The Way Back

Perspiring incredibly, I had careened around the corner, and leaned heavily against the wall, panting for breath. My entire morning had been spent listening to an old tour guide drone on and on and on. He raved endlessly about the sheer audacities of the men who had set sail with this battleship. War has never been my subject of awe. Mother Nature must have arched incredulous eyebrows when she saw us. Unbelievable, what the so called “Most Intelligent Species” can do to themselves. I do honor and respect all those military families and people out there. Yet, in that summer, visiting a battleship just seemed, well, mundane.

Of course, Ojo and Rick had gazed wide eyed and agape, considering that they were boys. I had stared glassy eyed, and could only taste the lunch I was about to have. I hated the very thought of blood, and I hated the crimson trail it left. I could only imagine how many stains must have been hidden on the walls of this battleship. Dried smears, bearing a history that haunts us forever. I heaved a dramatic sigh, taking in the battleship’s threshold. It was only a metal carcass of roughly hewn, battered war machines. However, there was no five year old in sight.

Suddenly, a queer slurping noise reached my ears, and I swiveled around. There was no one to be seen. The noise grew alarming, and soon they were muffled snorts of mirth, clearly trying to be suppressed. Five-year-olds are never any good at being secretive. I spun around to see Ojo, walking jauntily towards me and blowing a raspberry. Evidently, this was his idea of a game. Right then, I could not even bother to care. “Come on Ojo, let’s go!” I cried, relieved. My memory is as precise as ever here, and this is when things go downhill. I had just grabbed Ojo’s hand and glanced around for a path that led back to our parents. The only thing for miles was sheets upon sheets of nailed down metal, and they all seemed to be yelping frantically for help.

My heart started pounding, and I tried my best to hide the quavering squeaks that my voice had been reduced to. “Ojo?” I asked, “Do you remember which way you came from?” His wide eyes and cocked head answered for me. Each tunnel led into an abyss swathed with darkness, and each door seemed to open onto another maze.

“Ojo, let’s go out, and see out there, ok?” I whispered, and grabbed his hand. I took a deep breath, and ran into the nearest tunnel. My hands broke out in a cold sweat, and the echoes of our pounding footsteps reverberated around the walls, and stung my ears.

“There!” Ojo cried. I did not even need his shout before I pulled him up the ladder, and clambered up the rungs as rapidly as I could, into the welcoming sunlight of the battleship’s deck. Ojo still seemed to think it was a game. “You can’t catch me!” he shrieked, and tore off, darting between unknown machinery and lethal looking gears.

“Ojo!” I yelled. “Come back!” He was already gone, and the only thing I could do was follow him. Running through endless passageways, I hoped with my heart that Ojo had not gone back down into the dank, pitch black ship. It would be impossible to find him there. He was only a five year old, but at least he was a person. My eyes could not hold them back any longer, and tears started to flood out, in desperation and hopelessness. I ran through my blinding tears, and swiped away the salt trickling down my face.

After dashing desperately for what seemed like decades, panel of wood after wood, I lashed out for a railing, and clutched it, gasping for breath with a stitch in my side. My eyelashes were dripping with sweat, and the hairs on my nape prickled with palpable fear. My eyes, laden with exhaustion, silently lowered for a blink. I watched that small droplet of water cut through the air, falling, falling. It barely made a ripple in the water. I was barely a speck in the world.

I glanced up, scanning the deck. There were turrets and cannons. I shuddered to think of the deeds they had served, the blood they had slashed. People mingled about, most of them heading for the exits. The sky was filled with a deep, raging fire. Reds, oranges and dark pinks swept the clouds, and painted the sky. Suddenly, I spotted a group of people. They were not heading for any exits. They were on another, separate deck, and they seemed to be sagging on the floor. I squinted hard, reducing my eyes to slits. Staggering, I caught my breath. They were my parents. Ojo’s parents were there too.

Desperately, I scoured the deck I was on, searching for a way, any way, to go to the other deck. There were none. I slid down the railing. Only a few feet away were my parents, and there was nothing I could do. There was only a few feet of water separating us. I glared daggers at the dive into the water. If I could just dive. I knew how to swim, but I would probably die if I plummeted that far. Who knows where my parents would be by then.

