Lost Things: Three Adventure Novels

by K. T. Tomb

  She had spoken to no one since she’d heard the news two hours before. She’d gone into the fetal position almost immediately and was often so still that someone would lean over her just to be sure she was still breathing. Robert, no matter his attitude towards others, had always been kind to Valery, winning her heart from the start; and now he was gone.

  “Val? You want some coffee?” Julie asked, but Valery made no indication that she heard her friend’s words. “What about something to eat?”

  Again, no reply from the girl. Julie sighed and, giving up for now, joined Gerald and Sheila.

  “I know it’s not right, but I still think he probably deserved it.” He whispered so as not to let Valery hear his heinous words, but Sheila’s eyes were daggers digging into Gerald’s skull. “I said it’s not right! But you can’t argue that he always managed to find trouble. He probably started something and, this time, he lost.”

  Gerald shrugged, though anyone could see that he was bothered by it, even through his nonchalance. Julie leaned across the bar facing her friends.

  “Piers said he’s pretty certain that Bobby didn’t start anything.”

  She hugged her own coffee mug against her, feeling the heat penetrate her cold, clammy skin.

  “Look, I’m not saying he deserved the stabbing, but you know how hot he always ran. Always ready to explode or push someone near to their breaking point. Gerald is right on that point, at least.” Sheila looked as if she hadn’t slept all night. She held one of the coins from the thirty, playing with it between her fingers and, every few minutes or so she would stop to look at it, lost in her thoughts.

  Julie didn’t look so sure. She knew about Robert’s anger, she knew how easily it was triggered, but something in Piers face told her that something more had happened during the night.

  “I’m not convinced that he did start anything, this time,” she said.

  Sheila was lost in the reflection of the coin, as if it provided her some sort of solace to the events that were whirling around them, but Gerald looked up to her.

  “You’re not going to make this any easier on yourself by thinking that way.” He looked to her as a concerned friend. “And neither will he.”

  Gerald shrugged towards the bedroom door where Piers slept restlessly. He was sincere with his words, concerned that if Julie continued to believe that Robert hadn’t initiated the fight, she would overthink, overanalyze what had happened.

  “What’s done is done, and he’s gone because of it. There’s no point in worrying over why or how, because it won’t change anything.”

  Julie lowered her head, frustrated and tired.

  “I know it won’t, but Piers, my God, I wish you all could have seen him when he came in. He wasn’t just upset, it’s like he was scared; but not of the guy, not like the guy was going to come back for him or anything like that, but scared like something didn’t feel right.”

  She looked Gerald in the eyes. “It was like he was being hunted or something. Like he was being pulled at and he was or is fighting so hard against it.” She sighed heavily, feeling deflated. “I don’t know.”

  Gerald said nothing and Julie was silent for a long time. They each sipped their coffee while the random sob escaped Valery on the couch and Sheila continued her fascinated glares at the coin. With the sun peeking through the kitchen curtains, filling the room with streaks of yellow white, Gerald finally spoke.

  “He’s upset, Julie. It’s not like you see someone die every day. Not like you see someone brutally stabbed like that. I’m sure that he is just going through denial about what happened, trying to make sense of it and by believing that even the guy didn’t know what he was doing, maybe Piers could change things. I don’t know. I just think it’s shock, and later on today, after he’s gotten some rest, I think he’ll see things a bit more clearly.”

  Julie sighed against the counter, her back and legs beginning to hurt, either from the way she stood or from the exhaustion she was feeling. Maybe both.

  “I know, I just… I don’t know. He was so convinced, and maybe you’re right, but it’s so damned awful either way.” Her thoughts were disrupted by a scream coming from the couch. She, Gerald, and Sheila, finally breaking from her trance, dashed to Valery’s side.

  “Are you okay? What’s wrong? What happened?” Sheila asked frantically. “Val? What’s wrong baby?”

  Sheila sat beside the girl and pulled her into her lap, but Valery showed no signs of understanding.

  “Val? You need to answer me. I know you’re upset, but you can give me at least a nod so I know you’re okay and understand me.”

  Valery nodded.

  “It’ll be okay,” Sheila told the girl, though it seemed she spoke to the entire group. She opened her palm to the coin that was still pressed against her skin. “It’ll be okay. It will be over soon.”

  ***

  He looked odd without the golden, glowing tan that his skin usually held. His face was paler, sickly, even with the makeup applied by the mortician. His cheeks seemed hollowed, his mouth partially opened as though he were sleeping, but his chest did not rise and fall, his eyes did not twitch from his dreams, moist breath did not pass through his lips. Only Piers and Sheila had said their farewells personally and now he was beginning to regret that decision. Robert didn’t look, well, like Robert. He appeared helpless and weak, and that certainly wasn’t the Robert that they had all known and, to some extent, come to love. The Robert they had known just wasn’t here anymore.

