Hello, fellow Ribblr-ians! Recently, one of my friends on here, @ACD86, shared part of their story that they’re writing on here, and they inspired me to share part of my own story… which doesn’t have a name yet! I’ve attached the first two chapters in here, and I’d love it if you shared any favorite characters, feedback or just thoughts about it. And of course, let me know if you’d like another chapter!!
Sorry— it’s pretty long!! 😁😅
Chapter 1
I was in trouble. I was in huge, huge trouble. Instead of spending my spring and summer at the beach with my parents like I’d planned, I’d be spending it in a desert half way across the world. And I wasn’t even sure if I was going to come home.
Let me rewind.
There was a big announcement happening at work on the Tuesday my life came to a close. It was just a normal, boring day, but everyone was alert. And while typically the “big announcements” were just news about the company’s wellbeing, today seemed different. I knew we’d been having trouble in Bahrain with the power units, but this wasn’t “new” news by any means. In fact, we’d been dealing with the kind citizens of Bahrain tearing apart our hard work for about three years now. If they didn’t want power, that was their own fault.
Either way, as I walked through the bustling halls of Sterling Energy Global, something felt off. For starters, Jessica Parks, my boss, was absolutely nowhere to be found. She typically roamed the building during the early hours of the work day, checking up on everyone. As the company’s engineer, I usually just sat at a desk and waited for people to call me and inform me that something was broken. It was boring, but I got paid nicely, so I didn’t complain too often.
Steven Barone also wasn’t around. This was less odd, because Steve hardly left his office during the day. But a quick glance over through the windows of his office told me he wasn’t there either.
“Attention, Sterling employees,” A woman’s voice sounded over the office intercom. I braced myself for whatever news we were about to get. “Will Mike Lemming please report to Jessica Parks’ office? That’s Mike Lemming, please report to Jessica Parks’ office. Thank you.”
I heaved a sigh of disappointment. That was my name. What did they want with me? Of course, my fellow employees all turned to look at me, standing in the middle of the hallway undoubtedly with an expression of annoyance displayed across my face. Scowling at all of them, I made my way to the staircase to Jessica’s office. If I was in trouble, I wasn’t going to delay the inevitable.
Sterling’s office building was shaped like any normal building. It was six stories high, with a reception desk on the first floor, office cubicles on the second floor, meeting rooms on the third, more cubicles on the fourth, and then a bunch of random electronic stuff on floor five and six. I sat on floor two for most of the day, so I had no need to learn what was going on up there. There was a staircase in the center of the building, leading all the way from the first floor to the sixth. I walked from floor two to floor three, where Jessica’s office was located.
I walked into the office after taking a deep breath. Inside stood Jessica, Steve, our superintendent John Baker and another important person in our company whose name I wasn’t sure of. “I haven’t missed anything, have I?” I asked, after opening the door. Jessica’s long, curly brown hair looked frizzy today, and Steve looked tired, his shirt untucked and his hair ruffled. The other two men looked crisp and clean, in a professional manner.
Jessica nodded at me, and Steve smiled. “Wonderful,” He said, taking a seat at the table and motioning for me and the rest of the people in that office to do the same. “Let’s begin.”
That scared me. I took a seat by Jessica, two seats down from the head of the table. “Am I being fired?” I immediately asked, speaking before thinking. Steve laughed, and John gave me a half-smile that told me he was only here because he wanted something from me.
“You aren’t in trouble. In fact, you’re getting a sort of promotion,” Steve assured me. I furrowed my brow, glancing in John’s direction. He nodded. And then the other important man stepped forward.
“Hello, Mr. Lemming. My name is Peter Green, and I’m the head of the power company in Bahrain. You see, we’ve been having some issues at a US military base near Manama, where power units have been being destroyed by citizens. It hasn’t been a problem until now. The military base needs power, and the power units need an engineer who knows what they’re doing. And Steve and Jessica here have assured me that you’re the best engineer in the company.” Peter showed me an ID, which had a picture of him and his employee ID number underneath. I nodded, though confused.
Jessica and Steve watched me from across the table, and I raised my eyebrows at them before turning back to Peter. “I understand it’s an issue, and I understand I’m an employee for your company… but what does any of this have to do with me? I’m not following.”
Peter sighed. “We need you to go to Bahrain and fix all the power units that are affecting the base. You’ll leave in two days.”
“Wait, hang on!” I was pondering this notion, wondering how I’d ever gotten on Peter’s radar. “You want me to go to Bahrain, drive around in the middle of a *desert* and fix the power units that have been tampered with?” My eyes must’ve been wild, because I wasn’t processing the information.
Peter and John both nodded. “You know how to fix these things better than anyone,” John folded his hands over the table. “And we’ll give you all the information you need in the next two days. It’ll be a piece of cake.”
“Plus,” Peter added, crossing his arms, “the paycheck will be *quite* satisfactory.”
I rubbed my forehead, leaning back in my chair. “So you want me to fly to a military base, drive around the desert and fix all the power units.” Peter nodded again, looking satisfied with himself.
