Ben had thought that he would get no sleep that night, but before he knew it, Joel was shaking him awake. “Come quickly!” he said. “You’ve got to come see what Moses has done!”

The warm desert wind was still blowing strongly as Ben shook his head to clear the fog of sleep, rubbed his eyes, and struggled to his feet. Then Joel was off, running as fast as he could toward the Red Sea, and Ben tried unsuccessfully to keep up. It was still the time of first light, gray and dim. The sun wouldn’t come up for a long time yet.

Even though there was little light, before they reached the water’s edge, Ben stopped dead in his tracks, still surrounded by sleeping Israelites.

Before him, right across the middle of the wide sea, there stretched a path of dry sand. On either side of the dry path, the water of the sea was piled into high walls —with nothing to hold it back! The walls were high and steep. Ben thought that churning inside them, he could make out the shapes of fish and other water creatures.

Joel laughed and danced at the edge of the sea. “Look!” he cried. “God has given us a path to escape from Pharaoh!”

Ben shook his head dully. He didn’t see escape in that path. All he could imagine was getting to the middle of the sea and then the water walls collapsing and all of the water rushing back in over his head. And then he would find himself once again deep under the water, looking up at the surface that he would never reach.

And what was to stop crocodiles and hippos from coming out of those water walls and attacking the Israelites as they crossed?

Around him, families were awakening and getting slowly to their feet, discovering the wonder that had happened during the night.

“Boys.” It was Ben’s father. He put a hand on Ben’s shoulder, another on Joel’s. But he wasn’t looking at them. He was looking at the path across the sea, and his voice was quiet with wonder. “Come back. Have something to eat. We must get ready to leave.”

All of them turned reluctantly and struggled through the growing crowd back to their campsite. Ben’s mother handed them a simple breakfast of bread, cheese, and water. “Hurry and eat,” she said. “I’m sure it’s almost time to leave.”

The boys gobbled their food, and then Ben’s mother shooed Joel back to his own campsite. “Help now, Ben. We must get everything packed away and back into the cart.” She began rolling up the mats the boys had been sitting on.

“Are we going to go . . . you know . . . across that path?” Ben asked fearfully.

His mother put her hands on his shoulders and looked into his eyes. “Yes, I’m sure we are, Ben. Who do you think opened that path through the water?”

“God did.”

She nodded. “Yes. And if God has opened that path and told us to cross it, then we must obey Him. And we can trust Him not to harm us. We are His people. Would you rather face Pharaoh’s army?”

That was a harder question than she knew. Ben wasn’t sure which frightened him the most.

But she didn’t wait for his answer. “Hurry now. Pack and load.” She turned away.

Ben did manage to help pack, but he wasn’t sure how. His mind was churning, and his hands were trembling. How could he step onto that path across the bottom of the sea, with those walls of water towering on either side?

In a few moments, Ben’s father jogged up from wherever he’d been. “Moses is telling us all to cross now,” he panted. “Is everything ready?”

“Yes, son.” Ben’s grandmother chuckled. “While you’ve been off investigating these wonders, we’ve been working.”

“Good.” Ben’s father nodded. “Let’s begin.” He lifted the front of the cart and began to pull.

Just then Ben heard a voice calling, “Ben!”

He looked around and saw Joel waving him over. “May I walk with Joel?” Ben asked.

Ben’s mother looked across the crowd until she saw Joel’s family and waved at Joel’s mother. “All right,” she said. “But stay right with Joel’s family. Don’t wander off, you and Joel.” And then she turned and followed the rest of the family as they headed down the slope toward the sea.

Ben watched them go until other Israelite families, with their flocks of sheep and goats and cattle, got in the way and he couldn’t see them anymore. When he turned back toward Joel’s family, all he could see were several large cows, moving slowly. A couple of loud-mouthed girls were trying to drive them toward the sea and not having much luck. Ben tried to get behind them so that he could cross toward Joel’s family, but after the cows came a long line of people pulling heavy carts, surrounded by families yelling to each other.

By the time Ben found a break in that line and rushed through to find Joel, he realized that he’d gotten turned around, and he had absolutely no idea where Joel and his family were. He was lost in a vast, noisy, crushing crowd of people and animals and carts and wagons.

Ben felt a rush of terror at being lost. But it didn’t last long, and he knew why. If he’d found Joel and his family, he would have had to follow them down onto the path across the sea. Was he more afraid, as his mother had asked, of Pharaoh’s army or of crossing the sea? He didn’t know.

Maybe he wouldn’t cross the sea at all.

But why are you still frightened? Ben asked himself. Don’t you remember that you promised yourself to get rid of these fears, to stop acting like a baby? There are little children already crossing on the path God has made —babies —and they’re not afraid.

But they had never almost drowned. They had never sunk to the bottom of the Nile River, looking up at the surface they could never reach. Ben was afraid, and that’s all there was to it.

He thought of Enoch. Enoch was brave and wise. What would Enoch do?

He would pray.

All right, then, Ben would pray too.

He pushed through the crowd until he came to a small group of trees that formed a small space between their trunks. He crawled into that small space and lay down on his face, while all around him thousands of people and thousands of animals crowded noisily toward the Red Sea.

