Little Soldier by Teresa Richards

Feb 22 2015 Published by under The WiFiles

I am running through a dense jungle, covered in several days’ worth of muck. Bullets fall like rain, and tree branches slap me in the face as I flee. I haven’t slept in oh, so long and the weight of exhaustion tugs at my legs, slowing me down. I dive into the hollowed out section of a fallen, decaying log and lie flat on my back, breathing heavily. The bullets cease and I fidget before checking my watch for the millionth time.

She should be here by now.

The jungle waits like a hungry beast, its silence daring me to make the first move. I check my watch again and exhale in frustration.

Where is she?

I decide to give her three minutes, hoping the enemy doesn’t find me in the meantime. I search the ground at my feet, finding a small stone, and lob it high in the air. It lands in a bush somewhere to my right, startling a flock of tropical birds that take flight in confusion. The bullets resume, now conveniently aimed away from me.

The enemy falls silent and the jungle is eerily still. I ease my head up and peer over the edge of the log, scanning the horizon. I can’t see far, of course, on account of the dense vegetation I’ve gradually come to regard as home. I would be content to wait here all day if it weren’t for her. Why did she have to come with me today?

I glance at my watch, seeing that she has just thirty-three seconds left. I give myself a pep talk, detailing all of the reasons why I shouldn’t wait for her and steel myself to run when her time is up. Yet I know, deep down, I would never leave without her.

Finally, ten minutes and twenty-six seconds later, I catch sight of her little head bobbing toward me through the trees. I rock back in shock as I realize she is crawling! Adrenaline shoots through me and, after throwing a smoke bomb to give us some cover, I rush from my hiding spot and hurry toward her. She smiles at me, but I know she’s been hit. Why else would she be crawling? I don’t wait to find out; rather, I scoop her up and run as fast as my little legs will carry me.

This is exactly why I didn’t want her to come along today, but she insisted. The rendezvous point is still several miles away and I would manage it much better without having to look after my little sister. Yet here she is, bright-eyed and smiling at me, as if I’m the greatest person on the planet. And crawling in the jungle, no less! Really, I thought we were past all that.

A loud crash to my left makes my heart lurch. My sister’s eyes widen and she clings to me tighter.

Fear zaps through my veins. I know what made the crash. I’ve only heard it on one other occasion—a time that did not end well, I might add.

I do the only thing I can. “Run for your life!” I scream to no one in particular. Sometimes it just feels so good to yell at the top of your lungs. Ruthie starts slightly at my outburst and then, turning to gaze at me, flashes me one of the cutest smiles I’ve ever seen. I simply can’t resist smiling back before tearing my eyes away from her adorable little face, forcing my mind back into the game.

I need to focus. We have a hungry dinosaur to outsmart.

I shift Ruthie abruptly to my back, where she clutches to my shoulders and waist just before I take off at top speed through the jungle. I’ve always been great at running away and I utilize my skills, weaving in and out, jumping over rocks and ducking under tree branches, all in an attempt to confuse and outmaneuver the giant lizard trailing us. This one is smart, though—he stays right with us, hot on our scent no matter what tricks I pull out of my impressive, time-tested arsenal. Soon I’m breathing heavily, not used to bolting through the jungle with a baby on my back. I begin to think that maybe this will be the last of my adventures.

That’s when I see it. Our salvation. Looming high over our heads, not far in the distance. I smile.

“Don’t worry Ruthie, I have a plan!” I inform her. She’s starting to get restless and I squeeze her legs tighter, preventing her from lowering herself off my back. She protests and squirms, trying to free her legs. I know that if she gets down she’ll be a goner, and I just love her too much to let that happen.

“I’m sorry, Ruthie. You can’t get down or the angry dinosaur will eat you up!” I inform her, changing course abruptly to accommodate my new plan. She squirms some more, but I’m holding her fast and there’s nothing she can do about it. I will not let her fall prey to that horrible monster.

It begins to rain, but I soldier on. I hear shots in the distance and wonder absently what my enemies are firing at. A massive scream of protest reaches me from the depths of the jungle and the dinosaur behind me roars in response, pausing briefly in his pursuit. I take advantage of his lapse and dart to my right, ducking behind a massive boulder and crouching out of sight.

At last, we’ve reached the tree! I know the dinosaur will be chasing us again soon so I don’t lose any time. I release Ruthie’s legs and help her slide to the ground, where she giggles and stretches up onto her toes, attempting to run away from me. Oh, of course now she wants to show off her new skills, when she would be running straight off a cliff and into a churning waterfall!

I reach out and pull her back, clapping my hand over her mouth and gritting my teeth as her ear-piercing shrieks ring out through the air. Well, if we had lost the dinosaur, he knows where we are now. I stretch up and grab the end of a massive vine hanging from the gnarled old tree and tie it quickly around Ruthie’s waist.

“Hold still,” I insist, knowing that if I don’t get it just right then she runs the risk of tumbling into the waterfall we’ll be swinging across in order to escape mister cranky-pants dinosaur. When she’s tied up nice and tight, I secure another vine around my own waist.

Ruthie is kicking and screaming now, red in the face and angry as a bear that she’s tied up. I’m trying to soothe her when I hear the dinosaur crash back to life behind us, joined now by a second set of rumbling footfalls. I know time is running out, but just as I move to push Ruthie off the rock, I hear the most dreaded sound in the entire world.

“Tristan! What on earth are you doing?”

The dinosaurs flee in fear, the jungle fades away, and I am left standing at the top of a staircase, the loose end of a rope in my five-year-old hand. The other end of the rope is wrapped around the waist of my livid one-year-old sister, who is outraged by the fact that she’s been tethered to me unwillingly.

“Tristan, I asked you a question! Answer me, please.”

I gaze sheepishly up at my mother and explain that we were trying to escape from two hungry dinosaurs by swinging over a waterfall on some tree vines. Really, what does it look like we’re doing? Does she think I want my baby sister to get eaten by dinosaurs? I don’t say that last bit out loud, of course.

Mother scolds me and unties Ruthie, picking her up and cooing softly in an attempt to soothe her.

So now I am sitting in Time Out. Again. I don’t understand what was so wrong with trying to save my sister from the jaws of death, but apparently, benevolence is frowned upon in this house. I will be sure to remember that the next time we are under attack.

I sigh and rest my chin on my knees.

Suddenly, I hear something. I straighten up and cock my head, listening. A faint buzzing noise, getting stronger, is headed this way. I know it immediately—the sounds of a fighter jet whirring to life. I lift my head and turn to face the horizon. A blue sky peppered with puffy white clouds looms over a lonely terrain.

I bounce anxiously in my seat, waiting for the moment when I am released from my prison sentence.

The sky is calling.

Bio:
Teresa Richards has been writing since eighth grade, when she co-wrote her first novel with her best friend. She earned her degree in Audiology-and-Speech-Language Pathology from Brigham Young University, took a break to get married and have a few kids, and then took up writing again with a vengeance. She writes novels and short stories, as well as children’s picture books. Teresa can often be found reading or writing in lieu of cleaning or exercising.

No responses yet

Leave a Reply