He's Early--An Excerpt from Commitment A Novel

Jason Heatherly, the staunch, no-nonsense, mission-comes-first, do as I say, Irian Jaya director of Prayer on a Wing, sat over a late lunch. He reviewed supply requests of the remotely located missionaries and flight records of the Tiom-based pilots while his lunch cooled. He was responsible for what he called customer satisfaction, with the customer being the missionaries. He took pride in his keen ability to handle such an immense logistical duty. This one man operation was, for his predecessors, a complex affair.

When he had first arrived eighteen months before, Jason had had no time to transition into the job. The man who had run the show had had to return stateside unexpectedly. For a week, Steve Millican had temporarily hung up his wings to supervise the operations. Finally, the prayers of the community had been answered when Daryl flew in with mail and a replacement director. Out of the passenger side of the red and white plane unfolded a thirty-five-year-old tall and lanky Jason. His serious deep set eyes and quick stride had let everyone know his intent to take charge, much to Steve’s relief.

Steve walked in, interrupting Jason’s thoughts. He had given some of Steve’s flights to the other pilots cutting his schedule gradually so Steve could train the incoming pilot.

“I’m a free man, Jason,” Steve announced with relief. “Most of my routes are handed over so now all we need is the new guy.”

Jason looked up from his working lunch, smiled, and motioned for his blond-haired friend to join him. “Great to hear that. Mr. Braddham should be here any day now,” he said, studying his partner’s ruddy face for a reaction. “I’ve been going over the support requests and flight statistics and things seem to be running smoothly except for this.” He handed Steve a report one of the missionaries filled out earlier.

“This must be what Marta told me about. She said that some of the people in her village were having trouble with someone men digging and blasting in the mountains,” Steve said.

“Trouble?”

“Water running off the hills is dirty with a coppery appearance. She thinks someone who is up to no good up there may be contaminating it. She also says some of the village hunting parties have been shoved around for “trespassing” in the ‘white demons’ area. Sometimes the livestock is stolen, and the superstitious ones are complaining about the wildlife disappearing.” Steve got up to get coffee.

“Why haven’t you told me?” Jason demanded.

“Actually the trouble started a few weeks ago, and then suddenly there was no further mention. Maybe it has stopped. I’ll check with Marta the next time I fly down.”

“Nonetheless, I’m going to give the authorities a heads-up on this one,” Jason warned.

The radio in the control room crackled to life as Daryl informed them of her arrival.

Steve and Jason walked out to the runway and watched as the red and white plane set up for an approach. The sun was to their backs and painted long shadows and orange hues onto the pale canvas of runway. As the plane neared, the drone of the engine quieted as Daryl pulled the throttle back precisely where the plane would glide to a landing.

Dozens of people, excited about receiving mail, filed out from schoolrooms where they taught English lessons and Bible classes. Some carried books, others Bibles, and some of the kitchen staff wore aprons.

The Cessna drifted softly to a landing. “After shutting down, the two front doors opened and the occupants came out and spent a few seconds stretching the kinks out while cargo was unloaded.

“I guess he’s early,” Steve said.

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

Chapter 1-An excerpt from Commitment a Novel

Papua, New Guinea, looked serene from 12,000 feet above sea level. Even from thirty miles away, John could make out the rain forests beyond the strand of the southern shore. Light wisps of steam hung over the island, revealing the high humidity common to this area of the world. The changing waters of the Arafura Sea and the Gulf of Carpentaria graduated beautifully from light green at the tip of Cape York Peninsula, Australia, to a beautiful azure and back to light green in the billowing waves on the shores of New Guinea.

So this is home. John pressed his forehead against the cool cabin window. The island in view was roughly the size of Greenland with the tall Puncak Jaya, rising 5,030 meters above the ground. Neighboring peaks perched above the haze like pyramids.

Instinctively, he reached for his flight bag as he had done five times throughout the flight. He unzipped it and sighed with relief at the two familiar slim books. Approvingly, he nodded as he flipped through page after page of his first flight log, recalling his hundreds of hours of experience behind the controls of planes and helicopters. He tucked it back into his bag then pulled out the second book. The pages he flipped through were blank reminders of experiences yet to come. Just a thousand more hours, that should do it.

His thoughts were interrupted by the pilot’s soothing expressions of intent to land. The southern coast filled the windows on the left side of the plane. He could almost make out the waves cresting to shore as the plane rolled out of a right bank. John squinted to see the airport runway stretching before him like welcoming arms.

