Death chomped at Benji’s heels and he sprinted on. The walls of the tunnel passed in a blur, moving closer and closer as he ran. A low grinding sound reached his ears.
The tunnel was closing in!
Splatters of burning oil hissed on Benji’s hat and drops of fire splattered on his bare arms. He screamed in pain.
Faster!
Benji’s shoulders scraped the sides of the tunnel. Would he make it? Would he be burned alive? Crushed between two walls of stone?
“AAAAAHH!”
Benji burst through the end of the tunnel and out into the silver moonlight. He landed in the brush and lay there gasping for breath. Second by second, his racing heart slowed and his shaking limbs calmed. After a good five minutes of reminding himself that yes, he just lived through a real-life booby trap, he sat up and took a swig from his water bottle. Shaking hands made him splash water down his shirt before the lip of the bottle made it to his mouth.
“Wow. Wow wow wow,” Benji muttered. He looked at the dozen tiny burns dotting his arms and poured cool water over them, sighing with relief.
“I’m alive.” He pinched himself and rubbed his face just to make sure. “Man. That was insane.”
His hat was decorated with little black scorch marks, which were scattered all over the brim and top. He brushed them off as best he could.
Benji stood on wobbly legs and looked at the tunnel, which had since eased itself back open as though nothing happened. He pulled his hat on tight and looked around, trying to figure out where to go next. A pile of boulders stood nearby, leaning against the cliff face behind him. He turned off his headlamp and climbed up, letting the light of the moon show the way.
The view from the top of the stack showed Benji everything he needed to see. He stood halfway up the side of a deep valley; the forested hill below him eased to the valley floor while the cliffs at his back towered above him, reaching towards the sky. And there, on the valley floor scattered among the trees, were the huts of a village. It was the hidden village of the descendants. On the other side of the village, three hundred feet up a sheer cliff face, a gaping black hole stood out from the bright gray of the rock. That was it, the way to the ruby. But how to reach it?
Benji had to stay away from the villagers. He couldn’t warn them of the armed men following behind, plotting to kill the line of Magellan. They wouldn’t be able to fight off Trent and his henchman—it would be a bloodbath. Benji had to find the stone, take it, and leave the valley without anyone seeing him.
He had just barely escaped with his life from the tunnel of doom behind him. Who knew how deadly the cave would be?
26.
The way up
After one more bite of his granola bar and another gulp of water, Benji was ready to go. He climbed back to the ground and headed out, giving the village a wide berth as he made his way across the valley floor.
Leaves and brush made walking through the forest at night a loud thing to do. Each footfall sounded, to Benji’s ears, like a herd of elephants trying to sneak through the woods. He was sure someone would hear him and come to investigate, and he would be caught. How would Benji explain why he was here if the Fijians probably didn’t speak English?
And, even more important, had these people ever stopped being cannibals?
Faint sounds of village life traveled through the jungle to Benji’s ears, that of music, singing, and laughter. At this time of night the kava would be flowing and the people happy. And they were there, so close. What if he just walked in and smiled? Would they grin back and welcome him with open arms and coconut bowls of kava?
They probably would. Fijians were some of the nicest people in the world, after all.
But they couldn’t know he was here. Their lives depended on it.
Benji reached the other side of the valley and climbed the hill. After what seemed like hours of sneaking through the jungle, Benji leaned against the cliff face and let himself rest a moment. The mountain air cooled Benji’s hot skin as he stared again in amazement at all the stars overhead.
From the corner of his eye, Benji thought he saw something. He looked across the valley back toward the tunnel. Nothing. He must have been imagining things. No, there! A light. Two lights, three. They were headlamps, emerging from the tunnel.
“Oh, man.”
Trent.
They took their time, not running for their lives like Benji had. Trent and the rest of his group must have figured out how to beat the booby traps. Benji counted each headlamp. Eight. Trent was one, then Anders and the guide. That left five hired goons, all of whom were probably armed to the teeth and trained to kill. Definitely not the kind of guys Benji wanted to meet in a dark alley. Or anywhere else.
One by one, the eight headlamps winked out. They didn’t want the villagers to know they were here, either. At least not until they had the ruby. Once Trent got his hands on that ruby it would all be over for the people below. There would be no more music, no more laughing. And no one would ever know.
Benji had to get there first.
It only took a minute or so to find the cave entrance. It was three hundred feet up, dark and menacing, and ringed by jagged rocks like shark teeth.
Now Benji needed to find a way up there. Trent had never mentioned how he expected to scale the cliff, and Benji hadn’t thought of that. He paced back and forth in front of the wall.
“If I were some Fijian guy hundreds of years ago, how would I get up there? They didn’t have climbing gear and it’s really high up. I wonder if—ow!”
He hopped on one foot, clasping his shin with both hands.
“Ooooh!” Benji limped back to where he’d walked straight into a step, carved cleverly from the rock itself and nearly invisible. Its smooth surface stuck out no more than a foot and was the first of many leading up the cliff.