As he prayed, Ben remembered, one by one, the plagues God had sent to persuade Pharaoh to let the Israelites go.

Turning the water into blood.

The frogs.

The gnats.

The flies.

The death of the livestock.

The boils.

The hail.

The locusts.

The darkness.

And the last plague: the death of the firstborn sons.

And yet, through all of those things, Ben thought, God somehow kept His people safe. Even those Egyptians who obeyed Him were saved from some of the plagues.

So couldn’t that same God be trusted to protect Ben now?

What about when I fell into the Nile? Why wasn’t God protecting me then?

There was no use in denying it. Ben was terrified, still, of water and didn’t want to go between those walls of water on that path, no matter who had created it or why.

Ben scrambled up into one of the trees so that he could see, straining his eyes in the still-dim light. On the seashore below him, the Israelites and their animals were stepping onto the path through the sea. Some moved slowly, fearfully, glancing at the walls of water. Some looked behind them toward Pharaoh’s still-hidden army and ran quickly onto the path.

Ben watched carefully. Nothing reached out from the walls of water and pulled the people in. There were no crocodiles, no hippos, no hidden pools to fall into. In fact, as near as Ben could tell from this distance, no one was even getting wet. And yet Ben was —

“Papa!” cried a tearful voice. “Papa!”

Ben looked down. Near the trunk of the tree cowered a small boy, only a couple of years old. Tears streaked his face, and his nose was running. He was dressed in rich clothes. But he wasn’t an Israelite; he was Egyptian. And his long hair was bound in back with a cord of red and gold.

The last time Ben had seen this boy, he had been sitting on his father’s shoulders while Ben talked to his father in the city of Rameses.

This was the son of the man who had saved Ben’s life.

And he was alive! Which meant that his father had listened to Ben and slapped lamb’s blood on the doorposts of his home.

And he was here . . . but why? And what was going to happen to him now?

Ben crawled quickly down from the tree and knelt in front of the frightened boy, who stopped yelling and popped a thumb into his mouth. Ben wiped the boy’s messy face on the hem of his tunic. “Can’t find your papa?” Ben asked. The boy shook his head.

“Out of the way!” someone bellowed, and suddenly a herd of goats was all around them. Ben pulled the boy into the shelter of the trees. Then he looked down toward the water, searching for a tall Egyptian man. But in all of those thousands of people . . .

He looked back, only to find that they were now near the end of the crowd of Israelites. The tall pillar of cloud was growing nearer —with Pharaoh’s army right behind it, no doubt.

The sun wouldn’t be up for some time yet. Daybreak was just beginning to paint the clouds of the east in pale pink and orange, but the sky was light. Ben looked both directions one more time —ahead toward the path across the sea, back toward Egypt —and made the hardest choice he had ever had to make. Then he knelt in front of the boy again. “Come on,” Ben said. “I’ll help you find your papa.” He took the boy’s hand and stepped out of the trees into the churning, bawling mass of people and animals.

Ben had no time to look for the boy’s father as they walked. He was too busy trying to keep himself and the boy from getting trampled by cattle or run over by heavily laden wagons. And before he knew it, he and the boy were at the edge of the Red Sea —although now, at least right here, it was dry.

Ben stopped, and the boy stopped right beside him. But before he could even think about what he was about to do, a fat woman bumped into him from behind. “Oh, sorry, sweetheart,” she said. “But move along, please —hurry! There are many of us here waiting to get across!” She put her heavy hand on Ben’s back and pushed him gently but surely ahead.

Ben stumbled forward a few steps . . . and then there he was, with the walls of water on either side of him. They weren’t high here near the edge, where the sea was shallow —only as high as his ankles. He picked up the boy and held him in his arms, when a large ram appeared suddenly beside them. Then the fat woman’s family crowded in behind, pushing them several steps farther ahead.

Ben glanced at the walls of water —as high as his waist now. He scurried out of the way of a large cart on the other side and scrambled to get around some rocks in the path. Without looking, he could tell that the walls of water were higher than his head. If they collapsed around him now, he would be underwater.

Don’t look, Ben told himself. Keep walking. Look straight ahead. Keep your eye on the shore.

In the distance, Ben could see the thousands of Israelites —with his own family somewhere among them, and Joel’s too. They’d already crossed and were now milling around on the opposite bank. You’ll be there soon.

“Now, you see?” he said to the boy in his arms, who was starting to get heavy. “We’ll be across in no time, and then we’ll find your papa. You aren’t afraid, are you?”

The boy looked back into Ben’s eyes and shook his head. Then he put his head down on Ben’s shoulder.

No, of course he’s not afraid, Ben thought. All he has to do is relax in my arms, because he thinks I can do anything. He shifted the boy in his tired arms.

For the next few minutes, Ben had all he could do making sure the two of them didn’t get run over by the crowd of people and animals. When he looked up again, he was amazed at how close they were now to the other side! While Ben had been dodging cattle and carts, they had crossed most of the sea! He moved faster, wanting to cover the rest of the distance as quickly as possible. The ground beneath his feet grew steeper as they climbed up from the sea bottom.