Find out what happens next in the exciting novel Commitment:

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

I'm Going to the Airlines-An Excerpt from Commitment-a Novel

CHAPTER 5

 

Commitment-A Novel

     “This is probably one of the toughest landing areas you will eventually take over from me,” said Steve.
     “Who lives here?” asked John. Their landing earned only a few glimpses and a wave from the villagers up the hill. John wasn’t sure, but he thought the half-naked males wore gourds to cover themselves.
     “A branch of the Yali tribe. They inhabit most of the Balium Valley. We won’t stay though. The missionary that served here had to leave for personal reasons. I don’t know when he will be replaced.”
     “Daryl told me that a lot of people end up leaving,” said John. He watched as Steve took the controls and pointed the plane downhill.
    “Try taking off this way,” said Steve. “We do have some leaving. The Lawrences were as dedicated as any, but he had to take care of his family. There are a lot of hardships to being a missionary, but it’s tougher when your children don’t adjust,” said Steve.
     John could feel his stomach drop as the plane lurched skyward.        
      “Dedication to job verses dedication to the family,” he said.
      “It’s going to be just as tough for you,” said Steve. “You’ll get homesick and lonely. Dedication takes on many forms and has many obstacles. I’m sure you are feeling some pangs.”
     “Yeah, I guess I am. I’m not sure I will make it as long as most pilots do,” said John.
     “Oh, in what way?” asked Steve.
     John suddenly felt nervous. “I mean, I have no problem being here but I see myself flying airliners. That’s my future,” said John uncomfortably.
     Steve seemed unfazed.
     “You don’t see that as a problem?” asked John.
     “Somewhat, but I think the Lord has you here for some reason. We’ll just have to work with you while we have you,” said Steve.

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

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.

Little Operation? I don't thinks so

John’s first assessment of Tiom reminded him of the setting in most bush pilot stories he had ever read. The rich greenery surrounding a well-used runway was almost cliché. “Adventures would be launched from this small cradle he would call home, most likely stemming from encounters with such flying hazards as tall snow-covered mountains, smoke from clear-cutting, and clouds.

Daryl led him to the two waiting men. One was very tall, about a head taller than the other. He looked purely business with his hands clasped behind his back; nothing to hide. The other wore the warmest smile John had ever seen.

During introductions, a small crowd of greeters circled the four. John felt himself being whisked away to a more private meeting.

“We’ve been looking toward your arrival,” Jason said in a rehearsed voice. “Our responsibilities cover a lot of ground, as you’ll soon learn.”

“Thank you both for the welcome. Daryl has been briefing me on your little operation here and I’m anxious to get started.”

“I can assure you there is nothing ‘little’ about what we do here,” Jason defended. “There are many people who rely on us for logistical support.”

“Sorry, did I say something wrong?” John asked.

“Never mind him, as the backbone of the setup, Jason’s a little overworked. In fact, he has staff just to monitor his blood pressure,” Steve said chuckling.

“All right, excuse me if I take a little pride. I’m sure you meant no harm, nor did I. I just wanted you to know how important our work is. New pilots don’t understand this until reality hits them head on, sometimes in the form of disease or a plane wreck. Working here is no way to collect flight hours. Our business is people’s lifeline, an intravenous line straight to their hearts. Realize this early on and your work here will be rewarding for you and those whose lives you touch,” Jason said.

“I couldn’t say it better myself,” admitted Daryl. “I guess that’s why you’re in charge.”

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

We Can Get Along Without You-An Excerpt

Over the next few days Marta struggled with her feelings. She knew she wanted John for her own, but she also suspected he wasn’t the type to settle down. Oh sure they could be together, but it would be on his terms. They would live in a large city where she would be his pretty little wife and he a world traveling airline pilot. Sure, they would still serve God, but maybe as members of a large congregation, not in the capacity they now served as missionaries half a world away.

That is how she imagined her life with him. The more she thought about life without him, the bleaker that seemed. She would live with her decision forever and she would be happy here. Only the more she thought about John, the more desperate she felt knowing that the only other man she could ever love, would ever love, would probably be devoted to somebody else.

Numah approached around dinner time, as Marta carried water from a creek. Numah grabbed one of the water bags. “Will you be boiling this water or using the medicine?”

“The water may be a little dirtier, so I think I will use some of the iodine pills the nurse gave me,” Marta said.

“It is strange to think you cannot drink our water. Something we have always required for life, you cannot live with.”

“Yes, it is strange. It reminds me of a saying we have in America. ‘Don’t drink the water.’ We tell that to everyone who travels to foreign countries,” said Marta.

“Over the years I have seen you work very hard and struggle with many enemies inside of you, just to be our friend, and to teach us what you do. But lately, I have seen you struggle with something very strong, an enemy that may indeed be your friend,” said Numah.

Marta crouched mentally, every synapse, nerve, and muscle fiber poised, preparing herself for what was coming from her observant friend.

