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11 January 2013 @ 11:40 pm
Three Days in the Desert  
I felt like I had been shot out of a cannon. Who were these people? Where in the world was I? Before I could even get my bearings I was almost run over by a camel, which wouldn’t make much sense had I not found myself in the heart of the desert, standing ( or rather, curled up in the fetal position ) on the edge of the capitol city of Mecca, Az Zaimah. Above me sat the sun, bright, yellow, and menacing as it always was in the desert and I found my eyes travel towards it. That was until one of my captors – probably the leader, seeing as he was the only one on camel – blocked my view. I could see his eyes glaring at me from beneath his keffiyeh and I watched as he raised his hand, motioning for the other men to stop their assault on me. He then parted his lips and spoke to me, but I could hardly comprehend what he was saying.
“I can’t understand.” I wheezed, sand lining the inside of my throat.
He gestured again, and my vision was cut short. When I finally came to, my head was killing me and I found myself in a jail cell.

Honestly, I had a reason to be here… I didn’t come here just to get beat up and thrown in jail. I’m what people might call a spy, for the President of the USA. Recently the USA and Mecca had come to an agreement, a truce if you will, and to consummate this the two countries exchanged gifts. A few months later however, it was discovered that the statue we had received from Mecca had been bugged. This is where I come in – I was told to investigate the goings on in Mecca to see if this was foul play on their behalf. If so, the truce between the USA and Mecca would be abolished and a war could ensue. Nevertheless, my plans came to a grinding halt when a group of men ambushed me at the gate of the city and got a hold of my passport ( a rookie mistake on my behalf, it should have been hidden better ). This is how I found myself in jail.

I sat up and placed a hand over my aching head, the pain momentarily contorting my vision as I tried to take in my surroundings. Iron bars, dirt floor, brick walls, and some sort of cot pressed up against the wall behind me. Definitely jail. It was then that one of the guards returned to the room via the stairs on the left. In his hand I could see my wallet and passport. If they hadn’t known who I was when they caught me, they knew now.

Approaching my cell, the man proceeded to wave my wallet and passport in the air.
“Visa denied.” He said in broken English.

“Denied?!” I echoed, though in a much louder tone.
I jumped up from where I lay on the ground, forgetting the pain in my head, and grabbed the cell bars.
“This is a mistake, surely!” I exclaimed.
The man leaned in closer until our faces were mere inches apart before narrowing his eyes.
“Denied.” He sneered, before turning around and tossing my items on the desk behind him.
I watched him, wide eyed, as he took a seat at his desk… and that was that. I was about to admit defeat when I suddenly remembered,
“One free call,” I cried, “In jail you always get one free call!”

The man looked up at me with a look of disgust, but complying with my wish he tossed me an aged looking cellphone. Immediately I dialed the number of the USA Embassy and when the call finally went through ( It took several tries ) I proceeded to explain my situation to the lady.
“Well it seems your visa has expired early.” She said nonchalantly.
“Expired early? Impossible!” I exclaimed, “Do you know who I am? Do you know why I’m here?!”
“Mister Kelly, I understand your situation. We’re going to work as fast as we can to get you back into the country, but even with our best efforts it could take anywhere from three days to a week.”
“I’ll be stuck in jail for a week?!”

I had to pull the phone away from my face and take a deep breath to calm my anger. I understood that she was doing all she could to get me out of here, but still… up to a week? That was much too long! After a few more minutes our conversation ceased and I handed the phone back to the guard. The rest of the night crept by at a snail’s pace. Bread, cheese, and water for dinner, and then a hard old cot for a night rest. Needless to say it wasn’t a good one.

I was awoken the next morning by the sound of heavy footsteps trudging down the stairs.
“Great…” I mumbled groggily, “What do they want this time.”
I rolled over onto my side and sat up, rubbing my eyes as I did so. My back was killing me and the blow I had received to the head the day before was throbbing like a dull headache. Turning my attention to the noise that had torn me from my sleep, I recognized the four men who had beaten me up the day before. What I didn’t recognize, however, was the lady walking between them. She had dark, caramel colored skin, even darker hair, and eyes that looked like obsidian. She was easily the definition of beautiful. She approached my cell while the men hovered behind her and peered inward, tipping her head to the side ever so slightly as though she were inspecting an animal.

Finally she spoke, but not in a language I could understand. She tossed her words behind her to the men neatly lined up in a row. I could see expressions of hesitation and shock in their faces as they listened to the woman speak, some uttering words of their own, yet ultimately following her orders. Taking the keys from the guard’s desk, one of the men unlocked my cell and the woman proceeded to open the door and extend her hand to me. Rising from the cot, I approached her warily – I wasn’t sure who this woman was exactly but she seemed to hold a lot of authority. I could have easily taken this chance to make a run for it, I had done so multiple times beforehand and was certain I was faster than these five.

“You are Christopher Kelly, yes?”
Despite her thick accent the womans English was surprisingly clear and understandable. But I was curious,
“How do you know my name?”
“That is not important right now. You and I need to talk.” She said with a shake of her head.
“Well… can I at least know who you are?” I asked.
But she simply shook her head to that as well and proceeded to lead me out of the prison.

Now I had been expecting to leave the underground jail and step into the sandy streets of Az Zaimah. I couldn't have been more wrong had I tried, because in only a few steps I had entered a massive room adorned with blues and golds and whites and reds. Exotic archways played the part of outlines and on the opposite side of the room was a massive grand staircase leading to the upper floors of this whatever this magnificent building was. The woman - whose name I later learned was Hasina - lead me through one of the other archways which lead to a sort of atrium which housed exotic plants and trees from across the globe.

Hasina and I sat down and she proceeded to tell me that she had known I was coming, and knew why I was here. She proceeded to explain the story behind the bugged statue - according to what she knew it had been done by a member of an enemy nation who was trying to throw a wrench into the truce between the USA and Mecca. Mecca and this nation had been at war for centuries now, and they knew that they could never win should a war break out. So they had a new plan - knowing the USA could outrank Mecca any day, they tried to create a fault. And they had almost succeeded, but a few weeks after the statue had already been received the culprit had been caught and had confessed the entire deed.

"Well this is fantastic!" I exclaimed, "I've figured out what I needed to and I can't even relay the information to the President..."
That was another thing about Mecca - they were a few centuries behind in the technology department. My cellphone had already taken it's last breath and the nearest phone was miles and miles away.