the horizon. A little rivulet snaked its way through the sand about a kilometre away. Apart from
that, a mass of coarse, fulvous yellow laid in front of Tyson and Lotte. A vast, empty field of sand
stretched all around them. A few cacti stood about. A makeshift lean-to made of black metal stood
behind them.
“You built that?”
“Yes. I took whatever was left of ze plane when I dragged you out. There is nothing much of it
now” She thrust a thumb behind. It was only until now when Tyson noticed the metal frame of a
soot covered aircraft barely a few hun-dred meters away behind the lean-to.
How did I survive?
Tyson wasn’t sure if he had said it out or not, but Lotte answered “Ze pilot ‘ad made a final
attempt to glide the plane to safety, but we crashed.”
Lotte showed him around the homemade refuge camp. It wasn’t much. Supported my four
poles, covered with some badly burnt sheets of metal, a few sheets of what could have been
airplane blankets were put in the corner, with a small table that might have been taken from the
first class cabin, but at least it could a substantial temporary home.
The two waited day after day, surviving on barely some stale and smashed crackers, bent,
burnt and dented cans of beverages, all washed down with some desert water, and they took
whatever they could scavenge from the airplane’s kitchen. Still, no one came to the rescue.
“We’re running low on supplies.” Tyson told Lotte the afternoon on the sixth day following the
plane crash. “By now people should be searching all over for us!”
Abruptly, a huge black cloud loomed in the distance. It was moving with incredible speed.
“Look! What is that?” Tyson yelled to Lotte in alarm.
Lotte peered out of the shelter. Her eyes were wide open, and her jaw dropped. “I think zat is a
sandstorm! Come here, quick!”
The sandstorm was closing in on them fast. Hundreds of kilometres of sand speeded towards
them, like millions of galloping horses racing each other to take the lead. Tyson remembered
reading about how sandstorms are impossible to outrun, and is terrible dangerous. Just as he
rushed into the lean-to, darkness enclosed all around them. He quickly pulled his shirt over his
nose and mouth. He looked aver at Lotte, and she was sitting besides the wall doing the same. The
wind pushed Tyson down, and he was forced to grab hold on a stray sheet of metal.
The storm passed almost as quickly as it came. Sand was stuck all over his body, even in his
black hair. Tyson choked on some sand that went into his mouth. He looked over at Lotte and burst
out laughing.
The ceiling of the shelter had been lifted out, together with parts of one of the walls. Behind,
most of the airplane components were blown away, leaving only the engines and frame.
“What are we going to do now? We have no food and supplies.” Tyson said exasperatedly.
“I suggest we follow ze rivulet until we find a place zat is in’abited.” Lotte said as a final resort.
Brushing sand off themselves, they trudged all the way to the river, and jumped in to and
ridded all the arid sand. They filled up a few thermos flasks and put it into a sack made from
sandy airplane blankets they retrieved, together with some extra blankets.
They started to walk down the river, occasionally stopping to drink or refill their flasks. Their
lips were parched and their legs were sore, but still, they continued. Looking back, the campsite
was now a tiny dot in the distance. When night came, the two hid between two large rocks as
a shelter, piling some of the unburnt airplane blankets around the area, making themselves as
