Mad Dad, Fun Dad

by Doug Draper

  Ben rested in his tent while the rambunctious campfire party continued. All he needed to do was roll up his sleeping bag and tie it to his backpack. Then he would be ready to hike to freedom. He planned to leave shortly after the troop received orders to “bunk down.”

  Within the hour, Brother Sanderson told the scouts to go to bed. Ben stepped out of his tent when Joe and other members of the Hawk patrol returned to their area. When saying good night to them, he wondered if he would ever see them again. Ben kept his plan well hidden from Joe by not saying anything out of the ordinary. And Joe made it easy by ignoring him.

  The scoutmaster stopped by for a quick chat with each of the Hawks, seeing if any of them had concerns about spending the night outdoors with a snowstorm coming. Ben exchanged greetings with him and lied that he was fine.

  “Ben, I’ll be praying for you tonight as I have many times in the past,” Gene said. “I believe that God has plans for your life that are better than anything you might be expecting. Trust in him with all your heart and he will make your paths straight. You can begin that journey tonight.”

  Ben almost laughed when Gene mentioned beginning a “journey tonight” because that’s exactly what he planned to do. Instead of replying, he merely nodded and waited to see if Gene would demand that Ben return the pistol, knife, and hatchet that he had taken from the truck. Instead, the scoutmaster said goodnight and walked away.

  After a couple of stern reminders from Brother Sanderson, peace finally settled over the camp. Ben waited another twenty minutes and then rolled up his sleeping bag and got it ready to travel. He didn’t want to delay his exit much longer because he might fall asleep. Peeking out of his tent, he surveyed the dark campsite and didn’t see any movement. With only a half moon and cloudy sky, the scarcity of natural light would hide his escape.

  Crawling from the tent with his pack and sleeping bag strapped to his back, Ben looked side-to-side to see if anyone noticed him. When his movement sparked no reaction, he stood up and walked bent-over to keep a low profile as he cut through the brush to reach the road. He left his tent in place because it would be too heavy to carry on a long hike and he wanted to give the impression that he remained with the troop. If all went as expected, his absence wouldn’t be discovered until Joe decided that he had slept too long and came to his tent to shake him out of his sleeping bag.

  Instead of hiking down the canyon to Payson, Ben went uphill, going away from civilization to avoid being spotted walking alone at night. He planned to stay on the road until morning because it currently had no traffic and would be faster than going cross-country. When daybreak came, he would look for off-road trails that went southwest and over the mountains to Nephi. He expected that anyone who tried to find him would never imagine a boy selecting the extremely challenging route he had in mind.

  Confident of his plan, Ben pressed forward at a fast pace even under the weight of his backpack. His eyes adjusted to the faint light and he enjoyed the thought of freedom from the pain being left behind. Each mile completed brought him closer to Zion—the heavenly place of joy and peace.

  CHAPTER 35

  After ninety minutes of walking, Ben noticed the breeze coming down the canyon carried the strong scent of burning wood. Even though the canyon was popular for camping, especially with the fall colors on display, he supposed that the late-night campfire belonged to Derek Dean and his friends. Most campers would be sleeping by now, with their fire smoldering or extinguished.

  After he began to see flickers of light through the trees ahead, a burst of loud laughter confirmed his guess about the smoke’s source. Derek and his friends had set up camp and built a roaring fire in between Ben and his destination. He continued walking toward their campsite to see if he could pass it without being noticed.

  The three men were about twenty-five yards off the road in a small clearing that opened to the canyon road on one end and a forested area on the other. Thick clusters of spruce and aspen trees as well as heavy underbrush marked the boundaries on the other two sides of their campsite. For Ben to continue up the canyon road, he had to walk near the huge campfire, making him visible to Derek and his friends. Taking a detour through the rough terrain around the camp would require using a flashlight, which would also lead to him being spotted.

  Ben found a place in the trees where he could spy on the men and look for other ways to pass them. Because they appeared to be drinking beer, Ben hoped they would soon get drunk and fall asleep. While waiting, he frequently checked his watch, growing concerned about the loss of time. After a half hour, the party abruptly ended when Luke staggered to his motorcycle, pulled blankets out of the saddlebag, and carried them to a spot near the campfire.

