Indonesia. Somewhere in the Ring of Fire

I sit on the grass outside one of the tents and tap my foot to the beat of AC/DC blaring from my earphones. The song reminds me of Dad and home. I close my eyes and focus on the lyrics. It's much better than reminiscing and getting homesick again. I'm stuck here for the next nine months, or so my contract says. Nine months, and it's been only a week. 

You'd think I would be chilling with nothing else to do, enjoying one of the most beautiful and unusual places on our teeny-tiny planet. The fucking irony is that I've never been busier in my entire nineteen years of life. It's the first time I've sat down today. My body hurts from physical exhaustion. The mental tiredness is a bitch, too, but I've got the upper hand so far. I haven't smoked. Not once. Cigs are scarce here. Everything is, but it's way worse when the goods aren't a necessity.

It's hard to worry about cigarettes when you might not have drinking water. As the song changes to another, slower one, I think about how lucky I was back at home, having everything I needed and not worrying about basic things such as being able to take a shower or wash my clothes. 

The place where we are is a rural area. Devastated by frequent earthquakes, the tiny village is far from being pretty. People lost their homes, and one seismic disaster after another didn't make it easy to rebuild them. Add the fucking dengue fever and the mosquitoes, and you'll have the picture.

Some guys who have been working for the organization for a long time told me the situation isn't the worst. At least, the volcanoes are quiet for now. Dormant. And intimidating as fuck, nonetheless.

The seismic activity or the lack of it is assessed daily. A seismometer would detect an earthquake. I hope it never does. What I've seen is enough for me to conclude that if that happens, we're fucked. One of the volcanoes might wake up. There might be a tsunami. The forces of nature shouldn't be taken lightly, especially in a place like this one, where shit happened too many times to be surprising.

A melody breaks through my stream of consciousness, and I squeeze my eyes shut when my brother's voice reverberates in the small device in my ear. I know what song it is. I remember dancing to it with Leah on the night we made love.

She hasn't left my mind since I left her. She probably hates me for telling her the three words she wanted to hear in a note. She surely hates me for leaving, but she would have hated me more if I'd stayed.

I caused Mac's accident by returning to my town, getting involved in the local politics, and pissing Ferdinand off.

I've never considered myself to be a stupid guy, but I sure as hell was one. Guys like Fer should never be underestimated. I should have paid attention to the threats he spat out at me. I should have been smarter and questioned his motives when he started going out with Bella. I should have done so many things, but I didn't do shit.

The result of my passivity is my best friend, my brother, fighting for his life in a hospital bed. Mac was going to give Annie a promise ring that night. We planned to celebrate afterward, the four of us. The girls knew nothing; it was meant to be a surprise. I destroyed Mac and Annie's happiness — the happiness they deserve more than many people I know.

I call doctor Morris daily and ask about Mackenzie's condition. The doc explains things in simple terms, and the conclusion I reach is that nobody knows if he will wake up. More than that, they don't know what will happen if Mac opens his eyes.

The slow internet isn't enough to do proper research. I still have no idea about comas.

One week here proved to me that I have no idea about anything. This shit is unlike anything I've done. I'm one of the guys in charge of the logistics, but the reality is that being responsible for that implies knowing how to do everything —from mechanics to construction and finances. 

My decision to accept Alec's offer wasn't something I've been dreaming of doing. I tucked his card into my wallet, sure that I would never need to use it. But then, I felt desperate and miserable. Every time I looked at a bike, I remembered Mac falling onto the ground, and then his blood-stained face and the fear in his eyes. I couldn't bring myself to touch the thing that almost killed my friend. I needed to escape, and Alec was my chance at doing so while earning money and getting work experience.

Had I known he was such a prick, I would have shoved that piece of carton up his ass.

Why the fuck did he recommend me to the management if he hates my guts? Nothing I do is good enough. He hasn't spoken to me about anything other than my fuckups. I'm a bug under his boot, and he takes great pleasure in squashing me whenever he gets a chance. 

Nirvana is playing now. I manage to get lost in one of my favorite songs, but the earphones are pulled out of my ears before the chorus starts.

Alec, the Prick, is standing next to me with his arms crossed in front of his chest. His dark, curly hair is slightly damp. I know he's been visiting patients in villages nearby all day. The guy must be tired, but I can't feel compassion. Not with how big of a jerk he is to me.

"The generator is fucked," Alec says.

I sigh. "So?"

"Fix it."

"You're fucking kidding me, right? Do you think I have an idea about how to do it?"

"Do I look like someone who cares about the shit you cannot do? If you wanted a fucking retreat where you can whine, it's not the place. You have a job. Your job is to make sure everything runs smoothly so that I can do my job and save lives. If I don't have electricity and there's an emergency, people will die. Do you want them to die?"

I jump to my feet and push past the Prick. "You could've asked nicely. No need to be an ass."

"You could have gotten up five minutes ago and be on your way to the warehouse. Move, Brian. Move first, bitch about me later."

I don't look back as I stroll to the kind of warehouse where Diego is. He's a friendly, kind-hearted dude in his fifties. I would've left hadn't it been for him and the rest of the guys.

"Hey," I greet Diego when I see him next to the cargo we received a couple of hours ago.

Diego's lips stretch in a grin. "Muchacho. (boy) What are you doing here?"

"The generator is fucked. Está jodido. If I don't fix it, Alec will strangle me with a mosquito net in my sleep."

Diego laughs in earnest, raking his fingers through his still black hair. He looks youthful— tanned skin, bright, brown eyes, barely any wrinkles. "Alec, Alec," he mutters, shaking his head. "Do you know what to do?"

"No idea," I reply truthfully.

Diego sighs. "Getting a new one is impossible. You know how it is— we do what we can with what we have."

"What we have," I echo his words. Then, I swipe my gaze across the cramped space. Fixing a generator is not the same as fixing a bike, but it shouldn't be harder than that. 

"I need more broken stuff, preferably another generator out of order. Then, I will need your help cause we have to go and see what exactly the problem with the old generator  is, and I can't do it alone."

Diego nods. "I'll call the guys."

I don't waste time. I start looking for broken things.

I am one of them, but unlike me, the damn generator can be fixed in a couple of hours. I'd be damned if I don't manage to do it. 

The Prick might not appreciate my help, but his patients will. It's enough for me.

And so it begins!

Thoughts?

I wasn't planning on posting today, but many of you reminded me it was December already😅❤

I'm excited about this roller coaster. IMPORTANT: Friday is Tiger day. I will post a new chapter on Friday each week, except this week since it's Tuesday today.

If you haven't done it already, I encourage you to check out Jimmy's book, Beautifully. That's another project I am working on.

Thank you for being here, and hope you like what I have in store for you!

Love,
Alwyn