Unexpected Hero

by Craig Goodwin

  He started to raise his hands to flag down the driver. Suddenly, a little voice inside screamed at him.

  Stop!

  Something felt wrong.

  This wasn’t normal. Why would two Land Rovers, not a month off the lot, be driving along the Fijian back roads?

  Hide!

  Without another thought, Benji scrambled off the road and hid on the steep slope under the bridge. He held on tight to the wooden beams above him to keep from falling fifteen feet to the rocky stream below.

  The sound of tires on dirt and gravel came closer and slowed, coming to a stop right over his head. A door opened and boots landed with a thump on the wooden bridge.

  “Cut the engine.” The voice was firm, arrogant. Familiar.

  “You’re chasing ghosts, kid.”

  “Don’t call me kid! I’m not a kid, so don’t call me one! Period! Besides, I saw someone, Anders. I know I did.”

  Footsteps neared, and then stopped at the edge of the bridge. Sweat rolled down Benji’s face as he held tight to the beam and tried not to make a sound. There, just a few feet away, was someone who had tried to kill him just yesterday.

  Trent Ironside.

  20.

  An evil plan

  A match struck and flared, the sound reaching Benji in his hiding nook under the bridge. Trent took a long drag from a cigarette and stifled a cough. From below, he heard the other man chuckle softly, something Trent seemed to miss.

  His voice was insistent. “I saw someone, I know it. They were standing right here.”

  “Okay, say you did. Where’d your mystery ‘someone’ go?”

  Trent’s footsteps left the bridge and crossed from one side of the road to the other and back. The bushes rustled as he moved them aside.

  “It was a guy, I swear. Not Fijian, either. Someone with white skin. Standing right there in the road. He’s got to be here somewhere.”

  The thrashing of the brush grew louder.

  Dirt fell down the slope in front of Benji, knocked out of place by Trent’s hunt. Trent’s boots came in sight.

  He was coming to look under the bridge.

  “Hey, kid. You’re wasting time! We gotta go.”

  Trent’s feet stopped their descent and turned, kicking loose clumps of dirt and weeds as he charged up the slope and across the road.

  “Don’t. Call. Me. Kid.” Benji barely heard Trent’s hiss.

  “You better get out of my face, kid.”

  “Or what, Anders? Touch me and you’re a dead man and you know it. My father will feed you to the pigs before you even knew you were on the menu. And you know what? I think you need to start calling me sir. If you want to get paid, you’ll do what I say.”

  The silence stretched out.

  “Whatever you say, sir,” Anders spat the word out. “But I think we’re looking for someone who isn’t there. And even if someone is there, why is finding him so important? We are limited on time and it is my opinion that we keep moving. Sir.”

  “Alright. Okay. I see your point. We’ll get going.”

  “You still haven’t told me where we’re going. What’s that local of yours say?”

  “Sir. Don’t forget the sir, Anders.”

  “What does the skinny Fijian rat of yours say, sir?”

  There was a short silence while Trent considered sharing.

  “He said that sixty miles or so up the road there’s a big tree that looks different from all the others.”

  “We’re looking for one tree in a whole forest?”

  Trent ignored him. “Behind the tree is a trail that eventually leads through a tunnel to the hidden village. What we’re looking for is a hole in a cliff next to the village, a few hundred feet up.”

  “Well, assuming we find this tree and the trail and get ourselves to this village, then what?”

  “I figure we make our way past the village, get to the cave, find the ruby, and then…you know.”

  “We kill the villagers.”

  “Yeah.”

  “I say we skip the whole sneaking past the village bit. Us and the guys kill whoever we gotta kill, then find this rock of yours. It’d be a lot easier. Sir.”

  “No! We don’t kill anyone before we get the ruby. What if it isn’t even there, huh? It would be…a waste. We find the ruby first. That’s the plan.”

  Anders sighed. “Fine.”

  “So, you know the plan. Do you feel better now, Anders?”

  “Let’s just go. Sir.”

  No more words were exchanged. There was the grinding of boots on gravel as the two turned back to the Land Rovers. The doors opened and closed again. The engines roared and men sped off towards death and destruction.

  21.

  Choice

  Benji climbed out from under the bridge and watched the red taillights disappear around a turn. He stood in the middle of the road, wondering what to do next.

  Trent and his goons were on their way to the hidden village right now. Only a few short hours remained before they would have the ruby. Trent would make sure the Fijian line of Magellan would be wiped from the planet, along with any witnesses. Innocent people would die.

  The smart—and safe—move would be to turn left and stick with the original plan. Find his way back to the village. Get back to enjoying his vacation. His mom would be worried sick by now. What could he really do against trained killers, anyway? But returning to Malakati meant abandoning the villagers. Benji couldn’t call the police; there would be nothing he could do. He would have to forget about them—forever.

  On the other hand, he could turn right. Maybe a car would come along and give him a ride and he could catch up with Trent, or even get there first. After that...who knew. Benji would have to figure out a plan when he got there. But at least he would be trying.