“My son! My son!” a voice cried, and the boy in Ben’s arms lifted his head quickly. A tall, richly dressed man ran down the path toward them, dodging people and animals. The boy lifted his arms to him and began to wail.

Ben offered the boy up to him as the man reached them, and he clasped the crying boy tightly, his eyes closed in relief. But the crowd behind them didn’t allow much time for the reunion. “Move it along now! There are still many behind us!” people shouted.

The man put his hand on Ben’s shoulder and guided him quickly up the slope toward the bushes along the shore. “You have saved my son’s life not once now but twice,” the man said. “I listened to what you said and decided to obey the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob —your God. And God honored my obedience! The firstborn sons of all of my neighbors and friends died in the night, but not my son.”

The man buried his face in the neck of his now-quiet child. “I’ve decided to follow your God wherever He leads me,” the man continued. “What choice do I have? He is God. And I won’t forget you, my young friend.”

“Look! Pharaoh and his army!” someone yelled, and everyone looked back toward the distant opposite shore of the sea.

It was true. The pillar of cloud had lifted, and Ben could just make out the horses of Pharaoh’s army rushing from side to side, and rows of chariots moving slowly toward the path. Ben could just imagine the surprise of the soldiers now that they could see the wonder God had wrought during the night. But that surprise didn’t last long, and the army began to charge.

It was a magnificent sight, even though these soldiers were the enemies of Ben’s people. Their armor and weapons flashed gold in the growing light, and even at this great distance, the tiny horses looked powerful and beautiful.

“Quickly!” People began to call to those still on the path. “Pharaoh is coming! Come quickly!”

Those few stragglers rushed to the shore, helped by those who had already made it, and in just a few minutes, all of the Israelites were out from between the walls of water.

But what now? Would Moses command them to flee across the hills? Ben looked back to where he stood, high on a rocky place behind them. He stood motionless, looking back across the sea.

And so they stood and watched as an odd thing happened to Pharaoh’s army. When they got to the middle of the path, they seemed unable to go any farther. Maybe the chariots bogged down in the sand. Or maybe the wheels of the chariots came off. For whatever reason, the army stopped and was milling around in the middle of the sea.

Suddenly the sun rose above the ridge of hills to the east, flooding the valley with golden light. Everything seemed to glow —the massed Israelites with their animals on the shore of the sea, the sea itself, and the army of Egypt’s Pharaoh, circling in confusion in the middle of the wide path God had made.

Ben looked back at Moses, silhouetted against the rising sun. And slowly Moses raised his staff, pointing out across the sea until his arm was high above his head.

And Ben looked back toward the water. Pharaoh’s army, it appeared, had started to flee back toward the opposite shore. But it was too late. Starting on the far side, the shore toward which they fled, the walls of water began to collapse, to topple over. The path began to fill with water, slowly at first. Then it was faster, and so quick that horses, chariots, and soldiers were swept away by the force of it and disappeared under the water.

An entire army was disappearing beneath the roiling surface of this sea, and neither they nor their horses would ever make it to shore. People were dying right before Ben’s eyes.

Then for some reason Ben tore his eyes away from that horrible drama and looked closer, where the walls of water still held, on the near side of the sea. And a shock of sudden fear washed over him. Because there, still standing down on the path that split the sea, out where the walls of water were high, was one Israelite everyone had forgotten about: Micah.

Clearly Micah had somehow gotten separated from his family as they had crossed the sea and had been distracted by the shining, shifting wall of water. He had always been fascinated by anything bright and shimmery. Now he stood, motionless, only a hand’s breadth from the water, his nose nearly touching it.

Ben looked frantically around him. Where was Joel? Where was his family? But he saw only strangers.

Ben pushed through the crowd around him down to the edge of the path. “Micah!” he yelled. “Micah!” But of course Micah paid no attention. Maybe he couldn’t even hear above the noise.

Again he looked around. “Joel!” he yelled. “Father! Mother!” No one answered. Wherever his family was, they couldn’t hear him.

And then he saw familiar faces —the same boys who’d taken such pleasure in teasing him before the plagues began. He ran up to them, but they barely noticed him, still watching the waters closing over the army of Pharaoh. “Look!” he told them. “It’s Micah —he’s still out there!” And he pointed.

Their eyes reluctantly followed to where he pointed, but they didn’t seem concerned. “Hey, it’s Eggshell. He’d better get out of there,” one boy said.

“But you know Micah,” Ben protested. “Somebody has to go in there and get him.”

They laughed. “Are you kidding? Why should we risk our lives to save a dummy? Forget it, River Boy.”

“Hey,” one of them said. “Why don’t you go get him, River Boy?” They all laughed. “You like water so much, you won’t care if you get a little wet saving a dummy.”

Ben turned away and tried to get the attention of some of the adults gathered there near the edge of the sea. But there was so much noise —from the people, from the wind, from the crashing of the water as the walls collapsed. Some of the adults didn’t hear him at all. Others looked as if they were in a trance.

There was no one to rescue Micah.

No one, that is, except Ben.

The boy who was afraid of everything. Especially water.