Benji had found the way to the cave.
Right away, he knew this wouldn’t be like walking up a normal staircase. First, the steps weren’t wide enough to walk straight up; his left shoulder pushed up too hard against the rocks for that to work. Second, there was nothing to hold onto—no railing and not a single place in the smooth cliff where he could get a grip. Nothing to stop him from falling.
Benji pulled his hat down tighter, pressed his chest against the rock, and started side stepping his way up the cliff. The first few steps were no problem. They were close to the ground and he knew he would survive the fall.
Then he climbed higher. And higher. The odds of him surviving the fall got smaller and smaller. His legs felt rubbery and the height started to make him feel sick. He forced himself to look just at his feet and the next step. Each step brought him closer to the cave entrance—and farther from the ground.
The wind pulled at Benji, threatening to toss him from the wall like he was nothing more than a feather swept from the rocks. He pressed hard against the cliff and kept going, the merciless wind bringing tears to his eyes. As terrifying as it was, the going was pretty easy: just one foot, then the other, and stay against the wall. Nothing to it.
Suddenly, the steps gave way beneath his feet!
27.
Shark’s teeth
An entire slab of stone dropped as soon as he placed his full weight on it, sending rock and dirt into the empty sky where it fell to the ground a hundred feet below. Benji landed on the next step chest first with a big oomph! The rest of his body hung over the edge.
Panic seized him as his hands scrambled and scraped against the steps and cliff, trying to find a way back up. He found nothing but smooth stone and slid further towards the edge. He kicked his feet, trying to launch himself up, even just a little, but it didn’t work.
He was falling.
A crack!
Benji buried the tips of his fingers deep into a narrow crack in the stone and stopped his backward slide towards certain death. He pulled with all his strength and swung one leg up onto the steps before pulling his whole body to safety. He lay on hi
s side, pressed against the cliff wall and as far from the edge as possible.
“Jeez!”
Where the step had once been was a smooth edge, like it had once been cut through. It was man-made. A trap.
How many more were there?
It didn’t matter—he had to keep moving.
A hundred feet down and a mile away, Trent and his men were making their way toward the stone steps. There wasn’t much time.
Benji started back up the stairs on shaky legs, fighting the wind and testing each step before he put his full weight on it. He skipped a half dozen steps before reaching the mouth of the cave.
“There have got to be more booby traps here somewhere.”
With the help of a full moon, he was able to keep an eye out for anything suspicious during the climb—like cracks or grooves or holes—but he saw nothing. Here, though, he could imagine a person would get so close to the top and be so happy to have survived the climb that they would be reckless. That’s where he would put a trap.
But nothing happened.
The steps stopped seven feet or so short of the bottom teeth of the cave. Its mouth gaped wide, the teeth even larger and more menacing up close. The teeth really were like those of a shark’s: ugly, uneven, and dangerous-looking. Benji figured he could jump and grab a hold of one and pull himself up.
“Wait a sec...”
This was too easy. All he had to do was grab a rock and pull himself up. Simple. He took out his rope and tied a small loop at the end, which he tossed over one of the teeth. A gentle tug was all it took for the razor-sharp rock to slice clean through the rope.
“Wow. Glad that wasn’t my finger.”
He took his water bottle and tied the rope around the middle of it. After making sure it was nice and tight, he tossed it over and between the teeth, then pulled until it rested up against the backs of them like a grappling hook. The rope came down between two teeth, just far enough from the edges to avoid being cut again.
He tied a loop to put his foot into and easily climbed up and over the deadly trap. Had he just jumped up and grabbed hold, his fingers would have been sheared off and he would have fallen the length of a football field to the ground.
And landed right where Trent stood, getting ready to climb the stairs.
28.
Skewered or smashed?
Six feet inside the cave, the moonlight disappeared altogether. The darkness was complete and Benji couldn’t see his hand held just inches from his eyes. He risked using his headlamp, covering it completely with his hand before turning it on. He let the smallest sliver of light escape, barely enough to lead the way.
The cave stretched beyond the headlamp’s reach. Its walls and ceiling were rough; stalactites reached down for their stalagmite mates rising up from the floor. Bats the size of crows hung upside down above Benji’s head.
He took careful steps forward, ever watchful for traps. The occasional crack ran this way and that, and though it was probably nothing he avoided them anyway. Then, all of a sudden, the random crack turned into a scattered spider web of thin cracks, almost invisible to someone who wasn't looking for them. It looked just like glass that was getting ready to shatter into a million pieces.
It was probably nothing, but still...better safe than sorry. Benji got his rope back out and tied a big loop in the end. After that, he tied a few smaller loops and, finally, tied the end of the rope around his waist.
He swung the rope like a cowboy swinging a lasso and tried to snare a stalagmite on the other side of the cracks. It took a few attempts, but finally the rope landed low and secure around the rocky cone.
"This is such a bad idea." He shook his head.
With that he stepped onto the cracks.