“I pray to God since you and Raymond showed Him to me that day three years ago. Since his death, I have been praying for the man who will make you his own and continue the work here,” said Numah.

“I am not lonely,” Marta protested. “I am here for one thing, and that is for all of you.”

“Do not assume we will fall apart without you. There are others who are willing to ‘toil in the fields,’ as you say. But I do not think you will leave us if you are with this man,” said Numah.

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

.

I hope you understand

     “That was a close call, wasn’t it?” Marta patted John’s hand.

     “Yeah, I thought she would be chopped up for sure,” John sighed.

     “That’s terrible.”

     “It’s true. I saw the same thing happen in flight school. One of the other students didn’t duck low enough while approaching the helicopter. I almost quit flying,” John reflected.

Marta turned to John and leaned her left shoulder against the plane. “I’m glad you didn’t.”

     “Are you really?” John asked.

     “Yes. I wanted to tell you last night at the Millicans’, but I felt too awkward to say anything. You must hate me for ignoring you, but I felt like if I said anything they would know about last night,” said Marta.

    “I felt awful about ignoring you. I thought you were mad at me,” John said.

     “Please let me finish, John, while I have the courage,” said Marta.

     John looked into her imploring eyes. He saw nothing but frustration and confusion. Doesn’t she realize she could ask me for anything and I would do it for her? “By all means.”

     “Actually, I thought you were mad at me. I just couldn’t speak to you or look at you without feeling I would burst into tears.” Marta’s voice became shaky and she quickly turned away, trying to hide the tears welling in her eyes. She sniffed them back before continuing. “I have liked you since the first time we met, actually since before we met. I prayed all night and struggled with desperation when you and Steve went down. You can’t imagine how terrible I felt hearing you on the radio and not being able to help. I tried so many times to answer you and let you know we were here for you praying and hoping. When I followed your disaster on the radio and learned of your courage, of how you survived to bring Steve back, I instantly felt something for you, even though we had never met.” She saw John’s aquiline face glow with amazement.

     “When we finally did meet, my knees buckled in spite of my denying my true feelings. John, I have only felt this way toward one other person and I feel terribly guilty about having them about you. Can you understand that?”

     “Had I known you were there for me when I was in that jungle, I would have been out a lot earlier,” said John. “The moment I saw you, I recognized someone I could easily like and trust. But like you, I guess I tried to hide those feelings. And like you, I can’t afford to fall in love. You know what my plans are, and knowing you has made them difficult to face,” said John.

     “But we can’t just deny them, even though we feel we must. I want to continue with our relationship, act on our feelings, and let what happens happen. I’m willing to suffer the consequences of my decision. I don’t care. I just want you while I have you. But at the same time, I don’t know if I am ready for others to know about us. I just don’t think I can explain our relationship since they all knew Raymond, and I don’t know what they would think of me,” said Marta.

      “Marta, I can’t promise you anything other than that I do earnestly care for you. But I may have to leave here, and I know you are just as dedicated to your work as I am to my goal of becoming an airline pilot.         

     You couldn’t even consider leaving with me. Think about that. If you still want to continue in the direction we are headed, let me know next time you see me. I will be back in two days. Then, if you still want me, I can let the others in Tiom know how we feel about each other,” said John.

      “Thanks for understanding. That gives you points in my book.” Marta said tenderly, caressing his cheek with the back of her hand.

      John returned her smile warmly and nuzzled his face into her comforting open hand. He was grateful for her honesty but just couldn’t shake the dreadful feeling of having to come to a decision between following Marta or his plans.

     Marta watched the plane become a distant speck over the mountainous horizon. After the plane disappeared, Marta walked over to the plaque dedicating the airfield to her late husband. Tears were heavy in her eyes as she caressed the letters forming his name. Each letter Marta traced with her fingertips provoked fond memories of the man who was gone. But she knew love and the hope to love again was not lost. “I hope you understand,” she whispered tearfully, somehow knowing he would. 

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

Awkward-An excerpt from Commitment-A Novel

John and Marta barely shared a glance as they passed the evening with the Millicans. It seemed like their time with the Millicans did more harm than good.

They interacted fine within their group, but pressure was great between them. 

John kicked himself for acting so strangely. He had no idea why it was so hard to look at Marta. John wanted to say something to her, but had no idea what. The more he didn’t say, the greater the chasm became. John pleaded silently for Marta to look at him as she had earlier, and speak solely to him as they were speaking before. He felt close to her then, and he wanted it back. Now it was too late. If only they could be alone for a few minutes, and he could assure her of how he felt.

Marta suffered likewise. Her head spun as thoughts and questions invaded her mind. She was with her thoughts, sharing time with the Millicans, but definitely not including John in conversation. Marta imagined how upset he must be with the way she treated him.

