Lost In Lagos

Chapter Two (Very Rough Draft)

I haven't worked on this story in years and I'm uploading as is... so there's bound to be inconsistencies and passive writing. I'm looking for feedback on the characters and story. Also, I'm in the process of changing it from third to first person, so you may see a switch on the parts I haven't edited yet. 

Stepping out of the plane door, I shielded my eyes from the blinding African sun. No cool air conditioned jetway to walk through. Just an open plan in the middle of the runway. The humidity of Lagos slapping me in the face like when walked into the steam room at the gym. I could barely last five minutes in there, how in the world could I deal with this? I took a deep breath than realized that was a mistake. I held the barf bag at a distance, the odor it emitted made me wish I didn't have such a good sense of smell. Or taste. I felt my tasted buds organizing a mutiny for being subjected to the aftertaste of digested chili cheese dogs and fries. My stomach was the only thing not complaining.

I climbed down the metal stairs of the plane, shaking as the steps shifted beneath my feet like at the fun house. Only thing, this wasn't fun. I gripped the guardrail and realized my legs wobbled as well. Figures I'd lose feeling in my lower extremities after that endless thirteen hour flight.

Rachel reached the bottom of the stairs, looked up at me, and smiled as if she'd come home from a long journey. What was wrong with her? Why was she so excited about the move?

It won't be that terrible, you'll see," she had said. " Just think of it as an adventure of a life time. You'll be like Tarzan!"

Thank God she didn't call herself Jane. Did she think I was some kid that could be bought by adventure in the African jungle? No, thank you. I was content to loaf my life away on the comfort of my own couch with game controller in had and Dr Pepper within reach like every other normal American teenager. In fact, I would official be a teenager in only two days or was it one? I didn't even know what day it was or time. I glanced at my watch. At least I knew what time it was back home.

Why'd Mom and Dad have to fly half way around the world to tell others about God's love? Couldn't they serve God in our church? Couldn't they have waited until I was in college? Or at least until after my birthday?

"Chance, when God speaks we must obey," Dad had said over and over again. But God hadn't spoken to me. "Your job as a twelve –year-old is to honor and obey your parents." Trumped by the scripture wielding Sunday school teacher aka Dad. How could I argue with the word of God?

Chance wiped his sweaty forehead and sighed long and loud, thinking about all the fun he could have had this summer. He would miss all his new friends at basketball camp, not to mention the old friends in the neighborhood. No days by the pool. No Wednesday Pizza with the youth group. No Friday night at the skate park with Matt and David. He didn't even want to think about all the food he'd be missing. He doubted there'd be a McDonald's or Pizza Hut in Nigeria. Chance clutched his backpack. At least he'd have his stuff to keep him happy.

Chance dropped the barf bag in the trashcan at the bottom of the stairs. Crowds of people pressed in on him and his family. The closest he'd come to a mob like this was with his dad at a Dallas Cowboy's game. He looked at the Nigerian men and women. Most of them wore long, colorful, patterned clothing. They reminded him of the clowns at the circus. He shook his head and looked down at his jean shorts and black t-shirt. No way would he be caught wearing those goofy clothes, even if the experts said it's important to blend in and adapt to their culture.

Standing in line for customs, Chance struggled to breathe. Back home in Texas was hot, but this humidity choked the breath from his lungs. He wasn't used to the heat, the crowds of people, or the disturbing smells. He pushed the hair out of his eyes, wishing he'd listen to his mom and got a hair cut before he left home. Sweat dripped wiped from his forehead, and dried his hand on his shorts. Why didn't the heat bother these people? Rachel pulled her long hair back in a ponytail, her face pale and covered with sweat. Mom squeezed Ben's hand, while dad carried Annie who pointed at all the people passing by.

Chance dragged his feet, gaining only inches every couple of minutes, but finally reached the glass customs booth. He collapsed against the gate. The coolness from the metal offered some relief from the heat. "Get off that gate." The big African man behind the glass yelled in a thick Nigerian accent. His scowl intimidated Chance, and he leaped off.

The man looked at Chance's father. "Mr. Charlie Starbuck? What is your business here? How long will you stay?"

Did this guy even know how to smile? What if all Nigerians were like him? Chance swallowed hard at the idea of living with a bunch of angry people.

Chance's father answered the man and didn't falter under the interrogation. After their carry-on bags were searched, they passed through the gate with no problem. Once through, people started pushing and shoving from all sides. A plump woman dressed in bright purple and yellow almost knocked Chance over as she embraced a thin young man.

"Stick close together," Chance's father said. "Don't ask for help from anyone and don't let anyone help you. Pastor Taiwo promised to meet us here."

"Dad, that guy over there just helped that lady with her bags." Chance tugged on his dad's sleeve as the African women pried her bag from the man's hand. "Why can't we get someone to help with ours until the pastor comes?"

"Listen, there's a lot you don't understand about this country." His eyes bore deep into Chance's, and then he spun around to scan the crowd. "The people grabbing bags want money and they see Americans as easy targets. We don't know the currency rates or how much we should give them. Some people might take advantage of us. Just stay close and do what I tell you." He turned to Chance's mother. "Angie, don't let the kids out of your sight."

"Chance, Rachel. Stay close," Chance's mother's voice trembled, and she pulled the little ones close. "Just keep looking for our bags and you'll stay out of trouble."

"Angie," Chance's dad called from a few feet away. "I think I see him."
"Mom, the bags." Chance tapped his mother's arm. The people jostled him as they reached for their own luggage.

"I'm going to meet him. Stay where you are. I'll be right back." Chance's dad called above the noise of the crowd, and then disappeared into a mass of Nigerians.

"Mom, the bags." Chance yelled, but she didn't turn around. "Rachel, help, I can't pull them off." He reached for the duffle bag, struggling to pull it from the conveyer belt as his own backpack pushed him off balance. Stumbling backwards, he bumped into a toothless man who waved his arm and shouted at him in a strange language. Chance tried to apologize, but it was obvious by the man's excitement, he didn't understand one word.

"I got it." Rachel grabbed the thick black strap. She tugged on the bag, but couldn't budge it. "Chance, help."

Chance hoisted his backpack over his shoulders and looked back at his mom who clung to Annie and Ben. She stared in the direction where his dad had disappeared into the crowd.

"Chance, help! My bracelet is stuck!"

Turning back, he saw Rachel still tugging at her bracelet, trying to free her arm from the luggage. He shook his head. Only Rachel could get herself into this mess. She looked back at Chance and hesitated. Sure, now she wants my help.

Chance tried to stifle a giggle as she trotted alongside the conveyer belt. The bags in front of her disappeared through a small, dark hole, and the belt seemed to pick up speed. Chance's heart began to pound.

His father told him to stay with his mother, but Rachel really needed help. He glanced back at his mom who knelt between Annie and Ben, whispering in their ears. Chance took a deep breath and ran to his sister. The dark hole, leading to who knows where, was just a bag away.

"Rachel, hold still." He pulled on her charm bracelet, but it wouldn't budge.

"Hurry, the wall!"
"Look out." Chance shoved his sister onto the conveyer belt, and they both disappeared into the darkness.