Unexpected Hero

by Craig Goodwin

  He took a step toward the destruction before the shockwave hit him. Being farther away from the blast than the two guards, it gave him a firm push towards the dock instead of knocking him over. He didn’t need any more convincing. Benji sprinted until he felt the thump thump thump of the wooden dock beneath him.

  A maintenance man, mesmerized by the mushroom cloud just beyond the house, stood in the back of a narrow speedboat with a wrench hanging limp in his hand. The dual engines both spat exhaust into the warm, salty air.

  “Wow…hey!” The man glanced over just in time to see Benji jump into the speedboat and knock him off with a splash. He spat out water and shook his fist at the teenage boy wearing a funny-looking hat.

  “Get off there!”

  But there was no point—it was too late. Benji had already untied the rope from the dock and pushed the accelerator forward. The bow of the speedboat rose into the air and sped off, leaving the angry, wet maintenance man behind.

  37.

  Like hitting concrete

  The sea was as smooth as glass and Benji skimmed across it at an eye-watering fifty miles per hour with his hat stuffed safely inside his shirt. He glanced back and saw plumes of black smoke pouring from the island into the blue sky above. Then, in the rapidly fading distance, he watched as three men piled into the remaining speedboat and gave chase.

  Already going fast enough to make him feel like he would crash and die at any second, Benji didn’t dare to push the boat any faster. He pictured himself hitting a small wave and wrecking the speedboat. Going this fast, hitting the water would be like hitting concrete. The boat, along with its driver, would be demolished.

  The driver of the other boat didn’t share the same concerns.

  Benji’s pursuer sped unimaginably fast across the water, and the gap between them closed steadily. The one mile head start he had enjoyed was shrinking quickly. Benji aimed his boat at the largest bit of land he saw and hoped it was the main island. Glancing back, he saw the other speedboat was no more than a quarter of a mile away and gaining.

  “Oh no.”

  There, in the distance, a plane rose from the airstrip on the Ironsides’ island and banked sharply, heading his way.

  “Now I’ll never get away.”

  But he had to try. Benji altered his course slightly, just enough to direct his boat toward a busy port where he hoped he could lose his pursuers in the maze of tankers and fishing boats.

  POP POP POP!

  Benji ducked and looked back. The speedboat couldn’t have been but fifty yards away—and within range of the guards' guns.

  POP POP POP!

  Bullets punched through the boat’s fiberglass hull, barely missing the boy and the engines.

  Suddenly, the Ironside’s plane whooshed overhead and made a wide, arching turn. Benji pushed forward on the accelerator, the new burst of speed widening the gap between the boats. If he could make it to the port first he might stand a chance. He looked up just in time to see the plane finish its maneuver.

  It was headed straight at him!

  Benji was trapped. The goons with the guns were within twenty yards now, their weapons trained on him, and the plane was about to fly right over his head, ready to drop who-knew-what on him.

  There was no way he would make it to the port before they caught him. He started to slow; being taken alive seemed like a better option than getting shot and crashing a speedboat going more than fifty miles per hour. For some reason, it seemed like the plane was slowing, too.

  Suddenly, just before cruising over him...

  The plane cut sharply to the right and fell from the sky, smashing into the other boat!

  Ironside’s men barely had a second to jump off and escape a fiery death. They hit the water and tumbled wildly. An explosion sent a plume of water and burning fuel into the sky and chunks of boat and plane splashed down all around.

  “No!”

  Just before it crashed head-on into the speedboat, Benji had seen a person fall from the plane’s open door. He turned sharply and sped back to where he saw them hit the water, about fifty yards from the wreckage. He cut the engine and jumped up onto the railing, searching frantically. Benji’s heart was in his throat and he beat back the panic threatening to take over.

  He dove in and swam hard, pushing himself deeper and deeper. His mom drifted limply in the current and didn’t respond when Benji hooked his arms under hers and kicked his way back to the surface. He dragged her to the boat and hauled her up the back steps.

  Benji laid her on the floor and put his ear to her mouth, watching her chest, just like in lifeguard training. She wasn’t breathing. He tilted her head back, pinched her nose, and breathed into her mouth once, then a second time.

  He pressed two fingers to the side of her neck and felt a faint pulse. Still, she wasn’t breathing. Benji repeated the process three times before she began to cough. He rolled his mom onto her side and she vomited sea water onto the floor.

  “Mom! Mom! You’re alive!” Benji hugged her tight, wanting never to let go. He had never felt relief so intense in his life.

  She gave a weak half-smile before slipping back into unconsciousness. After making sure she was still breathing, Benji made her as comfortable as he could and re-started the engines.

  He once again aimed the bow at the big island ahead of him. But this time, he sped towards and past a cruise ship anchored a few hundred yards out from a white, sandy beach. The beach stretched out in front of a resort and people ran out of the way as the speedboat drove past the water line and onto the beach.

  It didn't take long for Benji to get someone to call for help. Minutes later, he found himself with his mom in the back of an ambulance, racing to Nadi hospital.

  38.

  Like father like son

  “Benji.”

