

Copyright © 2014 by Craig Goodwin

Cover Illustration © 2014 by Amanda Mullins

All Rights Reserved

To Grandma Su,

Who never doubted I would share my adventures with the world

# Prologue

Fiji, 1521

The storm lasted three days. More violent than any in decades, its wind ripped bamboo homes from dirt foundations and scattered them hundreds of feet in the air. Lightning split the sky and thunder shook the ground with such intensity that rocks and boulders broke free from mountainsides and tumbled into the valleys and villages below. The ocean raged, throwing forty-foot waves at the shoreline. It destroyed beaches and dragged trees from the earth like weeds.

On the fourth day, the sun rose over calm seas and foreign visitors.

Ferdinand Magellan, famed Portuguese explorer, led three longboats ashore. In each boat sat twenty of the strongest men from each of his remaining three ships. Two years had passed since leaving the port in Spain. Their voyage around the world had brought them west, across the Atlantic ocean, down the coast of South America, through the treacherous waters at its southernmost tip, and across the Pacific to the Fiji Islands. Finding the islands was fortunate—the ships were low on supplies and had been damaged in the fierce storm.

The longboats plowed into the sandy beach and the men climbed out, dragging the boats above the waterline. The sixty sailors followed Magellan across the beach and into the jungle.

Birdsongs carried throughout the colorful forest. Beautiful, bright flowers decorated the deep green brush. It was a welcome break from the ships. But, despite the beauty of the island, danger lurked.

And the men knew it.

Natives.

Magellan ordered his men to walk with their long guns loaded and easy to reach. The savages that dwelt in the far jungles of the world were a mystery. Little of fact was known about these people, but they'd become infamous for their violent ways.

The group made their way inland, searching for fresh water, edible vegetables, and any animals they could kill for food. They also eyed the trees, looking for ones that were tall and straight. The masts on two of the ships had snapped during the storm, broken like twigs beneath the hurricane-force winds. They needed replacements.

Magellan saw the glint of sunlight reflecting off water in the distance. Toward the end of a long valley he spied a waterfall. They followed a trail through the jungle, walking single file. After a short while, the trail brought them into a wide clearing.

Without warning, a volley of stone-tipped spears arched through the air, aimed straight at Magellan and his men. The surprise attack cut down nearly twenty sailors in an instant. The forest around them erupted in shrieks and war cries. A hundred native warriors poured from the hills on either side of the valley, throwing more spears and swinging heavy war clubs.

Sixty guns fired at once, cutting a wide gap in the natives' charge. They scattered, terrified. The weapons the light-skinned invaders carried seemed to kill by sound alone. The warriors vanished into the jungle. A tense silence covered the clearing.

The sailors took a moment to reload their guns, pouring in the powder, and stuffing the wadding and lead down after it. Another volley of spears burst from the shadows, bringing down more of Magellan's men. Many of the sailors fired wildly into the brush.

Immediately, the natives erupted from the jungle and charged in from all sides. More guns fired into the Fijians, but they kept coming, having seen how long it took to prepare the guns for another shot. Magellan drew his sword and pistol and his men did the same.

The two groups collided. Native warriors fell to pistol shots, but most broke into the ranks of the sailors, war clubs swinging. Magellan battled valiantly with his sword and pistol that he held by the barrel and swung as a club. He defeated the natives two, even three at a time.

The rest of his men were not so lucky.

Magellan watched as his own fighters were overwhelmed by the larger force and shouted above the battle. He held his sword above his head by the flat of the blade and lay it at the feet of their leader in surrender. The remaining sailors, less than half of the original shore party, were bound by the wrists with vines and marched inland.

They walked for two days, stopping only briefly for breaks and to sleep. They were given no food or water. After marching through a torch-lit tunnel the men arrived at a village deep in the mountains, surrounded by cliffs on all sides. A large, middle-aged man emerged from a bamboo hut and met them in a clearing. He wore human bones as jewelry and carried a chipped and worn war club, the evidence of many victorious battles. The chief. He addressed the Fijian warriors and pointed his club at Magellan. The natives stepped forward, raising their own clubs.

The sailors fell to their knees and begged for their lives. Magellan stepped toward the chief, drawing a ruby from a bag tied to his belt. He'd found it while stopped in South America and now offered it in exchange for their lives. The chief's eyes widened at the sight of such a large gem. It was the size of an orange and deep red in color, and more valuable than all of Magellan's ships combined.

Through words and motions, Magellan made it clear he offered to exchange the precious stone for their release.

The chief considered this and called his greatest warrior from the crowd. The fighter stood a head taller than Magellan and twice as wide. His muscular body was covered in scars and black, swirling tattoos. Magellan had seen him from the other side of the battle. Many of his own men fell to the native. Magellan was to fight this man for their freedom.

If the Fijian warrior emerged victorious, the sailors were to be executed and Magellan's bones added to the chief's jewelry. If Magellan won, both he and his crew would be spared. They would be given time to rest and re-supply before resuming their travels, leaving behind the precious gift. If he refused to fight, all of them would be killed.

The choice was clear. He needed to save the lives of his men—and avenge the lives of his sailors that the warrior had taken.

Magellan was cut from his bonds and given his sword.

The warrior hefted his war club and the two men circled like wolves. The Fijian lunged forward. He came close to killing Magellan in the first moments, knocking him to the ground and nearly crushing his skull with the war club.

But Magellan dodged the blow and jumped to his feet. He sliced upward with his sword. The warrior stepped back, narrowly dodging a lethal strike. He swung down with his club, straight at Magellan's head.

At the last moment, the captain blocked the death blow. The force of the strike snapped his sword and knocked him to his knees. He got back to his feet. A solid kick to his chest sent him flying. He landed on his back, the pieces of his sword tumbling out of reach. The Fijian warrior towered over his foe. The sailors moaned.

Then, with strength and speed the Fijians did not expect from the smaller, wounded foreigner, Magellan rolled away from the killing strike and grabbed a shard of his broken blade. He leapt up and buried it in his foe's heart.

The chief roared and pointed his club at Magellan. His greatest warrior had fallen. The victor stood his ground, breathing hard. Their eyes locked and they stared at one another. A minute passed in tense silence. Abruptly, the chief spun and stomped away.

He remained true to his word and allowed the men to live. They stayed in the village until they were well enough to make the trek back to the beach—many of Magellan's men had been seriously injured in the attack. Local women waited on them and tended to their wounds. They were kind and treated the foreigners with care.

Magellan spent hours each day with a village woman to whom he taught some Portuguese words and gave her gifts from his travels. She, in turn, taught him some of her language and cared for him as he recovered from the battle.

She was beautiful and kind-hearted and Magellan quickly fell for her. They could be seen holding hands by the fire at night. At other times they were nowhere to be found.

The days passed and Magellan and his men recovered. Once able, they retrieved their weapons and left the village, leaving the ruby behind. They returned to their ships and agreed to never to speak to anyone about how Ferdinand Magellan had found, and then lost, the most valuable ruby ever discovered.

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# 1.

Threat

"Hey Stone, you sure you're not a chick?" Trent whispered to the back of Benji's head. "Because you really look like one. You sound like one, too. You've even got those silky-smooth legs."

Benji felt the crimson warmth crawl up his neck. He tried to ignore Trent, but blushing came easy to the fourteen year-old. The other kids couldn't resist making jabs at him just to see his face change colors. The brighter red it got, the more they laughed. Years had passed this way, and every time they teased him he wanted to dig himself a great big hole to hide in.

"You're in a guy's class, Stone. The girls take home ec. With you being a chick and all, you should be in home ec, right? Not history."

Benji felt his ears turning red. He knew, without even looking, the exact facial expression Trent was making. One eyebrow would be just slightly raised and the right corner of his mouth would be lifted in a devilish half-smile. He heard a suppressed chuckle beside him.

Benji never understood why the other kids thought Trent was so cool. The varsity pitcher was a god here at Woodward High. He never walked down the hallway without a small crowd of fans trailing after him, half wearing varsity jackets, just like their hero. Kids were even saying that the Red Sox might sign him straight out of high school. Teachers even liked him, using words like "charming," "handsome," and "talented" when they talked about him. So yeah, he was pretty popular. Too bad he was a jerk.

But he was right; Benji shouldn't be here. He should be in a different class, in a different part of the building, maybe a different school entirely—as far from Trent Ironside as he could get.

Instead, he sat in a world history class full of older boys and two of Trent's female cheerleaders, all of them endlessly amused by Benji's misery. Home ec wasn't an option, though. He had no interest in cooking or sewing or taking care of babies. But really, he didn't much enjoy learning about the wars these guys loved so much.

He took history to learn about ancient cultures and the lives of courageous adventurers that died years and years ago. Nothing caught his interest as much as Sir Francis Drake's trip around the world, the cannibals of the south pacific, or his ancestors in Scotland. He could hardly wait until junior year when he could take anthropology—the study of human societies and their cultures. Until then, he would have to suffer through sitting in a classroom full of upperclassmen for two entire school years.

"Actually, you don't look like a teenage chick. You look more like a little girl. Skinny, kinda short, and with such a smooth face...just like a little girl."

"Shut up! Just shut up!" Benji jumped from his seat and spun around. His face felt hot and he knew his skin matched his bright red Patriots jersey, but in that moment he didn't care. He raised his voice with his fists clenched at his sides.

"Stop talking to me. Just leave. Me. Alone." He felt his eyes water up in his anger and embarrassment and saw, for a split moment, the corner of Trent's mouth lifting along with his eyebrow. The instant passed and a look of pure innocence took over.

"Benjamin," came a soft, deep voice from the front of the room.

He took his eyes off Trent and turned to face his teacher, Mr. Edwards. He wiped his eyes with the back of his hand.

"Is there a reason why you've decided to so effectively disrupt my class?" The old man frowned and furrowed his bushy eyebrows so deep they touched. He waited for an answer.

Benji slowly regained control over his breathing and forced himself to calm down. He stayed quiet. He'd learned years ago that telling on Trent only made things worse.

"Mr. Ironside, explain what you did to upset your classmate so much."

The star pitcher turned into a young boy shocked at being accused of a crime he didn't commit. "I really don't know what got him so angry, sir. All I did was ask him for a spare pencil—the tip of mine broke off. See?" Trent held up a pencil whose tip was conveniently missing.

Mr. Edwards sighed and ran his fingers through his stringy silver hair.

The aging teacher pointed to an empty desk in the front row. "I'd like you to sit here for the remainder of the period."

Trent scowled and opened his mouth to argue.

"It wasn't a request," said Mr. Edwards said in a soft voice while looking over the top of his bifocals. The room was silent for a long moment.

Finally, the Woodward High baseball god gathered his materials and strutted his way up the aisle to the empty desk in the front row. He fell into the seat with a huff.

"Now, I'd like everyone to turn to page one hundred and fifty-four..."

Mr. Edwards read the assignment from his notebook and Trent turned around in his seat. He stared at Benji without blinking and slowly drew a finger across his throat. No smirk, no lifted eyebrow.

His glare lingered another moment and then he turned to face the front just as Mr. Edwards finished reading out the assignment.

Oh, no.

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# 2.

A wiry one

The eleventh and twelfth graders spent the remaining ten minutes reading about the conquests of Alexander the Great. The lone ninth grader in the room looked at the pages but couldn't focus his eyes through the tears. He wiped them away and kept his gaze down and pretended to read.

People like Trent think they're so awesome with their fancy cars and varsity jackets. How can jerks be so popular? They're mud—nothing more than mud. What they say doesn't count. It doesn't even matter.

But, even after telling himself that a thousand times, it didn't keep Benji from walking with his head down or feeling like dirt. It never did.

Nine years on the swim team was both a blessing and a curse for Benji: he was good at it—really good at it—but shaving his legs on a regular basis wasn't seen as the manliest of things.

He casually ran a hand down his jaw to his chin. Come on, just one hair. I bet if I grew a beard he would leave me alone. Benji sighed. But maybe he's right. Maybe I do look like a girl. I just wish I had more muscles and facial hair and looked like the other guys...Man, I hate high school.

The bell rang and the class shuffled out the door, well aware that Mr. Edwards would make them practice leaving the room in absolute silence if they couldn't do it on their own.

Once all the other kids had gone, the teacher turned to his favorite student. His stern demeanor melted away and Benji could see concern in his eyes. Mr. Edwards took off his glasses and rubbed his face.

"Oh, Benji. What am I going to do with you?"

"Mr. Edwards, he called me a chick. He said I'm skinny like a girl and that my face is as smooth as one's too. He told me I shouldn't be in a history class with a bunch of junior and senior guys. Trent thinks I should be in home ec with the girls, not in here.

"You know what, maybe he's right," Benji mumbled, staring at the floor. "It's not just him. It's the other guys, too. They all say those things to me." He looked up and spoke softly. "Why won't they just leave me alone?"

His favorite teacher sighed.

"Come over here."

Benji stood, wiping his eyes, and walked to Mr. Edwards' desk. Mr. Edwards reached up and brushed his rough fingers across the boy's chin. "No whiskers yet, but just give it a little while. Don't you worry so much about that. And I, for one, wouldn't say you're skinny. Wiry is more like it. You've got less fat and more hard muscle than any of those jocks, just like your dad did when he was your age. I'd rather be wiry than buff with muscles any day."

Benji couldn't help but smile at the compliment, despite the feelings he had about his father.

Mr. Edwards put his hand on Benji's shoulder and squeezed. "Wiry guys are the ones to watch out for. They're the tough ones, facial hair or not. All the best rugby players and rock climbers are wiry. Best fighters, too. In fact, your father, he—well, don't you worry about that."

Benji gave him a weak smile.

"And as for that little comment about you shaving your legs...well, you do." He grinned. "And that helps you glide through the water like a marlin after its dinner. All of the best swimmers race with smooth legs and you are one of the best at the school. You're a strong young man, Benji. Don't you ever let anyone tell you anything else.

"And about my class not being the right place for you—forget that nonsense. You're passionate about history and learning about other cultures, just like your father was when I taught him. Stick with it and you won't regret it."

He sat down and pulled a book from a desk drawer. "On a different note, I have something for you, Mr. Daydreamer."

He handed Benji a thick paperback. Benji took it gently, looking at the cover. The Heart of the World, by Ian Baker.

"Most people, Benji, think the time of adventure died back in the thirties. You know, 'the golden age of adventure' and all that. They think there are no more discoveries to be made and no more blank spots left on the map—that there aren't any more true adventures out there.

"This man, Baker," he tapped the book's cover, "proved them all wrong. Culture, exploration, danger—I think you'll love it. Now go, your mom will have a fit if you keep her waiting in the parking lot forever."

"I can't wait to get into it. Thanks, Mr. Edwards," he said, laying the book on top of his textbook and binder. "See ya."

"Have a great evening, Benji. Oh, and enjoy your break. And don't go getting yourself in trouble, now."

If one thing was for sure, it was that Benji never went looking for trouble.

It always seemed to find him.

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# 3.

Stairway showdown

Benji left the classroom in raised spirits, excited to escape into another adventure book. There was nothing like taking a break from his boring existence and jumping into the life of someone more interesting than him. He went along with them climbing mountains, racing rapids, and chopping through jungle brush with a razor-sharp machete in search of the lost city of gold. The book sat on the pile in his arms, begging to be opened.

The hallways were nearly empty and Benji's footsteps echoed as he walked. The other students had run all the way to the exits without looking back, eager to start their fall break. Alone, Benji pushed the heavy stairwell door open.

He stepped inside and heard the mocking voice.

"Hey little girl! What's the big rush?" Trent stood on the landing below him. Benji turned back just in time to see Aaron Bergens, one of Trent's followers, walk in, blocking his way out. The door slammed shut behind them.

Trapped.

The taller, more muscular upperclassman took his time walking up, one slow step at a time. "You know, you should show me a bit more respect. I'm kind of a big deal around here." A cocky grin stretched across his face. "And you aren't. You're a waste of space underclasswoman. I'm a junior—you should be worshiping the ground I walk on, not ratting me out. I might miss a game because of you, wimp."

Benji's legs turned to rubber and a heavy weight filled his belly. He wanted to run away.

He knew what was coming.

Aaron blocked any retreat and Trent was only four steps below him. The star pitcher stared at Benji like a lion stalking his prey.

"You're below me, Stone. I'm getting ready to climb into my Land Rover to head home and your mommy picks you up in a—what is it? Oh yeah, some cheap, junker Ford."

Aaron laughed behind him and, before he knew it, Benji opened his big mouth. "Everyone knows your daddy bought that for you, Trent. Bought it with dirty money. Blood diamonds, right? He's evil."

Benji snapped his mouth shut.

Oops.

His eyes got wide and his legs started to shake. He felt like throwing up.

Trent's face twisted in anger. He reached the top landing and stood over Benji, his hands clenched into hard, white fists. He leaned in close enough for Benji to feel Trent's hot breath on his face. "At least I have a father."

Trent slammed his fist onto Benji's pile of books, knocking them to the floor.

While Benji hated violence, he didn't like the idea of getting pushed down over and over again and just taking it his whole life. He believed that sometimes people needed to stand up and fight. And he definitely believed everyone had the fundamental right to defend themselves.

He braced his feet and suddenly whipped his head forward and up as fast as he could, using his legs, back, and neck to propel himself.

His forehead smashed into Trent's face, snapping the upperclassman's head back. Benji lost his balance and toppled forward, knocking Trent to the floor and landing on top of him. Quickly remembering Aaron behind him, Benji grabbed his history textbook and scrambled to his feet.

