The Sandstorm
Clearwater Bay School, Charlie Hall, Fiction: Group 5
S
earching frantically, Eleanor scrambled round her messy, 6th floor apartment for a clean
pair of socks. Her flight from Calgary airport left in less than 2 hours and she had barely
started packing her suitcase. Eleanor had dark, shoulder-length hair and beautiful brown
eyes. She worked at the University of Calgary as a Botany Scientist. She was going to
meet Tyler and Justin, two other botanists that she often worked with, at the airport so they could
board the flight together and do some last-minute research before they arrived at Dalanzadgad
Airport in the Gobi Desert. From there they would get a bus from the airport to where they were
meeting up with their guide and their jeep, which would carry them around the harsh terrain for
the next 2 weeks.
After their long and exhausting flight, Eleanor, Justin and Tyler got onto their bus and settled
down for the journey into the heart of the desert. After about 30 minutes of driving along bumpy
dirt roads, the rickety bus came to a halt. All the passengers got to their feet and unloaded their
bags. Eleanor followed Tyler off the bus and instantly caught her breath. There was reddish-brown
sand for miles around. It felt like there was no way out. The ground beneath her feet shimmered
in the scorching heat. Eleanor checked her thermometer - 45 degrees celsius. No wonder she was
already sweating.
Eleanor, Justin and Tyler walked over to where their guide was waiting with the jeep that they
would be taking around the Gobi desert while they were on their expedition. They introduced
themselves. They had a wonderful guide called Bat who was very experienced about the Gobi Desert.
They spent the next 3 days camping, driving and taking pictures of the exotic wildlife and
plants that they found. They were even fortunate enough to be able to get a snapshot of the
incredibly rare and endangered Gobi Bear, “There are believed to be less than 50 of these animals
left in the wild today,” Bat explained sadly. They also spotted a Jerboa hopping happily across the
savage terrain.
One evening, as they were about to set up camp for the night, they heard a distant rumble
“What’s that noise?” asked Eleanor, worriedly. It sounded nothing like anything they’d heard
earlier on their trip. “It sounds like thunder,” Justin added “I wonder what it could be.”
“Oh no,” said Bat, suddenly turning pale, “We need to find shelter, fast! That is a sandstorm.”
They all sprinted towards the jeep and piled in. Eleanor’s heart was beating a thousand times a
minute as she clicked her seatbelt in.
Bat turned the key in the ignition and almost flipped the old jeep over in his urgent attempt
to accelerate. They sped away, bumping over rough the gebitan. Bat had told them that that was
what the chinese settlers called it earlier on the expedition. After what felt like forever, they came
across a small village made up of a dozen mud brick houses. Realising that all of their equipment
had been damaged in the rasping storm and that they had left all the tents and equipment that
they needed to support themselves whilst on the expedition, they pulled up next to the edge of the
tiny village, hoping that one of the villagers would be kind enough to give them a place to spend
the night until they could get on their way to the airport and, ultimately, Calgary. Nervously, they
walked up to the biggest of the small houses and bravely knocked on the door. A bearded, elderly
man came to the door.