“You know what we forgot to do?” Steve’s words suddenly interrupted their torment. “We forgot to sign Digul’s cast.”

“You know, in all the excitement and arrangements being made, I completely forgot,” Rachel added.

“Maybe tomorrow we can introduce him to our little custom, and have Marta translate.” It was John’s opportunity to finally acknowledge Marta.

“Great idea. I will bring it up in the morning,” said Marta.

The conversation continued until John and Marta were finally speaking to one another more easily. Each was now certain the Millicans would not see through them and find their secret.

Not able to stand it much longer, John got up to leave. He hoped Marta would escort him outside so they could talk. As he said his good-byes, he prayed the enthralling woman would glance his way. She just had to and understand the sign he would give her. He felt like a teenager in front of a date’s parents, but it was what had to be done at the time. He couldn’t afford to be obvious, for her sake.

It wasn’t until he was walking toward the door, pretending to laugh at something Steve said, that Marta glanced at him with understanding eyes. She kept her head down and wore a warm smile. John knew she wouldn’t be going outside with him. He returned her smile, reassuring her he too was feeling better.

Jeffrey W. Bennett, ISP is an author of 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.

You Were There For That?-An Excerpt From Commitment-The Novel

“Marta, you and John come by the house in about an hour for some dinner, okay?” Steve said, as he and Rachel sat on one of the picnic tables watching the sun set.

The western horizon offered a beautiful reddish hue, graduating to blue, purple, and finally darkness to the east. The perfect ending.

Crickets chirped excitedly and insects buzzed busily as they began their nocturnal lives. Sounds and voices carried in the thin evening air. There were still a few people on the grounds, and some actually picked up the volleyball to get a few more sets in.

“I’ll be there,” John replied, then turned to Marta. “Will you?”

“Of course,” Marta said, smiling sweetly as she pushed some hair back behind her ears.

“Hey, I have something for you, wait here,” John said.

She took a seat on the table and rested her feet on the bench. A few minutes later John returned with some magazines under his arm. “Here, I thought you might like to catch up on the latest.” He saw her notice the old dates. “Well, almost the latest,” he chuckled.

Marta looked up; her big eyes sparkled with appreciation. John loved how she looked at him just then, and memorized every second of the glance. It seemed as if the world had stopped turning, and nothing else mattered.

“How sweet. I can’t wait to look at them,” Marta said.

“I meant to give them to you before it got dark.”

“This is just fine. I’ll glance through them tomorrow,” Marta gave him that look again, before thumbing blindly through the magazines. She felt quietly through the pages until she found what she was looking for. The sweet fragrance let her know she was at the right spot. Even after all this time, it still smells good, she thought as she rubbed the fragrant card along her wrists. She pretended to pull her hair back as she brushed her neck with her freshly scented wrists. She wanted to smell like a woman.

“What was your day like at the hospital?” John asked. “I know it was nowhere as fun as ours here.”

“It was horrible.” Marta said, sobered from her thoughts. “I hope I never have to experience that again. The poor kid had no idea what was going to happen to him, and I didn’t have any idea for that matter. I mean, he rides in a plane, a make-shift ambulance, and experiences high-tech equipment for the first time in his life. If that wasn’t stressful enough, they set that fracture. It was horrible!” she shivered noticeably.

“You were there for that?” John asked.

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

Not Again

Marta hugged and kissed his sweating and tear-tracked face. Finally, he calmed down and lay panting.

“Marta, you’ll have to hold him again,” said Reese.

“You can’t be serious.” Marta said incredulously.

“It didn’t set.” Dr. Reese shook his head grimly. “We’ll have to try again.”

Marta looked down at the boy, whose brow was covered in sweat. He seemed to know what was going on and nodded his consent. He grabbed the padded sides of the table as if he could channel his pain into the table and down to the floor.

Once again the doctor gave a nod to prepare everyone, grunted, and pulled.

Digul strained against Marta and Benji, raised his head, then released the familiar scream. It was choked off before it could build up, as the pain proved too great. Digul’s eyes rolled back in his head, and Marta eased him back down to the table.

“All right, I think that did it. Congratulations, team,” said Reese.

“Shouldn’t we revive him?” asked Marta.

“Not at all, I think it is the perfect time to put on his cast. While he is out we can wrap it without any protest,” Dr. Reese explained while gathering plaster and bandages.

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

The Lovely Garden-An Excerpt from Commitment-The Novel

The ride to the doctor’s office was only a few miles, but slow and bumpy. Marta rode in the passenger seat next to the young man who kept stealing glances as he drove. Marta perceived it quietly and it made her feel pretty.

Doctor Reese sat in the back with Digul and did a preliminary observation of the boy, quickly determining the extent of his injuries. “I think the young man will be fine, Mrs. Springer. You did a good job with the splint, and the first aid.”

