Free The Spanish Kidnapping Disaster by Mary Downing Hahn Page B

Volkswagen. As we plunged into its shadow, Phillip tried to open the doors, but they were all locked.
    "What are you doing?" Amy pulled Phillip away. "Even if you got inside, you can't drive."
    "Sh!" I whispered. "Someone's coming."
    We ducked out of sight as a stone rolled out from under a shoe, bounced toward the bus, and pinged against a hubcap. Then Señora Perez came into view, clutching one of her little net grocery bags and muttering to herself.
    Thinking she'd lead us to a village, we let her get a safe distance ahead and then inched down the trail behind her. After following her for at least two miles, we saw lights. It wasn't the village we had hoped for but a farmhouse, clinging all by itself to the side of the mountain. Silently, we watched Señora Perez open a gate, quiet the dogs who greeted her by barking, and vanish into the house.
    Amy sat down on a rock and started crying. Like her, I was cold, hungry, and scared. The only thing that kept me from crying too was my pride. Biting my lip hard, I forced myself to act brave.
    "Come on," I whispered. "We have to keep going. Sooner or later we'll come to the village."
    Cautiously, we crept past the farmhouse, trying not to alert the dogs, but it was hard to be quiet on the dark road. Our shoes slipped on the gravel, and soon the dogs, all three of them, were barking and hurling themselves at the stone wall separating them from us. The farmhouse door opened, and Señora Perez shouted something in Spanish.
    We ran, plummeting down the steep road, skidding on the loose rocks, breathless with fear. Back up the mountainside we scrambled, seeking a hiding place in the boulders. Even after the sound of the dogs faded away behind us, we kept running.
    I paused for breath halfway up a steep hill, and Amy clambered past with Phillip at her heels.
    "Wait, Amy," he called. "Wait."
    She looked back at him from the top of the hill. "Hurry," she yelled.
    Hastily Phillip grabbed at a rock to pull himself up, but it came away in his hand. Before I could catch him, Phillip hurtled backward and tumbled down the hill. By the time I reached him, he was lying on the ground and moaning.
    "Are you hurt?" I dropped to my knees beside him and peered at his pale face.
    "My ankle," he sobbed. "It twisted when I fell. I think it's broken."
    Amy skidded down the hillside and crouched beside her brother. "Are you okay, Phillip?"
    He shook his head. "Why didn't you wait? You just kept running and running. I thought you were going to leave me here."
    "I'm sorry." Now Amy was crying too. "I didn't think you'd fall, I just wanted you to run faster."
    While Amy apologized, I looked behind me, down the mountainside we'd just climbed. Far, far away, I saw the lights of Señora Perez's farmhouse. As I watched, they went out, one by one. The night seemed darker without them. And colder.
    "Help me get him on his feet, Felix," Amy said.
    Between the two of us we hoisted Phillip up. He put one arm over Amy's shoulder and the other over mine, but the inequality of our heights kept us from making much progress on the rough, uneven ground.
    Soon Amy and I were breathing hard, and Phillip was whimpering with pain. Every time we jostled him, he cried out. "Stop," he sobbed at last. "I can't go any farther."
    We eased Phillip down on a grassy mound sheltered by a group of boulders. He leaned against a rock and looked at Amy and me.
    "You're going to have to leave me here and get help," he said.
    "No, Phillip." Amy shook her head hard. "I promised Daddy I'd take care of you."
    "You have to." Phillip's face was ashy white, and his voice shook. "I can't walk, and you can't carry me."
    "How can we leave you here all by yourself?" I looked around at the mountains, dappled with moonlight and sharp, dark shadows. It made me shiver just to think about being alone in such a desolate place.
    "Suppose wild animals come?" Amy asked.
    "Or Orlando?" I would have preferred to face a pack of wolves than the Spaniard. At