The smaller boy pivoted on his feet and swung the book like a baseball bat. It hit Aaron's face head-on. The force of the impact drove him back into the wall and he fell, his nose already gushing blood.

Benji scooped up his stuff and jumped over Aaron to rush through the door.

Maybe I can get back to Mr. Edwards and explain—

He swung the door wide and ran through, nearly hitting Ms. Mathis, the ninth grade English teacher.

"Benjamin Stone! You need to be more careful, young man! You could've—what happened here?"

She stared past Benji at the two boys on the floor. Trent sat up with murder in his eyes. Blood trickled from one nostril and the side of his face was starting to swell.

"Benjamin," Ms. Mathis scolded, "march yourself to Mr. Andrews' office right this minute. You two boys will come with me to the nurse's office and then you'll join him there."

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# 4.

An injustice

"One week of in-school suspension, Benjamin, effective beginning the first day back from fall break. Trent—I expect you to be more respectful in class."

"What?" Benji shouted. His voice cracked, filling the assistant principal's office. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. "He was going to attack me! He cornered me in the stairwell and—"

Mr. Andrews, the assistant principal, held up a hand. "I will not have a student raise their voice at me in my own office, Benjamin."

"Sorry, sir," Benji said, looking at the floor, "but it didn't happen like Trent said. Really. I didn't sneak up on them, I swear. He and Aaron cornered me in the stairwell and were going to beat me up. I was just defending myself."

"Ha." Trent's father snorted through his pig nose. "Do you really think, assistant principal Andrews, that this weakling could knock my son down without sneaking up on him?" Mr. Micah Ironside gestured a fat hand in Trent's direction, who sat scowling with a tissue shoved up one nostril and an icepack on his bruised eye.

"You heard what Trent said. He admitted to making comments to this boy during a lesson. That was all. Then Benjamin retaliated by attacking Trent in the stairwell. Unprovoked! In addition, my son's best friend is on his way to the hospital right now. The poor kid probably has a broken nose."

"That's not what happened! He's lying!"

"Benji, enough. They make a good case and I have to believe them. It really does look like you started it."

"You haven't given consideration to anything Benji told you," Benji's mother, Laura, said in a cool voice. "Why would he pick a fight with two upperclassmen? Does that make sense to you?"

"Do you actually believe your twig of a child could go toe-to-toe with my boy?" Mr. Ironside turned to Benji's mom, a sneer on his face. "There's no way. He attacked him, sucker punched him. Unprovoked. Period."

"No, not period." She pointed at Trent and stood to lean over Mr. Ironside. "Your son is a coward and a bully and someone finally stood up to him. And he lost, going toe-to-toe with a freshman. With my boy."

Mr. Ironside jumped from his chair as best as he could manage, his enormous belly jiggling. Laura had to step back to avoid getting knocked over.

"I will not be talked to like this! Ironside men are not cowards!" He towered over her, his pink face shaking and his eyes wide.

She stood her ground, brushing her fire-red hair from her eyes with one hand and with the other pointing a finger up in the fat man's face. "What, you don't like hearing the truth? We could talk truth all day, Moneybags."

"You listen to me, woman. You better-"

"I better what?" Benji stared at his mom, her eyes burning with anger. She looked ready to go toe to toe with someone. Of average height and having the lean, muscular build of a rock climber, he thought she might actually be able to take on Mr. Ironside.

"Stop this, now." Mr. Andrews' voice carried over the arguing parents. "I've made my decision. Benji started a fight and will deal with the consequences. I have nothing left to say on the subject. We're finished here. Ms. Stone, Benjamin, you're welcome to go."

"This is wrong and you know it," Laura said.

She turned and walked from the office, her son following. Benji paused in the doorway and glanced back. Trent glared at him with hatred in his eyes.

Well, Benji thought, smiling, Maybe in one eye.

The star baseball player, Woodward High pitching god, kept the ice pack firmly on his face as Benji shut the door behind him.

Just before the door clicked shut, he heard Mr. Ironside's voice.

"So, Mr. Andrews, has my donation been put to good use yet?"

The door closed and silence filled the empty hallway. They walked to the front exit without speaking. Laura stopped outside and took a deep breath of the cool October air.

"I hate that man."

"They're lying Mom, I swear."

"I know, sweetie."

"It isn't fair. Mr. Andrews didn't even listen to me!"

"Micah Ironside can be very persuasive, especially when money is involved. Making large 'donations' can make someone powerful in a small town like this."

"You mean bribes."

"That's a good way of summing it up." Laura looked at him and smiled. "Did you really lay out two junior guys by yourself?"

Benji blushed and his mom laughed.

"That's my boy." They crossed the parking lot to their car and got in. "You're being bullied again." It wasn't a question.

Benji's silence said enough.

"How bad?"

"They make fun of everything about me, Mom, especially Trent. They all think that jerk is so cool just because he's some rich baseball star and that he's so funny when he calls me a girl or wimp or gay or makes fun of me because I don't have any friends. It's all of them. They make me feel like dirt.

"This time I swear he was going to beat me up—right there in the stairwell. I know it. I'm just so tired of this! You know what? I'm happy he got what was coming to him. He deserved it. I hope he's got a black eye the whole break." Benji sighed. "I bet it'll just get worse now, though. I hate high school so much."

"I'm so sorry, Benji," Laura said, taking his hand. "I didn't know things were so bad. How about after break I meet with your guidance counselor and try to figure something out? We could at least get you out of any classes with Trent. Do you think that would help?"

"And what, go to home ec and learn about how to be a lady with all the girls? It sounds like my worst nightmare. Besides, I like Mr. Edwards' class. I don't think Trent'll bother me anymore in there, but it's everywhere else I'm worried about."

"Then how can I help? Tell me what you need me to do."

Benji laughed. "How about you fly me off to some tropical island far, far away from here so I can forget about all this and enjoy my life?"

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# 5.

A dad would be nice

They walked through the front door and went their separate ways: Laura to her office and Benji to his bedroom where he dropped his backpack, fell onto his bed, buried his face in a pillow, and screamed.

It's so unfair! Why should I get suspended and not him? He started the stupid fight!

He rolled over and stared at the stars stuck to his ceiling, his eyes following the constellations that were laid out just right. Draco, Orion, Scorpio. Just a few hops from the cup of the Big Dipper sat Polaris, the north star.

I could use you to guide me anywhere. Anywhere that isn't here. I could get a sailboat and head out from Gloucester, sail south to the Bahamas. No one would know me there. I could start over. I could be anyone.

Benji thought about the look on Trent's face in that instant just before he wiped off that smirk. Mr. Big Bad Pitcher, getting ready to beat up a freshman to show how tough he was. He'd been so full of himself, but in that fraction of a moment the only thought that could have possibly been going through his head was uh-oh.

Aaron, though...that kid didn't know what was coming until it was knocking on his nose. Benji smiled, not because he'd won a fight, but because he'd proved them wrong. Big time.

Maybe Mr. Edwards was right—I just might be one of those tough, wiry guys.

A cool teacher was nice, but a dad...if only his dad were here. A dad would be better. A dad would take care of everything. He would never let anyone bully him. He would teach his son how to be confident and stand up for himself and not let those jerks get to him so much. He would just be there. Benji huffed. Too bad his father ran off.

He remembered his teacher's book and knew it would be a great escape, even if it was just for a little while.

"Benji!"

Benji jumped and saw his mom standing in the doorway.

"Jeez, Mom. You scared me."

"Well, I've been calling you for the last five minutes. Dinner's ready." Laura saw the book, now lying on the bed. "You get lost in another adventure? Where to this time?"

"Tibet." Benji smiled. "This guy Baker's trying to get to the bottom of the deepest gorge in the world. Apparently it's a sacred Buddhist place. It's cool. Real-life Indiana Jones stuff."

"Sounds fascinating. You'll have to tell me all about it when you finish. Now come eat." His mom turned and headed down the hallway towards the dining room.

Benji stuck a piece of scrap paper in the book to mark his spot and tossed it onto his desk, which sat under a map of the Karakoram region of Pakistan pinned to the wall; one of his dreams was to hike to the base of K2, the second tallest mountain in the world, located in Pakistan. A topographical map of the White Mountains of New Hampshire, less than an hour away, was laminated to the desktop and Harrison Ford kept watch over the room from a Raiders of the Lost Ark movie poster on the closet door.

After one last glance at the constellations on the ceiling, Benji flipped the light switch and followed his mom to dinner.

Midway through a supper of chili and corn bread, Laura asked what it was that had finally convinced Benji to fight. Benji stopped eating and looked at his mom.

"He slammed my books out of my hands and got in my face and said, 'At least I have a father.'"

Laura's spoon stopped halfway to her mouth. She put it back in the bowl and looked across the table at Benji.

The last time Benji had brought up the subject of his father was two years ago, when he was twelve. She refused to talk about him then and had tried to change the subject. When Benji persisted he was sent to his room for the rest of the evening.

His father walked out on them when Benji was five. He remembered the exact day; it was the first day of kindergarten. That morning, Benji woke to the sounds of his parents arguing. He couldn't recall exactly what was said, but he remembered the yelling, and the slamming of doors. His father walked through the front door and never came back. Benji never saw or heard from him again. His father abandoned them.

"Mom," Benji said, "Why did you and Dad split up? Where did he go?"

They looked at each other for a moment. Benji expected the topic would get changed, and if it did, he wouldn't press it.

"We never split up."

Benji's jaw dropped.

"What?" Benji exclaimed. "Then where is he? He left almost ten years ago. How can you not divorce someone who walks out on their wife and five-year-old son?"

Laura sighed. "We should have had this conversation a long time ago."

"And you never would."

"I know," his mother said, "I don't like talking about your dad. I don't even like thinking about him. It makes my heart hurt so bad I can hardly take it."

Benji stayed quiet.

"Your dad and I had a huge fight that morning—one of our biggest. I was so mad at him!" She wiped her eyes. "But we loved each other very much. Oh, I miss him."

"But where did he go? Why didn't he come back?"

"He went to the Amazon rainforest and never returned. No one knows what happened. He just disappeared."

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# 6.

A real life Indiana Jones

Benji's chair scraped across the floor as he jumped to his feet. "Do you really expect me to believe that? That's a story moms tell their kids when their dad runs off with someone else." He stomped towards the hallway and his room.

"Benji, I'm telling the truth. If you'll sit down I'll tell you the rest of it."

He considered her offer, looking down the hallway and then back to her, where she sat red-eyed and fighting back tears. He gave a theatrical sigh, trudged back to the table, and dropped into the chair.

Laura continued, "Your father was an anthropologist who specialized in undiscovered tribes. In other words, he went through jungles looking for native people who have never had contact with modern civilization.

"He worked for a nonprofit organization called Here First, a group that recognized the right natives have to their land—that they were 'here first.' As a part of this group, he found tribes in Papua New Guinea, Paraguay, and the Congo. He would then study them, taking pictures and mapping the area, while doing his best not to be seen or get close."

"So my dad was an adventurer?" Benji said slowly, hardly believing what he was hearing. "Honestly?"

His mother nodded. "He did it for two main reasons. One was to find and study societies that had never been seen by outside eyes. They fascinated him.

"The second reason was very important to him: by documenting these tribes, he was sometimes able to have the land protected from miners and lumber companies for hundreds of miles around. That way, he could preserve their way of life. If outsiders came in the tribes would be wiped out by the destruction of their resources and the diseases they have no resistance to."

"He was like Indiana Jones! Except he looked for people, not artifacts."

She smiled. "Exactly. He worked for Here First until he found out the disturbing truth about the organization: they were owned and funded by a large corporation that was using his data to get rid of native people and plan new mines. They used him as a scout. He was crushed when he found out he was doing more harm than good. So, he quit immediately and made it his life's mission to prevent them from killing off the native people in the name of money."

"But why your big fight? And why didn't he come back from that last trip?"

"Your dad heard about a tribe that was hundreds of miles from anything, way back in the Amazon rainforest. So, his plan was to get a boat with his partner and explore the far tributaries of the Amazon River and try to find them.

"The problem was, someone else had also heard rumors floating around about gold in the same region of this tribe. It was supposedly the largest deposit seen in decades. Your dad wanted to get there first—if he could find the tribe, then the area would be protected and miners wouldn't come to destroy the forest and the livelihoods of the indigenous people. It was a very dangerous situation—people do horrible things for money."

"And you fought because you didn't want him to go."

His mother nodded.

"But what happened to him?"

"I can only guess...I think the owners of the corporation caught wind of his plan to get there first. They realized that once he started snapping pictures and raising public sympathy for these people their hopes of bulldozing their villages to build a mine were over. So they...acted."

"Who are 'they?'"

"Benji, before I tell you, you have to promise me you won't do anything stupid."

"Like what? Just tell me!"

"Promise first, Benji."

"Okay, I promise I won't do anything stupid. Just tell me."

"It's a very large company. They own mines and factories all over the world and have gotten very rich off of the suffering of others. The company's name is Ironside Enterprises."

"Not..." Benji's eyes went wide.

His mother nodded.

"Trent's father!" Benji leapt back to his feet. "I'm going to his house right now-"

"Sit down, Benji," his mother said. "No one can prove anything. Trust me, I've tried. People searched for your dad and his partner for a whole year before giving him up for lost. There's nothing connecting Micah Ironside to the Amazon besides his knowledge of the gold and how much money he made in the years that followed your father's disappearance."

"So if everyone thought Dad was dead then why wasn't there a funeral?"

She stared at him with fire in her eyes and spoke in an even voice. "No one can prove he's dead, Benji. And until they do, there will be no funeral."

"You think he's still alive?"

"I know how unlikely it is, but anything's possible." Laura wiped her eyes. "I just hope that, one day, he'll come back to us."

Benji had so many questions bouncing around in his head, but one jumped out before all the others. "Why aren't there any pictures of him? I don't even remember what he looks like."

"I'll be right back."

Laura stood and left the room, leaving Benji alone with his thoughts. Everything he thought he knew about his father was wrong. He didn't abandon them. He was—or is—a good man. An adventurer.

His mother returned after a minute, carrying a photograph. She placed it on the table. On the 4x6 was a grinning man holding a young boy on their front lawn. They looked so much alike it was obvious they were father and son.

The man was maybe thirty years old, with skin tanned by years spent outdoors. He had a thin frame, but you could tell he was strong by how easily he held a four-year-old in one arm while still having a full pack on his back. The skinny four-year-old smiled from ear to ear, holding a wide-brimmed hat, much like the type Indiana Jones wore, in his hand.

"I took this picture when your father got back from Papua New Guinea. You were so excited to see him! You ran straight out the door, across the lawn, and jumped right into his arms. You nearly knocked him over!"

Benji smiled.

"But why aren't there pictures of him around the house?"

"I'm sorry, Benji," his mother said, "It hurts so bad to be reminded of him. Talking about him like this...and looking at the picture...it kills me to think about your dad. I miss him so much." She stopped to blow her nose. "That's why there aren't any pictures around. I don't think I could handle it."

"I wish you had told me all this a long time ago." Benji walked around the table and wrapped his mother in a hug.

"I know, sweetie. And I didn't mean to keep it a secret. I just don't like talking, or even thinking, about your dad." She pulled back, wiping her eyes. "You hold on to that picture. Don't shove it away somewhere, either. Put it up on your desk where you'll see it every day."

"I will," Benji promised.

"Now I have some work I need to do. Can you clean up?"

"Sure," Benji said.

Shoulders slumped and eyes red, his mother looked exhausted and emotionally drained. She gave him another hug before heading to her office.

Benji cleared the table and washed the dishes before returning to his room. He was exhausted and ready for bed. It had been a big evening. The story he'd heard at dinner pushed all thoughts of Trent Ironside from his mind. He had finally found out about his father (a real life Indiana Jones!) and the mystery surrounding his disappearance. He lay in bed, looking at the picture.

What happened? Where are you?

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# 7.

Breakfast surprise

"Wake up, honey. Breakfast is ready."

"Huh?" Benji said, confused and groggy. "Wha-"

"Pancakes. Come eat before they get cold."

Benji looked at his alarm clock and was horrified to see 6:09 a.m. staring back at him.

"Mom. Saturday. October break." He moaned. "Just let me sleep."

"Come on, let's go. Breakfast." Laura grabbed his blanket, pulled it off the bed, and took it with her into the hallway.

Cold and half asleep, Benji sat up and rubbed his face. He sighed, pulled on a Patriots hoodie and trudged his way down the hall.

"These better be the best freaking pancakes ever, Mom," he said, following the smell of coffee and chocolate chip pancakes.

"Here." She handed him a plate and a glass of orange juice. "Syrup's on the table."

Benji entered the dining room and stopped. In his place at the table sat a brown, wide-brimmed fedora hat like the kind Indiana Jones wore. It was old and faded, but still durable-looking. It was the hat from the picture of him and his father.

"Mom, what-?"

"That was your father's hat," she said, carrying her own pancakes and a mug of coffee into the dining room. She set her breakfast on the table. "He left in such a huff that day that he completely forgot it on his way out. It was his favorite hat—his father gave it to him the day he left for college. Try it on, it's yours now."

Benji set down his own plate and glass and picked up the hat. It was a little big, but fit enough to wear. An oversized envelope lay on the table, where it had been hiding under the old hat.

"What's this?" He picked it up.

"Open it."

Benji tore the top off and dumped a few pages of computer printouts onto the table. He looked twice at the top paper. Then he looked again.

"Is this for real?" Benji held the paper in both hands and stared at his mother, wide-eyed. She smiled and nodded.

