The Dedication

     “You handled that new runway like the professional you are,” Marta had said.

     “It was a pleasure. We worked hard, and it paid off. I’ll try out the takeoffs, as soon as I get some of the weight out.” Steve had pointed to his plane.

     “You mean there is more?” Marta had marveled at the supplies Steve had already unloaded.

     “Just come back to the plane with me and see,” Steve had said, smiling mischievously.

     Together, Steve and Marta had walked back to the plane.

     “Do you remember when I told you I had another project to take care of?” Steve’s eyes had hardly contained his excitement.

     “Yes, I guess you got it all done. What did you need to do?”

     “Only this.” Steve had reached in and with both hands had struggled with a heavy burden. He pulled half of a canvassed object out and asked one of the men to help remove the covering. “I don’t think an airfield should be without a dedication.”

     Marta’s heart had stopped. Her sparkling eyes had blinked rapidly in an attempt to dam the welling tears. She had bitten her lip hard to stop her quivering chin, but all efforts had failed her. She had read the sign over and over again in those few seconds to capture each letter in her mind. Her tears had fallen, but her face had beamed with pride and approval.

     “Oh, thank you, Steve, thank you. It is so wonderful.”

     One of her closest friends, Numah, who had also lost a husband in the same battle as Raymond, had come to Marta’s aid. Numah did not understand the reason for the happy crying, but had known Marta needed a hug.

     “It’s okay, Numah, this is a wonderful gift from our friends in Tiom,” Marta had said.

     “I hope you like it, Marta. I took a collection up and had this made,” Steve had said.

     “It’s truly beautiful. I know the perfect place for it.”

     Together they had erected the sign reading, “RAYMOND SPRINGER MEMORIAL AIRFIELD.”

     Marta returned from her thoughts as she focused on the plaque. It looks as if it had been made yesterday. She wiped tears and memories away as she forced her mind to the present, then stooped to pull some weeds from the base of the sign and nodded with approval.

Jeffrey W. Bennett, is the author of Commitment-A Novel and other non-fiction books, novels and periodicals.

"You mean like this?"

“The assistant and I held Digul down, and Dr. Reese set his leg. It took two tries to get it right. The poor boy was in so much pain. And when that leg popped in place, I thought I would lose it right there.” Marta squeezed his arm, trying to push back the memory.

“That is awful. But guess what? He’ll be better, and pretty soon, nobody will remember the painful parts.” He took Marta’s hand and gently patted it.

“Thanks, that is something I will not soon forget,” Marta replied.

“Maybe tonight, for a little while at least, we can help put it behind you. This is your night to relax and enjoy some long needed talk and fun,” John said.

“Sounds great. Let’s start off with a walk. I need to stretch a bit before dinner. I’m pretty tense.”

They walked around the village in silence for a while. Stars appeared in the eastern sky as darkness enveloped the earth like a heavy curtain being drawn across a window. With the night came the chill. Marta crossed her arms to retain warmth, and rubbed her hands over each arm slowly and rhythmically. As they walked, slower now, Marta kept her eyes on the ground, afraid of tripping. She sneaked glimpses at John from the corners of her eyes and appreciated his strong features. His jaw clenched and working as if in deep thought, giving him a rugged appeal.

“Who was the other guy?” John suddenly asked.

“Who?”

“You know, the one with the doctor.”

“Oh, his name is Benji. His parents are missionaries up north, and he is assisting Dr. Reese until he goes to medical school. He’s kind of worried about going back to the States, though. It’s going to be a new experience for him,” said Marta.

“I guess the prospect of meeting different people can be scary,” John said.

“The funny thing is his concern over girls, and how to meet them,” said Marta.

“He seemed to do okay with you,” John said hesitantly.

So, he did notice, Marta thought. “What do you mean?” she asked.

“I just meant, he seemed to admire you, you know... notice you.”

She looked down to hide her smile, flattered by his concern. “Well, I think he wanted some advice – you know, a woman’s view.”

“Oh, did you give him any?” John asked.

“Just that the best way to show a woman you are interested in her is to be yourself, be courteous, and maybe hint in some way.”

“You mean flirting?” John asked.