“That’s wonderful doctor, we’ve been praying since Thursday. By the way, call me Marta; I prefer that over Mrs. Springer.”

“Okay, Marta it is.”

“You know Sandy can take credit for saving his life,” Marta said.

“That’s the wonder of modern medicine. Take a few pills and it all goes away,” the doctor stated.

“It really amazes me how I can be only thirty miles away, but we are separated by centuries of technology,” Marta said.

“Strange, isn’t it? Even five to ten miles away, people are dying from sickness and disease that is easily treatable. But how do we reach them?” asked Reese.

Marta turned almost all the way around in her seat and spoke to Digul. It was virtually unintelligible to Dr. Reese, but the driver understood.

“I know he has nothing to fear,” the driver spoke up for the first time.

“You understood?” asked Marta.

“Yes, my father is a missionary in the northern coast, up near Jayapura. I was what you call, ‘immersed’ in the local dialect. I also speak Indonesian proper, and a little Latin,” Benji said, flexing his lingual muscle.

“Well it’s great to meet a kindred spirit,” Marta said. “What are you doing way down here?”

“Would you believe, working for college,” said the driver.

“Benji here is working for me. I will lose him next fall to the university,” said Reese.

“Well, that’s great, Benji. Are you planning on practicing in the mission field?” asked Marta.

“I really don’t know yet. I just hope I like college enough to make it that far,” said Benji.

“Don’t worry. I think you have just what it takes to make it. You have drive, determination, and a love of learning,” the doctor threw in for support.

“I am impressed with your knowledge of languages, and willingness to learn them. That proves a good attitude and aptitude for hard work. Just don’t get distracted by the coeds,” said Marta.

“I can’t say that I am used to being around women, I mean other than my family, other missionaries and their families, and tribal women. Other than knowing them, I have never really had a date,” Benji confessed.

Marta assessed his Mediterranean features. This man would be a heart breaker. His smooth olive skin was tan from exploring jungles and living in tough environments.

“You don’t have to worry about dating. That will come with experience,” said Marta.

“How will I get them to notice me for who I am and not some oddball from a strange country?” asked Benji.

“Believe me, when they hear of the life you’ve led and experiences you’ve had, they will want to learn more about you. Just be polite and honest and you won’t have any trouble. A woman looks for decency and competence, and you fit that mold,” Marta informed.

“How can you tell?” Benji fished for reassurance.

“Just by the way you speak to me. Besides, I think missionaries would expect the most from their children, if only because of their work and who they represent,” said Marta.

“You hit that on the nose. Mom and Dad would never take any back talk. God forbid if I ever hurt my mother’s feelings, or was ever rude to an adult,” said Benji.

“See, I knew I didn’t read you wrong,” said Marta.

The ambulance stopped its bounding and rocking as the road smoothed. Benji rounded a curve as they entered the driveway. The landscaping was beautiful, causing Marta to sigh appreciatively at the driveway bordered with flowering vines and a garden of beautiful indigenous trees and flowers. The doctor had even diverted a stream to a tiny fish pond in the shade near a gazebo.

“Do you like it? I love to garden, and I wanted to bring some civilization to my small part of the world.” Dr. Reese beamed.

“I love how you did this using local plant life. I’m shocked not to have heard about this,” said Marta.

“Well, I’m surprised too. I’ve been working on it for years.”

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

He Would Love It...

“John, stop, it’s... not... appropriate,” Marta said, smoothing her skirt and brushing her hair back, as she shot her tormenter a playful glance.

John took the hint. “So, you think my worm experience is funny?”

Marta caught her breath. Her stomach was sore from its workout during her peals of laughter. “Let’s just say you made the party,” she said between breaths.

“Would somebody please tell me what I’m missing?” Sandy asked.

“Just a story about how John ate almost all the roasted grubs, all the while thinking they were...What did you call them? Oh yeah, Macadamia nuts,” Marta replied.

“Sounds like John is the ‘exotic nut,’” said Sandy.

“Let’s not pick on John. He has learned so much about life here in Irian Jaya. Besides, we don’t want to scare him off, I.....we want him to keep coming back.” Marta relented.

“Thank you for the vote of confidence,” John pretended not to notice her mistake. “It’s been good to learn about this place. How could I not? There is a challenge behind every tree and over every mountain.”

“Not all who come survive as long as you have. In fact, I’ve seen men from different organizations come here to deal with consciences, serve humanity, God, or whatever motivated them and last a scant few weeks. This place can make a mad man out of the sanest,” said Marta.

“Enough fussing over me. I’m no toy soldier. I won’t break. What did you expect to see in me a...’reed shaken by the wind’,” John said, quoting the Bible. “Now, why don’t you two step back, and let us men get about our business.”