  When Luke stretched out on the blankets, Derek jumped to his feet and shouted, “Get up! We’ve still got a mission to accomplish.”

  “Hey, we’ve had a long day,” Luke said. “Let’s get some sleep and go scare the crap out of the boys tomorrow.”

  “No, we agreed to do it tonight while the little jerks are sleeping,” Derek said.

  “Yeah, but don’t forget that I started working at six this morning,” Luke said. “Give me a few hours to sleep and then I’ll be ready to raid the scout camp.”

  Like Luke, Wayne pulled blankets out of his saddlebag and laid down near the campfire. For a few minutes Derek sat alone, watching the campfire and sipping beer. After tossing the empty bottle into a cluster of trees, Derek stood up and walked in Ben’s direction. Ben thought he had been spotted, but Derek stopped a safe distance away to relieve himself and finish his current cigarette. Without bothering to extinguish it, Derek flicked the glowing butt toward the road and then zipped up his pants and headed to his motorcycle.

  Derek had two blankets and used them to set up a bed on the far side of the campfire. Within a few minutes, Ben could no longer see Derek because the fire had started to burn out, casting a much smaller ring of light. Because Luke and Wayne were closer to him, Ben could see that they had already dozed off and he heard one of them snoring. He patiently remained hidden, waiting for the fire to grow even weaker.

  When the clearing darkened, it gave Ben confidence that he could move undetected and triggered a new idea. The men had discussed plans to “raid” his troop, which Ben applauded when it came to the Bears and Wolves, but he wanted to protect the Hawks if possible. Damaging the men’s motorcycles would put Derek on foot and keep the troop safe. And by preventing a predawn attack on the scouts, it would avoid drawing attention to Ben’s absence earlier than what he was hoping for.

  Ben left his backpack at his hiding place and crept toward the bikes, which were parked near the campfire. He silently inched toward his prey with his hatchet in one hand and knife in the other.

  On the first bike, he cut all the hoses and wires he could find. Then he searched the saddlebag to see if it contained any snacks to boost his food supply. He had noticed the men eating chips when drinking their beer and hoped they might have some leftover. Instead of food, he found cigarettes and a liquor bottle. Feeling vindictive, he unscrewed the lid of the liquor bottle and drenched the cigarettes.

  At the next bike, Ben repeated his process of cutting anything that might make the bike impossible to start. In the faint glow of the campfire, he noticed the cap on top of the gas tank and created another problem for his foes. He carefully opened the cap and let it slowly dangle to the side of the bike and then used his hatchet to create a small pile of sand. With his hands, he scooped up the sand and fed it into the open gas tank. The contaminated fuel would require draining the gas and then cleaning and refilling the tank before starting the engine. It served as an extra measure in case he hadn’t already put the bike out of commission.

  He left the cap undone so the men could see that sand had been added. The open cap would warn them to not even try starting the bike. He returned to the first bike to give it the same treatment, but the gas cap didn’t cooperate even when he twisted it with all his strength. Wondering if it
might be locked, he leaned against the bike to get a closer look.

  Even though Ben only applied a small amount of weight to the side of the bike, it caused the kickstand to sink deeper into the sandy soil and the bike began tipping over. Ben desperately tried to keep it upright, but he stood on the wrong side of the bike to break its fall and it went down with Ben sprawled on top. The noise caused two heads to pop up next to the campfire.

  Like a flash of lightning, Ben rolled off the bike, grabbed his knife and hatchet, and raced for his backpack. He ran fast, with no awareness of fatigue. After what he had done to the bikes, getting caught terrified him.

  While running, Ben listened for signs of pursuit but the men, groggy after being awakened, didn’t chase him. He only heard them talking.

  “What’s all the fuss?” Derek asked.

  “Wayne’s bike tipped over,” Luke said. “And we think there was a big critter climbing on it, probably looking for food. We’re not sure what is was because it’s so dark and the thing took off running.”

