by D. B. Magee
“I told you that you probably wouldn’t. Now, come on, give me a hand. We need to move some computer equipment down to the cave and set it up for the FG network.”
Ryan, disheartened, abandoned his quest for riches and stood up, straightened his cowboy hat, and gestured toward the door. “All right,” he said, “let’s go.”
As the boys sauntered into Stacy’s room, the girls were working fervently at two separate computers. Stacy was hunched over a laptop, inspecting lines of programming code, while Lisa busied herself, one-hand, on the desktop computer with the text portion of the website.
Ryan followed William to the end of the bed where Stacy had stacked most of the equipment to be taken to the cave. Among the items were the spare laptop and power cable, the Frequency Glasses in their case, Ryan’s fabricated mounting bracket, and William’s modified cable, complete with couplings.
“William,” Stacy said, having a sudden thought, “there are three repeaters in the closet. Take two of them with you. Set one up in the attic and the other in the cave. We’re probably going to need them to extend the Wi-Fi signal.”
“You might as well take the journals back down, also,” Lisa recommended.
William retrieved the electronic devices from among the stacks of computer equipment in Stacy’s closet. Then, commandeering an empty box from the closet shelf, he inserted the repeaters and added the equipment from the bed.
Filling the rest of the box with the journals, Ryan then lifted it to his waist. “Ready?” he said to William.
“Yup,” William said. “But—should I get a rope to lower the box down?”
“Nah, I can handle it.”
With his hands in his pockets William whistled to himself while he and Ryan set off once again for Tree Root Cavern.
Reaching the pruning platform, Ryan set the box down and descended the first few rungs. Halting momentarily, he hoisted the box to his shoulder and continued slowly, rung by creaky rung, into the dark and dingy hollow. About a minute later, he reached the bottom.
“Come-on Willy,” he hollered. “I’m down.”
“I’m right here,” William said, just two rungs above Ryan.
Tilting his head to see around the box, Ryan looked up. “Oh, I didn’t see ya there.” Entering the cavern, he deposited the box on the settee and switched on the light.
William followed a few paces behind, dry-spitting the stale, earthy-tasting air from his mouth.
Ryan poked a thumb toward the safe. “Do you remember the combo?”
“Hold on, I have it in my pocket.” William dug out a folded piece of paper and handed it to Ryan, who read the numbers, dropped to his knees and began spinning the rings.
William watched Ryan for a moment, and then turned his attention to the box. “Now that we’re going to use this place,” he said, removing the journals, “maybe we should decorate a little.” Holding the stack of books, he considered placing them on the shelf above the settee, thinking they might provide a good look to the cave—“like a little library,” he murmured to himself. Ultimately, though, he decided against it, due to the moisture in the air, and resigned himself to place them back into the safety of the safe from whence they had come.
“What’d ya have in mind?” Ryan muttered; his attention still on the proper placement of the rings.
“Well for starters, I thought that thing might look good hanging down here,” William said, indicating the ship’s wheel that sat in the dirt against the far wall.
“That’s a great idea, Willy.” Ryan stood up and hit the UP button. The safe came to life and began to rise. “Tell ya what, you start setting up this computer stuff, and I’ll go look for a hammer and nail.”
William set the laptop in the opened safe and plugged it in. “There’s a toolbox in the laundry room,” he said. “You should be able to find what you need there.”
Striking out in the scrapyard, Bubba leaned against the trunk of the car, playing with an orange-and-black monarch butterfly that had landed on his arm, while Mr. Smith scanned the area.
“The children are all inside now, just where I want them, and I don’t see anyone else around,” Mr. Smith said. “It’s time we have a look in that attic.” He turned to Bubba. “Quit playing with bugs, you nincompoop!” He slapped the butterfly off Bubba’s arm. It landed on the ground, flittering. “Come! Let us introduce ourselves.”
“I’m back,” Ryan said, entering the cave.
William looked over his shoulder. “Good! I’m almost done.”