"Are you serious?" Benji was in shock. He looked at the printout again. It was a boarding pass. Flight destination: Nadi, Fiji. "We're going to Fiji?"

"You said you wanted to be flown off to a far-away tropical island."

"We're going to Fiji!"

Benji hugged his mom hard enough to knock the wind from her.

"You are so awesome! You are the best mom in the history of the entire world!" He let go of her and took a step back, a frown on his face. "But mom, we can't afford this..."

"Now don't you worry about that. And just to put your mind at ease...I found a travel agency that had a really good last-minute deal. Plus, we have a little rainy day fund that's been building for a while now. This seems like a pretty good time to dip into it. Now quit talking and keep reading." His mother smiled.

Benji placed the boarding pass aside and picked up the next piece of paper. "We're staying with a family?"

"Yep. I was able to get in contact with a company that organizes home stays in the villages. We'll be spending the first four days of our trip with a family in the mountains of the main island. It will be away from all the touristy resorts with no extra comforts for us foreigners. I figured this way we can really experience the culture. How does that sound to you?"

"That sounds absolutely awesome." Benji felt like he must be dreaming. This couldn't be real. Four days in the mountains of Fiji? He spent entire math classes fantasizing about something like this: a real-life adventure.

"The next page is our confirmation for a spa resort on one of the smaller islands. Now, I know you might think it's a bit girly, but after our adventure in the jungle I think spending a few days getting spoiled on the beach would hit the spot. So, what do you think?"

Benji stared at his mother with wide eyes. "I think this is the most amazing thing ever!" He hugged her again, lifting her off her feet.

"The last page is a packing list." Laura struggled to get the words out with Benji squeezing her ribs. "I made it for you because you only have an hour to get your stuff together."

"Ohmigod!" And with that Benji dropped his mom and made for the hallway.

"Benji!" He stopped and turned. "You're going on an adventure—don't forget your hat."

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# 8.

Of all places, why here?

7:30 a.m. saw them shoving their duffel bags into the back of the old Ford sedan.

"You get everything?" Laura asked.

Benji mentally reviewed everything he'd tossed into his old canvas backpack: granola bars, compass, whistle, about thirty feet of rope (you never know when you'll need some rope), emergency sleep sack, a canister of waterproof matches, a flashlight, a digital camera, his journal, Mr. Edwards's book, and a small first-aid kit.

"Everything on the list. Plus some other stuff."

"Your pocket knife is in your checked bag, I hope?"

"Um, yeah," Benji said, "Of course."

"Great. Let's go."

They got in the car, and as they passed the school on their way to the airport, Benji smiled to himself.

Goodbye, high school. Goodbye, stupid jocks. Goodbye, Trent the jerk and everyone else. I'm leaving you all behind. I'm going on an adventure...far away from here.

Twenty-nine hours later, the big plane touched down with a jolt at Nadi International Airport in Fiji. Benji and his mother gathered their things and made their way through the tunnel and into the airport with all the other passengers. A short walk brought them to customs.

"We're here on holiday," Laura told the man at the desk.

He smiled and stamped their passports. Benji picked up his passport and grinned at the sight of the visa stamp. It was proof of his adventure in Fiji—proof that left his boring New England life behind, travelled all the way to the other side of the world, and went on a trip he only thought would be possible in his dreams. His light heart brought a bounce to his step and a smile he couldn't wipe away even if he wanted to.

They followed their fellow travelers down the hallway and past the security checkpoint, where Benji happened to look out the window. There, descending the steps of an expensive-looking private jet, was the last person he wanted to see on his escape to a tropical island. The smile melted from his face like the wax on a candle. He suddenly felt like he was going to be sick.

"Oh no," he said slowly.

His mother turned to join him. "What's wrong?" she asked. "Oh."

Laura got to the window just in time to see Micah and Trent Ironside reach the bottom of the plane's steps and shake hands with two dark-skinned Fijian men—a blue-uniformed police officer and a military man dressed in brown. There were smiles all around as Micah passed a fat envelope to each of the men. Two very large bodyguards on either side of the father/son pair kept watch.

"Of all the places in the world for them to go, why here?" Benji frowned. His heart dropped. The adventure—his escape—was ruined.

Can't I just get away from you? Why are you trying to ruin my life? Why?

"Sweetie," Laura said, "Look at me." They stepped away from the window. She put her hands on Benji's shoulders and looked him in the eye. "We are taking a ride out into the jungle to some random village in the middle of nowhere. Then we're going to a spa hotel on one of more than three hundred islands. There is no chance you will see him again during this trip. Take it as the biggest coincidence of your life and leave it at that."

His mother sounded so certain, it was difficult for Benji not to believe her.

"Let's go," Laura said, taking Benji by the arm. "There's a jeep waiting for us."

She pulled him away from the window and Trent fell out of sight. Not out of mind, though. All of Benji's happy thoughts of his daydreams coming to life were pushed aside and Trent Ironside was back in his head, making him miserable once again.

They reached the end of the hallway and saw a squat Fijian man holding up a piece of cardboard with 'Stone' written on it in thick black marker. His smile beamed across the room and slowly melted Benji's worries away.

"I've heard," Laura whispered to Benji, "That Fijians are some of the nicest people in the world."

He was not a tall man, maybe an inch or two shorter than Benji, but what he lacked in height he made up for in width. He had a barrel chest and forearms bigger than Benji's calves. His short tree trunk legs ended in large, wide feet and a pair of flip-flops. He wore faded khaki cargo shorts and an old black t-shirt.

"We're the Stones," Laura said once they were closer.

"Bula!" he cried. "Welcome to Fiji!" He extended his hand and shook Laura's enthusiastically. "My name is Josefa."

"I'm Laura." She smiled. "And this is my son, Benji."

"Bula, Benji!" Josefa's huge paw enveloped Benji's hand in a firm handshake. His hand was rough, as if he spent more time working outside than he did waiting for tourists in airports. His smile was constant, sincere, and infectious. Benji felt his lips turning upward in a smile of his own.

"It's nice to meet you, Josefa," he said.

"Now, let's go find your bags." They made their way through the crowds, passing a coffee shop, newsstand, and small bookstore.

"Did you have a good flight?" their new friend asked as they walked.

"It was smooth," Benji said. "And looong. I watched like four movies and a couple of TV shows. I'm happy we're finally here."

"So am I," Laura said. "And we could tell from the plane that this is a beautiful country, Josefa. I can't wait to see it from the ground."

"It is a very beautiful country," he agreed. "You will see the best parts. My village is in a very nice place in the mountains."

They found the baggage return easily—it was the only one.

"There they are," Benji said, spotting their luggage.

Before he could reach to drag his large duffel bag off the conveyor belt, Josefa leaned over and grabbed both his and Laura's bags by the handles.

"Careful," Laura said, "They're—"

Before she could finish, the burly Fijian had lifted both bags with no more effort than it took her to lift a gallon of milk from a shopping cart.

"We go now to my jeep," he said. "It is about three hours to Malakati, my village. The views from the road are very nice—I think you will like it."

"Josefa," Benji said, "this might be a stupid question, but does everyone in your village speak English?"

"English is the official language of Fiji, but some of the people, especially the older ones in the villages far from cities, speak no English."

"Oh. Do you guys mind if I run back to that bookstore and get a Fijian phrasebook?" He looked back and forth from his mom to Josefa.

"It is okay with me," said Josefa. "The jeep is there." He pointed out the glass front doors to a battered tan SUV parked by the curb.

Laura nodded. "Quickly," she said.

"Thanks!" Benji turned and rushed off the way they had come, cutting through crowds of tourists until he made it to the bookstore. It was easy to find the guidebooks and phrase books—the store was full of them.

"German-Fijian...French-Fijian..." he mumbled to himself.

Then he heard a voice, one he'd hoped not to hear for at least a week, if not for the rest of his life. It came from the other side of the book display.

"Everything is going fine," Trent said.

"So you know where the cave is?" his father asked.

"Not yet."

"Not yet?" The older man's words were sharp with anger.

"Just trust me, we'll find it. We know the general area. There are a few villages rumored to know something about it. So far we know that we're looking for a tunnel in the side of a mountain above a village. My contacts are asking around."

"You know what's riding on this, right? I'm talking millions of dollars. I don't care what it takes. The police and military won't get in the way—that's all been taken care of. You find that village and you bring me my ruby."

"And Magellan's descendants? What do I do about them?" Trent asked.

"This is the biggest find of our lives. I will not have someone laying claim to it. No one, and I mean no one, will take this away from me. Take care of them. Can you handle that?"

Trent hesitated.

"If you can't stomach doing what needs to be done, now's the time to bow out and go back home to your mother with your tail between your legs."

"I can do it just fine," Trent said through gritted teeth.

"Good. And I want nothing, and I mean nothing, that can lead back to us on this."

And that was when Benji sneezed.

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# 9.

Hold on!

"What was that?" Micah snapped. He yanked aside the book rack and found Benji, crouched down and wishing invisibility cloaks were real. They made eye contact and recognition flashed across the older man's face.

"You."

The man glared at Benji and spoke through a snarl. "Like father, like son."

Benji jumped up and backed away slowly, as if facing a growling dog. Trent stared in disbelief.

"Don't just stand there, you fools!" Micah barked. "Get him!"

Benji froze like a deer in headlights.

The flash of a knife blade in a bodyguard's hand jerked him back to his senses like a slap in the face. He ran for his life, knocking over displays on his way out of the small shop. Trent and the bodyguards stumbled over the books, buying Benji a head start.

"Excuse me! Excuse me! Watch out!"

He wove through the crowd of ugly Hawaiian shirts and the pale-skinned tourists with his pursuers not far behind. He sprinted toward to exit, fighting the rising panic.

He'd read enough crime books to know what happened to people who heard too much.

"Get out of my way!" He heard Trent shout behind him.

With a quick backwards glance, Benji saw him shoving his way through a protesting group of tourists, their heavily accented complaints falling on deaf ears. He kept running for the front doors and the jeep beyond.

Benji slammed into the glass, pushed the door open, and burst out into the hot Fijian day. He saw the jeep with its top off and jumped in the back.

"Go, go, go!" He yelled to a surprised Josefa and Laura.

"What-" Josefa began.

"Drive!"

At that moment, Trent and the others burst through the doors and looked around for their quarry. It took them only a moment to see him in the back seat of the jeep.

Josefa saw the armpit gun holsters inside the open suit jackets of the bodyguards. He didn't need to be told again. He stomped on the clutch, slammed the gearshift into first and sped off, leaving the smell of burning rubber behind them.

Benji held on tight to the jeep's roll bar with one hand and kept his hat on his head with the other. His sigh of relief was cut short. One of the bodyguards had dragged the driver from a taxi and all three of the pursuers jumped in.

The jeep flew through the parking lot, making for the security checkpoint by the road. An officer stood on either side of the exit, and a third was on the radio inside a windowed booth. Josefa slowed to shout to the men in uniform.

"No! Don't stop!" Benji pleaded to the Fijian. "Drive, trust me!" They made eye contact through the rearview mirror. His smile was gone.

Benji looked back at the checkpoint. The officer put down the radio and shouted to the other two, who quickly lowered a brightly painted bar across the exit.

With only a moment's deliberation, Josefa pushed the gas to the floor. The police officers dove out of the way, narrowly escaping the jeep as it roared past, smashing the wooden barrier to splinters. Three seconds later, the taxi carrying Trent and the bodyguards raced past the police in hot pursuit.

Josefa turned a hard left onto the busy Queen's Road and pushed the gas pedal to the floor. Moments later, the taxi swerved around the corner, tires squealing, and cut off a very irritated tour bus driver. The jeep had about a football field's length of a lead, but that space was quickly closing as Trent and the bodyguards wove in and out of traffic in the smaller, faster, taxi.

Josefa took to the opposite lane to pass a tractor trudging along, towing an oversized load of sugarcane. He drove as fast as the little SUV could go, straight at oncoming traffic.

With just feet to spare, he swerved back onto his side of the road and narrowly missed a head-on collision with a public bus. Benji released his breath in a whoosh, having held it the whole time they had been in the other lane. He looked back and saw the taxi had halved the distance between them to fifty yards.

Josefa passed a truck and had nothing but open road before him. The engine roared as he kept the pedal to the floor, desperately trying to speed away. Benji gasped when he saw the taxi pull into the opposite side of the road. Cars swerved out of their way, horns blaring. The taxi made it past the last truck unscathed and raced closer to the jeep every second.

Then they were side by side, flying down the Queen's Road at more than a hundred miles an hour.

"Faster!" Benji screamed. He looked back to the taxi and saw the barrel of a gun pointed at his face. "Josefa!"

The Fijian slammed on the breaks and the taxi shot past. Josefa took a sharp right onto a dirt road and accelerated towards the tall, green mountains of the island's interior.

"Is everyone okay?" Josefa asked.

"We're fine!" Laura said, looking back and seeing the taxi pull onto the road. "Just go!"

Josefa glanced into his rearview mirror. The car grew larger by the second.

The jeep hit a bump in the road and launched into the air. It landed hard, but Josefa managed to keep it under control and stay straight. The taxi hit the bump seconds later and landed with a crunch. Sparks flew as it bottomed out onto the rock-strewn road. It swerved from side to side, narrowly missed the trees lining the road.

Benji heard the POP POP POP of a pistol and the jeep's front windshield exploded into a thousand pieces. Trent and his goons were right behind them!

"They're shooting at us!" Laura shouted. "Benji, stay down!"

They kept their heads low and Josefa swerved from side to side. The next shots went wide, cutting harmlessly through the trees.

"Hold on!" Josefa shouted. Benji gripped the seat in front of him just as Josefa slammed on the brakes. Too close to slow down, the taxi swerved and ended up in the grass, buying the jeep precious time.

They sped around a left curve in the road, tires skidding and wheels spinning on the loose dirt and stone.

The taxi was gaining on them. Another straightaway and then the road curved slightly to the right, hugging a hill, and Josefa slowed down. A lot.

"What are you doing?" Benji screamed, certain the would-be killers would catch up to them.

Just then, the right curve became a hairpin turn and the jeep went up on two wheels, threatening to tip over and send its passengers rolling down the hill into the river below. After a few harrowing seconds in which Benji felt sure he was about to die, the wheels touched back down and Josefa sped up again.

Benji looked back. The taxi took the turn way too fast. It flew straight off the road and into the open air, where it seemed to hang for a moment, as if it would grow wings and fly away. Instead, gravity caught the car in its lethal grip and pulled it toward the earth.

He watched the taxi fall, fall, fall until it finally slammed into the water with a monstrous splash. As the taxi sank, he saw Trent and the bodyguards crawl out of the windows and glare up at the jeep.

Josefa and the little Stone family drove off, leaving a cloud of dust in their wake.

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# 10.

Lies and secrets

After five minutes of speeding through open hillsides, making one turn after another, Josefa entered the forest and rolled to a stop. He took a deep breath, turned around, and looked straight into Benji's eyes.

"Why were they shooting at us?"

Benji looked back and forth between Josefa and his mom. "I—I think I heard something I wasn't supposed to. At the airport. Trent and his dad were talking about finding some cave in a mountain above a village. They think they'll find a ruby there worth millions of dollars. They also said something confusing about the descendants of Magellan. Mr. Ironside told Trent he has to 'take care of them.' I think they're going to kill people!"

His mother stayed strangely quiet, staring at her lap.

"He said one more thing that got me kinda confused. He said to me, 'like father, like son.' What the heck is that supposed to mean? Does Mr. Ironside think I'm here because of him or something? Mom?"

Laura stayed silent. She looked up at them each in turn. "I'm sorry, both of you. I didn't mean for any of this to happen." She looked at Benji. "I knew the Ironsides were going to be here. I had really hoped we weren't going to see them, but I should have been honest with you from the start."

"Mom, what are you talking about?"

"Your dad always got his information about Ironside's plans from an informant inside Ironside Enterprises. I've never met this person, but they would pass him a message, sometimes in an email, sometimes an envelope in the mailbox, that would give some details about what Ironside was up to. This is where your dad started all his planning from for his trips after leaving Here First. I still get these messages every once in a while, but I usually disregard them.

"About a month ago, I got an email from the informant. It outlined Ironside's plan to steal a ruby and kill an undiscovered group of people. Your father would never stand by and let this happen. I couldn't forgive myself if I didn't at least try to do something. My plan was to stop Ironside by myself while you were busy hiking or something. And now all of us were nearly killed."

Benji sat there, not looking at his mom. "So you've been planning this for weeks?" She nodded and he looked her in the eye. "You lied to me."

"I'm sorry, Benji. I thought I was keeping you safe. If you had mentioned something to anyone at school and Trent had heard you, he would have told his father. I don't know what he would have done.

"I thought I could take care of it quietly," she continued, "but Ironside knows we're here. I think the best thing now is just to go to the police. Maybe they can protect Magellan's descendants from that evil man."

Josefa shook his head, still looking at Benji. "But I don't know if we can. Benji, why could I not talk to the police at the airport?"

Benji took his eyes from his mom and looked at the stern Fijian. "Mr. Ironside told Trent the police and military wouldn't get in the way—that it had been taken care of. Mom, do you remember those envelopes he gave those guys next to the plane? He was bribing them!"

Josefa nodded, unsurprised. Laura, on the other hand, stared at the Fijian.

"This happens here? People bribe the police? And the military? For some reason I didn't think Fiji was that kind of place."

"Yes. Police here are corrupt. They take money often. If I am stopped for speeding, I give the man twenty dollars and he lets me go. The military, too. They are not honest."

