Postby Davidizer13 » Sun Feb 03, 2013 10:16 pm
Benndito scampered up the hill at the center of the island, following closely behind the loose band of refugees as they sought safety at the hiding place. He was out of breath, loose underbrush pieces stuck to his sweat-moistened skin. The smell of his singed clothes chased him upwards, redoubling his pace with every whiff of it. At every snap of a twig from a distance, every rustle of ferns, his head snapped around as he steeled himself to fend off a pirate with his bare hands.
In front of him, the forest subtly thinned - no longer did huge, twisted sapodilla trunks litter his view. He was almost there, he could see the red flowers that marked the entrance to the tunnels ahead of them. It was funny what you remembered under stress; he'd learned about this place when he was just a boy, but never again, thinking he'd never have to actually use it. Sure, he'd heard all the stories of the pirates from travelers, how they'd come with red sails unfurled, how they'd obliterated whole villages in a morning with cannon fire, and carried off the survivors to some unknown fate... As usual, he just didn't think it could ever happen here.
He found himself at the door of the hideouts, a well-covered fake rock, painted in brown, rusty stripes against the glimmering, dappled green of the jungle. He staggered to it, did the secret knock, another thing about the plan he'd thought that he had forgotten. "How do the mangroves grow?" a muffled voice from below spoke. "With spreading roots, reaching through the seas below," Benndito called back. The door swung open; Roberto was inside, shielding his eyes against the morning sun.
"Oh. It's you," Roberto said dispassionately. "Get in here, make it quick." he said, grabbing Benndito by the arm and dragging him down into the cool chamber. Torches on either side of the wall flickered and sparked, as the tunnel declined into the earth. Villagers gave him a glance as he passed - they didn't seem like they were doing much, they were waiting for something, a signal? Or were they just mourning, coming to terms with what had just happened to them? Benndito racked his brains, trying to remember what should have been happening after they reached the shelters; there had to be something they could do. "They," being someone else besides him. It sounded like it might take effort, because all of a sudden he felt very tired and overwhelmed.
Roberto kept pulling, dragging him to an empty hollow in the main chamber. "Stay here," he said; Benndito plopped to the floor and stretched out. "You're pretty good at that, aren't you?" Roberto said with a wry smile. "We'll put you to work soon enough. A strong buck like you, we need more of that youthful spirit to rebuilt. Surely you've got some in you somewhere."
"Not bloody likely," Benndito muttered as Roberto went back to his post. Benn's eyes were adjusting to the dim lighting, and he could see the wood and crates salvaged from the town; he tried to get a count of the people in the room, but gave up after around forty.
A murmur came down the passages. "They just gave the all-clear," he heard someone say.
"We've still got to take a census, see who's missing," another replied. Benndito just curled up, placing his hands under his head and closing his eyes. It had been a rough day, and he needed some rest...