Lost In Lagos

Chapter One: Up, Up, and Away

Here's an old story I never finished. I wrote it a long time ago, and it's not finished. Plus, when I first wrote it it was in third person. Now it's first. So it's kind of like a new story. I'm sure it will change as I go. So comment, vote, and tell me what you think.

You know what's worse then sitting between a screaming baby and an old man hacking up a fur ball? Puking all over yourself at 36,000 feet above the earth.

The plane jolted and dipped again. I grabbed the barf bag. But the nastiness, burned its way back down. Whew, close call. Two chili cheese dogs, large fries, followed by a Dr Pepper chaser. Not the smartest choice before boarding a plane heading to my final resting place. But how could I pass up a last meal like that? Especially when mom said I could have anything I wanted for breakfast. It'd be like the last time I'd taste normal food again.

I glanced across the aisle at Mom, Dad, and Rach bouncing around like those fireflies in that mason jar Rachel shook when she was six. She wanted them to light up. Instead, they saw the light and died. Probably from brain bleed or something. Actually that seemed like a better way to go then being trapped in an germ incubator and puking all over myself.

Mom said if I stared at the horizon, my nausea would die down. She also said I'd love the compound where we'd be staying before our own place had running water. My stomach gurgled. What did she know? But this was not time to argue with the cluelessness of parents. This was the time to find the horizon. I looked out the window. Yea right! Finding a skittle on a bus floor would be easier than finding the horizon as we soared through the clouds a thousand feet above the earth.

My head pounded as the pressure inside the plane built, the roar of the engine screaming above the crying babies. Stop the ride I want to get off! Maybe some tunes would help. I dug into my backpack to find my earbuds, but was assaulted by some flowery perfume from the lady behind me. My eyes started to water. Stupid allergies.

Air. I need air. I reached for the air knob above my head and turned it on full blast, hoping to chase away the millions of microscopic germs floating around the mobile cesspool. Deep breaths. Stomach settled. Barf bag returned to seat pocket. Big sigh. Maybe now I could get some sleep.

The plane hit a pocket of turbulence and bounced around. I clutched my plastic cup, the Sprite splashing onto my hand. Great! I wiped it dry on my jean shorts, raised the cup to my lips, and hoped to settle my stomach, but the liquid missed my mouth and dribbled down my chin.

"Chase, you're making a mess." Rachel, my ten-year-old sister, rolled her eyes from the aisle seat next to me. Smirking, I took another sip, letting a little more fall from the corner of his lip.

"Mom, he's being gross!" Rachel turned to mom who sat next to her absorbed in a language tape. With Rachel's dark hair, blue eyes, and tiny, turned up nose, she could be mom's twin, except for the thirty year age difference. Me, I took after Dad. Dark eyes, sandy brown hair, and the ability to make the best of any lousy situation. Well, at least I did pretty well with that until Dad decided to pack up the family and move across the world.

I stuck out my tongue and taunted Rachel. Her face turned red, and she pulled out a mission's book as the plane finally steadied. I sat back and smiled. My Mission accomplished. Ever since Rachel had sided with Mom and Dad about the move, I took advantage of every moment to make her life miserable. We'd alway stuck together before, but now that her loyalties have shifted, I had no allies. No way I could count on her to have my back.

I glanced at my watch. Fifty-nine more minutes before we landed. The big movie screen in front of me went blank. Finally. Why'd they pick Milo and Otis? I looked around the plane filled with dark-skinned people dressed in clown-colored clothes. Maybe because these people don't speak english. I reached into mu backpack and found iPod touch I got early for early birthday present. Gee thanks, Mom and Dad. Much better than the celebration I'd been planning for the last three years with my besties since kindergarten. Me, Matt, and David. The three amigos. What would they do without me? I couldn't imagie. What would I do without them? Whatever? I blasted Switchfoot to help me forget I was moving to Africa. Didn't work.

Africa? Might as well be outer space. It was 9:01 am back home. Not changing the time on my watch was my way of protesting the move. How could Mom and Dad just up and decide to become missionaries right at the beginning of summer? No asking us kids. Just a matter of fact, "we're moving to Africa." Sure, mom and dad talked about it over the years, but I never thought they'd go through with it. But they did. Now my life was over, and there was nothing I could do about it.

The plane dipped and creaked as if it was falling apart like a project held together with cheap glue. Here we go again! I reached for the armrest to brace myself, but instead I grabbed my sister's cold, clammy hand. Rachel's blue eyes bulged with fear. Mom looked over mustering up a smile, but she never had a good poker. I cringed and sunk into his seat. Maybe I wouldn't make it to Africa after all.

The plane lurched forward and I jumped in my seat, practically cut in two by the seatbelt, but safely secured. My iPod wasn't so lucky. It sailed across Rachel's lap and landed at her feet. Instinctively, I reached across Rachel's feet to save the iPod, but the rumbling from beneath the floor board frozen me in place like Elsa. Wait, that wasn't rumbling, it was mumbling. Rachel was praying.

I strained to hear, but she didn't make any sense. What? An attack? No way. It was just a little turbulence, right? God wouldn't let our plane go down. Not when we were supposed to be on a mission for Him. But just in case, I probably should pray. I shot up to fast, the queasiness in my stomach back in full force.

I will lift up my eyes to the mountains; from where shall my help come?...My help comes from the Lord, uh... What was that prayer we had to memorize in Sunday school? If only I had been half as interested in the scriptures as I was in the cute blonde with the braces. Man, that prayer would come in handy right now. So would the cute blonde. No ways I wanted to die without ever experiencing my first kiss.

Uh, protect me from evil... keep my soul...guard my going out...my coming...The plane took another dip, and Chance braced himself again. And my going down...from this time forth and forever. Amen (Psalm 121:1-8 NAS)

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, but actually was ten minutes according to my watch set at central standard time, the plane steadied and the captain's voice came over the intercom. "Sorry, about the turbulence. We should be arriving in Lagos, Nigeria in half an hour."

I let out a big sigh. Guess there's no turning back now.

Without warning my queasy stomach churned like an angry volcano. Heat flooded my body, then my face. I cupped my left hand over my mouth, waiting for the eruption. But I reached for the barf bag, my molten chili dog rose, fiery and furious. I moved his hand away just in time as the ragging force exploded into the white sack and on Rachel's shoes.