They stopped walking and stared across the river not remembering how they had arrived. John turned to Marta. Her hair played about her face, and she let go of her self-embrace to pull back a few tickling wisps. The way she looked at him made him nervous as she saw a new confidence in him. He seemed determined to capture her gaze.

“Do you mean like this?” he asked.

Marta felt his touch then followed his gentle pull toward him. She was caught off guard, but her eyes widened in anticipation and she didn’t resist. She felt herself falling into John’s gaze as she followed his lead with tiny steps. Still facing him, she closed her eyes in expectation as they moved closer to one another until their lips met.

Reluctantly, Marta pulled herself away, but stayed in his embrace. She looked up at him and reveled in the silence. Somewhere frogs croaked their love songs, but neither of them seemed to notice.

Jeffrey W. Bennett, ISP is an author of non-fiction books, novels and periodicals.

Snake Bite

The days seemed to melt into each other as John learned the intricacies of his new plane. He enjoyed the privilege of flying the only yellow airplane in the nation; the main reason he named her Buttercup. Even people deep in the forest who had no affiliation with missionaries felt a sense of ownership when they saw the plane fly over.

“I’ve come to know the sound of your plane,” Marta said.

“That’s what the Johnsons said at my last stop. It’s really nice to be wanted.” John beamed.

“Are you so sure it’s you everyone wants to see?” Marta teased.

“All right, so everyone wants to know what I have in my cargo bin. I feel like Santa Claus year round.”

“I guess it’s good to see you too. I need to use my English now and again so I don’t forget,” said Marta.

“That’s so nice of you to say so.”

John enjoyed the game they often played with each other. The lines around her eyes when she smiled told him of the joy he had brought to her. It was such an easy smile, and he didn’t have to try hard to give it to her.

“I’m just kidding, I hope you know that,” Marta said.

John nodded, still smiling. He noticed Marta staring into the distance as if interrupted by a thought. “Anything wrong?”

“No, I’m just…sometimes I’m just homesick.”

“And you miss your husband?” John immediately regretted being so abrupt.

Marta nodded quickly in agreement.

“Sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it.” She blinked tears away. “This scenery just reminds me of his death, the pain, and the reality of hoping I can continue.” Marta walked around the yellow plane, feeling the rounded edges of the high mounted wings and stepping over the large tires. “At the same time, these people are my friends. I have translated some of the Bible for them and taught them English, and God has changed a lot of lives.”

“I agree,” John said.

“I know this is the place for me, but it’s hard when I get homesick. I do love it when you come to visit.”

John was happy to see her smile, though a little apprehensive. I hope she doesn’t expect me to stay forever.

Tucker suddenly ran up, panting under the sudden exertion. John put his hand on the breathless boy’s shoulder. Tucker’s eyes darted wildly as he tried to regain composure.

John looked at Marta for reassurance, but she shook her head, offering no clue.

“What’s up, Tucker?” Marta asked.

Tucker still couldn’t reply. John sat the shocked young boy down and helped him put his head between his knees. Soon, his breathing deepened and slowed.

“You will help?” Tucker suddenly exploded to his feet spouting something only Marta could understand.

“Let’s follow him. Someone was bitten by a snake,” Marta said over her shoulder.

“All three were out of breath by the time they reached the other side of the village. Rising smoke from smoldering cooking pits did little to help them breathe, and scurrying piglets tripped them up as they became tangled under foot. They continued trotting a hundred yards down a well worn jungle path to a crowd gathered around Mewpa, the medicine man.

John saw that they were restless and Marta had a pained expression on her face. She rested her chin in her hand as she looked from Mewpa to a man clutching his right forearm.

“It’s a good sign if he is bleeding,” said John. “If he’s lucky, the venom will bleed out. It must’ve been a big snake.” A bloody knife on the ground proved his assumption wrong.

“It may not be well for him,” said Marta.

“It looks like they have him wrapped up nicely. The medicine man probably has it all figured out,” said John.

“There’s not much he can do to treat it, except wait it out. If we are lucky, the poison drained out. If not, it could be a long night. We lost someone last year to a snake bite,” said Marta.

The stricken man yelled in protest as Mewpa tried to get him to his feet. John felt sorry for the man, yet alert to the jungle’s hidden dangers. A woman rushed to the man’s aid and helped walk him toward their dwelling.