"Then what do we do? Who do we go to? They'll kill us, Josefa. You don't know these people!" Laura's voice had gained an edge of desperation.

Benji alternated between watching his mom and looking back the way they had come, waiting for the men to catch up with them. He was sick to his stomach, and it wasn't just from fear of Trent and the bodyguards—Benji had been counting on his mother to know what they would do next.

Josefa seemed to think for a moment before speaking again. "We go to my village. It is very far from here, in the mountains. Those men will never find us. We will speak to my chief. He will tell us what to do. Do not worry—you and Benji will be safe there."

Laura nodded, seeming to cling to hope with every word.

"Will we really be safe there?" Benji was skeptical. "Do you have guns?"

"People cannot own guns in Fiji. But you will be safe. My village, Malakati, is very difficult to find and these men do not know what village to look for. They would have to search every village to find you. That would take weeks. You will be safe."

Both mother and son breathed easier at the husky Fijian's confidence. After a brief silence it was clear there was nothing more to be said, so Josefa drove on towards Malakati.

The scenery was lost on Benji. He kept watch behind them, always expecting a new attack to come. Twice he swallowed a warning shout; once when swirling shadows took the form of a racing taxi, and again when an old truck backfired, ringing out like a gunshot. In truth, the only thing that followed them was the small cloud of dust kicked up by the jeep. Nothing more.

Over the next two hours they passed two small villages before turning off the road and into a dirt parking lot. The jeep rolled to a stop next to an old green pickup truck. Benji stood up in the backseat to look around, soaking it all in.

Malakati village was in a deep valley, surrounded on all sides by mountains. Behind them was a sports field with white uprights, much like the yellow ones on an American football field. But instead of one post, the two side posts went all the way to the ground. It also sat in the front of the end zone instead of the back. The field was about the same size.

Josefa must have seen Benji's confused look because he said, "That is a rugby pitch. Do you know rugby?"

"Kinda," Benji answered, distracted.

In front of the cars sprawled the dwellings of the village itself. Some of the homes were constructed of bamboo and grass, with bundles of thatch for roofs. Other buildings were made of cement with tin roofs.

A concrete path wound through the village like a snake and gave the inhabitants a path to walk on during the rainy season. Behind each family's home was another, smaller building, many of which had smoke coming from chimneys. Kitchens.

The trickling of a river reached Benji's ears from the other side of the village.

"So awesome," Benji said under his breath.

A small group of men, women, and children came to meet them. The three climbed out of the jeep, careful not to cut themselves on the bits of windshield scattered across the seats and floor.

"Bula, Stone family." A gray-haired man with a sun-wrinkled face reached out his hand to Laura, who took it.

"Welcome to Malakati village. My name is Peter and I am Josefa's father. This is my wife, Emmalise." He motioned to the woman beside him and she reached for Benji's hand, her brown eyes sparkling in the bright Fijian sun.

"Bula! You must be Benji. Welcome! It made me very happy when Josefa told us you two were coming to stay with us in our village."

Josefa's father, Peter, motioned to a young man standing nearby. "Benji, this is my younger son, Seikz. He has asked if you would stay with him. Your mother can stay with us. Is this okay?"

Laura and Benji looked at each other.

"That will be fine," Laura said.

"Sounds good to me."

Peter's smile stretched from ear to ear. "Good. First, we get your things and show you our village. Then, we drink kava."

Josefa hefted the two bags from the back of the jeep and escorted Laura and Benji to their temporary homes. The first stop was Seikz's hut. Benji gave his mom a small wave before turning to follow his host. Laura stayed with the others to see her home away from home.

"Welcome to my bure," Seikz said.

He looked to have inherited the same genes as his older brother: he was a bit short—about three inches shorter than Benji—and stocky, with dark skin and dark eyes. He didn't have to crouch as much as Benji to go through the entrance of the bamboo and grass hut, even after Benji took off his hat.

"It is not very big or modern, but I hope you like it."

"I love it!" He saw the two mattresses on the woven grass floor, opposite a wall decorated with rugby posters, family photographs, and a mirror. Some shelving was built into another wall and this is where Seikz's clothes and random belongings lay. There was no television, no phone, no Bluetooth speaker system. No lights.

I am staying in a real, traditional thatch hut in a real village the middle of the Fijian mountains!

"This is awesome!"

Seikz's eyes grew wide and his bright grin lit up the shadowy interior of the hut. "You can put your bag where you'd like. This bed is yours. There are a couple toilets in the village—I'll show you as we walk to the chief's home."

"To the chief's home?" Benji dragged his duffel bag next to his bed and opened it. After digging around for a moment, he pulled out his pocket knife and stuffed it into his pocket.

"Yes, it is very important. In Fiji, when you visit a village you must have a sevusevu, where you drink kava with the chief. It is a way of being welcomed. Are you ready?"

Benji nodded, but after the long, bouncy drive, all the excitement of the afternoon, and his nervousness about joining a ceremony with the village chief, he had one more question.

"So where's that toilet?"

And, for the sake of looking like he knew what he was talking about, there was one question he didn't ask: What the heck was kava?

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# 11.

Kava

Benji had his answer and a fuzzy brain an hour later.

Seikz and Benji joined Laura and their hosts in the chief's tin-roof home. It was a small building divided in half by a sheet, with rugs strewn about to cover the cement floor and provide a bit of cushion for the rear ends of everyone as they sat in a circle around a large plastic bowl.

It was obvious who the chief was, as the large man sat straighter than the rest and made small, occasional directions to the others in Fijian.

He spoke to Laura in his native tongue, which she couldn't understand in the least. His body language was clear, however; he wanted her to sit directly across from him in the circle, with Benji to her right.

All the men in the room wore t-shirts and brightly-colored sheets around their waists that hung to their ankles. Josefa seemed to be the only man less than forty years old and, of the older men, Peter was the only one who spoke English.

All of the men said bula to their guests, which Benji figured to mean 'welcome' or 'hello.' The chief nodded to Laura and Benji in turn, an animated smile complementing his round face and warm eyes.

Seikz carried in a small brown paper bag, a large white cloth that looked like it had been cut out of a t-shirt, and a five gallon jug of water, placing them next to the bowl.

Josefa leaned close to Benji and whispered in his ear. "That bag has the kava root in it, ground up. There are a couple of jugs of water like that for you and your mom. We boiled it all yesterday." Benji's face must have given away his confusion, because Josefa continued, "We are used to it, so the water here does not harm us, but if you drink it without boiling it first your stomach will feel sick. You will spend a lot of time on the toilet."

Benji nodded, grateful they'd thought to do this for their guests. The last thing he wanted was spend his big adventure on the can.

"Usually the sevusevu is only for the older men, but you are special guests here, vavalungi—foreigners—and the chief wants you to feel very welcome."

"I'm honored." Benji's heart lifted at this special consideration. He couldn't remember the last time someone had gone out of their way for him—except for all those times his classmates had gone out of their way to make his life miserable.

"I told him about what happened at the airport and what you told me in the jeep, Laura. He was not happy, but do not worry. The chief wants you to stay here. He says you are safe in Malakati."

Benji felt a lump in his throat. He nodded to the chief, who had been watching the discussion. "Thank you."

Seikz filled the bowl with water from the jug and poured a pale, grey powder from the brown paper bag into the center of the cloth. He then twisted the cloth shut. He placed this bundle into the bowl and began to massage it, soaking up the water and pushing it back out through the fabric, sort of like water through a coffee filter.

With each squeeze of the makeshift filter, the contents of the bowl began to turn grey. After about five minutes, Seikz squeezed out the cloth one last time, then took it, the brown bag, and the jug of water from the circle and placed them against the wall.

He returned to the center of the circle and picked up two coconut shell halves. One half he used as a ladle to scoop the liquid from the bowl, and the other half served as the cup, into which he poured the drink before handing it to the chief.

The older man clapped his hands once while looking Laura in the eye, said bula, and then took the coconut bowl and drank the contents in one long gulp. He handed the bowl back to Seikz and the process was repeated with Laura. She imitated the chief, clapping once and saying bula. She tried to take the drink in one go, but had to stop to take a breath between gulps. She gave a small grimace as she handed the bowl back to Seikz. The men smiled.

Peter took the next bowlful, followed by Benji. He clapped once and took the coconut bowl in his hands.

"Bula." Bottoms up.

The gritty liquid tasted like dirt, but he drank the whole bowlful in one gulp. A small shiver ran through him and he handed it back. He looked around and saw the elders chuckling. The chief said something to him in Fijian and Benji looked to Josefa to translate.

"He said you did a good job. They didn't know if the Americans would be able to drink kava and he is impressed."

Benji was unable to hold back his grin. He just got complimented by the chief!

Seikz moved on, continuing around the circle, and the ceremonial silence broke. Conversation and laughter began, bringing a relaxed atmosphere to the chief's home. Laura and Benji found themselves answering, through Josefa and Seikz, all sorts of questions from the men. Where were they from? What was it like there? What was their house like? Did they have a car? During a lull in the interrogation, Benji leaned towards Josefa.

"When can we ask the chief about what Trent and his dad were saying?"

"When we finish the first bowl of kava, then we ask."

"But we just did."

"Not the coconut, the bowl." He pointed to the big plastic bowl in the center of the circle.

"Oh. How much kava will we drink?"

"As much as the chief wants."

The coconut bowl continued to make its rounds. Benji drank again. And again. After his third time, he began to feel...weird.

"Josefa...my brain feels kind of...fuzzy."

The Fijian laughed with his hands on his big, shaking belly and his head tilted back. "Do not worry, Benji. It is normal for kava to make you feel a little strange."

"And...uh...I can't really feel my tongue." Benji moved his tongue around his mouth, making sure it still worked okay.

Josefa laughed again. "That is normal, too."

Seikz came and sat next to Laura. Another of the younger men took his place in preparing the next bowl of kava. He leaned in and spoke to her and Benji.

"I asked the chief about what that boy said, about the ruby and the descendants. He knows this legend. Josefa and I will translate it for you."

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# 12.

The legend of the descendants

The chief played to his audience as he spoke, gesturing with his hands and raising and lowering his voice. He was clearly a man who loved to tell stories. Benji watched with rapt attention as Josefa whispered the translation in his ear.

"Many generations ago, a white explorer came to Fiji from beyond the horizon. The man's name was Ferdinand Magellan. You know of him?"

"Yeah." Benji nodded. "He was the first person to try to sail around the world."

He listened as the chief told the six hundred year old story of Magellan's arrival to the island and all that followed. Around the circle, Benji saw the Fijians lean towards the chief, drawn in by his suspenseful tale. Magellan's battle in the valley excited Benji more than his adventure novels ever could. He felt bad for the captain for his crushing defeat and nearly shouted encouragement as the chief recounted every sword slash and war club swing of the Magellan's duel with the warrior. He spoke of the ruby and Magellan's affair with the beautiful Fijian woman.

"The foreigners were at last strong enough to return to their ship and the two lovers parted ways," Josefa continued. "Later, she found she was with child and gave birth to a light-skinned son who, in time, became a great warrior. This woman who had fallen in love with Ferdinand Magellan, the great explorer, was the chief's daughter, his only child.

"When he was a grown man, Magellan's son became chief of the village. Since then, his line has continued unbroken to this day. Possession of the ruby has passed through the generations, and it now resides in a cave on a mountainside, guarded by Magellan's descendants."

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# 13.

Daydreams alive

"Wow! So that's what they're after! Trent and his dad want to find the ruby and kill the descendants to make sure no one can come back and claim it," Benji said, but then he frowned. "Wait, my history books never said anything about Magellan coming to Fiji, or anything about a ruby."

Laura leaned over to look at her son. "Benji, do you think the first man to try and sail around the world would want everyone to know he had discovered and then lost the biggest ruby ever found? Plus, wasn't he married?"

"Good point."

"It is just a legend, anyway," Josefa said. "There are no villages on Viti Levu with a light-skinned chief descended from a Portuguese sailor." Benji was quiet for a moment, accepting his fifth cup of kava of the evening. Focusing on conversation was becoming difficult—everything was sort of blurring together.

"Is it possible there are villages in the mountains no one knows about?" Benji asked.

The big Fijian shrugged. "Maybe, but I doubt it."

"But it's possible?"

He shrugged again.

"Could you tell the chief 'thank you' for me, for telling us this story?"

"Of course." Josefa spoke briefly to the chief in Fijian, and a smile crossed the old man's face as he nodded to Benji.

Josefa left the circle for a moment, and returned with a battered guitar. With its dents, scratches, and two missing strings, it seemed like it had suffered a long, rough life. When Josefa began to play, off-tune notes filled the room just right, and his gruff Fijian voice transformed in a beautiful baritone ballad. His younger brother joined him and their voices harmonized like it was meant to be, like they had been singing together since childhood.

Benji sat watching them without understanding a single word they sang, but at the same time recognizing it as the most beautiful song he'd ever heard. Their voices faded with the music and ended in silence. The older Fijian men mumbled what he assumed were compliments. Benji and his mother both clapped, bringing smiles to the faces of the men around them.

"That was amazing!"

"Incredible," Laura said. "You two are very talented."

They smiled and started another song. This time some of the other men sang as well, their bass voices mixing naturally with Josefa's and Seikz's. The kava bowls kept coming and the evening flowed along with more songs and stories.

Benji could hardly believe what was happening. His math class daydreams were coming to life. Here he sat, on the floor of a chief's home in a village located in the mountains of Fiji, taking part in a native custom that went back thousands of years. He pinched himself to be sure it wasn't all a dream.

Fantasy or not, the combination of jet lag, getting shot at, and innumerable cups of kava crashed on his shoulders in one exhausting blow. After the fifth or sixth yawn, Seikz asked him if he would like to head to bed. Benji nodded and was helped to his feet. He stood on legs that felt like rubber as his mind spun. What was in that kava?

He bid everyone a good night and his host guided him through the door. His mother stayed, drinking and laughing with the Fijians deep into the night.

"Oh. My. God." Benji craned his neck back as far as it would go and looked at the most beautiful night sky he'd ever seen.

There was no man-made light, no smog, no pollution to sour his view of the heavens. The stars numbered in the billions, hardly a space between one shimmering dot and the next. His eyes followed the purple, swirling Milky Way from one horizon to the other like a celestial rainbow crossing the Fijian sky.

He turned to Seikz with wide eyes. "Seikz, this is amazing. How do you not just lay out here all night long and look at the stars?"

"You do not have stars at home?"

"Well, yeah, we do, but nothing like this. With all the street lights and cars and all that you can hardly see anything. Sometimes all I can see is the big dipper and maybe another constellation or two. But this...this is awesome."

Seikz smiled at him. "I am glad our sky makes you so happy."

They made their way back to Seikz's bure. Benji rolled his sleeping bag out onto the mattress and crawled inside, comfortably warm in the cool mountain night. His worries had fallen away, lost amongst the stars.

He fell asleep with his hat on his head and a smile etched across his face.

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# 14.

Plan B?

The sun wasn't yet peeking over the mountains when Benji accepted a hot cup of instant coffee from Seikz, along with a bowl of oatmeal. They sat on stools by the kitchen, which was set a few yards back from the hut so no stray embers would set the home aflame. Benji sipped his coffee and looked around at the village, the mountains, the trees. The sound of the river running along the edge of the village set a peaceful tone.

"I love it here, Seikz."

The Fijian smiled.

"Good morning!" Benji heard his mother's voice ring out.

Laura and Josefa strolled down the walkway between the homes, each with a mug of coffee in hand.

"Did you sleep okay?" Laura asked her son.

"Like the dead. Once I laid down I was out. How much longer did you stay up after I left?"

"At least another two hours. Those guys really love their kava."

Seikz laughed.

"Sometimes too much. Last year our chief told all the men they could not drink kava for a month. It was all they did! They sat all day and drank kava and did nothing else. The women did all the work."

Benji smiled and looked at Josefa, eyebrow raised. He grinned and shrugged. The American laughed.

Laura said to Benji, "I think we should have a talk. Seikz, do you mind if we borrow your bure?"

He said it was fine, and turned to speak with Josefa about an upcoming trip to the market. Laura and Benji ducked into the dim home and stood for a moment in awkward silence.

"I'm sorry, Benji, for not telling you why we were going to Fiji—"

"I get it, Mom, really. You were trying to keep me safe, but I'm not a little kid."

"I know you aren't a little kid. It's just...I can't lose you, too."

"I'll be fine," Benji insisted. "Just let me help!"

"You don't know whether you'll be fine," she said. "Yesterday you almost died because of me."

He shrugged. He couldn't argue against that. She was right.

"I tell you what," she said as she pulled a folded piece of paper from her pocket. "This is a printout of the map I got from your father's contact at Ironside Enterprises. You hold on to it."

Benji took it from her and opened it up. It was a topographic map—the kind that's full of lines, called contours, which show changes in elevation through the distance between the lines. The closer the contours are to each other, the steeper the ground.

The map his mom had given him was only a section of a larger map. He saw rivers and roads, along with mountains and valleys and little black squares that represented buildings. There weren't many of those, which told Benji the map was of a remote part of the highlands.

"I don't know where the village is that Ironside is after," Laura said. "All I have to go on is this map, plus what you overheard at the airport. The information from the contact was very vague. We've already learned more on this trip than I knew beforehand. Take a good look at the map. See if you can figure out what I'm missing and find that village."

Benji nodded absentmindedly, already lost in examining the map.

"Mom, what's your plan?" He traced a river with his finger, noticing here and there places that would likely have waterfalls.