  Piers sat in one of the furthest pews with Julie at his side. He’d come around to some degree and was almost back to his old self, but he swore that something hadn’t been right about their friend’s death; because of his doubts, because of his surety that there was more at play than what they saw, he was choosing to stay as far from the body as he could. Julie felt the same, as if Robert’s death was an omen, as if his misfortune would become theirs if they were to linger too closely. No, they would choose to keep their distance.

  Valery was seated in the first row of pews, almost close enough to reach out and touch the coffin, but she refused to stand, to see the man that she had loved, not as secretly as she would have hoped. Her eyes were dry, but she looked almost as disheveled as Mrs. Grindlay had when she had handed them the leather pouch of coins. Her heart was torn and crushed, and her friends were lost on what to do to ease her pain. There was nothing. Robert was dead and she had never felt more alone. Robert’s parents had given her the coin that Robert had slipped into his pocket before leaving that night. The night that he had died, the night that Piers had left him alone and let him die.

  What about me? she thought.

  She had been furious with him, even if for just a moment, when he had wanted to take the coins. And now, as she fumbled with the coin in her purse, all she could feel was sadness and regret. Pain that this was one of the last things he had ever touched. She was never giving it back. It was hers, her connection, her last connection to Robert, and she had no intention of ever letting it go.

  She pushed the wire rims up on her nose; Robert’s casket only feet away. It wasn’t fair. Why Robert? It could have been any of the others, it should have been Piers. She wanted to walk up to the wooden box, the lush velvet wrapped around the inside, giving Robert his final, eternal comfort. She wanted to shake him awake, pull him up and show the world that he could not be dead. Not Robert. Not her Robert. But she sat, still and calculating. It wasn’t fair. Sheila put a hand on her shoulder, but Valery did nothing to acknowledge the girl’s presence. To hell with Sheila, to hell with Gerald and Julie, and especially, to hell with Piers.

  The coin dug into her skin, but Valery squeezed it harder. It was one of the thirty, of that she was more than convinced now. She felt the power that it possessed coursing through her, giving her strength and helping her see things more clearly. If she willed it enough, if she prayed hard and long, perhaps the coin would give her the power to bring Robert back to her. She could feel Sheila and Gerald
behind her, concerned as they watched her. She didn’t care. They didn’t know, could never know. The coin with its softened edges seemed hot in her hand, almost burning with the memory of Robert’s last moments. She wanted to savor them, to taste them, to feel that moment as if she were Robert himself. Finally, she felt the tears streaming down her cheeks, but she made no move to wipe them away. Let them see, let them all see how broken she was. But she wasn’t broken, she was determined. She was sure that Judas’ coins would give her all the answers she needed.

  Gerald had stood next to her as they’d lowered Robert’s body into its resting place. It was so final, so disturbing to know that the man he had known would never be again. That all he was, was an empty shell, and that given enough time, his body would decay and rot, and even that shell would no longer exist. What was the purpose of this? The purpose of burying the body when the soul had already escaped, when the only outcome was that it would deteriorate and become a part of the earth around him. Why bother with the coffin as if it were to preserve the body? He thought the whole thing perverse, but still watched in wonder and sadness.

  He mumbled his own silent prayer, but Valery said nothing. Her body was stone, her face expressionless. None of them were taking this easily, but Valery, she was taking it the worst of them all. There was no sign of the sweet, quiet girl that he’d known for so many years. The woman that stood as a statue was cold and cruel. He’d tried to comfort her, but there was nothing to comfort. Her emotions were locked within and he could read nothing on her face. As the crowd dispersed, she made no movement to leave Robert’s side. He waited patiently as she only watched the grave, watched the hole where their friend laid, six feet down into the earth. She finally turned and began to slowly walk away. Gerald tried speaking to her one more time, to tear down the invisible barrier that she seemed to have put up between her and the world. Between her and reality. It was as if she was no longer living on this plane, but knew something or was experiencing something that the rest of them did not.

  “Val?” He gently grabbed her arm, holding her back and forcing her to face him. “Hey, I know this is hard, but you’ve got to talk to us. We are all going to get together tomorrow and I think you should be there. Maybe we can talk about these coins a little more, in memory of both Professor Grindlay and Robert. What do you say?”

  Valery’s eyes narrowed, cutting deeply into Gerald, but she said nothing, only jerking her arm from his grasp and pounding away from him. Sheila caught up to him just as Valery hopped into her car and tore from the parking lot.

  “What was that about?”

  Gerald sighed. “I asked her to join us tomorrow night. I thought it might be a good thing for us all to talk about something other than all of this death that seems to be surrounding us; that if we finished our project, figured everything out in honor of Grindlay, and even for Robert, that it might give us a bit of relief. Especially Val.” He shook his head sadly. “She wouldn’t even answer me. And when she looked at me before pulling away, it was full of hatred. She was full of hatred. Like I was the one that dug a knife into Bobby. Like I was the one that had taken his life.”

  Sheila looped an arm through Gerald’s as they walked to their own vehicles.

  “She’ll come around. She just mourns differently. And right now, she doesn’t know what to think. None of us do, though. Do we?”