“Mom!” I screamed. “Dad!” I bellowed. They did not even turn around. They probably could not hear. “I kicked the railing, and could not care less about my throbbing toe. “Mom, Dad, I’m here!” I bellowed, bellowing my throat hoarse. They finally lifted themselves, and glanced all around the deck. I waved frantically, but they did not see. My parents and Ojo’s parents, gathered their bags and pushed open the exit door. I wanted to yell, to screech, to shriek, “No!” but I did not. There was no use.

There was nothing I could have done. In an attempt of sheer helplessness, I thrust myself through the opening closest to the other deck, and clawed my way through. I am sure that I was not supposed to be in there. Cobwebs framed the openings, and goosebumps rose on my arms. Abruptly, I came to a stop, and just glimpsed the back of a head of jet black hair. Ojo. “Ojo!” I shouted, “Here!” Ojo stumbled out of the opening, and clung to my arm. His hands were sweaty, small, and warm. I dared not peer inside, and turned away. I turned to see Ojo, his lips quivering, and his fingers trembling.

“Are we lost?” he mumbled.

I had an overpowering urge to shake him, and shriek at him, “Yes! Thanks to you!” I didn't do it, and couldn’t have tried. I stared at his quaking legs, my throat constricted with a raspy dryness. I could not possibly tell him about seeing our parents. It would be false hope. It would shrivel Ojo’s resilience to nothing but dust. Instead, I shoved out the question, “Why don’t we sit down?” with as much confidence as I mustered.

The horizon was darkening, and whatever was left of the tourists was thinning. No one seemed to notice two children slumped in the corner. The sky had thrown a deep lapis blue duvet over itself, and once magnificent with splendour, it was now choking me to a rasp. Ojo sat rigidly beside me, shrunken into a shadow, shaking with suppressed fear. Trembling, hoarse lines of “Twinkle Twinkle, Little Star” made their way out, just as far as my ears. He was just as scared as me, but whatever little help he could do was not enough. I glared furiously at a splotch on the ground, cast into oblivion about my chattering teeth, and my knocking knees. It was a none too enlightening thought, but no matter what I did, I was the one who had to get us out of this.

Not one noble, vaguely enlightening thought crossed my mind. The only thoughts I could see were images of my parents. With a sickened jolt, I thought of my mom, who had my soon to be baby brother with her. She could not know where I was, where Ojo was. She must be worrying herself to death. What was Daddy doing? There was not a hope they could know where we were. I could kill myself for being only a few feet away, not being able to do anything. I should have screamed louder. Maybe I could have plunged. Ojo had taken off to explore something new, and I had sprinted right after him. Foolishly. Ignorantly.

My eyes clamped shut, and the ship’s rocking sent my mind tumbling. What would happen? The situation had started to take shape as my worst nightmare, a situation that looked incredulously, yet horribly like we were stranded. I had not a single heroic, slightly helpful thought in my head, and the fact that Ojo and his family depended solely on me trapped my mind. The thoughts that always come in these moments did come, and parched my throat, even with the night’s blustering winds cloaking us.

Abruptly, a pain, sharp and piercing, started poking me. My eyes snapped open to see Ojo. Clearly, he had composed himself enough to resort to playing pranks again. “Not now,” I snapped, and turned away. The poking became insistent, and I swiveled around so fast I nearly cricked my neck. Clenching my teeth, I followed Ojo’s pointed finger, to the far end of the ship’s deck. That flash of red was enough to make my heart soar. The shirt had the gleaming white word of hope. Security was emblazoned across the back of the shirt, and this was all I needed to heave Ojo up and dash full tilt across the deck. People’s arched eyebrows only blended into a blur, as we skidded to a stop beside the man.

“Excuse me?” I asked, breathless. “Can you please help us? We lost our parents and don’t know what to do.” The words tumbled out and tripped over each other in their haste, and was not even anything I had planned to say. There was little hope whether there was any hope of him helping us. We were just a speck on the battleship, and who knows where our parents could be. I stared wildly at the man, discerning nothing. My face set, and my thoughts were grim. I would have to take the risks.