"My original plan was to find the ruby before Ironside, then turn it over to the police and tell them about the situation. Now, though...I'll figure something else out."

He nodded again.

"On another topic, I'm going to join Josefa on a little hike. Something's wrong with their water supply—it's down to a trickle—and we're going see if we can figure out what's causing it. Put the map away, let's go back outside."

Reluctantly, Benji folded it up and slid it into the outside pocket of his backpack.

"Why do you have to go for a hike?" He asked as he followed her out of the bure.

Josefa pointed to one of the mountains towering over the village.

"We get our water from there. There is a spring halfway up. We will follow the pipe from our tank up to the spring and see if there is a leak, or if maybe something is blocking it."

"Do you want to come with us?" Laura asked.

"I was thinking," Seikz interrupted, "Benji could come with me. This morning we go cliff jumping."

Benji looked at his mom with big puppy eyes. She smiled and he grinned back at her.

"That sounds like fun. Be safe."

After finishing their coffee and breakfast, Benji grabbed his backpack from the bure and followed Seikz to the river and the trail that would take them to the cliff. Two other Fijian teens were already standing at the trailhead, waiting for Seikz and his American visitor.

"Benji," Seikz said as they approached the pair, "These are my friends James and Temo."

"Bula, Benji." The taller and skinnier of the two, James, stepped forward and took Benji's hand in a vice grip.

"Bula," Temo said, who was about Benji's height and maybe twice as wide around.

"It's nice to meet you guys." Benji wiggled his fingers as he brought his hand back to his side, just to make sure they were still working the way they should.

Seikz gestured upstream. "This way."

# 15.

Questions and answers

The three Fijians and their new American friend followed the trail deeper into the mountains. They crossed the river here and there, sometimes jumping from rock to rock, other times trudging through knee-high water. Benji caught glimpses of the view through the trees. He saw mountain after mountain covered in green forests, and waving grass dried a deep gold by the bright Fijian sun.

"You guys live in such an awesome place."

They smiled.

"So besides cliff jumping, what else do you do for fun around here?"

"We play rugby most days," James said. "Sometimes we play against other villages. Temo doesn't think anyone knows, but he goes off and plays soccer with an Indian family not far from here."

Temo shrugged and grinned. "I like the food."

Benji laughed.

"What about TV? I haven't seen one yet."

"We don't have a TV in the village," Temo said. "The only time we can watch a television is when we go to the Nadi market on Saturdays to sell kava and sugar cane. There is an internet cafe where we play video games, too. Sometimes we can go to McDonald's."

"There's a McDonald's here?"

James nodded. "We have one near Nadi and someone told me there is another in Suva, but I have not been there. Do you like McDonald's?"

"It's okay. It kind of gives me a stomach ache sometimes. I like Burger King a lot better."

"What is Burger King?"

"It's a restaurant kinda like McDonald's, but with better burgers."

"You have more restaurants where you come from? What else is different?" Temo asked.

"Well, there are a lot more restaurants, and a lot more people, too. I live out in the suburbs, so not really a city, but not too far from one. Plenty of houses and kids. Um, what else? There's the ocean, a couple hours away, and we've got mountains like you guys do, but they aren't as green."

"I would like to live in America," James said, and Temo nodded in agreement.

Seikz snorted.

"What?" Benji asked. "Am I missing something?"

"It is like this in other villages, too. The young people see American movies and read the magazines and they all want to leave and go to America. I love Viti Levu, it is my home. The older men and women also do not like this. They are afraid our village will die if all the young people leave."

They walked in a strained silence for some time; it was obvious this subject was a sore spot among the villagers, especially the youth. The minutes dragged and the group spread out while they walked. Benji made his way to Seikz and spoke in a hushed voice.

"Seikz, what do you think about that Magellan story the chief told us?"

The Fijian furrowed his brow and thought for a moment before answering. "I am not sure what I think. On one hand, you say it is not in history books, and it is very unlikely a man sailed across the huge Pacific Ocean and came across the little island of Viti Levu.

"On the other hand, your mom was right. Would such a man want the world to know of his failures and a lover who was not his wife? But there is one thing that stays in my mind... My chief speaks no English and has never heard of the internet. So how does he know who Magellan was?"

Benji stopped in his tracks, mouth agape. Seikz was right. If the legend was just that—nothing more than a story—then how did the chief know about the famous Ferdinand Magellan, white explorer from the other side of the world?

The smooth trail gave way to boulders the size of minivans and Benji, not as nimble as his companions, took his time jumping from one to the next. It wasn't long before he fell behind.

He rounded a bend and stopped short. A hundred feet above him the river poured off a sheer cliff, sparkling in the midday sun before hitting the swimming hole below. Mist filled the air with damp rainbows, and the perpetual splash of the waterfall mixed with birdsongs. The boulders ended just short of a wide, clear pool, at the edge of which sat Seikz.

"What do you think?" Seikz motioned to the pool and the waterfall.

"It's absolutely amazing! I can't believe I'm—whoa!" Benji pointed to the cliff. There, nearly eighty feet up with toes dangling over the edge, stood one of his new Fijian friends.

"He's not going to—oh my God!"

Temo took a deep breath, bent his knees, and leapt into the open air.

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# 16.

No way! Well...

Benji squeezed his eyes shut and turned away, waiting for the horrible scream to echo through the clearing. Instead, he heard a huge whump-splash! as Temo landed in the water. Benji turned back and watched with his eyes wide and jaw hanging as the brave Fijian swam towards him, smiling all the while.

"That was crazy! I mean—I can't believe you—that was awesome!"

Temo laughed and walked out onto the bank, wearing nothing but his shorts. He grinned. "You should try it. It is very fun."

As he spoke, James stepped to the edge and jumped, arms out and legs together. Benji counted almost to three before he splashed into the pool with the sound of someone doing a cannonball off a high dive, bringing his arms in at the last moment.

"No way," Benji said, staring at the eighty-foot cliff. "No, no, no, no. No way. I would die."

"How about from there?" Seikz pointed to a ledge about fifteen feet above the water. "It is not so high up. I think you should try." He smiled at Benji.

The American looked from the ledge to the water and back again. His stomach turned and his legs felt weak at the thought of climbing up there and jumping out into nothing. But still, it didn't look that high. And his new Fijian friends were watching him. He didn't want to look scared of a little jump.

"I'll do it."

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# 17.

Look out below!

"Stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid."

Benji stood alone on the ledge and wondered how he could have been so dumb. It was not just a short jump. It was high. Really high. He felt like throwing up. The rest of the guys stood beside the water, cheering him on.

"Go on," James shouted. "Jump!"

"Do it!"

"Go!"

Benji's legs shook, feeling weak and wobbly and he took a step back from the edge. He felt for the cliff behind him and leaned against it, eyes shut and breathing hard. The voices below faded to silence.

He couldn't do it. It was like all those guys at school said: he was weak. Trent had it right, and now his new friends knew it, too. The guys below consoled him as he got ready to climb back down. He couldn't jump. It was just too-

"Oh, the heck with it."

Without giving himself any more time to think, he pushed off the wall and leapt out into the air. Benji tried to do what he'd seen the others do: he jumped far, kept his feet together, and put his arms out for balance. If he couldn't stay balanced, he knew he would tilt either forward or backward and land painfully.

Which is exactly what happened.

He tucked his arms in at the last moment and hit the water hard, landing flat on his backside. He screamed in pain beneath the water, sending a cloud of bubbles to the surface. He swam up.

"OOOOWWWW!"

The Fijians were laughing and cheering. Benji swam to the shore and limped onto dry land.

"Good job!"

"Awesome!"

"That hurt!" Benji pulled up one leg of his shorts, exposing his bright red upper thigh. They laughed even harder and he blushed.

Seikz slapped him on the back. "Good job, Benji."

Benji smiled back. He did it.

Noon came and went, and the four of them spent their time swimming, jumping, and lounging in the sun. After eating a granola bar lunch, the warm Fijian sun began to work its magic on Benji. He lay back with his head on his backpack, and pulled his hat down over his eyes. The soft, warm breeze and the contentedness of his soul melded together and he dozed off.

"Benji."

He opened his eyes and lifted his hat to find Seikz shaking his leg. Benji sat up and stretched. Temo and James were standing around and looked ready to go. The sun was past its zenith and on its downward swing.

Benji held up his hand with his palm facing him, fingers together, and stretched his arm out. By holding his hand between the sun and the horizon, Benji could count about fifteen more minutes of daylight per finger he could fit between the two. Four fingers fit, with room for four more between the bottom of the sun and the ridge beneath it. Just about two hours until the sunlight began to fade.

"You guys go ahead, I'll catch up. The trail was really easy to find and the way back is all downhill. Besides, I want to take a few pictures of this amazing place."

Seikz looked concerned. "I will stay with you. It will be dark soon."

"Are you sure? I've got a headlamp just in case I get caught out here in the dark."

Seikz shook his head. "It can be easy to lose the trail and get lost at night."

After giving in to Seikz, he tried to find the best place to take some pictures. They came across a good spot to get some photos of the waterfall. But what he really wanted was a clear shot of the mountains. His eyes scanned the area and rested on the perfect place. Where could he get a better view than from the top of the cliff? Seikz agreed—it would be perfect.

Benji pulled on his backpack. The two of them found the trail their friends had used to climb to their jumping point and followed their footprints. The way was difficult and he slipped once or twice, and nothing more than quick reflexes, tree roots, and a lucky grab of Benji's backpack strap by Seikz kept him from falling the height of a three story building.

When they reached the top Benji looked around. Tree branches limited his view of the peaks and valleys beyond, but the incline kept going at least another couple hundred feet.

"What do you think?" Benji asked. "I bet we could see everything from up there."

Seikz nodded. "I climbed to the top once—it was very nice."

Rocks, roots, and trees gave them hand and footholds as they scrambled higher. Minutes passed, and the sun sank ever lower. Benji's muscles burned and dirt coated his clothes by the time they reached the top and turned to check out the view.

"Seikz...this is amazing. There's nothing like this at home."

He could see all the way down the river valley, from the waterfall where he stood to the smoke of cooking fires in the village. The green forest swayed to and fro, dancing in the breeze, and the long, yellow grass covering the mountainsides glowed in the late afternoon sun. Above the trees, bats the size of seagulls flew about, feasting on insects.

Benji took picture after picture. He moved sideways to get the best angle for one mountain, then crouched down to find the optimal angle to get both the bats and the clouds above. He backed up and aimed high...

When suddenly, the ground fell away beneath him!

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# 18.

Be careful what you wish for

"Benji!" Seikz shouted after him as he fell.

Benji tumbled head over feet down the back side of the mountain. The drop was nearly vertical. His face, arms, and legs were cut, banged, and scraped as he tore through bushes and vines. The world went from upside down to right side up and back again, over and over.

Benji tried to catch himself, tried to brace his legs or arms, but couldn't stop. The mountain was too steep. Dizzy and hurting all over, he began to panic, terrified a strong, unforgiving tree would break his fall. He began to scream. Then the tumbling stopped and there was nothing above him but blue sky and nothing below but open air.

He fell from the cliff like a rock, and his scream echoed through the empty clearing. It stopped when he hit the water with a splash, what seemed like ages later. He sank limply.

With agonizing slowness, Benji stretched his body out and kicked, pushing himself toward the surface. He broke through and spit out a mouthful of dirt and pebbles. After rinsing his mouth with river water and spitting again, he drifted toward shore and lay there on his back, waiting for the world to stop spinning.

Gently, he poked and prodded, stretched and flexed, searching for broken bones, cuts, and internal injuries. He would be feeling it tomorrow, but it didn't seem like anything serious was wrong.

Benji moaned and sat up. His flight had dropped him forty feet into a small, deep, pool in a river bend. He shook dirt and leaves from his hair. And froze.

"Oh, no."

His hat was gone. His father's hat. He felt sick to his stomach.

"Well, what else did I lose?" Benji shrugged his backpack from his shoulders and sat it on the ground in front of him.

"That's just great."

No wonder it felt light. The bottom of the bag had a gash from one side to the other, and all the contents from the largest pocket were now scattered from the top of the mountain to the bottom. His towel, pullover, energy bars, water filter, first aid kit, compass, and camera were gone. All he had left was safely stowed in the outer pockets: his knife, waterproof matches, headlamp, water purification drops, a granola bar, and the soggy, folded-up map his mom had given him. Attached with karabiners to loops on the outside of his bag were the rope and water bottle.

"Well, at least I've got something. Not a whole lot, but it's better than nothing." Benji unscrewed the cap of his water bottle and took a swig, swishing the water around his mouth to clear out the last of the dirt before spitting it out.

"Now what do I do?"

The cliff rose before him, a sheer forty feet, and beyond that an entire mountain ridge spanned in either direction as far as Benji could see. He didn't see how Seikz would be able to descend the steep mountain, along with the cliff, without falling.

Benji was on his own.

He used the blade of his knife to unfold the wet piece of the map. The ink hadn't run, so he was able to make out most of the contours, rivers, and roads. He studied it closely.

After a few minutes, Benji found the mountain he'd tumbled from, along with the river he ended up in. He pinpointed his most likely location on the map. And just a few miles away was a road. Now he needed to make a choice.

The cliff didn't go on forever; Benji could start walking and eventually find the end, which, according to the map, was farther away than the road. However, he might come across a part where it was a safe height for him to climb, but it was hard to tell on the map. The lines had blurred.

Although night was coming, he had his headlamp, and a full moon was already coming up over the horizon so moving around at night would be easy enough. It was a gamble, though. He might find somewhere he could climb up but the road was definitely there.

Or should he just stay where he was? Nearly everything Benji had ever read about being lost in the woods said to stay put, make yourself stand out from the land around you, and wait for help. Besides, Seikz probably had a pretty good idea of where Benji had landed.

But still, Benji couldn't be certain he would be that easy to find. They sure wouldn't see a signal fire from the waterfall. He would probably end up shivering all night right where he sat and hiking out in the morning.

While Benji tried to make up his mind, a strong breeze came down the valley and raised goose bumps on his damp arms. A cold shiver ran through him and shook him from his thoughts. He caught movement from the corner of his eye and saw, from the top of the cliff, his father's hat shake free from the brush and ride the wind to the ground, just feet from where he sat.

"Well, that settles it." He reached out and picked it up, shook off the dirt, and put it on tight. "I did ask for an adventure."

Benji pushed himself to his feet. After checking the map one more time and hoisting his rucksack back onto his shoulders, he decided to go right, away from the river, and follow the cliff.

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# 19.

Hide!

The trees and brush stopped growing five feet or so before the cliff, giving Benji an easy path through the forest. This was the good news. Benji craned back his neck and looked up. In the short time it had taken him to walk a half mile, the cliff had grown from forty feet to four hundred. That was the bad news. He sighed and kept going.

Growing shadows hid the ravine that nearly ended Benji's adventure; he slipped on the leaves and fell towards a stream twenty feet below. His arms stretched wide and he grasped anything he could to stop his fall. Benji wrapped his fingers around a tree branch and held on tight. The way down was too steep to climb, as was the way up on the other side. A dead end.

He pulled himself back from the ravine and took another look at the map. He figured the ravine below him ran all the way to the road, about two miles away. He turned his back to the cliff and followed the stream in search of somewhere he could cross or the road—whichever showed up first.

The bushes grew close together and pulled at Benji's clothes and scratched his already bloody legs. Mosquitos found him and attacked his ankles and face mercilessly, forcing him to go even slower as he stopped every few feet to slap at them.

Just when his spirits were at their lowest and he was questioning his decision to leave the riverbank, Benji pushed through a particularly dense patch of bushes and fell through to the other side. He stood, brushed the dirt from his hands and shorts, and smiled. Below his sneakers stretched a hard-packed dirt road. Maybe his luck had turned.

The light of the setting sun reached down through gaps in the trees and danced with the wind. Benji crossed through the shadows to a simple wooden bridge stretching across the creek. Sitting down and hanging his legs over the side proved to be an enjoyable, relaxing way to take a break.

He dug the granola bar from his bag and took a bite before putting it back. He could be out here all night—plus the morning—and needed to save it. The same with his water—he unscrewed the top and took a single gulp before returning it to his bag. Suddenly, the sound of a distant engine broke through the Fijian night.

Benji sprang to his feet and squinted through the trees, his heart beating fast and hard. This could be it, his ride back to the village! Through the leaves and splashes of golden sunlight, he caught glimpses of two white SUVs. They grew closer, and Benji got a good look at them as they rounded a bend in the dirt road.

Although Benji had grown up in a modest home with a practical mother, the parents of his classmates cruised through the suburbs in all sorts of expensive sports cars and SUVs. All he needed was a quick glimpse through the trees to know, without a doubt, that two shiny, brand-new Land Rovers were speeding through the forest, headed his way.

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.

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# 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.

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# 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.

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# 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 bike 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.

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# 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.

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# 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.

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# 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.

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?

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# 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!

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# 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 his 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.

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# 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!"

He stood and leaned against the wall that had been so intent on smashing him like a bug. He could almost feel its disappointment.

"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.

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# 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."

That was easier said than done.

To someone who hadn't just survived a whole bunch of deadly Fijian booby traps, the room might have seemed beautiful—an exquisite example of what years of dedication and an extraordinary amount of talent could do. From wall to wall the floor was covered in painstakingly carved shapes and swirls and beautifully colored tiles. But all Benji saw was a deathtrap. Every shape, every line, every tile could set a trap in motion. Any of them could have him impaled or burned or boiled or crushed or killed in dozens of other horrible ways.

