane I found nine survivors; the pilot had died in the crash. The survivors were: a retired army captain, Bill Hawks; his fiancée, Jess Fergittit; ex-Country and Western singer, Waylon Uffalone; a scientist who had recently found a possible cure for cancer, Dr. Thinghit Ovah; a wealthy and prominent socialite, Donna Wile; her twelve-year-old son, Sid; the young and beautiful actress, Mayah Thime; a preacher who had been working as a missionary to South American Indians, Bill Biblewaver; and the very successful businessman, Hugh Howard.
After their initial excitement at being discovered had died down a bit, I explained that I needed their help in making an important decision. Besides the crew and me, my helicopter would hold only five passengers. From the condition of the survivors and the fact that the sandstorm was moving in, there was a chance that those who stayed behind wouldn’t survive until a rescue team could find them again.
Waylon Uffalone was trapped in the wreckage and we couldn’t extricate him, so he would have to stay behind. We all agreed that Dr. Ovah’s research was of too much value to mankind to risk losing him, so he would go. Hugh Howard sad that he had lived a wonderful life and volunteered to stay. Furthermore, he would give $1,000,000 to anyone who would stay with him. Donna Wile insisted that she didn’t want the money and must think of her son; they must go. Bill Hawks said that he would accept Hugh’s offer, on the condition that his fiancée be allowed to go. Mayah Thyme sad that she was in the middle of filming an epic picture and demanded to go. The reverend Bill Biblewaver, remaining true to his faith, said that $1,000,000 would buy a lot of medicine for his mission if he survived. If he died, it would have been in the service of mankind. He asked to stay.
Suddenly, the irony of it all struck me. Not only had they decided who would go with me, but they had given me the answer to my disagreement with my wife.
What did I tell them, and what did I tell my wife?
To the survivors I said, “I will take Mayah Thyme, Sid, Dona Wile, Thinghitt Ovah, and Jess Fergittit. Hugh can pay the Bills and I will leave Waylon Uffalone.”
To my wife I’d say pretty much the same thing.
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There you have my story. True to form I made some small changes for clarity and correctness.
I hope you liked it.
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