“I reckon these ought to do it.” Ryan displayed a couple of twelve-inch-long, galvanized, spike nails. “I had to go to Mr. Walborg’s shop to find them, though. I reckon he won’t mind.”
While Ryan spoke, William finished connecting the cabling to the boom arm speakers and the portable computer. Then, after positioning the Frequency Glasses into their support bracket, which was fitted along the top edge of the laptop’s screen, he powered up the system. “There!” he announced triumphantly. “It’s ready for the girls.” He then carefully pushed the fragile computer system further into the safe for protection.
“Where do you think we should hang it?” Ryan said, after retrieving the ship’s wheel from the floor.
William took a moment to glance around the bumpy and pitted walls of the cavern. “On that wall, I think,” he said, pointing behind the safe. “That way, it will be seen upon entering.”
“Okay, hold it up to where you think it should go, and I’ll nail ‘er in place.” Ryan handed William the wheel.
William, grunting under the weight of the wheel, lifted and held the artifact in place, while Ryan banged in the first spike. As Ryan started to drive in the second one, his hammer missed its mark and thudded against the wheel, knocking the golden metal disk loose. It hit the ground with a heavy thump!
“What was that?” Ryan said, glancing down. “Did I break something?”
“Nah,” William replied. “You just knocked the cap loose, is all.”
Ryan finished driving in the last nail and moved back to admire his handiwork. “There! What do ya think?”
Absently, William bent down and scooped up what was really more of a slug than a cap, and stepped back beside Ryan. “I like it,” he admitted. “A few more nautical relics and we’ll have this place looking like a pirate’s den.”
Far off in the lower levels of the spirit realm, Captain Blood companied with his crew and some local wenches, singing and dancing to their favorite sea shanty. His grog of blood rum splashed over the rim of his cracked mug, and his beaded dreadlocks flailed about his face as he hopped and jigged. The wooden slats of the ship’s floor creaked and groaned under the merrymaking. In a corner of the cargo hold, the musicians played their squeeze boxes and braginhos, while clapping and stomping to the sea shanty’s lyrics:
“Avast ye! Ye bilge-sucking pigs
Listen up whilst we sing ye
this jig . . .
We aargh pirates
And pirates we’ll be
We plunder and pillage
The seven seas
We sail by ship
To hornswoggle others
Then scour its crew
Enlisting its brothers
We take yur booty
And even yur wenches
We’ll take them from
Yur dying clenches
Sooo . . .
Surrender yur treasure
Or be run thru
‘cause we’ll spill yur blood
To make our brew
Then off we’ll be
Back to the sea
In search of more bounty
Fer pirates are we!”
Laughing, cursing, and the slamming of mugs echoed far across the rocky peninsula. Then, in the midst of it all, everyone simultaneously broke into chorus:
“Heave ho into the fog
Give us a mug of blood rum grog
Mean and fierce it’ll make us be
So we can conquer this blessed se
a.”
Suddenly, Captain Blood clutched his chest. “Argh!” he cried, wincing at the stabbing pain through his heart. “Me map!” He slammed his mug down, sloshing the blood ale about, and shot out through the ceiling of the schooner’s belly.
“Hand me that, Willy, and I’ll tap ‘er back in,” Ryan said, waggling the hammer.
William looked down at the hub’s cap in his hand, and wiped the dirt from its surface. It was then that he made a surprising discovery. “Hey, there’s something written on the back of this,” he remarked.
“What’s it say?”
William removed his glasses, pulled the disk up close to his face and squinted. “I can’t quite make it out, but it looks like numbers. Here you take a look.” He handed the disk to Ryan, who bounced the solid slug in his hand, feeling its weight.
“Willy,” Ryan said, “I think Stacy was right. I think this is gold. And — it looks more like a coin or medallion than a hubcap.”