  “It could have been a bear,” Wayne said.

  “That’s stupid. There are no bears here,” Derek said.

  “Look!” Wayne shouted as Ben raced up the canyon road. “It is a bear! And there it goes.”

  “Where?” Luke asked. “I don’t see anything.”

  “Open your eyes,” Wayne said. “It’s running up the canyon. Can’t you see it?”

  That’s the last of the conversation Ben could hear, having left the clearing behind. He briefly stopped to put his weapons back into their sheaths on his belt and to slip his arms through the strap on his backpack. He glanced back and was pleased to see that nobody followed him yet. He resumed running up the canyon road, deciding to stay on it unless the undamaged motorcycle was used to chase him.

  Ben ran for about five minutes before hearing the dreaded sound of a motorcycle engine. When a headlight flashed across the trees in the bend behind him, he abandoned the road and turned to his right. He aimed toward the mountains that overlooked Nephi.

  At this point, the trees and underbrush stood far enough apart to drove a motorcycle through. To make it impossible for the bike to continue following him, Ben needed to blaze an off-road trail through a more densely forested area. For years, he had found the tall, rugged Wasatch Mountains to be his faithful friends. Now, on a midnight run from a vengeful man, he depended on them to become his trustworthy guardians.

  CHAPTER 36

  While Ben ran through the wooded area next to the road and then into a wide ravine, he frequently glanced over his shoulder to keep track of the bike. The darkness made its bright headlight easy to spot. When the light illuminated the canyon road at his exit point, he stopped and turned to see if the bike would fly by. He saw two men on the bike, with the passenger using a flashlight to scan both sides of the road. The light passed over the area where Ben stood and then quickly flipped back to freeze on him. He heard a shout and the bike slide to a stop.

  Ben hadn’t anticipated a backseat rider armed with a flashlight and reprimanded himself for standing in the open like a deer staring at the motorcycle’s headlight. He spun around and charged ahead toward the steep, tree-covered hill on the ravine’s far side.

  As expected, the bike followed him, but the constant need to make sharp turns around trees made it a slow drive. Despite the obstacles, the motorcycle closed the gap and its headlight soon illuminated Ben’s path. When he turned to see who was on the bike, he witnessed it flip because the front tire had hit a deep hole. The riders flew over the handlebars and landed on the rocky bottom of the ravine. The driver, Derek, slowly rose to his feet, massaging his left shoulder. The passenger, Luke, remained on the ground, holding his head in his hands.

  Having confirmed that his pursuers survived the crash and could continue the chase, Ben turned away from them and went up the steep hillside as fast as he could go. A stout cluster of bushes stretched across the area and brought his ascent to a crawl.

  “Hey, punk, come back here and apologize for messing up our bikes!” Derek shouted. “If you don’t, we’ll find you and make things twice as bad for you.”

  Ben didn’t respond, saving his breath for the climb. While Derek and Luke recovered from the crash, he charged ahead, breaking through the brush blocking his way. He hoped it didn’t include any poison oak or poison ivy. The darkness made it impossible to see these potential problems and other hazards. He stumbled frequently over rocks, roots, and branches. From his falls, he lost skin off both hands and drove pebbles and pine needles into his palms. One hard fall ripped a hole in his left pant leg and blood trickled from a cut below his knee.

  While struggling up the mountainside, the abrupt roar of Derek’s motorcycle engine startled him, and he lost his footing. While sprawled on the ground, he pivoted to survey the scene below. The motorcycle had left the ravine and was going back to the road. He could see that it only had one rider—Derek. Luke remained seated in the ravine. Ben knew that Derek wouldn’t drop his plans for revenge so quickly, especially when provoked by the damaged bikes, and suspected that he only left the ravine to get Wayne.

  Ben decided to keep moving and went straight up the steep hillside until he gasped for air and had to take a break to slow his breathing. Within a minute, the motorcycle’s engine stopped. He scanned the area below him and the canyon road, but he couldn’t see any movement and had lost sight of Luke. All he could hear were leaves rustling in the wind as the expected snowstorm approached.