“Do you know one of their phone numbers?” the man asked. He had a kindly face with crinkled, age worn eyes, and he was heading towards a gazebo, where his fellow security guard was sitting. I could not even doubt the hulky walkie-talkie he was using. I recited the first phone number that came in my mind. Only after did I realize that I had prattled off my mom’s digits. However, I did not have time to think about that. I only listened to the ringing, and hoped that its persistence would make my mom pick up.

“Please, please, please, please,” I begged under my breath. I bobbed up and down, and clenched my fist so hard that the whites of my knuckles showed.

It seemed like millenia, and my temple was creased deeply by the time the insistent ringing stopped. I looked questioningly at the guard’s face. “Sorry, no one picked up yet.” My heart sank, and my mind went back to my dystopian nightmare. As soon as I thought about them, the phone started ringing again.

“Hello?” someone asked. “Hello?” he said again. His voice was so familiar- it was my Daddy!

“Hello,” replied the security guard. “Your children are over here, with me. Do you know where you are? I can take them to you.” My mind dizzied with the questions, and I drifted away. Let someone else take charge this time.

The next thing I knew, Ojo and I were almost flying over the battleship, over countless passageways, ladders, openings and decks. The guard was older than most, yet he sprang in his every step. How the guard dashed over them with ease I will never know, but it took sheer skill indeed. We wove through crowds, now dwindling, and sped past patches of people dotted around the ship. He seemed to know this whole battleship, all seven levels and eighteen turrets, like the back of his hand.

Just as I was panting out of breath, the guard skidded to a stop in front of a turret. There was one solitary group huddled underneath the setting sun. Only one person was pacing the wood, shrouded in darkness. Suddenly, I spotted the back of his head, and squinted to a point until my eyes were slits. It was a very familiar head- my dad! My elation escaped me, and I sprinted into his arms, and clung on to his hug. I did not even care that everyone was watching.

After I broke away, I realized my surroundings. Ojo’s parents were with him, but my mom was nowhere to be found. “She could not possibly climb all those stairs,” my dad said, answering my question instantaneously. “Don’t worry, she’s on the entrance deck.” I heaved a sigh of relief, and just caught the red security shirt weaving back into the crowd.

I stood still for a moment, and breathed silently, “Thank you.” I could never be more thankful. He must have handled so many moments like this.

Me, Daddy, and Ojo’s family strode back to the entrance deck, amid the billowing breeze and the painted sky. It was perfect. “Mumum!” cried my mom upon seeing me. My dad put a finger to his lips, and I nodded understanding. Daddy joined Ojo’s dad, and they set about twiddling the GPS. I would not say a thing about this to Mummy. The vision of her fainting is not a welcome one. “Come on, let’s grab a snack while the others figure out their way home,” exclaimed Mummy, rolling her eyes in the direction of Daddy. “Besides, it would be fun to get lost, after a day of bruising yourself on these benches!” I nodded my head, but privately, I sincerely doubted that.

On our way back, yet another security guard passed by. “Hi! Had a good day here?” He gestured towards the battleship. Abruptly, his eyebrows creased, and he scrutinized me. I could feel myself turning red under his stare. “Hey, aren’t you the girl who got lost?” I turned, if possible, even redder.

“Must be another girl. Maybe I have a twin!” I laughed it off, and hurried my mom away.

“Huh! Imagine! Wouldn’t it be fun to see a twin as a stranger?” Mom asked. Not gonna happen, I thought. Still, if it wasn’t for that security guard, I might have never found my way back. Thank goodness there are still people like him.

We often feel as if the world is on our shoulders. We never understand the many others who have fates resting in their hands. The man that saved us may have never served in the military. Yet, he did a vast deed for our community, which is far stronger. Those people who served on the battleship never told us that they were quaking with fear. They pushed on and did their duty. There are people who have the universe weighing upon them. Yet, they still protect us, whether we realize it or not.