  The map wasn’t any help. The road on which he stood merely cut through one corner; a few miles and the road was off the map’s edge again.

  Benji turned in the dying light of the day and looked left toward Malakati. The way to safety. He looked right towards danger and lives hanging in the balance, and the choice was clear. He tightened the shoulder straps of his backpack and headed up the road in pursuit of the two Land Rovers.

  22.

  Night time thrill ride

  The sun sank behind the mountains and the valley grew dark. Ten minutes after Benji had set out in a slow pursuit of Trent and his henchmen, he heard an engine, loud and clear, coming from behind him. Fast. It sounded like a dirt bike, but he couldn't see it in the dimming light. Suddenly, it was there, racing towards him in the gloom. He jumped into the road and waved his arms.

  The driver didn’t slow down.

  Benji shouted and jumped and waved. At the last second, he dove out of the way and crashed into the brush lining the road. From where he lay—upside-down and headfirst in the bushes—he heard the dirt bike skid to a stop. The engine cut off and silence returned to the jungle.

  Footsteps came towards Benji at a run, the person shouting something in Fijian. Before he could untangle himself from the brush, a pair of hands grabbed his ankles and pulled, dragging him free.

  Benji scrambled to his feet and gaped at the person who had nearly killed him. A boy, no older than eight, stared back at him through dirty swimming goggles. He wore a pink bike helmet, a man’s leather jacket four sizes too big, and no shoes. A smile stretched from ear to ear and he stuck out his hand.

  “Bula! My name is Jonah! What is your name? Where are you from?”

  “Uh, hi, Jonah. I’m Benji, I’m from America.” He took the boy’s hand in his own.

  “It’s nice to meet you Benji from America.” Jonah grinned and looked at Benji as though they had met on the city street in the middle of the day, more excited about meeting a foreigner than curious as to why the foreigner was in the middle of the jungle alone after dark.

  Benji fidgeted, picking at his fingernails. He didn’t know whether to ask for a ride from this little kid on a dirt b
ike with no headlight, or wait and see if someone else came along. Getting on that dirt bike could be a death sentence. But it was possible that no one else would drive the road for the rest of the night.

  Oh, what the heck. You can’t stand at the edge of the cliff forever.

  “Um, do you think I could have a ride?”

  “Yes!” The kid jumped up and down, clearly excited.

  Benji just about threw up as he spoke again. “I need to get almost sixty miles up the road…fast.”

  “Fast! Yes! Come on!” Jonah ran to the bike.

  “Wait! Where I need to go, there’s supposed to be this tree that doesn’t look like any of the others. Do you know anything about that?”

  Jonah stopped bouncing long enough to scrunch his eyebrows before his eyes lit up again. “Yes, yes. I know this tree.” He climbed onto the bike. “Come! We go now!”

  Every muscled in Benji’s body, along with a good bit of his common sense and desire to live a long, healthy life, wanted to turn and run. But he forced himself to smile and ignore the sick feeling in his stomach as he stuffed his hat into his shirt and climbed onto the dirt bike behind Jonah.

  The young Fijian looked back at Benji once, his bright smile bringing little comfort, before he kick-started the engine and raced off into the night.

  23.

  A head start

  Dust and stones flew up behind the dirt bike as Jonah steered them up the road and around the turns at full throttle, much faster than the Land Rovers had been going.

  Benji held on like his life depended on it—which it probably did. The cool night wind whipped at his clothes and brought tears to his eyes. He couldn’t decide whether he should be thrilled or terrified flying down dirt roads in the middle of nowhere at night with no headlamp.

  The rush of the wind…the light of the full moon…Benji allowed himself to smile and enjoy the moment. Whatever came next, in that moment Benji’s heart raced in sheer exhilaration as the dirt bike leaned left and right with the curves in the road. It was…fun.

  Ahead through the trees, Benji saw the bright-red taillights of the Land Rovers. His palms started to sweat. What would they do if they saw him?

  They’d shot at him last time.

  The road turned right...but Jonah didn’t. The dirt bike hit a bump on the side of the road, and suddenly they were airborne. The engine screamed and the tires spun wildly with nothing but air below them.

  “Jonah!”

  They landed hard and the bike fishtailed, swinging the rear tire back and forth, trying to throw Benji from his seat. The little Fijian got the bike back under control and they once again shot forward. They followed a trail through the woods, speeding way too fast through the moonlit forest.

  “Jonah!” Benji yelled over the roaring wind and whining motor. “Where are we going?”

  “Shortcut!”

  Benji held on to the boy as hard as he could and gripped the seat beneath him with his legs. Trying to stay on the dirt bike as it sped along the bumpy trail was like trying to stay on a bucking bull.

  The minutes passed in darkness, each one lasting longer than the one before it. Benji’s rear end was soon numb from the constant vibration of the engine. Tree branches slapped his bare arms and brush scratched his legs, leaving tiny crisscrossing cuts up and down his calves. He didn’t know how much more of this he could take.