  In case Luke was following him on foot, Ben leaned into the hillside and resumed his climb. He had already started to wear out, so he focused on looking for the best possible path. He didn’t want to waste any time or energy backtracking around obstacles. Ben continued for several minutes before pausing to take another break—the sound of the motorcycle coming back to the ravine gave him an excuse for stopping. All he could see was the headlight and no details to let him know what Derek was doing. It didn’t matter. The bike’s return compelled him to get going, and he plunged ahead with great determination to place more space between him and his hunters.

  Despite only being a teenager, Ben had years of experience hiking these mountains and confidence that he would win the race. He rarely let a week pass without going for a lung-burning charge up the base of the mountain behind his home. For this challenge, Ben’s strategy remained simple—keep going deeper into the mountains and smother Derek’s desire to continue the chase by making it extremely painful.

  In less than half an hour, Ben reached a ridge that gave him an unobstructed view of the back side of the mountains that loomed over Nephi and the other towns in Juab County. Even in the dark, he could see the peaks of Dry Mountain, Bald Mountain, North Peak and Mount Nebo. Determined to stay ahead of Derek, he started descending the other side of the ridge.

  Instead of climbing the next hill in front of him, Ben selected an easier course that went almost straight south through a small valley. After going around the hill, he would search for a trail to take him west again toward the big peaks.

  Even though relatively flat, the rugged terrain still required Ben to keep his eyes on the ground to prevent another fall. He only dared to glance up occasionally to make sure he didn’t miss a trail going west. As he marched forward with tired legs, Ben found motivation in thinking about his new life. Some pain now promised better days to come.

  CHAPTER 37

  Snowstorms hit the Wasatch Mountains at any time between Labor Day and Memorial Day, requiring hikers and campers to be ready for cold, snowy weather. Ben came prepared for a snowstorm, but his plan included a campfire and his tent, not an overnight hike.

  At first, the storm refreshed him. After three hours of strenuous hiking, the light snow melted on Ben’s hands and face, washing away dust and sweat. When the snowflakes increased in size and frequency, his view of the storm quickly shifted from pleasant to unbearable. He dashed to a protected area under a pair of broad pine trees where he put on his hat, gloves, and heavier
coat.

  Ben looked back for signs of Derek and his friends following him, but he didn’t spot a flashlight or any movement. With no pursuers in sight, Ben rested from his challenging hike, continuing to enjoy partial shelter from the snow.

  Gusts of wind blew flakes on him, but the resulting chill and dampness was minor compared to what he would face if he left the protection of the trees. Storms in the mountains often came in waves, which gave him reason to wait for the current flurry to lighten up. Without intending to nap, Ben’s eyes slowly closed, and he drifted into sleep. When he began to dream about being lost in the woods, he tipped over from his sitting position and woke up when his head hit the ground. To avoid falling asleep again, he decided to ignore the storm and keep moving.

  Ben clenched his fists and marched away from his shelter. The chilly wind welcomed his challenge with an icy slap to the face. As he hiked, the snowfall began to taper off and appeared to be ending, but then another heavy wave arrived and engulfed him. Walking became the only way to stay warm. Not knowing if Derek and his friends continued to follow him, he didn’t dare stop to build a fire.

  Snow kept falling for the next three hours. When hearing the crunch of the fresh snow under his boots, he looked behind him and noticed that he was leaving a clear trail of footprints. Speed served as Ben’s only reliable strategy for eluding his enemy.

  Snow stopped falling shortly before Ben finished climbing a small, barren hilltop west of the valley he had followed when heading south. From the hilltop, Ben studied the valley behind him and still picked up no signs of movement. So far, he appeared to be winning the race, and yet he felt compelled to keep going. He hurried across the hilltop to identify a landmark west of him.

  He spotted a tight valley ending at the base of the mountains that would allow him to travel on relatively flat ground for at least a mile. A cluster of granite boulders at the valley’s far end served as a highly visible target. He started hiking toward them, but pain throughout Ben’s body reminded him that he had pushed the pace for nearly seven hours. It took thoughts of Derek catching him to resist the temptation to stop or slow down.