“That’s correct.” He smiled at me.
“Hang on, isn’t there an active war going on in Bahrain right now?” I asked, suddenly scared for my wellbeing. John sighed.
Peter cut in again, before John could speak his mind. “There’s no war. Just slight disturbances between American military personnel and some other people in Bahrain. They’ll be nowhere near you, I promise. You’ll be safe.
“And Jessica will give you all the information you need,” he said, checking his watch and standing, “because John and I must be going. But I’ll see you in two days, before your flight.”
With that, John and Peter stood, walked to the door, and exited the room.
Jessica cleared her throat, not leaving a moment’s hesitation. “Since it’s technically illegal to take commercial flights into Bahrain right now, you’ll be riding in a cargo plane.” At this, Jessica paused, looking at her feet.
Steve finished her thought for her. “...You’ll be in one of the boxes, without the pilot or anyone except us knowing you’re there.” I groaned, and slumped down further in my chair.
Jessica nodded, then continued. “And when you land, one of our… representatives will pick you up and drive you to the house he keeps on base. There’s one thing you should remember, though– the people working with and for us will be driving in Ford vehicles. If someone offers you a ride in a vehicle other than one of Ford, don’t get in. They’re trying to kill you.”
I groaned louder. “So you want me to go die trying to fix the power units in Bahrain?” Jessica nodded sympathetically. Steve sat down next to me, patting my shoulder and glaring at Jessica. “You aren’t going to die. In fact, you’ll be perfectly safe. One of our representatives, named Burton, will be there with you the entire time. And you already know how to fix these things, so it wasn’t really our choice on whether to send you or not.”
“If I don’t do this, will I be fired?” I asked, now worried for my livelihood. Both Jessica and Steve nodded at me, and I groaned. Jessica quickly took this as her winning the argument, and gathered her papers together on the table. Clearly, the conversation was over, and a verdict had been reached.
Jessica clapped once, stood quickly, and gave me a curt nod. “I’ll see you tomorrow for mission briefing. Right now… go home and rest. You’ll need your sleep.”
Steve smiled and clapped me on the back, leaving the room with Jessica while I sat there, pondering my life’s decisions and hoping Burton would be able to keep me living.
Chapter 2
“This is the cargo plane you’ll be getting on,” Peter Green pointed with his pen out the window of the cargo hold. “Do you have your belongings?”
I held up my backpack and suitcase. “Here they are. Are you sure I don’t need to bring an ID or some tools or something?” Peter and I were standing in a cargo hold near a US military base in Indiana. We’d driven two hours from where I worked at Sterling to this tiny building and a runway, and now Peter was standing next to a large crate in which I was about to be sealed. It made me question the authority of this government agent, considering that the best way they had to get me over to Bahrain was illegally on a cargo plane.
“No, no, Burton has everything you’ll need. And you won’t need an ID, because hopefully you’ll be staying far away from all military personnel, from both Bahrain and the US.” Peter nodded thoughtfully as I raised an eyebrow. Then he tapped the crate with his pen, smiling. I was sick of his tapping pen. “Time to go! See you in a few months, and if you ever need to contact us, remember to use the special landline Burton has in his house with the phone number I provided you. You’ll be in the middle of a desert, so there’ll be no reception or calling on any device except the landline we’ve installed in Burton’s house.
“Good luck!” Peter ushered me into the crate, holding out a power drill to me. “Keep this in here with you for when you need to get out. I’m nailing this box shut.”
I gulped, backing into the crate and bringing the drill with me. My suitcase, backpack and I all were able to squeeze into the small crate, leaving just enough room for me to sit down. “What if I can’t breathe?” I asked Peter as he took his nail gun and began sealing the crate.
“Don’t worry about that. You’ll be able to breathe fine,” he replied, very unconcerned with my wellbeing. “Perfect,” I muttered, sitting down as Peter closed me into darkness.
“You’ll be completely fine. The flight is about eighteen hours in total, but you’ll be stopping once for fuel refills. You have plenty of food and water, I’m sure, so you’ll be fine. Just remember not to break out until you’re certain that you’ve reached your final destination. Takeoff is in thirty minutes. Have fun!” And with that, the sound of Peter’s scuffed shoes got quieter as he walked away from me, sealed in a box.
About fifteen minutes later, I felt the ground move underneath me as I was transported into the airplane itself. Of course, Peter hadn’t been kind enough to write the word fragile across the box I was inhabiting, so I was bumped around in that box, getting hit in the head with my own suitcase and struggling to stay upright.
After the rumbling and moving stopped, I let out a shaky breath, took a sip of water, and grabbed one of my shirts out of my backpack to use as a pillow. It was going to be a long, long flight.
.+*^*+.V.+*^*+.V.+*^*+.