“Maybe we should sit in the shade sipping tea while these big strong men swelter in the sun,” Marta said.

“Yes, let’s. We wouldn’t want to break a nail,” Sandy added.

Once they neared the village they stopped pulling at the giant palm. Two older men brought water gourds, and Marta brought John purified water. It felt good going down, even though it tasted bad.

“Whew, that was tough,” John commented, wiping his brow with a bandanna. “I haven’t worked this hard in a while. Being a pilot has kept me soft compared to these guys who haven’t sweated a drop.”

“Wait until the real work starts,” Marta said. “You still have to strip the tree.”

“That’ll build an appetite,” said John.

“That’s what the larvae are for, feeds the old appetite,” Marta said rubbing her belly. “Other than fodder for beetle larvae, the soft, spongy inside will be ground to a pulp. We eat that too.” She stood resting her hands on her slender hips. Her legs below the hem of the denim skirt were scratched from the branches, vines, and undergrowth thriving in the drenched forest.

John thought she fit the stereotype of the outdoor, rugged, Jane-of¬-the-Tarzan-stories type of heroine.

“John, I hate for you to miss these festivities. But we have a lot of stops to make before nightfall,” Sandy interrupted.

“I’m glad you both came, and grateful for the difference you made with Digul,” said Marta

“Just keep an eye on him. Why don’t you pack a bag and stay over this weekend? John can bring you by tomorrow when he picks up Digul,” said Sandy.

“Good idea, why don’t you come tomorrow?” John added.

Marta thought for a minute. Did his eyes sparkle? “All right, I’ll be waiting.”

Tucker came up to say goodbye.

John mouthed, “Bring him if you can.”

“He would love it,” Marta whispered back.

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

A Broken Leg of Any Other Name...

The next morning, John set Buttercup down for a bumpy but otherwise perfect landing at the Tarampura airstrip. He made a mental note that the strip of land carved from brush and trees would have to be groomed before it got out of hand. He also noted Marta wasn’t there to greet him.

“Hi, John! Are we going to fly on this nice day?” Tucker asked.

“I don’t think we can. The nurse and I still have a lot of villages to visit,” John said.

Numah smiled a bashful greeting.

“Where is Marta? Doesn’t she come to greet friends anymore?” asked Sandy.

“She want us to bring you. She fight with the village doctor,” Tucker said.

They climbed hurriedly to the village. They could hear Marta yelling loudly in the local dialect. When frustrated, she threw in intermittent English.

“What do you mean waving these feathers over him? This isn’t going to do any good. Just give it up and let me help,” Marta begged.

The witch doctor just grunted and continued his magic. Multi¬colored sacred bird feathers fluttered with the timed flicks of a nimble wrist as Mewpa ran them the length of the injured boy’s body. The young man was covered in skins and flower blossoms. Smoke spiraled upward from the scented candles on each corner of the mat he lay on, as if the sickness would drift away with the rising columns.

The young boy’s right leg lay at an odd angle, just below the knee. A simple splint of bamboo, secured with long grass, had lost its effectiveness as it began to unravel.

Marta insisted on evacuating the pitiful boy by air, to a facility where he could be properly treated. She couldn’t understand why Mewpa refused. His stubborn pride would not yield to pure logic. She could tell the patient was very sick and probably close to death. No amount of pleading could stir the consciousness of the elders, or even the family members. Nobody, not even the converts, would ever cross the will of one of the most powerful men in the village.

“Look, I know you mean well, but sometimes you have to go to other sources of help. He is going to get sicker. He needs medicine, and his leg needs to be fixed,” Marta begged.

“There is nothing more powerful than my medicine. I will heal his sickness, then we will fix his leg,” Mewpa replied, unfazed.

John and Sandy entered the hut as Numah and Tucker fearfully withdrew. Marta, having fought long and hard on behalf of the boy’s welfare, fell into the waiting arms of Sandy, and let herself sob with frustration. “We’ve got to do something, Sandy. He won’t even listen.”

“We’ll do something. Don’t worry,” Sandy replied.

John kicked at the dust and pretended to look at something on the ground.

“I’m sorry, John, I didn’t mean to lose control in front of you. I’m just frustrated,” said Marta.

Marta saw the witch doctor snicker, then continue with a professional but I-know-what-I’m-doing, and-you’re-too-simple-to-¬recognize-greatness attitude.

“Don’t worry, Marta, I understand what you have been through. I’ve been through less frustrating situations, but didn’t handle them nearly as well as you are this one. At least the doctor is still standing.” Sandy laughed.

“Don’t get me wrong. I haven’t ruled out violence.” Marta allowed a chuckled.