There had to be a way across. Did he need to walk in a certain pattern to avoid being stuck in the middle of a trap? But what could that pattern be?

At second glance, Benji noticed the floor didn't actually stop at the wall. The floor and the wall met at a small ledge, maybe two inches high and another two inches deep, almost like a single, small step that followed the entire perimeter of the room.

As he was looking at the ledge, Benji noticed something odd about the wall. It was normal, except for one thing: it wasn't straight up and down. If he didn't look at it too long, it appeared perfect, like every other bit of engineering and architecture so far. But if he turned his head to the side just a little bit, it became obvious that the walls slanted out by just a degree or two. But why?

"I just wish I didn't have to walk on that floor. There's gotta be a way...aahh. There you are."

The little ledge. The wall slanting out.

Benji lay down the torch and, with agonizing slowness and care, eased himself around the corner of the entranceway and into the room. He stood perched on the little ledge with the side of his face against the wall. The wall slanted just far enough to keep him from falling backwards.

He shuffled inch by inch along the length of the room without any difficulty. Once he reached the corner, he stepped from one ledge to the other. The process was repeated until he touched the back wall. Upon making the turn and looking to the side, Benji saw the secret to reaching the ruby.

Another small ledge ran out from the wall all the way to the ruby's pedestal like a narrow bridge. It was completely out of view from the door. Benji carefully stepped over any spaces between cracks in the ledge and made it to the bridge.

Holding his arms out like a tightrope walker, he put one foot in front of the other and crossed the three-inch-wide bridge with only one or two close calls before reaching the altar. Just as he took the final step to stand before the ruby, Benji heard the thump-thump-thump of boots echoing down the hallways. His heart sank and a sense of failure came over him. The boots stopped in the doorway.

He was too late.

Beyond the ruby, Trent Ironside's jaw dropped. "How...?" The surprised expression morphed into an evil smile. "Well, well, chick. How about you go on and toss us that rock and save us all some time?"

When Benji didn't move, Trent pulled a pistol from his waistband and pointed it at him. "Give it to me now, and I might let you live."

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# 30.

Caught?

Benji focused on the ruby, then on the gun barrel and then back to the ruby. He saw the men standing behind Trent, each one armed with pistols, submachine guns, and even a few grenades. An unarmed fourteen-year-old didn't stand a chance.

"Come on, little kid, toss it over," taunted the man to Trent's right. "We don't have all night."

"I heard what you said at the airport, Trent." Benji glared at him. "And at the bridge in the woods. I know you're going to kill all those innocent people if you get this."

"So that was you in the woods," Trent said as he gave a sidelong glance at the man who must have been Anders. "Listen, all you gotta do is hand that over, Stone. And mind your own freaking business."

Trent tightened his hand on the pistol and Benji knew he would do it. Trent would shoot him, take the ruby, and then he and his men would kill the descendants of Magellan—along with all the witnesses.

Or Benji could just hand it over like Trent said. They might spare his life, but he doubted it. People like Trent's dad didn't like loose ends.

There was only one way Benji had any chance of making it out alive—and it was an almost non-existent chance.

Without any more thought, he picked up the ruby and stepped out onto the floor.

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# 31.

Just another swim

BANG!

A five ton slab of rock crashed down into the doorway and sealed the room. Although now safe from Trent, Benji was trapped. He shoved the ruby into his backpack and walked around the room, grateful the torch was on his side of the giant, immovable door.

"Come on, come on! There's gotta be a way out!"

He ran his hand over the walls and the pedestal that had held the ruby. Nothing. Suddenly, the sound of grinding stone filled the room. A huge section of the back wall began to slide up. Could this be a way out? Was there a passage?

Benji knew enough not to get his hopes up. The last time there had been the sudden grinding of stone on stone he'd nearly ended up as a stain on a wall.

But still, he took a small step forward, a glimmer of hope rising in his chest. It was smothered in an instant as water charged into the room under the rising wall. It churned and frothed white, filling the chamber. The torch burned out with a hiss and the room went dark.

"No! Where is it?!"

Benji's heart raced and his head spun as he sloshed through the water, feeling for some way out. The water was at his ankles, then his knees. His waist. It was rising fast.

"Come on!"

The water was freezing and Benji shivered. It rose past his belly to his chest, and in no time he found himself treading water. He put one arm up, and felt the ceiling above him. He tried not to cry. This was it, the end.

No one would ever find him.

Wait.

There was a way out. He swam along the wall, through the swirling water, and made his way closer to the gap in the back wall.

"Oh, I hope this works."

It's just another swim. Just another swim.

Just as the water reached the ceiling, he took a deep breath and ducked under the cold water, stuffing his hat into his shirt before swimming towards the opening in the wall. With one last kick, Benji was through the hole and yanked from the room by a current too strong to fight.

Hands in front of his face and legs out, he protected himself as best as he could while racing down the pitch black underground river. He banged his knees, elbows, and back in the twists and turns. Each impact knocked a bit more wind from his burning lungs. He longed for air.

Thirty seconds passed. Forty-five. Still he sped through the dark tunnel with no light at the end. Benji's head pounded and he started to feel detached, like he was going to pass out.

Benji fought the feeling. If he lost consciousness, he would die. But he was fading.

A minute passed.

The current slowed and stopped, and Benji drifted. He opened his eyes and looked around. Above him, through the clear water, he saw the moon. His feet hit sand and gravel and he pushed up with the last of his strength.

Benji gasped, inhaling both the cool night air and the cold water. Coughing, he dragged himself to the stony bank and threw up in the shallows.

# The stones dug into his back as he rolled over, still coughing. Coughing, but alive.

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# 32.

A walk in the dark

Tears fell from the corners of Benji's eyes and down the sides of his face and he grinned. He'd never felt such relief in his life.

"I'm alive! And f-freezing!"

The cool night air that felt so good filling his lungs was now pulling the heat from his wet body. He needed to get moving to stay warm. Although Fiji was warm and tropical during the day, the cool highland temperatures could make him hypothermic just as easily as at home in New Hampshire.

He heard the roar of a waterfall close by and stood, putting on his hat. Just a few dozen feet from where Benji had pulled himself from the pool was the first of two falls. It was a good two-story drop to the bottom. The next one was higher. The water fell nearly eighty feet before crashing onto the rocks below and filling the night with a never-ending roar.

Benji turned away and peeked inside his bag at the ruby.

"What do I do with this thing?"

Trent and his men were still out there. What if they caught him? They couldn't get the ruby. That would spell certain death for Benji and the villagers. He needed to hide it. As long as only Benji knew where it was, he was safe. Or so he hoped.

The jungle surrounding him offered endless hiding places. He needed to be able to find it again, so the spot had to be somewhere out of sight and unobvious, but easy to remember.

"There we go."

Not far from the waterfall stood a bamboo grove with a small pile of rocks beside it. Benji moved each stone to the side slowly, careful not to disturb the dirt, leaves, and grass. Once the pile was moved and nothing but bare dirt remained, he dug a small hole with his hands, pulled the ruby from his bag, and dropped it in. He then re-built the stone pile like nothing ever happened.

"Alright." He stood, brushing his hands on his pants. "Time to get out of here."

Benji figured the best way to find help was to follow the river. Eventually, it would either lead him to a village or the ocean—either one meant finding help and finding his way back to his mom.

But first he had to deal with these waterfalls. The smaller one was flanked by twenty foot cliffs that stretched unbroken into the forest. In the bright moonlight, Benji looked over the edge and saw that the cliff offered plenty of foot and hand holds, and halfway down a grass-covered ledge jutted out like bad under bite.

"I can do this," Benji told himself. Inside he wasn't so sure; he would be climbing down twenty feet in the dark—not an easy job.

He eased over the edge backwards, groping with his feet for something to put his weight on. There! He tested the bit of rock and it held. A good hand hold proved easy to find and he made his way down the small cliff, taking a short break on the grassy ledge.

In another time, Benji might have been tempted to stay on the ledge. The night air was cool, but not quite cold. The moonlight covered the river and trees with a shadowy glow and the twin waterfalls played a constant, rushing soundtrack to the evening, drowning out even the loudest of insects. He felt himself dozing...and snapped out of it, shaking himself awake.

Gotta keep moving.

Benji climbed the rest of the way down and followed the river another fifty yards to the next waterfall. The way was difficult and littered with boulders. The water started slow and lazy from at the base of the smaller of the two falls, but gradually sped up to rolling whitewater before tumbling over the cliff to the rocks eighty feet below.

Climbing down a cliff that high in the dark was too much of a risk. Benji's only option was to follow the cliff into the forest and try to find a way down that wouldn't end with a broken neck. He left the river and the moonlight behind, entering the dark forest once again.

He wandered along, following the cliff. Soon, though, Benji walked out from under the cover of the trees and stood at the edge of a field of the same long, golden grass he'd seen waving in the wind on his first day in the highlands. The grass was much taller than he'd imagined, standing higher than Benji could reach on his tiptoes.

Two steps into the field and the forest disappeared. Long stalks of grass surrounded him. Without any landmarks to judge his progress by, he immediately lost all sense of direction.

Blades of grass sliced through his skin like dozens of paper cuts as Benji fumbled through the field, falling more times than he could count. What seemed to be a straight line was instead a subtle curve to the right, a course that slowly led him back the way he'd come.

When Benji reached the edge of the field, he breathed a sigh of relief. At least now he could see where he was going and not fall on his rear end every other step. So he walked on, searching for the cliff and his way out. Benji stopped short.

He found the cliff, alright. Except...

He was back where he started.

"To heck with that grass again," he mumbled, looking at his bloody hands. "Not a chance. Looks like the river's out. Now what?"

He leaned against a tree and dug through the remains of his backpack. A smile touched his face as his cold fingers pulled a few soggy bites of a granola bar from the remaining pocket. With a small smile, he chewed with his mouth open and imagined his mom's reaction.

Everyone's got to be so worried, he thought. It's been hours since I should have been back.

"Well, I've got to get out of here one way or another."

Benji picked a direction at random and left the cliff behind. He needed to put as much distance between the ruby and himself as he could. If Trent and the rest of his crew caught up with him he didn't want them to find it. So he walked. Hopefully not in circles this time.

Though the direction was random, it was straight, and soon he found himself facing a chest-high barbed wire fence. Small flecks of rust showed the fence's age, but the tips of the barbs still looked plenty sharp. The underbrush seemed thinner on the other side of the fence, and Benji thought he saw a trail cutting its way through.

After tossing his bag over, he eased himself between two strands of wire and managed to make it through with nothing more than a small cut to his back. A few steps away from the fence he stood on a game trail.

It was covered in what looked like hoof prints, both large and small. He heard the deep snorts and grunts through the trees of something big and had the strong desire to get out of there—fast.

He looked both left and right on the trail; each side looked the same and neither seemed to hold more promise than the other.

On a whim, Benji turned right and started walking, following the hoof prints of wild pigs and whatever else, and hoping that he was headed somewhere worth going.

The path meandered around trees, hills, and ravines, and was thankfully free of vines and the long, sharp thorns that had torn so many holes in Benji's clothes.

He came to a corner in the fence and the well-beaten trail turned with it. However, a narrower trail kept going past the barbed wire fence. Benji climbed through. He kept walking, following the smaller game trail. Without tree branches and vines pulling at him or tall grass blocking his sight and cutting up his hands, he made good time. He put miles behind him before coming to an intersection.

The game trail crossed another path. A path covered in footprints. It looked familiar. It was the trail that led from the willow tree to the tunnel.

Benji could either continue straight and follow the game trail deeper into the jungle, or turn onto the new trail and take it to the road. Sticking to the woods, for now, seemed like the best choice.

Suddenly, a flashlight lit up and blinded him.

"Hey, you! Kid! Stop right there!"

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# 33.

Captured!

Benji crashed through the woods with his pursuer close behind.

FASTER!

A tree root caught his foot, sending him sprawling on his belly on the forest floor. Trent's goon dove and grabbed Benji's ankle just as the boy scrambled to get to his feet. He crashed back to the ground and kicked like crazy, trying to get free. His foot smashed into the man's nose and he released Benji's ankle with a shout.

Benji leapt to his feet and ran. He risked a glance back. The man was back up and hot on Benji's heels. Benji looked ahead and—

BAM!

His feet flew out from under him and he lay on the ground, staring up at the tree limb that had just clotheslined him. The solid limb went in and out of focus. Benji tried not to pass out. He was once again blinded by a bright flashlight.

"Ya mine now, punk," came a voice muffled by a bloody nose.

The man flipped Benji onto his belly, yanked off the backpack, and used a thin rope to tie his hands together behind his back. Then he picked the boy up, slung him roughly over his shoulder, and made his way back to the Land Rovers. Dazed from the tree limb, and with his mind spinning from the sudden turn of events, Benji didn't notice he was being dropped until he hit the dirt road.

"Ooooh, my head."

He rolled onto his back and stared up into the man's ugly face. Blood dripped from his nose.

"Shut up. I don't know who the devil ya are, but I'm thinkin' I should keep ya 'round. What're ya doin' out here, anyway? Yer just gonna lay there and be quiet 'til the boss's kid gets back and he can figure out what to do with ya."

"Wait, I-"

"I told ya to keep yer mouth shut." He drew a very large, very scary knife out from behind his back and held the tip to Benji's nose. "You keep runnin' your mouth and I'm gonna get mad. Ya don't want me mad, kid. Understand?"

Shaking, Benji nodded the smallest nod he dared to avoid cutting his nose open on what looked like a dangerously sharp blade. Satisfied, the man returned the knife to its sheath. He walked off a few yards and lit a cigarette.

Now what?

Strong. He had to be strong. There was no use crying or begging. As long as Benji knew where the ruby was and Trent didn't, they wouldn't kill him. But if they found out where it was, not only would the villagers lose their lives, but so would Benji. It was like the man said—he needed to keep his mouth shut. Lives depended on it.

A voice, tense and angry, floated through the night air. Trent and his men were back.

"My father is not going to be happy about your screw up."

Anders ignored the baseball star and kept walking. Trent followed close behind and pointed a finger at the back of the older man's head. Benji could see the furious looks on both of their faces.

"Hey! I'm talking to you. Don't you ignore—"

Trent froze in his tracks and gaped at Benji lying bound in the dirt road. He looked up at the man who stood beyond Benji, smoking his cigarette.

"How-? What-?" He shook his head as if shaking off the shock of seeing someone brought back from the dead. Trent stomped over and pushed Benji's face down in the dirt. "Where is it, huh? Where? Where's his backpack?"

Trent reached out and grabbed the bag as it was handed to him. He frantically tore open the remaining pocket only to find no giant ruby inside. Trent pulled Benji to his knees and slapped him in the face, hard. The younger boy's head snapped to the side and stars danced in front of his eyes.

"Where is it?" Trent screamed in his face.

In spite of the growing pit in his stomach and the pain of Trent's slap, Benji forced his mouth to stay shut. Trent's face grew red and he balled his fists at his sides. Before he knew it, Benji was on the ground coughing in the dust and trying his hardest not to cry. Trent relaxed his fist and shook out his hand.

"How's that for payback?"

Usually, Benji did his best to avoid pain and suffering. He never went looking for trouble and always thought things through before acting. This is why what he did next was very unlike him and very, very stupid. He looked up and smirked just like Trent always did when he picked on someone—one eyebrow raised and the corner of his mouth curved up just a bit.

The last thing Benji saw before everything went dark was Trent's shiny new hiking boot coming straight at his face.

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# 34.

Pit stop

Consciousness came and went like ocean waves on the shore. The blackness faded to grey, and small bits came through before drifting away again.

"My father says bring the boy to him."

...

The trunk of a Land Rover, his head hitting the floor as they bounced over bumps and dropped into potholes.

...

The dim pink sunrise reaching the clouds above, signaling the coming day.

The Land Rover left the forest and stopped.

"Pit stop," gruffed a voice from up front.

"I need to pee," Benji said.

"Tough luck."

"I don't want him messing his pants in here," the man in the passenger seat said. "It'll stink."

"Alright, fine."

The doors opened, and a few seconds later, the trunk door raised and unbroken sunlight poured onto Benji's face, both warming him and giving him a splitting headache.

"Get out," the man ordered.

Benji's wrists were still bound behind him, and he struggled to get upright. He squirmed and slid and made a show of how difficult it was to sit up. He squinted in the light and still had a hard time focusing his eyes. For a baseball player, Trent sure could kick.

"How am I going to take a pee with my hands behind my back?"

Trent walked into Benji's sight and looked down at the younger teen. He smirked. "Untie his hands. Just watch him." Trent turned to walk away and spoke one last instruction over his shoulder. "If he tries to run off, shoot him."

The goon grinned at Benji and bent over. He pulled up one pant leg and drew a revolver from a holster strapped to his calf just above his ankle. He held it up for Benji to see clearly, and then shoved it into his right pants pocket. He looked the boy in the eye.

"I sure could use some target practice."

Benji gulped. The big, ugly guy laughed at him, his guffaws carrying for miles. He grabbed Benji and threw him, face-first, into the floor of the trunk.

The ropes around Benji's wrists grew tight, nearly too tight too bear, before loosening and finally falling off. The ropes were tossed aside and he sat back up, legs hanging over the edge of the car. With a sigh of relief, he saw his father's hat lying in one corner.

Benji grabbed the fedora and placed it on his head before stepping away from the men to find a semi-private place to pee.

Well, Benji, he thought, how are you going to get yourself out of this one?