“That must’ve been why it was in the safe, then,” William said, wiping the lenses of his glasses with his shirttail — a constant task in the dusty environment of the San Joaquin Valley. “Though, it makes no sense to me why they put the whole ship’s wheel in there.”
Ryan carried the golden slug closer to the light and held it out. Scratched in its back side was an inscription that read: Blood Island: 24-34-45 N lat / 81-38-33 W long ‘X’ marks the spot at 2-6 & 8-3. He frowned. “What in tarnation does all that mean?”
“Well,” William said, holding up his index finger, “the first part sounds like map coordinates.”
“Yee haw!” Ryan thundered. “I knew it was a treasure map. Now we’re getting somewhere.”
“Not so fast,” William warned. “We still need to figure out the rest of it.”
Just then, from the bowels of the dark realm, Captain Blood, with a look of evil vengeance on his face, tore through space, through Earth’s atmosphere, through the ground, and finally across the small subterranean cavern, all in the matter of a split second.
“Curses, ye fool-headed lad! It’ll be Davy Jones’ locker wi’ ye, this time!”
At that same instant, a blast of wind quickly blew past Ryan’s hands, as the invisible Captain Blood grabbed for the encrypted medallion.
Feeling the swift breeze, Ryan glanced about with a start. Then, figuring it was just another gust from above, he shrugged it off and returned to the enigma at hand. “I think ‘X’ is supposed to be the location of the treasure!”
“That’s obvious,” William stated matter-of-factly. “What’s not,” he tapped his finger on the second part of the cipher, “are these numbers.”
Still holding the metal map, Ryan turned to the wall-mounted wheel in hopes of discovering some additional clues, while unbeknownst to him, Captain Blood stood beside him, unwavering in his attempt at reclaiming his property.
Desperately, the ghostly pirate swiped both hands in rapid succession at the glittering hubcap. “Those numbers be none of yur blasted concern!” he bellowed. Finally, mustering up all the emotion and strength he could, he swept quickly upward at Ryan’s hands, causing them to jerk. The gold slug sailed upward, flipped in the air, and landed with a splat in the damp earth.
William peered curiously at Ryan.
“Why’d ya do that?” Ryan asked, scowling.
William eyes seem twice their normal size as he stared, defensively, through his glasses. “Do what?”
“Hit my hand.”
“I didn’t hit your hand.”
“Well, somebody hit my . . .”
“Are you guys down there?” Stacy’s voice echoed from above.
“Yeah! Come on down!” William answered.
Knowing that he and William were about to be interrupted, Ryan decided to temporarily break from the Blood Island mystery, in order that he might provide assistance to the girls’ more noble task. He returned the hubcap to the ship’s wheel and tapped it in place with the rubber handle of the hammer.
“The hardware is all set up,” William told Stacy as she entered.
“Great! The website’s ready also.” Stacy approached the open Cryptex and inspected the FG computer. “Now all I have to do is write a small program to send the signals from the Frequency Glasses to the website.” She pulled some notes from her pocket and began tapping away at the laptop’s keyboard.
Ryan finished replacing the hubcap, just as Lisa stepped from the ladder and hurried in.
“Hey! There’s someone here!” she said, anxiously. “I saw a strange car parked by the scrapyard.”
The Intruders
Using his walking stick, Mr. Smith hobbled to the gate in the white picket fence. Coming up behind him Bubba swayed like a Weebles Wobble toy.
“Hurry up!” Mr. Smith commanded. “This gate isn’t going to open itself.”
Bubba hustled to catch up. “You want me to go first, boss, just in case?”
“In case of what? You ninny! They’re a bunch of kids.” Pushing past his hired hand, Mr. Smith reached the front door and pressed the button. The doorbell rang. He straightened his tie while he waited for an answer, but none came. He rang it again, nothing. “Look in the window, you buffoon. Do I have to tell you everything?”
Bubba cupped his eyes with his hands and peeked in through the living room window, while Mr. Smith looked in through the window on the opposite side of the door. Seeing no signs of the children, Mr. Smith tried the knob. Finding it unlocked, he slowly pushed the door open with his cane. Smoothly and quietly, it swung inward. He entered.
