The Death in the Gobi Desert
Ying Wa College, Ernest Chun Ting Lam, Fiction: Group 3
M
ark Twain once said “Everyone is a moon, and has a dark side which he never shows
to anybody.”
The words reverberated in John Wright’s head as he sat in the cock pit of a
helicopter. His best friends at school had persuaded him to go on their boring trip
to the Gobi Desert, and his parents had signed him up without a second thought. He sighed and
turned around to see Hiro (short for Hiromasa) and Wong –Long, chatting about the exciting
things in the desert
“Did you know?” said Sam enthusiastically, “This desert has hot summers and cold winters.
Isn’t that cool! And that it is currently expanding because of desertification!”
John stopped listening.
After a few minutes, he asked “Can we go back to the hotel now?” The pilot smiled and said
“Don’t worry kid; we’re near the edge of the desert, like about 50-100 kilometers to the nearest
town. Ok! Lets-” Suddenly, the helicopter went spiraling sending off hundreds of alarms. John was
filled with panic as the helicopter dipped down. The pilot flicked all the controls and desperately
tried to straighten the helicopter but it was falling fast and was precariously near a rising sand
dune, then the engines groaned and the helicopter rose up again.
“Whoa! That was a bit scary,” said the pilot “I think the engines were jammed. Well, shall we
keep going?”
Before any of them could react the wings of the helicopter stopped moving and they plunged
into the towering sands.
John woke up with double vision; he shook sand out of his hair and spat out wads of sand.
He surveyed his surroundings and saw that the helicopter had been demolished; parts of the
helicopter lay strewn across the golden sand. He stood up shakily and found that a gash had
opened up on his stomach, the wound was not deep but it stung like crazy. He walked towards a
mound of dust and shook it. Hiro groaned and grabbed John’s hand and staggered up. He too had
suffered minor injuries. But Wong-Long wasn’t as lucky as they were. He had broken his hand on
the impact.
Wong grimaced and said “That’s why we wear seatbelts gentlemen.”
They found that the pilot had gone missing, so they started salvaging what they could: Sheets,
tents, bags full of canned food, 4 bottles of water, torches and a first-aid kit. John quickly took
out bandages and treated all of their wounds. Hiro was starting to freak out,
“What are we going to do? We’re stuck in the middle of nowhere, with no map or compass and
only a few bags of canned food!”
“Listen, the pilot said we were 50-100 km near the town, we may walk.” said Wong.
John nodded and started to pack the stuff equally-distributed into their bags.
“In case we get lost or split up we have enough to survive.” John said.
Then he took out his Swiss army knife and led them out of the crash site.
For hours, they walked through the sweltering desert, trying to navigate through roads that
seemed to be merged with the sand. Hiro, who was not an athletic boy, and was already panting,
they saw a shrub that was twelve feet high.