"The heck if I know," he mumbled to himself.

"I would've thought you'd have to sit down to do that!" Trent's voice carried from the other side of the Land Rovers, the chuckles of his men not far behind.

Benji finished and zipped his pants, trying not to cry. "Whatever."

And with that, he walked straight ahead and over the edge of the hill they had been driving on.

"Get him!"

Instead of running or hiding, Benji just sat down on a ledge jutting out from the side of the hill. He would only have few seconds of quiet before Trent's men caught up to him.

A few seconds wasn't enough. It wasn't enough time to feel more than a quick caress of the breeze or watch the golden grasses sway. Not enough time to catch more than a glimpse of a small herd of horses cresting a hill or admire all the ridges and rivers and trees and cliffs and everything else here in the most beautiful place Benji had ever seen.

Click.

Benji had seen too many action and adventure movies not to know that sound. It was the hammer of a gun locking into position, getting ready to swing down and start a chain reaction that would end in a bullet in his back. Slowly, without any sudden movements, he stood and turned to face the big ugly guy who was supposed to be babysitting him.

"Walk," Trent's thug growled.

Trent met Benji in the road, red-faced and trembling with rage. He stood nearly nose-to-nose with Benji and spoke so only he could hear.

"I told you not to wander off, Stone, and you do exactly what say. You are not in charge here. They are not in charge here." He motioned to the men around them. "I am in charge. Don't you ever forget that, chick. And get this through your head—I just need you to be able to talk. Walk? Not so much. Disrespect me again and I'll break your legs."

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# 35.

A familiar face

Three hours passed before the two Land Rovers turned onto the Queen's Road and headed south back towards Nadi. Benji spent that time in silence, looking out the windows from his place in the back and memorizing the turns and landmarks. It wouldn't be hard to get back to the pee-break spot—they'd only turned twice.

The hard part would be finding his way from there to the willow tree, although he was pretty sure they had stayed on the same road the whole way. Then again, he had spent that period of time fading in and out of consciousness while tied up in the SUV's trunk.

The Queen's Road was a welcome relief from the bouncy dirt roads of the interior, but Benji's nerves were just about fried. While doing his best to keep a stoic look on his face, he fidgeted with his hands nonstop, even more so when he realized where they were going.

"We're going to the airport?"

No one answered Benji's question, but turning into the airport parking lot was answer enough. They stopped at the curb in front of a hangar that sat across from the main entrance. The trunk opened and he climbed out.

Trent stood on the sidewalk waiting for him. "Don't forget what I told you, Stone. If you value the ability to walk, that is."

He turned and headed towards the hangar's main door, leaving Benji to hurry to fall into place behind him. Two of the bodyguards followed.

They entered the large hangar, which was filled with small planes of all types. There were sleek private jets alongside those that were propeller-driven and used for shorter distances. Benji recognized the plane he had seen Trent and his father arrive in. It was larger than the others and seemed much newer. However, they were headed to a smaller, more practical, plane a little farther down the line. A dark-skinned Fijian pilot sat on the steps. He stood as he saw them approach.

"Are we ready?" Trent asked.

A sharp nod was all he got from the pilot before the man climbed the steps and disappeared into the plane. Trent, Benji, and the bodyguards followed. Six seats filled most of the cabin with some empty space behind them for luggage. They all found a seat and waited for the pilot to start the plane.

The plane shook slightly with the start of the engines—one on each wing—and a small roar filled the cabin as the propellers picked up speed. The plane rolled forward and they left the shadow of the hangar behind.

After a short taxi out onto the runway, Benji felt himself pressed back in his seat as they gathered speed for takeoff. The ground fell away, along with any chance he had of escape. He felt his heart drop a bit, and it wasn't just from the plane's ascent.

"Where are we going?"

Trent didn't look back. He smirked and put his cell phone to his ear. "We're in the air." He listened to the person on the other end for a moment, then gave a simple "Okay" and hung up.

This time, he did turn back to face his captive. "Boy, have we got a surprise for you," Trent said. "Don't get too excited, now."

Fat chance, Benji thought, but said nothing. Trent stared at him for a moment, then went back to whatever he was doing.

The whole point of this vacation had been to get away, to have some relaxation, fun adventures, and enjoy the islands that were now passing beneath them. Instead, Benji had nearly died more than once, and it was only his third day in.

Definitely better than high school.

Benji figured the best way to find help was to follow the river. Eventually, it would either lead him to a village or the ocean—either one meant finding help and finding his way back to his mom.

But first he had to deal with these waterfalls. The smaller one was flanked by twenty foot cliffs that stretched unbroken into the forest. In the bright moonlight, Benji looked over the edge and saw that the cliff offered plenty of foot and hand holds, and halfway down a grass-covered ledge jutted out like bad under bite.

"I can do this," Benji told himself. Inside he wasn't so sure; he would be climbing down twenty feet in the dark—not an easy job.

He eased over the edge backwards, groping with his feet for something to put his weight on. There! He tested the bit of rock and it held. A good hand hold proved easy to find and he made his way down the small cliff, taking a short break on the grassy ledge.

In another time, Benji might have been tempted to stay on the ledge. The night air was cool, but not quite cold. The moonlight covered the river and trees with a shadowy glow and the twin waterfalls played a constant, rushing soundtrack to the evening, drowning out even the loudest of insects. He felt himself dozing...and snapped out of it, shaking himself awake.

Gotta keep moving.

Benji climbed the rest of the way down and followed the river another fifty yards to the next waterfall. The way was difficult and littered with boulders. The water started slow and lazy from at the base of the smaller of the two falls, but gradually sped up to rolling whitewater before tumbling over the cliff to the rocks eighty feet below.

Climbing down a cliff that high in the dark was too much of a risk. Benji's only option was to follow the cliff into the forest and try to find a way down that wouldn't end with a broken neck. He left the river and the moonlight behind, entering the dark forest once again.

He wandered along, following the cliff. Soon, though, Benji walked out from under the cover of the trees and stood at the edge of a field of the same long, golden grass he had seen waving in the wind on his first day in the highlands. The grass was much taller than he had imagined, standing higher than Benji could reach on his tiptoes.

The plane bounced once on the pavement before smoothly rolling to the end. It stopped in front of a waiting Land Rover.

"Let's go," Trent ordered as he stood.

One of the bodyguards opened the door and lowered the steps. Benji followed the man out, trailed by Trent and the other bodyguard. The fourteen-year-old captive looked for a way to escape, but it was at least fifty yards to the closest tree line—plenty of space for him to get shot before making it to the relative safety of the forest.

Benji sighed in defeat.

They loaded into the waiting SUV, and the skinny Fijian man behind the wheel shifted into drive. The well-maintained road allowed for a short, smooth trip to the mansion. They passed the front driveway and stopped at a side door typically reserved for the hired help.

Trent got out and strode to the entrance and swung the door wide open. One of his goons grabbed Benji by the shirt and dragged him from the car. He led the boy into the mansion, and they followed Trent down some stairs to the basement.

After a short walk down a hallway, they stopped in front of another closed door. When Trent turned, his lips stretched from ear to ear in a grin that reminded Benji of the Joker, Batman's evil nemesis.

"You should be excited, Stone. There's a big surprise waiting for you."

With that, he unlocked the door, swung it open, and stepped aside. Benji's feet left the ground as the bodyguard threw him into the room. He sprawled face-first across the cement floor, his hat tumbling from his head. The heavy door slammed shut behind him and locked with a click that filled the small space.

"Benji?"

A soft voice reached Benji's ears and he looked up in disbelief. Keeping him company in the maintenance closet was a familiar face.

"Mom?"

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# 36.

Escape

"Wha-what are you doing here?"

The stammered sentence was all he got out before his mom dragged him from the hard floor and into her warm embrace. She squeezed him until all the air was gone from his lungs and he had to push away. She held him by the shoulders at arm's length, her eyes wide.

"Oh, Benji. What happened to you? Are you okay? Your face! Who did that? I was so worried about you!" Before he could answer any of her questions, she pulled him close again and gripped him tight.

"I'm okay, Mom, really. Just a bit banged up." He touched his face gingerly, suddenly happy there weren't any mirrors around. His mom's face was flushed, her red hair plastered to her sweaty forehead. Benji wondered how long she'd been in the hot closet. "What are you doing here?"

"When you didn't come back from the waterfall, Josefa and I led a group to find you. We looked everywhere. I waited on the road for cars to pass and asked if anyone had seen you. No one had, of course.

"Then a new Land Rover stopped beside me. They opened their window and before I could say anything a gun was in my face. The man holding the gun told me to stay quiet and get in, so I did. From that point on one has said a word to me. Do you know where we are?"

"Mom, Mr. Ironside owns this place. Trent caught me and brought me here." He heard footsteps coming down the hallway and spoke fast. "Listen, it's true—that story about Magellan's ruby. I heard Trent talking, and they were going to steal the ruby and kill all of Magellan's descendants so no one could claim it. I found the hidden village and got to the ruby first, and took it and hid it. I almost died like five times!"

Laura's eyes grew wider with each word. "Benji, listen real hard. If we can't get out of here, they're going to try to use me as leverage to make you show them where the ruby is. Don't tell them! No matter what, Benji, don't tell them. They'll kill those people."

The footsteps stopped outside the door. They heard the jingle of a keychain.

"We have to get out of here!" Benji whispered.

They both looked around the small room for something that might help them escape. Laura's eyes settled on a bucket on the floor.

"Benji, do you remember seeing the docks when you got in?"

Benji nodded.

"As soon as that door opens I want you to get out of here as fast as you can. Get to that dock and take a boat back to the main island. Don't wait for me. I'll meet you at the airport in Nadi. Do exactly as I say. Do you understand?"

Benji nodded again, and his mom scrambled for something in the back of the closet.

The door eased open and in walked Mr. Ironside, Trent, and Anders.

The big, evil grin of Ironside senior vanished when the bucket of pesticide was thrown at his head, dowsing all three men in the stinking chemicals. They screamed and clawed at their faces and rubbed their burning eyes.

"Run, Benji! Go!"

Laura pushed Benji ahead of her and shoved past the Ironsides as they groped in vain for their escaping captives. They sprinted down the hallway and up the stairs and burst through the door into the bright afternoon sun. Benji was momentarily blinded after coming from the dim basement.

"To the docks! Run!" Laura pointed down the hill. "Go!"

Benji hesitated. He didn't want to leave his mom by herself. "But what about you? Come with me!"

"Don't argue!" she said. "Just run as fast as you can. I'll meet you at the airport. Go! Now!"

Laura turned and ran towards the back of the mansion. Benji trotted backward for a few steps, sick with worry. Then he did just what his mom told him to. He turned and ran as fast as he could.

Two guards watched the sprinting teen with confusion written across their faces. The door kicked wide open behind Benji. Mr. Ironside burst through, eyes red and face rubbed raw.

"Stop him!" he bellowed.

The confusion left the faces of the guards and they brought their guns up. Both men had Benji in their sights.

Suddenly, a massive explosion ripped through the calm midday air.

The Land Rover, parked only feet from the exploding propane tank, flipped and burst into flames. The shock wave blasted the two guards ten feet across the lawn, their guns tumbling harmlessly from their hands. All the windows of the mansion blew out simultaneously and shards of the obliterated propane tank rained down on everyone. Even fat Mr. Ironside was thrown airborne back inside his mansion.

"Mom," Benji said under his breath. Behind the mansion, a huge fireball reached into the sky.

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.

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# 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.

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# 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 know 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.

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# 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.

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# 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!"

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# 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 passenger 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.

But that couldn't happen.

No one knew he was out here.

He eased himself between the strands of the barbed wire fence and followed the wider path. Benji soon discovered what had made the grunting sounds the last time he'd walked this trail.

Twenty feet or so ahead of him walked a very large cow, its shoulders reaching as high as Benji's head. It walked towards him one slow step at a time and he tiptoed through the brush, well away from the passing creature.

It seemed calm enough, but you never know.

Benji missed it at first and had to double back, but he found where his footprints left the trail and once again crossed the fence. From there it was as easy as following the distant roar of the double waterfalls.

The closer he got to the ruby, the stronger the feeling in his gut became. He'd felt the same way at the bridge when the Land Rovers were coming, when the little voice in the back of his mind had told him to run and hide. This time it screamed at him.

Something's not right! Run!

He made it to the waterfalls without a swarm of bad guys running at him with guns and started to convince himself he was just being paranoid. That didn't stop him from spinning in a full circle every few yards to check—just in case.

He found the pile of rocks next to the bamboo grove. After a quick glance over his shoulder, Benji moved them aside and dug out the ruby. He gave a sigh of relief when he saw the precious stone was still there. He picked it up and held it to the light. Beautiful.

Suddenly, someone gripped his hair in a tight fist and yanked back his head and pressed the cold steel of a knife against his throat.

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# 42.

Traitor

Trent chuckled in Benji's ear. "You're such a good guide, Stone. Hand it over."

Benji could kick himself. He'd led Trent straight to the ruby. The villagers were doomed.

So was he.

Trent took the stone from Benji's shaking hand. The knife left his throat and he felt a moment of relief...until Trent kicked him hard enough in the back to send him face-first into the grass. Benji landed on the ground, the wind knocked out of him. He lay curled up, struggling to breathe.

"Anders?" Benji heard Trent behind him. He sounded confused. "What are you doing?"

As quietly as he could, Benji rolled to his side and saw Anders, the head of security, pointing a pistol at his boss's son. They stood facing each other, not far from the waterfall.

"What does it look like I'm doing, kid?" Anders smirked. "I'm getting the biggest score of my life. You're going to help me by dropping that knife and handing me the stone. Then I'm gonna leave and never work another day in my life."

"Are you crazy?" Trent said. "You don't steal from my father. No one steals from him, you fool. He'll have you killed."

Anders took a step forward and Benji heard a click as he cocked the gun. He pressed the barrel against Trent's forehead and the knife fell to the ground. Anders held out his hand.

"The stone."

Trent swallowed and held it out for Anders to take.

"You're a dead man, Anders. You know that? My father's going to find you and when he does he's going to kill you."

"Well," Anders grinned, "I bet leaving no witnesses would give me a pretty good head start."

All the color drained from Trent's face. "Wha-what?"

"You heard me, kid."

"Anders, please. Don't do this. I'll pay you. Anything you want. Please."

"I got what I want. Bye, kid."

And then Benji did something stupid. Something really, really stupid. Slow and quiet, he got his feet under him. Then, as quick as he could, he jumped up and ran.

That wasn't the stupid part.

The stupid part was when he tackled Anders, sending them both over the edge of the cliff!

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# 43.

Saved

Anders let out an OOMPH as Benji's shoulder collided with his gut. They launched out into the open air and dropped fifteen feet to the river below.

Both surfaced at the same time, but Anders was busy looking under the water. He ignored Benji completely, took a deep breath, and went under again. A moment later, his head popped up and he repeated the process.

He dropped the ruby!

Benji ducked beneath the surface and swam deep, fighting the current. The water was clear and cold and he had no difficulties scouring the river bottom for the deep red stone. He watched Anders struggle against the current as he searched, but it was in vain—Benji saw it first.

Kicking hard, he made it to the stone and shoved it in his pocket. When he looked up, Anders was above him, just out of arm's reach. Benji pushed off against the sand and stone and swam against the current towards the surface.

One quick breath of fresh air was all he managed before a hand gripped his ankle and yanked him back down.

Benji fought like a wild animal, kicking and hitting and scratching the man that tugged at him. Anders held him as tight as he could and struggled to steal the ruby. All the while the current grew stronger and they were carried along ever faster.

Benji managed to get his feet up and kicked out, putting a small bit of space between the two of them. Another hard kick connected with the older man's nose with a crunch and Benji was free.

He reached the surface, gasping for air. The river had gone from slow and peaceful to fast and deadly, speeding over rocks towards the edge of a cliff. The roar of the waterfall grew louder. Benji and Anders swam to toward the bank only to find tightly packed boulders as smooth as paper and without a handhold to be found.

The two swam with all they had, now fighting the current in a losing race to escape the waterfall that pulled them ever closer.

Anders lost first.

He kicked as hard as he could and clawed at the rocks until his fingers bled before the rapids caught him and dragged him over the edge of the falls towards the rocks below.

Adrenalin coursed through Benji's veins and he kicked faster than he could imagine. His arms were a blur as they churned the water into foam and pulled him upriver, away from the waterfall. Then, he began to slow down. The burst of energy left him and his arms began to feel like lead and legs like dead weight. His upstream progress was lost and he began drift backwards.

Still, he swam as fast as he possibly could, but it just wasn't enough. This was one race he would lose. The whitewater had him. It was only the matter of a few brief seconds of terror, then it would be all over.

It was no use to fight, but he tried nonetheless to grab something, anything to escape certain death.

The waterfall was just yards away.

His fingertips dragged uselessly along the smooth stone...

When a hand grabbed his wrist like a vise.

Benji looked up. Corded muscles stood out on Trent's arms as he fought the powerful current, straining to pull the younger boy from the water. His other hand firmly grasped a tree limb and he pulled with all he had.

Muscles stretched past their limit and ligaments tore and Trent screamed in pain but never let go. Benji watched him battle the river. He saw the determination in the baseball star's trim face and the stubborn refusal to lose.

With a roar of effort and one final burst of strength, Trent hauled on the tree limb. He fell away from the river and dragged Benji up onto the rock with him.

The two lay there, gasping for breath. Trent held his left shoulder and moaned. Shouts came from the forest—his father's men. Their eyes met.