A few feet later, the man fell hard as his muscles seized. His body lay shaking but rigid and sweat dripped from his pores. Even above the shouts of frustration and sadness, John could hear the man’s teeth grinding powerfully together.

“I’ll be back.” John heard Marta yell before running back to the village.

He didn’t respond, but jerked his sleeve from his shirt in one adrenaline powered pull. A button flew from his cuff as he ripped it from his wrist. He forced the man’s mouth open before balling the material and jamming it between his teeth. They waited.

Wave after wave of spasms jerked the man’s body. John and the medicine man held him down. Up close, John smelled their sour body odor.

The wait was long as John had nothing to say, nor any way to say it. He had never been alone with the Tarampurans, and he doubted conversation was possible. “Anyone know where Marta went?” he asked in quiet desperation.

“She went to hut,” someone replied, surprising him.

“I can’t find it. I can’t find it.” Marta fell by John a moment later.

“Find what?” asked John.

“My antidote. I’ve looked everywhere.”

“Call Tiom, maybe they can fly some out.”

“I tried. No one is answering,” said Marta.

“I’ll go,” John heard himself say before running toward the plane. He outran Tucker, who trailed after him.

Remember, 100% of all royalties will be applied to Jeff's mission trip to Asia. Jeffrey W. Bennett, ISP is the owner of Red Bike Publishing. Jeff is an accomplished writer of non-fiction books, novels and periodicals. He also owns Red bike Publishing. Published books include: "Get Rich in a Niche-Insider's Guide to Self Publishing in a Specialized Industry" and "Commitment-A Novel". Jeff is an expert in security and has written many security books including: "Insider's Guide to Security Clearances" and "DoD Security Clearances and Contracts Guidebook". See Red Bike Publishing for print copies of: Army Leadership The Ranger Handbook The Army Physical Readiness Manual Drill and Ceremonies The ITAR The NISPOM

Got My Very Own Plane

     Having his own plane and route for six months now, John was confident he knew every mile and every person along the way. He knew the wants and needs of the missionaries he supported and did his best to satisfy them. He flew some of the fortunate citizens of each village, but mostly ended up flying small livestock for barter. Usually the villagers paid him with food gifts, souvenirs, but more often than not, smiles. He reflected on the myriad compliments as he walked to the hangar where his beautiful plane was almost completely reassembled.

     “Good afternoon, John, what brings you by?” Pete Brown asked as he wiped the grease from his stained hands. He had spent most of the morning giving John’s plane its required service.

     “How are you? You’ve been working pretty hard since we towed the plane in last evening,” said John.

     “Don’t be fooled. I’ve been working hard, and playing. You know the old saying?”

     “We all need to make sure we get our share of fun around here,” John said.

     “Actually, I let the engine cool down overnight so I could get right on it this morning.

I’m about to wrap it up. Wanna help?”

     “You do pretty quick work.” John said admiringly. “I thought the engine would still be torn down, parts everywhere. But I see you almost have it all put back together.”

     “This is one of my favorites. Yep, this is my baby and I try to keep her up. She’s been good to you, hasn’t she?” Pete asked, searching for a compliment.

     “I can’t complain.” John noted how the mechanic would claim the plane as his own, but he remembered the sense of pride he felt while a helicopter mechanic before becoming an Army aviator. “She climbs flawlessly and takes max power without a sputter. All pilots should be so lucky.”

     “Thanks, that means a lot.”

Remember, 100% of all royalties will be applied to Jeff's mission trip to Asia. Jeffrey W. Bennett, ISP is the owner of Red Bike Publishing. Jeff is an accomplished writer of non-fiction books, novels and periodicals. He also owns Red bike Publishing. Published books include: "Get Rich in a Niche-Insider's Guide to Self Publishing in a Specialized Industry" and "Commitment-A Novel". Jeff is an expert in security and has written many security books including: "Insider's Guide to Security Clearances" and "DoD Security Clearances and Contracts Guidebook". See Red Bike Publishing for print copies of: Army Leadership The Ranger Handbook The Army Physical Readiness Manual Drill and Ceremonies The ITAR The NISPOM