Jeffrey W. Bennett is an author and 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

We've done all we can

“We’ve done all we can. We’ll let the medicine and God do the rest. Why don’t we catch our breaths now?” said Marta.

“I could use a breather.” John followed Marta to a cool spot in the shade of her hut. Business as usual, he thought as he watched a couple dig up sweet potatoes. “Steve is probably wondering what the blur was going through the middle of Tiom.” John laughed reflectively.

“Waiting for you was painful,” said Marta.

“I haven’t stopped rushing until just now. I radioed for the medicine, and Steve had it waiting. He handed it through my window right there on the runway. Next thing I knew I was flying back,” said John.

“I think my heart has stopped pounding. You may just be a hero. Who knows what would have happened had you not been here.”

“I’m sure everything would have been fine.” John looked at her approvingly.

“Don’t sell yourself short. I’m glad you were here. I think you were right the first time,” said Marta.

“When?” asked John.

“When you came today. I think you were right about people happy to see you,” said Marta.

Her piercing eyes studied John’s, leaving him uneasy. He tried to hold her gaze, but shifted out of nervousness. Did she just look at me differently?

“If he survives the night, he should make it,” said Marta.

They talked until late in the afternoon, sharing stories of their beginnings, and similarities living in jungle climates. Marta laughed a lot, John noticed. Their conversation flowed easily, having much to say. Reluctantly John looked at his watch, then to the lengthening shadows of the Moake mountains.

“I’ve got to go. Do you want to check on your patient in case he needs anything?” John asked.

“I don’t think there is anything else he needs,” Marta shrugged.

“Rachel put in extra anti-venom, just in case you can’t find yours. Anything else you might need?”

“Maybe a new battery for my radio,” said Marta.

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

Antivenom

An hour later John circled Tarampura. Once again, no visible obstacles prevented his landing. He noticed a lone figure running toward his parking area and knew it would be Tucker. I hope I’m not too late, he thought.

“Is he still alive?” John asked.

“He lives. He very sick and Marta look sick too,” said Tucker

John shot Tucker a confused look as he cinched his bag on his shoulder and trotted to the village. One look at Marta answered John’s question. She did look sick, sick with worry. He noticed her puffy eyes and a flush face transformed to relief and thanksgiving upon seeing him.

“Did you get it?” Marta’s smile was apprehensive until John nodded.

“Here, hope it helps.” John handed her the glass vial.

John watched Marta go to work. She glanced at Mewpa as if requesting permission and consequently received a nod. The patient looked exhausted. John hadn’t seen him seize since returning, but knew he was in bad shape.

Marta fumbled with the medication and all eyes watched expectantly for her medicine to heal.

“All we can do now is wait,” Marta said, rising to her feet.

“Has he improved?” John asked.

“His fits have slowed, but I’m not sure whether or not that means anything. It was a long wait without you,” Marta said.

Mewpa and others carried the patient off the path, and John started to follow.

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

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

Someone's Got a Hold on Me-An Excerpt from Commitment The Novel

     In her hut, Marta lay staring at the grass roof; it had been a fitful sleep. Bouts of fitful tossing were triggered by images of John. She wasn’t sure if he would fit in, or remain on Irian Jaya, but she hoped he would stay. She couldn’t believe her feelings for this man, and passed them off as curiosity. After all, he was fresh and full of conversation. But she had met men and women who came to visit as evangelical missionaries, preaching for a short time before moving on. Pilots, doctors and other medical persons came, as well as the Peace Corps and United Nations workers. None had the allure that John already had over her. He seemed to own some part of her, and she wasn’t ready to give it over. She had to get him out of her mind....her heart. No, she couldn’t admit he had her heart. She finally rolled from her bed for the short trek to the stream where she washed. On the way, she saw John and the old man. She saw him smile and trot toward her. He looked like he had also had little sleep, something she attributed to being in new surroundings. She wondered if he could tell she hadn’t slept either.

     “I just shared a strange sunrise with that man over there. He is the saddest, quietest person I have ever seen. What’s his story?” John asked.

     “He does that every morning without fail. He wakes and watches the jungle until the sun comes up. Several years ago, some of the villagers were kidnapped. He believes if he keeps up his vigil that his wife and son will return,” Marta replied.

     John looked back in time to see the sad man shuffle sadly away.

     Steve flew in an hour later to pick up John. John was glad to see him, and knew there were other missionaries to meet, and much more work to do. Steve declined a cup of coffee, opting to get back in the air.

     They made three stops before finally landing in Tiom, just a little before the sun set. John was tired, and he felt it as he climbed out of the plane. Even with all the stops, and all the people he continued to meet on the way, he could not forget his experience in Tarampura, nor his hostess Marta Springer.