“Are we going in, Boss?” Bubba whispered.
“How else are we supposed to get a look at that attic?” Mr. Smith croaked. “Now, get in here and keep watch!”
Upstairs, Ryan was just coming down from the attic when he heard what sounded like someone bumping into a kitchen chair downstairs. It made a short, dragging sound on the hardwood floor.
“Oops!” Bubba whispered.
Mr. Smith scowled.
Ryan paused.
“What’s wrong?” William asked, squatting on the steps behind Ryan.
Ryan put a finger to his lips. “Shh!” he whispered. “It sounds like someone’s in the house. Stay here, I’ll take a gander.” He quietly moved down the last few steps and tip-toed his way across the carpeted hallway and through the spacious game room. Peering over the railing of the stairway to the secondary landing, he listened.
Hearing shuffling sounds downstairs in the living room, he considered making for the phone in the game room, but rethought this strategy when he heard the intruders coming his way. He hastily moved back to William, who was now waiting at the bottom of the attic’s pull-down ladder.
Ryan pointed sharply upward. “Go! They’re coming.”
William snapped a one-eighty and rushed up the creaky wooden steps.
Ryan was right behind, his hand on William’s backside pushing him up and into the attic, where they both toppled onto the wooden floor. Panting, they quickly joined forces and pulled the hinged ladder up behind them, and listened.
William’s heart raced as he gazed anxiously at his friend. “Who are they?”
Ryan shrugged. “I don’t know. But I don’t reckon we oughta stick around to find out. Come on.” He pulled his cowboy hat down tighter on his head and hopped to his feet. “Let’s see if we can find something to cover that window, so they don’t see the gangplank, just in case they get this far.”
Peering through the beam of light coming in from the open window, the boys scanned the dingy, semi-cluttered space, looking for something large enough for their purpose. Ryan eventually spotted a dusty, old, fold-up Ping-Pong table, shoved up against a far wall, surrounded by stacks of boxes. “Willy,” he said, approaching the table. “Give me a hand with this, will ya?”
Treading across the arid room, Williams’s nostrils filled with thick dust particles, forcing him to breathe through his mouth. He grimaced as he rubbed his tongue against his teeth and tasted the layer of grime that wa
s forming. “It’s nasty in here,” he griped. “Let’s hurry this up!”
“Keep your shirt on pard, and keep it down,” Ryan whispered. “We don’t want them to hear us.” He pointed to a small stack of odds and ends blocking their path. “Move those out of the way, Willy, while I take care of the rest of this stuff.”
Ryan and William spent the next three or four long minutes displacing boxes, bags and other miscellanea from in front of and around the Ping-Pong table, all the while listening carefully for the two prowlers.
“Okay,” Ryan said, taking hold of the back of the table, “now, grab that end and pull ‘er your way.”
William frowned at the thought of having to exert that much effort. At least it’s on wheels, he thought, grabbing the wobbly aluminum frame. He tugged. The wheels of the rickety structure squeaked as they began to roll.
“Quietly!” Ryan mouthed.
William glared indignantly at Ryan and jabbed a finger toward the noisy wheels.
“Okay, okay, just take it slow and easy and guide ‘er over yonder.” Ryan indicated the proper direction with a nod of his head.
“I know where to go!” William muttered tensely.
A moment later, from the floor below, they heard thrashing, and voices coming from the direction of the game room. They stopped moving.
William held his breath.
Ryan stared at the wall closest to the noise and turned an ear in its direction in order to hear better. His hand went up, indicating for William to hold fast. Motionless, he weighed the situation. If we move now, there’s a good chance they’ll hear us, he considered. But, if we try to wait it out we run the risk of being caught. His mind made up, he waited a few more seconds for just the right moment.
Thud! Crash!
“Now! Hurry,” Ryan whispered.