Nothing happened.
"Well, that wasn't a big deal."
He took another step.
CRAAAACK.
“Whoa!”
The floor gave way like thin ice and he fell through...
Straight toward dozens of viciously spiked poles!
He dropped like a bag of bricks and his heart flew into his throat. At the last moment, the rope pulled taut and he swung a wide arc into the other side of the pit and hit the rocks with an OOMPH. The impact knocked the air from his body like a punch to the gut, and he hung gasping for breath.
Air made its way back into Benji's lungs and he took slow, deep breaths. The soles of his shoes rested on deadly, stone-tipped spears. He shivered at his close brush with death. Indiana Jones made it look so easy.
The loops he’d tied in the rope made climbing back up a simple task, and soon Benji stood on solid ground. He untied the rope and returned it to his backpack before continuing on.
His lead on Trent was growing smaller.
"Oh, man. Stairs...why does it have to be more stairs..."
The entrance to the staircase was flanked on either side by sconces protruding from the stone like big light switches in the up position, each holding an ancient-looking torch with its end wrapped in dry cloth. Benji leaned over the first step and looked down into the nothingness. The staircase was far too long and dark for him to hope to see the end.
He figured the stairs were probably like the ones before. The same plan would work. Test the step and, if it felt unsteady, skip it.
The first step proved steady, and Benji started his descent. The second step—steady. Then, carefully, he eased to the third step…
When, without warning, all of the steps dropped diagonally, creating a huge slide that went down, down, down into blackness.
“Ahhh!” His panicked screams echoed in the narrow tunnel.
The stone slide was slick as ice.
Faster and faster he slid with nothing to grab onto and no way to slow himself. The walls were as smooth as the floor and too far apart for him to wedge himself in. Every second or so a torch passed by, just out of reach. When would the stairwell end?
Benji had to stop.
Now.
He pulled out his rope and tied a quick loop on one end. He then tore two strips of fabric from his tattered shirt and wrapped them around his hands, covering his palms and fingers.
Then, at the edge of the headlamp’s light and speeding closer every second, Benji saw the end of the stairwell. No spikes stood waiting, no pit of fire or pool of acid lay at the base of the stairs for the poor soul who got caught in the trap. No, nothing that fancy. It was just a wall. An ordinary, unyielding, stone wall. It would be like a bug hitting a car’s front windshield on the highway.
Splat.
Wasting no time, Benji tossed the loop of rope at one of the torches and held on tight, making sure the fabric was between the rope and his skin. The rope landed square on a torch and dropped to the stone sconce below.
It snapped taut with a jerk so strong it would have broken Benji’s back had he tied it around his waist. Even though he held onto the rope with all his strength, it was a blur as it sped through his hands.
He kept flying down the slide.
Benji screamed.
Then, he slowed. And stopped. Benji stopped screaming and opened eyes that had been squeezed shut so tight that he now saw stars. And that was all he saw. The headlamp had fallen from his head and the tunnel was bathed in a deep blackness.
Benji pulled the lighter from his backpack and flicked it alight, illuminating the space around him. He took a torch down from a wall sconce and in no time its flame filled the halls with light.
The wall Benji had nearly smashed into was close enough to spit on…had his throat and mouth not gone completely dry from screaming. He looked down at the strips of fabric wrapped around his hands. Smoke drifted up from the blackened bits of cotton, scorched from the friction of the speeding rope. If that had been his skin…Benji shuddered at the thought.
“Man,” he murmured, after taking a sip from his water bottle, “I don’t know what’s more likely to kill me: Trent and his goons or trying to find this ruby. Jeez!”
“Don’t worry, there’s a few more coming.”
The sound of stone grinding against stone filled the tunnel, and the stairs turned up to their original, level position. Regretfully, Benji left the rope behind as he followed the tunnel deeper into the mountain.
Not long after leaving the stairwell, Benji reached the tunnel’s end at an ornate archway carved into the rock. Beyond it lay a room. And on an altar in the middle of that room sat the ruby.
29.
Treasure
Just like the old chief had said, it was huge. It was the size of an orange and glowed red in the light of the torch. Benji saw immediately how the precious stone could cause such uproar. If Trent got his hands on it and eliminated anyone who could claim it as theirs, his family would have more money than they could ever spend.
More money than they could ever spend…
But what if Benji kept it? Magellan’s descendants probably wouldn’t even notice it was gone. He could be rich. No more junker car, no more worrying about money. Plus, at his school, being rich meant being respected. They would finally leave him alone.
But Benji already knew how he would feel, stealing the ruby. He knew how disappointed his mom would be. Keeping it would eventually lead to the discovery of Magellan’s descendants—an uncontacted group of people. Benji would be going directly against what his father gave his life for. He sighed.
“Aw heck. Why do we have to be so honest? Just one ‘get out of jail free’ card is all I ask for. But noooo. Now I gotta get that thing and get out of here without getting myself killed.”
Unexpected Hero Page 8