For a moment they were silent.

"Go!" Trent said through gritted teeth. "Get out of here!"

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# 44.

Car thief

Benji didn't need to be told again.

He stood on rubbery legs and jogged into the forest, passing the sharp embankment torn up by Trent's scramble down to save his adversary. That was something to think on another day. Right now he worried about how he was going to make it back to the taxi without getting caught by the remaining Ironside goons.

The game trail was easy to find and Benji raced through the forest until he caught his first glimpse of one of Trent's men. As fast as he could, he crawled beneath some dense foliage and held his breath until they passed.

He snuck back onto the game trail and soon had crossed the first barbed wire fence. Benji dashed headlong down the trail. He kept an eye out for cows, which he had no desire to startle. Shouts carried through the foliage and the sound of feet crashing through underbrush came shortly after.

Benji had never claimed to be a fast runner. Just a fast swimmer. He ran as fast as he could, but the men were gaining on him. He sprinted around trees and up and down ravines. Just before the next turn he risked a glance over his shoulder and saw the first of Trent's men.

Benji rounded the turn...

And suddenly, the man behind him became the least of Benji's concerns.

He ran into a wall. A big, muscular, living wall. To be specific, the rear end of a bull. The sudden crash of a person into its behind spooked the bull and it bucked, kicking its deadly hooves out behind him.

Benji leapt aside, narrowly dodging serious injury. The man behind him didn't have Benji's luck. He rounded the turn, gun drawn and ready to shoot. The bull bucked again and kicked the thug in the middle of his chest. The only sound he let out was an OOMP! before flying backwards into the woods.

The bull spun around and faced the boy, who truly got to see how massive this creature was. The top of Benji's hat barely reached its shoulders. The thing's head was the size of a beach ball, with huge, pointed horns arching out from either side. The bull let out a loud snort.

It lowered its head, horns pointed straight at Benji.

And charged.

Benji turned and ran.

A new panic grasped his heart. This bull didn't care about the ruby. It couldn't sit down and talk things through. It saw this boy as a danger to be taken care of.

Or a fly to be swatted.

Either way, it seemed determined to either impale or trample the unfortunate teenager. Back around the bend, Benji ran straight into the rest of the hired guns. They aimed at him, ready to fire.

Benji leapt sideways off the trail and into the bushes. He closed his eyes tight and willed the bull to see the group of grown men as the greater threat.

It did.

The men dove out of the way. The fuming bull followed them into the brush, swinging its horns, stomping its hooves, and bucking wildly to get at them. Benji seized his chance and ran. The men behind him scattered, doing their best to avoid a horrible death.

Benji had a good head start before hearing the sound of gunfire behind him. The bull's bellow carried through the forest and Benji assumed Trent and his men were back on his trail. Before long, he climbed through the second barbed wire fence and kept running.

Branches lashed at his face and legs until he finally found himself standing on the trail that led from the willow tree to the secret valley entrance. Shouts sounded in the distance, but nearby there was nothing more than birds. Benji stepped slowly and stayed quiet, making his way back to the willow tree. The branches parted like curtains and he slipped into the shadows.

On the other side of the canopy he peeked through the leaves and found his hired pickup truck gone. In its place sat the two Land Rovers. Quiet music carried through the open windows of the front SUV, parked across the road from where he stood. A single man had been left behind as a guard. He leaned against the SUV, smoking a cigarette and nodding his head with the music.

The shouts of the other men reached him over the music and he trotted towards the willow tree in the direction of the sound.

Benji didn't waste any time.

He jumped out of his hiding place and elbowed past the surprised guard of the Land Rovers. He sprinted to the front SUV and jumped in behind the wheel.

"Hey!" he heard the man shout as Benji slammed the door shut and started the engine.

In the side-view mirror he saw the guard running towards him. Trent had emerged from the jungle and lagged behind, cradling his arm, but the rest of the group had their guns drawn and was hot on his heels.

Benji's driving experience amounted to none at all. His mom had never even let him back the car down the driveway or pump the gas. All he had to go on was what he knew from action movies and adventure books, which is why he quickly put the big SUV into drive and rammed the gas pedal to the floor.

The rear end of the Land Rover fishtailed, its wheels spinning, spraying his pursuers with gravel. They stopped and covered their faces and Benji eased off the gas a bit. The all-terrain tires found traction and he shot forward.

A cloud of dust followed him as he sped down the road way too fast. By the time the other Land Rover caught up to him he'd figured out the gas pedal pretty well. And put on his seat belt.

Gunfire erupted from the SUV behind him and bullets blew through the back window and out the windshield and ping ping pinged holes through the metal. Benji realized something that terrified him: now that he had the ruby there was no need to keep him alive. Before, they needed him alive to lead them to the treasure.

Now he was expendable.

He ducked as bullets pounded the rear end of the Land Rover. Benji swerved a little from one side of the road to the other like they did in the movies, trying to make himself a harder target.

He peeked over the dashboard to see where he was going and drove countless turns and straightaways as he tried to evade Trent and his goons.

In the rearview mirror, he saw Trent in the passenger seat with a scowl on his face just before they rammed Benji from behind. The younger, inexperienced driver lost control. The Land Rover swerved from one side of the road to the other before finally flying over an embankment and crashing into brush and small trees, ripping the side-view mirrors from the doors...

...And cutting diagonally onto the other road of a four-way intersection! He smashed into the side of a small pickup truck with a CRUNCH and spun the lighter vehicle off the road before racing on.

"Sorry!" he shouted as he floored it again and sped off.

Trent and his men blasted straight through the intersection, missing the turn, and had to slam on the brakes and back up, buying Benji precious time to extend his lead.

He came upon another intersection and took a hard left, watching his rearview mirror for them to turn. Just in time, he looked forward and slammed on the brake pedal, nearly hitting someone head-on. Benji shouted out his window.

"Help me!"

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# 45.

Crash

Benji pulled up alongside the confused Fijian man.

"Mister, I really need your help! People are chasing me and I can't get away. They're trying to kill me!"

The man gaped at Benji for just a moment, looking between him and the bullet holes in the Land Rover. He nodded quickly.

"Go!" he said.

Benji watched in his rearview mirror as Trent and his men took the turn and sped up on the straight, smooth dirt road. A cloud of dust kicked up behind them, filling the air. He watched as the Land Rover picked up a dangerous amount of speed, too fast for these treacherous back roads.

They charged down the straightaway after Benji, ready to run him down. He saw flashes from the muzzles of their guns, the shots mostly flying wide. But then they got closer. A bullet punched through the passenger-side headrest and it burst in a puff of cotton and leather. The rearview mirror exploded moments later, showering glass down on Benji.

He slammed on the brakes and looked over his shoulder.

It was like they hit an invisible, knee-high wall at more than a hundred miles per hour.

Trent's SUV slammed head-on into the winch cable that the man had stretched across the road between two sturdy trees. The strong metal cable snapped taut and in an instant the Land Rover was airborne.

The two-ton vehicle flipped end over end, sailing through the air and smashing back into the dirt and gravel. It hit rear end first and tumbled over and over. Glass and metal went everywhere, and the sound carried through the forest for miles. Sparks flew as the SUV slid upside-down for another hundred feet before coming to rest. A single wheel kept spinning. After a moment, one of the doors was kicked open. Someone else started crawling out through the shattered windshield.

Benji took one last glance in his rearview mirror and kept driving. He drove a safe speed all the way back to the Queen's Road.

From there, it was no problem to leave the battered Land Rover on the side of the road and hop on a bus bound for Nadi—with a ruby worth millions of dollars in his pocket.

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# 46.

Reunion

"Mom!"

Benji opened the door to her hospital room and ran to her bed. She smiled and put down a magazine. They hugged tight and smiled, each relieved to see the other alive.

"Anything new from the doctor?" Benji asked.

"So far so good. They still want me one more night, though, just to be safe. Where have you been? Are you okay?"

"I found it."

And with that he pulled the ruby from his pocket and held it out for his mom to see.

She took it from him slowly. "Oh my word...it's beautiful." She spoke softly, in awe of the precious stone. Laura looked up at him. "Do you realize how much this must be worth? Millions, Benji. Did you have any trouble getting it?"

Benji's smile faded. "I found it okay, but they followed me. Trent stole it. I thought he was going to kill me, Mom." Benji swallowed. "He—he held a knife to my throat and made me give it to him."

"He what? How did you get it back?"

"One of Mr. Ironside's men, this guy Anders, pulled a gun on Trent. He pointed it right at his head and—"

"No," she whispered, covering her mouth with her hands.

"I had to do something, Mom. I hate Trent. I hate him so much—but I don't want him to die. He just looked so scared. I had to do something. I just had to. I tackled Anders and we went over a cliff—" Benji gasped and his eyes grew wide. "Oh no. No, no, no, no, no."

"What is it, Benji? What's wrong?"

He breathed hard and fast. "I killed him, Mom. I know I did. I killed him. The water, it was so fast and we swam so hard. There was a waterfall and I made it, but he—he went over the side. I killed him!"

Laura took her son's hands in her own. "Shh," she said, "just breathe. Nice and easy. Shh."

When Benji's breathing returned to normal and the panic left his eyes, she continued. "Benji, look at me. You didn't kill anyone. What you did was so brave, saving Trent like that. All you did was knock that man into a river. Could that guy Anders have swum to the side?"

"Well, at first he could've, but he was trying to find the stone. He dropped it when we fell in. I got it first and we fought before he-"

"So he could have made his way to the river bank and walked away safe and sound?"

"I guess..."

"So then he made a choice. You didn't make it for him. Besides, do you have any proof he's not alive?"

Benji shook his head. "Is that supposed to comfort me?"

"You made it out, that must have took some hard swimming," she said, changing topics.

"Actually...it was because of Trent."

"What?" Laura said, astonished.

Her son nodded. "The side of the river was smooth rock and I couldn't climb out. The water was going so fast and I was getting so tired...I thought I was gonna go over the edge, but then Trent grabbed my wrist and pulled me out."

"Oh wow."

"Yeah. I guess it's because I saved him."

"You figure he was paying you back? And he let you keep the ruby?"

Benji gave a dark grin. He explained how he'd stolen the Land Rover, and the car chase that had followed and ended in his pursuer's crash, the occupants crawling from the demolished vehicle.

Laura held up her hand for a high five. "And you managed to keep your hat through all of that."

Benji grinned, then grimaced as he eased himself into the chair next to her bed.

"Are you hurt, Benji?"

"Ha! Mom, in the past three days I fell down a mountain and off two cliffs, got beaten up more than once, set off a bunch of booby traps, and swam for my life twice. My whole body hurts and I'm just plain beat."

"I can see why. This has been one heck of a trip for you. Well, now we've got to decide what to do next. We can go home in the morning if you'd like, and put this trip behind us. Or..."

"What?"

"Or, our boat to the resort leaves at six tomorrow morning. You can tell me all about the rest of your adventure over massages and bowls of kava." She paused to let him think. "So, Indiana Jones, what do you want to do? Plane or boat?"

He thought for a moment. "I could really go for a massage." He leaned over and took the ruby from his mom. "But what do we do about this?"

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# 47.

Promise

The next afternoon found Laura and Benji lounging in the sand, enjoying the warmth of the island sun. He read his grandfather's book, Heart of the World, which had been in the luggage Josefa left at the dock on the off chance they made the boat.

His mom lay on her back with her eyes closed, soaking up the tropical sun. That was, until a big shadow fell over her. She opened her eyes and Benji looked up from his book.

Mr. Ironside and his son towered over them. Trent's arm hung in a sling and his face was covered in bruises and scrapes. His father's hands were at his sides, one balled into a trembling fist and the other gripping a terrifyingly large pistol. Laura and Benji both sat up, shielding their eyes.

"What do you want, Ironside?" Benji's mom asked, obviously annoyed with her tanning interruption.

"What do you think I want, woman? The stone. Give it to me."

"What? What is it you want? A stone?" Laura raised her voice, attracting the attention of some waiters half a football field away at the beach bar.

"What are you going to do, shoot us? With witnesses?" Laura taunted.

"Besides," Benji chipped in, "we don't have it."

"Well, where is it then?"

Benji smirked. "I dropped it...in the ocean."

"You're lying," Trent said.

"Where is it?" Mr. Ironside thumbed back the hammer of the gun.

"Oh, put that away, you idiot," Laura scolded. "You won't shoot us with a half dozen resort staff up the beach. Besides, he wasn't lying."

Benji nodded. Ironside's face turned bright red. His two chins quivered in rage.

"I figured the only way to keep everyone safe was to put it somewhere no one would ever find it," Benji said. "If I turned it over to the government or a museum, you would just find a way to get it and kill the villagers. If I gave it to the villagers you would kill them and take it. So, I threw it over the side of the boat on our way out here. Right now it's probably under some sand and coral in a couple hundred feet of water."

Ironside's mouth moved like he wanted to speak, but no sound came out. Oddly enough, Trent's face remained passive, his demeanor calm.

"There's nothing you can do," Laura said with a smile, her voice triumphant. "You lost. To a fourteen-year-old boy. Now please, we've got a few days left of our vacation and we'd like to enjoy them in peace."

"You'll pay for this, Stone," Mr. Ironside growled as he pointed a finger at Benji. "No one steals from me and gets away with it."

Laura got to her feet and was in front of the fat man so fast that he took a step back in surprise.

"No, he won't pay for it," she said in a cool voice. "You took my husband from me. I know you did. If anything happens to my son..." She made a point to look at both Trent and his father. "I swear I'll hunt you down. There's nothing, nothing, that will stop me."

"Ha!" Mr. Ironside sneered and looked down at the gun. He waved it a bit to make sure Laura saw it.

"What are you going to do, you—"

In one smooth motion, Benji's mom grabbed the barrel of the gun with one hand, and with the other she twisted the man's wrist back. He howled in pain. She took a quick step back out of his reach and aimed the gun at his heart.

"If anything happens to Benji I will hunt you down. Do you understand me?" She looked back and forth from father to son.

Ironside stared at her silently. Laura held the gun level. Her aim never wavered nor did her hand shake with nervousness or under the weight of the heavy gun.

Like she'd done this before.

"Do you understand me?" she repeated.

He gave one quick nod and his son did the same.

"I think we'll hold on to this for the rest of our stay. Now get out of here."

Mr. Ironside glared at her a moment longer, then turned abruptly and walked away. His son started to follow.

"Trent," Laura said softly so his father couldn't hear, "thank you."

They held eye contact a moment, and then Trent hurried to catch up to his father. Laura turned back to her spot in the sand. Benji stared up at her, eyes wide and mouth agape.

"I told you." Her smile was mischievous as she sat down. "Your mom's not quite as boring as you think. Now that we've had ourselves a bit of a rest, Indiana Jones, tell me all about how you beat the Ironsides at their own game."

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# 48.

Homecoming

Benji walked into history class with his head held high and a new tan. He handed Heart of the World back to Mr. Edwards.

"Well look at you, Benji, all dark from the sun. And something else that I can't quite put my finger on..."

Benji smiled. "The book was really good. Thanks for loaning it to me. I liked it a whole lot, especially how it was a real-life adventure plus a lot about the Tibetan culture. Super good."

"I'm glad you enjoyed it. I figured you'd have it finished already so I brought you another one. Into Thin Air. You read Into the Wild, right? The same author, Krackauer, wrote this one."

Trent walked into the room and, for the briefest of moments, his eyes met Benji's. There was no sneer, no comment, hardly even a hint of recognition. He turned and went to a seat three rows away from where he normally sat, far away from Benji. He cradled his arm, which lay immobilized in a sling. The injuries on his pretty face had started to heal.

Benji turned back to Mr. Edwards. The older man raised an eyebrow. Benji just grinned and went to his seat.

He sat down and listened to the conversation between the star baseball player and a crew of his biggest fans and cheerleaders.

"What happened?" asked a girl who spent more class time fawning over Mr. Popular than paying attention.

"Car accident," Trent said, making a big show of grimacing in pain. "I already had one surgery. The doctors said I still need at least two more. Most of the tendons and ligaments in my shoulder were torn in the wreck."

"Aw, man," Aaron said. "And it's your pitching arm, too. That suuucks. Do you know when you'll play again?"

"They said I'm out the rest of the season. Next year, probably."

The bell rang and the small crowd dispersed and headed to their seats. Trent and Benji once again made eye contact. Trent's thoughts were loud and clear.

Don't tell anyone.

But who would believe Benji, anyway?

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# 49.

Not the only project

The bell rang again at the end of class and Benji gathered his things. Most of the older kids left right away, ready to be done with the day and go home. The one exception was Trent. As soon as the rest of the class was gone he stood to leave. He walked down the aisle and stopped next to Benji's desk in a scene that had been played out over and over.

The popular guy would pretend to tie his shoe and as he stood would mutter something under his breath just to get a rise out of Benji. Today the action was the same. It was just the dialogue that changed.

"Don't get too cocky, Stone. You don't really think that was the only project we had going, do you?"

And with that Trent walked off and the scene came to a close, leaving Benji to his thoughts.

Not the only one...

# Table of Contents

About the Author

Craig Goodwin is an adventurer at heart and

counselor by trade. When not working with kids

or putting to paper Benji's latest adventure,

he can be found traveling the world, looking for

new places for Benji to visit, or enjoying life with his

family in their own little corner of Kentucky.

About the Cover Artist

Amanda Mullins is an artist currently living in

Upstate New York working full-time in the video game industry. Her passion comes from illustrating anything

with characters or stories. You can visit her work at www.amandamullins.com.
