The Trip of a Lifetime

I am flying over the Atlantic Ocean from Australia where I have just spent a weird, week-long vacation. It all started a month ago when I was a contestant on “Wheel of Fortune.” I was doing well. I had already won 40,000 dollars, and now I was in the bonus round. I spun the wheel and chose the letter h in wheel. After handing it to Pat, the puzzle came up. A thing. Good, I liked things. R,S,T,L,N,E. Hmm…not much luck. I chose C,M,H, and A. Yes! Vanna revealed some letters. Now the puzzle looked like this: C H A L _ _ _ _ R _. I knew it. I barely heard Pat say, “You have thirty seconds” before I shouted, “Chalkboard!” as loud as I could. Pat said I was correct, and everyone started clapping loudly. I was in a daze and almost fainted when Pat said I had won a trip to Australia for two. The cheering got louder as my friend Rachel came running onstage and hugged me.
The next thing I knew Rachel and I were on a plane bound for Sydney, Australia. Little did we know what we were getting ourselves into. We arrived in Sydney on a Monday afternoon. We stepped off the plane and gazed in awe out the windows of the terminal at how beautiful everything was. We quickly grabbed our bags and raced to put our suits on. The ocean lapped against the shore and the breeze rustled our hair as we both took off running toward the beach. Our first few days went by fast as we enjoyed swimming and exploring the many beaches. On Thursday as Rachel was boxing a kangaroo, a guy came up from behind and snatched my backpack. I turned around in time to see the guy running off in the direction of the airport. Not knowing what to do, I started yelling for someone to stop him, but my shouts were in vain because everyone was so absorbed in the boxing match.
Needless to say, I chased the guy as far as I could until I lost sight of him in a huge crowd. I stopped, panting for breath, worried. Everything I needed was in that backpack: my ID cards, my passport, and my money. I didn’t know what to do. I quickly found a police officer and was able to describe the man in some detail. He was wearing a baseball cap, but you could see his blond hair protruding from underneath it. As I chased him, I remembered seeing a tattoo of a skull and crossbones on his calf. I finished describing the man, and the police officer told me that he would check the records and get back to me, until then, he said I should have fun and enjoy my trip. Yeah right, I thought, as I headed back to the ring to find Rachel.
I came back just in time to see Rachel climbing out of the ring, a light green bruise starting to form under her right eye.
“Stupid kangaroo got the best of me,” she said jokingly, but after seeing how upset I was, she quickly asked what was wrong. I told her my story and told her to keep a lookout for the guy. She said she would and promised to help me look for him, right after she put some ice on her eye. We sat down to a dinner at a fancy restaurant on the coast. of course, I didn’t have any money, but Rachel offered to buy this time. She said I owed her. Anyway, after a delicious meal of meat and potatoes, we walked lazily along the beach, gazing up at the stars that cluttered the evening sky.
The next day I awoke to find Rachel already out of bed, dressed and ready to go.
“Let’s go, sleepyhead,” she said. “You’re wasting daylight.” I rolled out of bed and giggled as I fell in a heap on the floor, trapped in a bundle of blankets. I looked up and saw Rachel staring down at me with her black eye, and that only made me giggle more.
“What are you laughing at?” she said impatiently.
“You, you’re eye,” I said between bursts of laughter.
“That’s not funny,” she said, but she started giggling too.
Once we were up and out the door, we walked down to our favorite cove on the beach. We had found it the first day in Sydney, and we loved it. But today was different. Clouds were looming overhead, threatening rain, and the cove looked rather spooky in the darkness. A chilly wind blew across the shore, and we pulled our light jackets tightly around us. The wind seemed to moan as we cautiously walked up and down the beach. Speaking of the beach, it was rather deserted today. Besides ourselves, there were only a couple other people walking on the beach, and they were probably half a mile ahead of us. We were just walking along when all of a sudden I was hit from behind and landed face down in the sand. I sputtered and gasped as I looked up to find that Rachel was gone.
I spun around in circles, looking in every direction for some sign of her, but she was nowhere to be found. It was like she had simply disappeared into thin air. That’s when I saw it. My backpack. About ten feet away, lying in the wet sand, opened. I ran to it, but when I got there, I discovered it was empty. Frustrated, I flung my backpack across the sand, but when I did, something fell out. It was a note, typed so it wouldn’t be recognizable to anyone. I unfolded the wet paper and read it quickly. I couldn’t believe what was happening. Kidnapped. Rachel had been kidnapped. The man wanted 50,000 dollars by tomorrow evening, or else. I didn’t want to think about the or else, so I wadded up the note and stuffed it into the pocket of my jeans. There had been a P.S. Don’t get the police involved. No duh. Everybody knows not to mess with kidnappers. Let’s see.
I had won 40,000 dollars before coming here, so I would have to get that money and another 10,000 from my savings…somehow. I ran to the nearest bank and asked about withdrawals that large. They said they weren’t supposed to allow it, but I told them I had gotten permission. As I stood there, I felt like I was being watched. I spun around, but saw no one. I turned back to the teller, who handed me a duffel bag with the money. I slowly walked out of the bank, trying not to attract attention. I stepped outside and saw a piece of paper lying on the ground. It was neatly folded and tucked under a trashcan. I’m surprised I saw it. I picked it up and a chill went down my spine as I read it. The man told me to leave the money in the cove that we had walked by earlier that day. He said if it wasn’t there, well, you know how kidnappers are. He also said that if he saw even one cop, she was dead.
I ambled along the beach, carrying the duffel bag as if it were a child. Tears rolled down my cheeks, knowing that I had brought Rachel on this trip, and now her life was at stake. It didn’t seem fair. Why us? I kept asking myself these questions until I finally got up the nerve to take the duffel bag to the cove. I set the bag by a rock and walked away as fast as I could. I hid behind a nearby dock and waited. Finally, what felt like hours-but was probably only minutes-later, the man snuck up to the cove, looked around to see if anyone was watching, and grabbed the bag. He took off running down the beach, but I didn’t bother chasing him this time because, when he had grabbed the bag, I saw Rachel stumble out from behind a rock and fall. I ran to her and bent down. I touched her swollen ankle gingerly. Definitely broken. There was no way I could lift her, even though she only weighed about 100 pounds. I called for help, but no one was around. I carefully dragged her to the cove and told her to wait while I got help.
I came back fifteen minutes later with two men with a stretcher and a few police officers. The men lifted Rachel onto the stretcher and carried her up the beach to the hospital. The officers and I followed close behind. Once Rachel was settled into a room with her leg in a sling, the police officers questioned us; first me about my backpack and then Rachel, who was able to give a full description of the man before dozing off.
The rest of the week went by slowly. I spent most of the time with Rachel in the hospital because she wasn’t able to leave until she’d had surgery; that’s how bad the break was. On Sunday, we were back on the plane, on our way to Missouri. As we sat next to each other on the plane, Rachel turned to me and said she couldn’t believe that I actually gave the man 50,000 dollars for her.
“Rachel,” I said with a smile. “You are worth more then 50,000 dollars any day.” With tears in her eyes she leaned over and gave me a hug as we sailed over the Atlantic Ocean, headed for home.