Free Beyond the Knock Knock Door by Scott Monk

water.’
    â€˜â€œ It’s smarter to stick by fresh water ”,’ Samantha mocked in a smarty-pants voice, standing her ground while watching them leave. Well, go on. Get lost. See if shecared. She was going to hike upwards and flag down a driver to take her home. She’d be snugly in her slippers and drinking hot chocolate in front of the TV, while these dummies would still be lost out here, waiting to be rescued by park rangers. Who would be the favourite child then?
    She climbed a dozen metres before glancing up the steep mountainside, which appeared impenetrable. She blew back her hair and moaned. Knowing those two, they would end up lost, falling down a giant hole or getting themselves killed. And who would Mum and Dad blame? Her. That’s right! Samantha Elizabeth Bowman. Oldest child and first to be yelled at every time.
    She charged after them and – typical! – was immediately given the silent treatment. Fine. They’d better be grateful later that she’d saved them from certain death.
    An hour passed and they still hadn’t sighted the city. No trail signs, no fences, no paths, no stormwater pipes – not even a tossed-away drink bottle littered their way. Everything was pristine. While this unnerved the boys, it perked up Samantha. She reminded them several times that her plan was far superior until they shouted at her to shut up.
    Deep in the rainforest, they unearthed their first real discovery. Michael walked across a fallen trunk bridging the stream-turned-river and, from a snag, he freed a crushed red war helmet. ‘It must be six hundred years old,’ he said, cleaning muck from its broken antlers.
    â€˜Don’t be stupid,’ Samantha said, joining him. ‘It’s just another costume piece. Somebody from the party dropped it in the stormwater.’
    â€˜It’s too heavy to be a fake. See. It’s metal. And there’s no tag inside.’
    â€˜Well, it can’t be real. I don’t think too many Vikings lived in parks.’
    â€˜Rainforests,’ he corrected her. ‘And it’s a samurai helmet. You can tell by –’
    â€˜It’s junk. Throw it away.’
    It was their only discovery for some while. They followed the widening river further, hopscotching leaf-cutter ants and tarantulas. Privately, they each feared they were getting more and more lost but kept moving, convinced help was just around the next bend. Under such a thick canopy, even the sun seemed distant.
    â€˜Are you sure you don’t have something to eat?’ Luke asked.
    â€˜Just like last time – no, I don’t,’ she answered.
    â€˜Not even chewing gum?’
    â€˜Waitaminute. Yes – Yes, I do. My coat is filled with gum. And chocolate. And sandwiches. And a map to get us out of here.’
    â€˜Okay, okay. You don’t have to get nasty.’
    Squatting, Michael washed the tiredness from his face as the others rested against tree trunks and massaged their feet. They hadn’t slept in ages. Drinking from a cupped hand, he listened to the river and the nervousness of frogs until water drained through his fingers. He stood, realising the branches were silent.
    â€˜Enough!’ she announced, sliding out her plastic sword. ‘This is ridiculous. We’re camping in there until a search party finds us. No arguments.’
    â€˜About time,’ Luke said. He slipped off his jetpack and helped her hack through a snake nest of vines into a small, dry clearing.
    Michael hesitated. ‘I think we should keep moving. Something’s wrong. Rainforests aren’t supposed to be this quiet.’ He examined the trees for any flash of colour or warble. Since splashdown, he hadn’t heard a single bird.
    Unconvinced, his siblings used their costumes as makeshift pillows and promptly fell asleep. The morning drifted past like the lazy river next to them. Soon, Michael’s eyelids also grew heavy and he