  He jerked his head up at the sound of his mom’s voice. He looked at her with eyes that were red from crying and too little sleep.

  Benji stood and leaned over her, wrapping her in a gentle hug. “I’m so glad you’re okay, Mom. I was so scared—I didn’t know when you were going to wake up.”

  “Oh, I’ll be fine.” She managed a weak smile. “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah, I’m okay,” he said slowly, fidgeting with his hands. “I just…I thought they had me. They were shooting at me and I couldn’t get away, and then—wait, since when can you fly a plane?”

  “Your mom might not be as boring as you think.” She held his hand in hers and squeezed. “I’m just glad you’re safe. How long was I out?”

  “Since early yesterday afternoon, so like eighteen hours. The doctor said you’ve got a mild concussion, but other than that he thinks it’s just bumps and bruises. He wants you to stay another night just to make sure there’s no internal bleeding.”

  “Well, that’s a relief,” she said.

  They sat in quiet for a moment, just holding hands, savoring the momentary peace. Both mom and son were happy to be alive—and happy the other was alive. Laura watched Benji as he looked down at the floor, a slight frown on his face and his eyebrows scrunched.

  “What’s going on in that head of yours?”

  He looked up. “Those villagers I heard the other night—the ones I took the ruby from. You know, the descendants.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Well, they were playing music and laughing. They seemed so, I don’t know, happy. Content. Not a care in the world. And Trent’s dad wants them all dead.”

  “But you got the ruby first.” She smiled. “I should have named you Indiana Jones.”

  Benji blushed at being compared to his idol. “Well, there were booby traps.” He showed his mom the dots on his arms from where he’d been burned in the tunnel.

  Her eyes grew wide. “Sounds like you have quite the story. But not right now,” she said, then moaned, tired and sore. “So what are you worried about, Benji?”

  “What if Trent finds the ruby?”

  “You already k
now the answer.” She closed her exhausted eyes. “Do you think he could?”

  “I don’t know. I don’t think so. Maybe. Eventually.” Benji sighed. “Probably. What should I do?”

  But asking was useless. She was asleep. Gingerly, Benji placed his mom’s hand back on the bed and left the room on quiet feet. He eased the door shut behind him and leaned against the wall in the long, dim hallway.

  He slid to the floor and pulled off his hat, playing with it in his hands while he thought about what he should do. What were his choices? The police? They were in Ironside’s pocket. Leave it alone? Trent and his goons would find the ruby eventually and kill the villagers. They would get away with it, too. And if Benji went and got it himself, what would he do with it?

  “Assuming I don’t get killed first,” he muttered to himself. “So what the heck do I do?”

  Benji sat there and tried to figure it out. He soon found himself staring at his hat, the fabric, the individual stitches. It was something simple to do just to take his mind off things. But it wasn’t his hat, really.

  It was his father’s.

  What would he do? Benji’s dad, the adventurer, the wiry man in the photograph. The protector of the natives. The man who dedicated his life to helping others. His dad would probably do what needed to be done for the sake of innocent people.

  He would save the day.

  39.

  Should have paid attention…

  After all his clothes had been through—fire, water, falling down mountains—they were showing some wear and tear. Benji's t-shirt was decorated with burn marks and holes galore, not to mention the two strips he’d ripped off to keep from getting smashed to bits against that solid rock wall. His shorts told the same story, which was why Benji was surprised to find his wallet still safely inside his zipped back pocket—just a bit wet.

  Benji found his way downtown without any major problems, though he looked over his shoulder so much he was sure people must have thought he was crazy. Twice he thought he saw one of Ironside's men and ducked inside a store to hide behind shelves of touristy knickknacks. Once certain the coast was clear, he stopped at an ATM to withdraw some money from his savings account back home. Then his stomach growled.

  It roared.

  He glanced back and everyone in line for the ATM was staring at him. He blushed.

  "I'm, uh, just a bit hungry. Anyone know where I can get some pizza?"

  A young backpacker pointed him in the direction of Mama's Pizza, which he claimed was the best in Fiji. Benji found it just a block away, where the Queen's Road ran through the city. And in that one block, no less than eight taxis slowed beside him, their drivers shouting to him, asking if he needed a ride. Each time he shook his head and kept walking.

  The restaurant was a lot better than he’d expected. Six delicious slices of pepperoni pizza and two large cokes later and he felt like himself again. But the best thing? Air conditioning. He couldn't remember the last time he’d felt air conditioning, and the hot pacific sun was merciless.

  Now that Benji no longer felt as though he would die of starvation, he could focus on replacing his shredded clothes. Not only did his tattered shirt attract attention, it also stank. A lot.

  He went into the first store he passed and started shuffling through the collection of brightly colored souvenir t-shirts. A tour group full of families followed him in.

  It was an innocent scene and Benji felt jealous. All these people were probably spending the day in their air-conditioned bus, touring the island. He bet they took loads of pictures, hung out on beautiful beaches, and were having a great time. No one had kidnapped their mom or shot at them (he hoped). They were on family vacations. The vibe in the store felt nice to Benji, but...