  Chapter Two

  “Judas returned to his associates at the camp intoxicated with thoughts of grandeur and glory such as he had not had for many a day. He had enlisted with Jesus hoping some day to become a great man in the new kingdom. He at last realized that there was to be no new kingdom such as he had anticipated. But he rejoiced in being so sagacious as to trade off his disappointment in failing to achieve glory in an anticipated new kingdom for the immediate realization of honor and reward in the old order, which he now believed would survive, and which he was certain would destroy Jesus and all that he stood for. In its last motive of conscious intention, Judas's betrayal of Jesus was the cowardly act of a selfish deserter whose only thought was his own safety and glorification, no matter what might be the results of his conduct upon his Master and upon his former associates.” –The Urantia Book 177:4.9

  The café was crowded, but that was almost always the case on a college campus in the late afternoon. They were huddled over a small table, the hard plastic seats digging into their rears. Valery hadn’t shown, but no one had really expected that she would. She had answered no calls, no texts, and there wasn’t so much as a whisper of movement behind her dorm door when someone knocked. She was currently without a roommate, so the only way to force a response out of her was to alert campus authorities. But what were they going to say? That she’s in mourning and doesn’t want to talk to them? Make her come out of the room? No, they decided to let her run through her cycle however she needed, and if holing up for a few days, or even a week, was going to help, then so be it. She would have to come out eventually. Until then, they had her notes, along with the coin she had taken for her studies shoved inside the pages. The research that she had done was fascinating, especially when compared to Gerald’s findings.

  Gerald compared the notes and then went over them again. His tests had determined that the coins were over two thousand years old, just as Valery had thought, and her notes indicated that they did, indeed, come from Israel, though Gerald had had little doubt on that front. The bust that adorned the face of the coins was that of Melqart, Herakles, Baal or Beelzebu, depending on who you were at that time, wearing the laurel. On the back of the coin and circling the eagle, had been translated to read ‘Of Tyre the Holy city and city of refuge.’

  “Guys?” Gerald looked up from the notes as Sheila, Julie, and Piers patiently waited. “Well, there is nothing definitive here, but these coins were definitely in circulation around the time and place of Jesus’ crucifixion. These,” he motioned to the bag that was sealed tightly in the middle of the table, all of the coins, save the one that Valery held without their knowledge, were bound in the leather, “are Tyrian Shekels, which was the currency used at the time. Or rather, they were used as temple tax in late B.C. and early A.D. There are no documents, or none that Val could find or wrote about in her notes, which indicates exactly what currency was used to pay Judas for his betrayal, only that these are the most likely.”

  He paused for a moment to gauge their reactions. No one said a word, waiting for him to finish.

  “The last known location of the coins is when Judas tossed the coins back at the priests he had sold Jesus to. There have been theories and stories, but nothing concrete about where they went after that.”

  The group was silent for a moment, taking in the information, now most doubts being washed away in light of the evidence. Piers was the first to break the silence. He still didn’t look well; Robert’s death hung heavily on him, but he was coming around, slowly.

  “We can sit here and speculate one way or another, but what’s the reality? We have thirty coins, which are quite possibly the thirty coins. What are the chances of us finding exactly thirty of these coins? I don’t know how they got here, halfway across the world, but I imagine they were never truly lost. Not until they were locked in that tomb, anyhow. They are icons, symbols of the time of Jesus Christ. Not just of the time, but of Jesus himself. Who was going to just bury them and let them be forgotten?”

  “I have something to add to all of this,” Julie said suddenly as she slapped a small, red notebook onto the table, rattling the coin pouch. “I did a bit of my own research over the last couple of days.”

  Piers looked at his fiancée incredulously and asked, “When did you do this?”

  Julie shrugged.

  “You’ve been pretty upset, Babe. I had to do something to keep myself busy. And besides, you know how I like this kind of stuff.”

  “What stuff?” asked Sheila, as Julie began flipping through the lined pages scribbled with notes.

  “This stuff. Piers,” she looked to him now,
“was pretty freaked out about Bobby’s death. He said it didn’t feel right, that something was off.”

  She shook her head, her brown curls dancing around her thin face

  “Anyway, the only thing I could think of was these damned coins. And damned they are,” she stated and gave the bag a sideways glance as she plowed through her research. “Based on the theory that these were once the coins that paid for Jesus’ betrayal, I decided to do a bit of my own research. Okay, so we all know about Judas, we know about the coins and how they were thrown back at the priests. But what’s the story with the coins themselves? Why these coins? And what happened to Judas?”

  “The coins were lost,” Sheila interjected. “Gerald just pointed that out. And Judas hung himself when he realized the consequences of his actions and that it had cost Jesus his life.” She looked about the group. “We all knew that already.”

  Her tone was more than teasing. It was more of a scoff. Gerald came to Julie’s rescue.

  “I think she means what happened to him before he hung himself. What happened to his mental state.” He glanced at Julie for confirmation and she nodded. “But what have the coins got to do with it; other than being the symbol of the betrayal that they are already known for?”