other creatures. Or people who might leap out at any moment to ambush us. I’m starting to miss that rifle now—if only I had some kind of weapon.
At first the other four, even Bindu, keep a safe distance from me, trying to step in the footsteps I’m leaving in the mud. They walk in a tight pack, aware that the enemy might be lurking around any corner, or that a mine might explode under my feet. After a while, though, when nothing happens, they get careless again and catch up.
By the time we reach the spring, the main trail has dwindled into a slim, muddy line that keeps disappearing under vines and leaves. In the slippery circle around the spring, we stop to get our bearings. Bindu shares his canteen with me and squats beside the water to refill it. The other three start arguing about which direction we’re supposed to be heading.
I spot a bamboo pole in the sunshine beside the spring. One end is carved into a sharp point, just like the captain’s. The pole will give me a better chance of survival if we meet wild beasts or rebels. I’m glad the others are too distracted by their argument to notice me picking it up. The bamboo feels warm and alive in my hands.
“Captain said to find a trail heading left at the spring,” I say, pointing into the dense teak trees. Broken branches block the view. “I don’t see anything.”
“Go look for it, then,” says one of the boys. “It’s almost noon. I want to get back across the border as soon as we can.”
Another one chimes in. “We won’t be able to count the cache in the dark.”
I scan the dense leaves around the broken branches. A mine could be anywhere in there. “Let’s stay on the main trail,” I say. “We’ll keep an eye out for the first clear path to the left.”
They complain for a bit, but agree. We walk for a while and then round a bend. Almost immediately the main trail disappears into a thicket of brambles and trees and tall weeds. To the left is a wide, sunny field and to the front and right is a wall of prickly foliage. There’s no sign of any trail—the main one or a fork.
“What now, Teacher?”
“Maybe we should go back to the spring,” I say.
Another boy shakes his head. “This field slopes up to a ridge. We might be able to see the trail from up there, or even spot the hut.”
“The field doesn’t look safe,” I say. “What if I push through the bushes straight ahead? Maybe the main trail keeps going beyond these brambles.”
“Good idea, Chiko,” Bindu says.
The other boys aren’t happy with this. “If you don’t get back in ten minutes, we’ll go through the field.”
Leaving them grumbling and arguing, I venture into the tangle, stepping carefully. It does look like the trail leads through this mess—I notice small crosses carved into the trunks of some of the trees. I’m watching for the markings and pushing my way through thorns and brambles a few minutes later when I hear it.
BAM!
It’s the loudest crash I’ve ever heard in my life, so loud it almost drowns out the screams and shouts. My companions must have detonated a mine! Why didn’t they stay where they were? I take a few steps in the direction of the noise.
BOOM!
This explosion sounds even louder than the first. The ground and the air and the bushes are on fire around me. I’m falling, howling, crashing into thorns and brambles. The last thing I remember is the bamboo slipping out of my grasp as I land with a thud.
1
The sun is high and shadows are small when we stop to rest near a small spring. It’s only the second day of the journey, but after walking for five hours straight, I’m glad to put down my load.
I wish we could have brought my mule along, but we wouldn’t be able to hide her if we ran into trouble. It was a miracle that we brought her safely from our village to the refugee camp. Mango’s a good little beast. Sa Reh promised to take care of her while I’m gone, but I can’t help missing her as my pack gets heavier by
At first the other four, even Bindu, keep a safe distance from me, trying to step in the footsteps I’m leaving in the mud. They walk in a tight pack, aware that the enemy might be lurking around any corner, or that a mine might explode under my feet. After a while, though, when nothing happens, they get careless again and catch up.
By the time we reach the spring, the main trail has dwindled into a slim, muddy line that keeps disappearing under vines and leaves. In the slippery circle around the spring, we stop to get our bearings. Bindu shares his canteen with me and squats beside the water to refill it. The other three start arguing about which direction we’re supposed to be heading.
I spot a bamboo pole in the sunshine beside the spring. One end is carved into a sharp point, just like the captain’s. The pole will give me a better chance of survival if we meet wild beasts or rebels. I’m glad the others are too distracted by their argument to notice me picking it up. The bamboo feels warm and alive in my hands.
“Captain said to find a trail heading left at the spring,” I say, pointing into the dense teak trees. Broken branches block the view. “I don’t see anything.”
“Go look for it, then,” says one of the boys. “It’s almost noon. I want to get back across the border as soon as we can.”
Another one chimes in. “We won’t be able to count the cache in the dark.”
I scan the dense leaves around the broken branches. A mine could be anywhere in there. “Let’s stay on the main trail,” I say. “We’ll keep an eye out for the first clear path to the left.”
They complain for a bit, but agree. We walk for a while and then round a bend. Almost immediately the main trail disappears into a thicket of brambles and trees and tall weeds. To the left is a wide, sunny field and to the front and right is a wall of prickly foliage. There’s no sign of any trail—the main one or a fork.
“What now, Teacher?”
“Maybe we should go back to the spring,” I say.
Another boy shakes his head. “This field slopes up to a ridge. We might be able to see the trail from up there, or even spot the hut.”
“The field doesn’t look safe,” I say. “What if I push through the bushes straight ahead? Maybe the main trail keeps going beyond these brambles.”
“Good idea, Chiko,” Bindu says.
The other boys aren’t happy with this. “If you don’t get back in ten minutes, we’ll go through the field.”
Leaving them grumbling and arguing, I venture into the tangle, stepping carefully. It does look like the trail leads through this mess—I notice small crosses carved into the trunks of some of the trees. I’m watching for the markings and pushing my way through thorns and brambles a few minutes later when I hear it.
BAM!
It’s the loudest crash I’ve ever heard in my life, so loud it almost drowns out the screams and shouts. My companions must have detonated a mine! Why didn’t they stay where they were? I take a few steps in the direction of the noise.
BOOM!
This explosion sounds even louder than the first. The ground and the air and the bushes are on fire around me. I’m falling, howling, crashing into thorns and brambles. The last thing I remember is the bamboo slipping out of my grasp as I land with a thud.
1
The sun is high and shadows are small when we stop to rest near a small spring. It’s only the second day of the journey, but after walking for five hours straight, I’m glad to put down my load.
I wish we could have brought my mule along, but we wouldn’t be able to hide her if we ran into trouble. It was a miracle that we brought her safely from our village to the refugee camp. Mango’s a good little beast. Sa Reh promised to take care of her while I’m gone, but I can’t help missing her as my pack gets heavier by
Similar Books