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

Making a Clean Break-Excerpt from Commitment-A Novel

     The morning sun cast a brilliant golden canopy across the sky from the east. Off to the west, darkness graduating to blue toward the east. John awoke a few hours before the rest of the village. He sat facing the sun, remembering the evening, wondering if he would survive here. He was already homesick for his old life back in the States, feeling strange and distant. While he was collecting his thoughts, a stoic, older man, small in stature, took a seat near him. The man never said a word, just took a stance of vigilance.

     During the pre-dawn hours they shared the sounds of the awakening jungle, hardly recognizing each other’s presence with more than a nod. Insects buzzed, the tiny, black and white Thomas’ leaf monkey skittered through the trees, and birds chirped their good morning songs. This was like so many sounds and experiences he associated with Vietnam, and a reminder of his harrowing night only three weeks before.

     John felt homesick, but dismissed the thought of returning to the states. He had to stay at least a year or two. Then he would earn enough hours to apply at an airline. He would be flying regularly and that was good enough. However, something else, another reason to stay, grasped his attention. It had to be the lure of this enchanting woman who gave up her comfortable life to live in these austere conditions.

     He looked to his left to see his silent companion shift his weight without taking his eyes off the jungle. Turning back to his thoughts, John realized he shouldn’t fall for someone out here. He needed to know he could make a clean break when the time came.

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

Eating Roasted Grub Worms

“The nuts? There aren’t any nuts here,” she shouted over the din.

“There, that guy is taking them now, and that woman just finished roasting some more.” John pointed to one of the women who stirred the contents around in a hollowed out stone.

“Oh, you mean those nuts,” she said, smiling mischievously. “Sure I’ll pass them, but take another careful look. I think the firelight is not allowing you to see particularly well.”

He waited impatiently for the bowl as anther villager finished raking some into his lap. Finally he had the bowl and began stirring nuts with his fingers. He picked up two of the inch- long morsels and examined them more closely. With the flickering amber fire and pale moon- light the food looked at first glance like roasted nuts. It had a nice golden color, and was firm to the touch.

He brought it up for closer inspection and let out a yell of disgust. Looking lifelessly back at him was a small set of roasted grub worm eyes, John could at last see as the bean shaped pupa suddenly morphed into a fat, earth-boring worm.

“A worm! A fat, disgusting worm!” He jumped up, legs dancing uncontrollably. The bowl went flying, sending the grubs airborne in all directions. He had the shivers, and his teeth itched.

Marta laughed hysterically. It was cruel she realized, but he shouldn’t be acting this way. “Lighten up. They won’t hurt you.”

“I can’t believe Steve left me here like this, eating worms. What have I got myself into, just to fly planes?”

“Don’t be that way. We all went through this at first,” said Marta.

“I’m sorry, but I can’t believe I actually like those things. How could you let me eat them without telling me what they were?”

“Because I didn’t want you to starve to death,” said Marta.

The animal skin drums pounded out a rhythm for the dancers, but as the evening wore on, the drummer’s endurance gave out as heavy arms grew tired. Now all that remained was a gentle drumming that provided only a sense of percussion to keep time.

“I really think they like you. You have made some impression on them, in spite of the act you put on earlier,” said Marta.

“Well, that pleases me to no end,” John replied.

“I know you don’t understand them, but they are saying nice things about you, and to you.”

“I really hope so, because all I have been doing is sitting here smiling and nodding, and I don’t want to be agreeing to something that I know nothing about,” said John.

“You mean you don’t want to marry the chief’s daughter?”

“WHAT?” John yelped in disbelief, waking Tucker.

“Oh relax, I was just kidding.” Marta tossed her head back, flipping her hair.

John looked on admiringly.

“All they have been doing is saying hello and giving you a good welcome,” said Marta.

“You play too many tricks. One day, when you least expect it, there will be one waiting for you.”

“You can’t really threaten me with something fun. I need a few pranks to make things a little more exciting. We have fun here, but imagine trying to tell jokes or play gags on people when there is such a huge language barrier,” said Marta.

The fire began to burn out. No longer did anyone try to feed its remarkable appetite. As the flames ebbed, more people started heading for their huts.

“Well, I think it is time to turn in. I’ll take Tucker to his bed, and I will see you in the morning.”

“Where am I going to sleep?” John asked, rubbing his eyes.

“Oh, I’m sorry; the chief has a place for you in his hut. Hold on, I’ll be back.” Marta walked away and spoke to the chief, who was happily eating leftover food. They spoke for a while before she returned.

“The chief has everything set up. As soon as he goes, he will let you know. Until then, have fun. I’m going to turn in.”

John watched her walk away from the fire. Her image grew faint as she left the light, until darkness consumed her. I wish you didn’t have to leave so soon.

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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