  Then, all of a sudden, the trees and brush fell away. Dirt and gravel was under them again, and the delicious moonlight lit the road ahead. Although Benji still had no feeling in his butt, the bumps weren’t so bad anymore and he worried less about being thrown off the back of the bike.

  Now that he was back on a clear road again, Jonah gunned it. The trees passed in a blur, and the dirt bike swerved this way and that to avoid potholes as it followed the road’s twists and turns. Another half hour passed like this before the bike slowed to a stop.

  To their right drooped a weeping willow, a tree unlike all the others.

  Benji slid from the seat and stood on shaky legs, grateful to be alive. He put his hat back on his head and adjusted it just right.

  “Thank you so much, Jonah. Do you remember those cars we saw just before we took that shortcut?”

  He nodded.

  “How long do you think it would take for them to get here?”

  The boy shrugged. “Maybe two hours?” He didn’t seem sure. Regardless, Benji had a lead on them and wanted to use every second of it.

  “Thanks, Jonah. You helped me out big time.”

  He waved farewell and watched the boy’s leather jacket blend into the night. The sound of the dirt bike’s engine, so loud just moments ago, faded to nothing, and Benji stood alone at the edge of the woods. His last chance at safety had just left.

  For better or worse, he couldn't go back. There was no way to know what he would encounter. Would he even find the cave? He could only count on one thing:

  Danger was coming.

  24.

  Step carefully…

  The branches of the willow tree hung to the ground and created a living, green curtain surrounded by impenetrable Fijian jungle. Benji parted the curtain and stepped through into the darkness beneath. He pulled the headlamp from his bag and its light filled the empty dome beneath the tree. He walked around the circle and examined the edges, looking for something that would show him the way.

  “Ah.”

  He parted some branches and found just what he needed: a trail. It was narrow, mostly overgrown, and hardly visible, but it was there.

  He followed the meandering track, ferns brushing his legs and thorns tugging at his clothes. Sometimes it was obvious and he walked without much difficulty. Other times it was barely there, not much more than a dirt line through the undergrowth that zig zagged around the trees and up and down hills. Benji eased down a sharp slope and crossed a shallow stream before climbing up the other side.

  Benji figured Trent and his goons were probably still far behind him and he had at least an hour before they found the willow tree. He needed every second he could get.

  The trail ended at the flat wall of a cliff, bright white under the full moon. It towered over him, nearly a thousand feet straight up. The trail went neither left nor right. It was a dead end.

  “Shoot,” Benji said under his breath. “Where the heck’s that tunnel?”

  He’d thought it would be right there. If he couldn’t find it, hiding from Trent and his goons would be the only option. And then there would be no one to stop them.

  It had to be here somewhere.

  Benji searched along the stone wall to the left and was careful not to break any branches or kick up any of the leaves that covered the forest floor. As much as he wanted to believe otherwise, Trent's stooges probably weren't morons. They would be able to tell if someone had gone through before them. But right now they had no idea Benji was ahead of them, and it was his only advantage. The bad guys couldn’t know he was here.

  A pile of boulders blocked his way and he climbed hand over hand until he reached the top of the heap. There, nearly invisible to anyone who wasn’t looking for it, was a gap between the boulders and the cliff just big enough for a person to fit through. Benji aimed his headlamp into the gloom, revealing steps carved into the stone.

  "There you are."

  At the base of the steps a tunnel stretched off into the darkness below the cliffs. It was long and somewhat smooth, carved with great care. Benji followed it cautiously, watching for cracks in the floor, grooves in the walls, and stones that looked different from the others.

  He was looking for booby traps.

  All the good adventure movies had them. The hero walked into a tunnel or cave much like this one and looked for triggers: things that would set off the trap. There were always skeletons of people who hadn’t been careful. They got crushed, stabbed, cut in half, or dropped into pits with all sorts of deadly things at the bottom. Benji certainly had no desire to end up at the bottom of a
pit.

  But Benji was no adventure movie hero. He was just a fourteen-year-old kid who wished he could be like Indiana Jones.

  He took careful steps and focused on remaining calm. In his mind, Benji felt ready to explode. He needed to concentrate, though. Slow, soft steps. Sweat dripped into his eyes. He wiped it away with the back of his hand, then...

  ...click.

  25.

  Run!

  A spinning, razor-sharp blade shot out from the wall straight at Benji’s head! He tried to run, but tripped over his own feet. The blade whistled through the air and barely missed the top of his hat.

  He fell and rolled forward, accidentally dodging a second blade that shot up from the floor. Benji’s feet scraped the dusty stone floor as he scrambled upright.

  He ran for his life.

  Panic drove Benji faster and faster down the tunnel towards the blackness ahead. Blades swung down, shot up, and swooped in from the sides, close enough for Benji to hear the hiss of death on the back of his neck.

  The hiss became a WOOSH, and Benji risked a glance over his shoulder. His eyes grew wide.

  Fire!

  Burning oil rushed from the ceiling behind him like waves in the ocean. He screamed, his voice drowned out by the spinning blades, roaring flames, and bats trying their hardest not to get barbequed.