  He should have gotten a better look at who he’d held the door for.

  40.

  A broken door

  "I got ya now, ya little punk," a familiar voice growled in Benji's ear.

  Benji tried to shout for help, but couldn't. Ironside's thug grabbed his shirt by the back of the collar and twisted hard.

  The man smiled at the store's costumers and kept up an easygoing persona the whole time. He also kept Benji facing the shirt racks so no one noticed a thing.

  Benji struggled to breathe. He saw spots.

  "Yeah, boss, I got 'em," the man spoke into a cell phone. "We're in-"

  Benji went completely limp and pretended to pass out. The thug dropped the phone as he struggled with two hands to catch Benji before he hit the floor. That would attract unwanted attention. Almost as much as...

  "Help! Mom, Dad, anybody! This guy's trying to take me! Help!"

  As soon as Benji was able to breathe again, he leapt up and shouted at the top of his lungs.

  Suddenly, a crowd of angry moms were waving their fingers in the man's face, telling him how he had better let that poor boy go. The four biggest dads in the group starting pushing their way through the mob of women and seemed very willing to help the mean-looking man leave Benji alone.

  He completely lost his hold on Benji as they backed him into a corner. Benji didn't waste a second. He slipped through the crowd and out the door and ran. His sigh of relief caught in his throat when he looked back and saw the shop's door swing open and the man run out. He saw Benji before the boy could hide. Their eyes met.

  The chase was on.

  People shouted at Benji for shoving past them on the sidewalk, only to be knocked to the ground when Ironside’s man plowed them out of his way. Benji cut across the street and drivers slammed on their brakes and swerved to avoid running him over. The man followed, gaining on the boy with every step.

  Benji turned down a side street and rested a moment, sure he’d found safety. The feeling vanished when the hired goon rounded the corner and eyed the boy with a wolfish grin. Benji turned and ran, the man close at his heels.

  Ironside’s thug reached out.

  Just feet separated them, then inches. He was going to grab him and it would be all over.

  His fingertips brushed Benji's shirt...

  When, suddenly, Benji grabbed the handle of a shop door and used his momentum to yank it open behind him faster than the blink of an eye.

  Trent’s thug never saw it coming.

  The man crashed through the glass door, the shattering sounds echoing between the rows of shops and apartments lining the street. He landed in a heap on the sidewalk. He moaned and struggled to get up in the mess of broken glass.

  Benji wasted no time in getting away. He sprinted back the way he came, shouting his apologies to the angry shop owner as he ran off.

  Seconds later he was back on the Queen's Road, jumping into the first taxi that stopped.

  "Drive!"

  41.

  Gut feeling

  The car leapt forward and raced through town down the main street. Benji turned and peeked over the backseat.

  Seconds after the taxi pulled away, a white Land Rover screeched to a stop. Trent and Anders jumped out and ran down the side street, returning seconds later to look up and down the Queen's Road for the fourteen-year-old who had escaped them once again.

  Benji ducked told the bewildered driver to make a few random turns before finally turning north and heading out of town. Benji explained that he needed to go into the mountains, but didn't really know exactly how to get where he needed to go.

  "No, sorry," the driver said, "my car cannot go there you need a carrier—a truck."

  He left Benji at the bus station and, after collecting his fare, wished the American luck and drove back towards town.

  Finding a pickup truck driver willing to take him some hours into the interior of the island without knowing one hundred percent how to get there turned out to be difficult. Driver after driver looked at the young vavalungi like he was crazy. A half-dozen old men said no before Benji came across one bored-looking young guy eager to stuff fifty dollars in his pocket—enough money to get a smile and a welcoming wave into the pas
senger seat.

  At Benji’s direction, he turned north and drove past the airport. Because he’d focused so much on memorizing his route after Trent caught him, it wasn’t that hard to find the turn that would take him into the interior. The road got rough and Benji saw all the familiar landmarks. It was easy to spot the turns he had to make, and they eventually reached the edge of the woods.

  His earlier assumption proved to be true. No turns. After an hour of driving, the truck rumbled over the wooden bridge that had served as his hideout from Trent. Another two hours passed before they rolled to a stop in front of the willow tree.

  “Could you wait here?” Benji asked. “I shouldn’t be too long.”

  The driver frowned and glanced at his watch, obviously unhappy with how long this job was lasting.

  “How about an extra twenty bucks to wait for me?”

  The money won him over and off Benji went, under the willow branches to the path beyond. He followed it slowly, looking around constantly for the game trail that would take him closer to where the ruby hid. The narrow mud trail was easy to find and off he went in the direction of the treasure, eager to bring the adventure to an end.

  But something felt wrong to Benji. He couldn't put his finger on it, though. There was no ominous snapping of sticks in the forest or muffled coughs or any other sign someone was following him. But still, his gut told him something wasn't right.

  Maybe the sounds of the jungle seemed different; like the birds weren’t singing as loudly or the insects had stopped buzzing. Or as if someone was hiding behind every tree, waiting to jump out and catch him.