I wasn’t even sure how long I’d been asleep for when I felt the plane bounce and then stop moving completely. Groggily, I sat up, looking around in the darkness. I felt around for my backpack and pulled a flashlight out. It took me a moment to find the button on the side of the flashlight, but once I did, I shined it around the crate. There wasn’t much to see– just my suitcase, my open backpack, and the shoes I’d discarded two hours into the flight. I shone my flashlight on my backpack again to look for my watch, which told me that we’d been flying for roughly eighteen hours.
I groaned as I attempted to stretch my back in the small space. I felt my crate begin to move again, and I assumed I was being unloaded from the plane. I wasn’t exactly sure when I was supposed to break the crate open so I could start my mission, but I waited for a while after being moved just to be certain. After thirty or so minutes, I took out the drill and tried to figure out the best angle of attack on the wooden walls.
Peter had sealed me in from the right side, so I drilled a hole through the wood on the right top corner. Doing so left me in a cloud of sawdust, and I sneezed, but the small bit of natural sunlight seeping through the hole I had just made was enough to keep me going. After drilling twelve holes and covering myself in sawdust, the right side of the crate seemed unstable enough for me to kick it down. And I tried doing this, four times, before it actually broke.
“Piece of crap,” I muttered, coughing in the cloud of dust and blinking in the sunlight. I was finally free from the contains of the stupid shipping crate I’d been confined to.
I was met with a view of– nothing. All I could see for miles and miles in every direction was heat haze and dirt. The heat and smell of hot sand and wind met me as soon as the wall fell, and I stood there for a moment, trying to make my mind believe where I was. There weren't any buildings, or cars, or even animals for miles and miles. It was just me, with my box.
And, of course, the person standing to my left.
The first thing I noticed about this man was his cowboy hat and sunglasses. He was tanned, with large muscles on both his arms and legs, and he was leaning against the side of a white pickup truck.
A white, Chevrolet pickup truck.
“If someone offers you a ride in a vehicle other than one of Ford, don’t get in. They’re trying to kill you.” Jessica’s voice rang through my head as I stared at that truck, my thoughts whirling. Was I about to be murdered?
When this man noticed me looking in his direction, he began walking towards me. I was scared out of my mind, but I stood my ground, watching him approach me. When he stopped, he removed his sunglasses, revealing hard, blue eyes.
“Hey there,” he said, his deep voice rumbling. “My name’s Private Norman, and I’m going to be your escort while you’re here in the deserts of Bahrain.”
I just stared at him. “Are you with my company?” I squeaked out, looking at this large man towering over me. He just stared down at me, while the hot desert wind whipped at my short hair.
“Yes, I’m with your company. I’m supposed to drive you back to my house where you’ll be staying while you’re fixing those power things.” Private Norman gave me a confused look, leaving us in silence as I tried to formulate a response.
“You… you aren’t in a Ford vehicle.” I stammered, feeling stupid. Private Norman blinked a few times, then repeated, “I’m with your company.”
I was stumped. This super-fit guy who looked like he could kill me with one swipe of his hand, who wasn’t in a Ford vehicle (aka the people Peter and Jessica told me would try to murder me) was claiming he was part of my company and was supposed to drive me around. Either I would refuse a ride from him, be stranded in the desert and eventually die, or accept a ride, assume he did work with Sterling and hope I wasn’t about to be murdered.
“Ok, fine.” I wrestled my suitcase out of the crate I was just in and dragged it over to the bed of his truck. Private Norman opened the driver’s door and got in, leaving me to throw my stuff in the back and scramble into the passenger seat.
He started the engine and I watched him closely, making sure I didn’t have to make a clean getaway if he tried to pull out a weapon. Just in case, I kept one hand on the door and the other on my seatbelt.
And then, before I could even say a word, Private Norman hit a switch on the dashboard of the truck and Alanis Morissette started blaring from the speakers. It was one of her albums I wasn’t too fond of– Jagged Little Pill. Sighing, I watched Private Norman while he drove, humming along to this 90s female singer who sounded like she needed a cough drop.
There was nothing around for miles. Nothing in the distance, nothing behind us. Despite this, Private Norman seemed to know where he was going, without a map or written directions or anything. Out here, written directions wouldn’t work, because everything looked exactly the same. My point is, we drove at nothing for a long time and I had no idea where we were going.
After about 45 minutes of driving, I finally cleared my throat.
“So, uh… Private Norman. I thought a guy named Burton was supposed to be picking me up?” I asked, still cautious around him. Without adjusting the volume on the music, he replied in a near-yell.
“There was a change of plans while you were on your illegal flight here.” At this, he let out a booming chuckle, amusing himself about something. “Your company couldn’t contact you to tell you, so here I am.” I nodded, turning to face the front again, watching the dirt around the truck billow out in a cloud as we drove by.
The Alanis Morissette album restarted itself again after about an hour of driving. And then a song finished. And then another. After getting halfway through Perfect, I cleared my throat again. “Do you want to maybe… put another album on?” I asked, ready for some new tunes.
Private Norman replied by reaching forward and turning the volume up.
We sat in silence for the next two hours.
