TREASURE KILLS (Legends of Tsalagee Book 1)

by Phil Truman

  When the lid popped off, they saw a piece of paper inside, yellowed with age, tied with twine to a rock. Artie took out the rock and untied the twine. He had to be careful not to let the brittle paper crumble in his hands. On it, written in a neat script, he read the words:

  You won’t find no treyshure here. You better leve while you can. Ned S.

  Artie started laughing and shaking his head.

  “What does it mean?” Galynn asked.

  “It means Buck and his granddaddy, old Ned Starr, pulled a fast one on us. Ned must’ve known about this all along, and he either got the treasure for himself, or he replaced the alleged map with this note. I’m guessing he probably destroyed the map so no one else would find the treasure’s location. It’s either still out there somewhere, or Ned found it and took it.”

  * * *

  When Soc released the low hanging branch of the hickory tree, it whipped back and knocked Hayward’s camo cap off.

  “Hey!” Hayward yelped. He bent to retrieve his cap. “You forget I’m back here?”

  “Nope,” Soc replied. He forged on ahead through the dense woods. “Maybe you shouldn’t follow so close,” he said.

  “You sure you know how to find this place?” Hayward asked. He sounded a little winded; his voice strained with exertion.

  Soc didn’t answer. He stepped over a lichen covered boulder jutting from the leaf buried ground, and grabbed the trunk of a hickory sapling as he started down an incline. After another fifty yards of descending through the brush and dense woods, he stopped. Beyond him, through another ten yards of trees and brush, a thirty-yard wide horseshoe of indigo water gurgled and swirled past them. Ahead of that, on the other side of the wide stream of water, then in full view through the bare and partially leaf-covered limbs of oak, hickory, and sycamore trees, a broad bluish-gray bluff soared one hundred feet above the river.

  Hayward came wheezing and panting up to where Soc had stopped. “Well, I’ll be. I guess you did remember.” He looked around some more, peering up and down the river. “I’ve lived around here all my life, but I don’t recall this place.” Hayward looked up at the cliff face, scanning it. “I still don’t see no cave,” he said.

  “You won’t from here. Look for the Hill Man drawing.”

  Hayward squinted and looked some more. “Don’t see that, neither.”

  Soc extended his arm and pointed. “Stand behind me, and follow my point,” he said.

  Hayward complied. “Nope, still don’t... wait a sec... yeah, now I see it. It’s bigger than I thought it’d be.”

  “The cave entrance is just to the right of its left hand,” Soc said.

  “Still don’t see that,” Hayward said.

  “Couple of big boulders sticking out. See those?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “It’s right behind those.”

  “How do you know those guys are going to show up?”

  “Don’t,” Soc said. “Just hoping we’d get lucky.”

  “Maybe they’ve already come and gone,” Hayward said.

  “Could be. We’ll give it a couple hours. See if they show up.”

  “But I still don’t see how we’re going to catch ’em. Seems to me we should be over there on top of that bluff to do that.”

  “No, we’re right where we need to be.”

  “Well, now what?” Hayward asked.

  “We wait,” Soc Answered.

  Hayward sat on the sloping ground with his back against a sycamore. He’d just started to doze when he heard Soc say quietly, “Bingo.” Hayward opened his eyes and looked up. He could see two figures at the top of the bluff walking back and forth looking down as if searching.

  “They’re looking for the ledge,” Soc said. “If they’re smart enough to find it, we’ll wait ’til they follow it down to the cave.”

  “And then do what?” Hayward asked as he watched.

  Soc only laughed softly in reply.

  The two did find the path and the big one started down it; the little one followed reluctantly a couple of minutes later. When they reached the boulders and disappeared behind them, Soc stood, cupped his hands on either side of his mouth with his fingertips meeting at the bridge of his nose, and let out a slow, mournful sound twice. “Whooooo-ump. Whooooooo-ump,” he bellowed.

  The call echoed through the hills and woods. After Soc’s initial uttering all the bird noises in the forest stopped. Even the chitter of squirrels ceased. Only the soft gurgling of the river and the swish of the light wind through the autumn colored trees could be heard. After a fifteen second wait, Soc repeated the sounding, and then waited.

  From an indeterminate distance, Soc and Hayward heard a return call, only in a deeper bass and ending with an inflection like a question. Soc cupped his hands again and answered. Then he turned to look at an amazed and somewhat apprehensive looking Hayward, and nodded with a satisfied smile.

  * * *

  “I ain’t going down that,” Threebuck said. He stood with his arms wrapped tightly around the six-inch trunk of a maple tree looking out over the precipice of the cliff edge. Randy had already started down the ledge. Visible to Threebuck only from the waist up, he looked back at him.

  “Now what’s your problem?” Randy asked impatiently.

  “Afraid of heights,” Threebuck said, still securing himself tightly to the tree and looking a little pale.

  “I thought it was water you was afraid of,” Randy said.

  “There’s that, too,” said Threebuck.

  Randy shook his head. “You ain’t nothing but a tree-hugging sissy. Did that kick in the nuts have that much effect on you? C-mon, be a man.”

  Threebuck changed expressions, but he didn’t loosen his grip on the tree.

  “Awright,” Randy said with a sigh. “But if you don’t come with me, I get to keep everything I find down there.” He turned to continue on down the ledge.

  Threebuck gave Randy’s words ten full seconds of careful thought. “Hang on,” he said. His voice cracked, and he didn’t say it with much enthusiasm. He turned loose of the tree and crawled on his hands and knees down the sloping edge of the cliff top until he got to where the ledge started. He stood to begin inching down, allowing no daylight to pass between his front and the cliff face.

  Near the boulders that marked the cave entrance, Randy turned to Threebuck and gestured for him to be quiet. “Someone’s in there,” he whispered, pointing to the cave entrance.

  They mounted onto the porch and stepped through the maw of the cave opening. Two people, a man and a woman, their backs to Randy and Threebuck, were off to one side near the back of the cave. They were searching through some stuff back there, talking quietly.

  “Appears to me you two are in the wrong place at the wrong time,” Randy said loud and clear. The woman let out a startled yelp and jumped a foot. The man jumped, too; spinning around to throw the bright lantern beam onto them.

  Artie immediately recognized the two men in the beam of the lantern as the two who had run by him the previous night in the pasture—the killers of his Uncle Buck. He pushed Galynn behind him protectively, and said, “If you’ve come looking for treasure it ain’t here.”

  “Is that right,” Randy said. “Then maybe you can tell us where it is. There’s supposed to be a map in here. I’m thinking you probably already found that.”

  “All we found was this,” Artie said. He tossed Randy the rusty metal box.

  Randy turned the box over looking at it, and then opened the lid. He took out the old note, and read it. Threebuck looked over Randy’s shoulder, also reading.

  “I’m supposed to believe this note?” Randy said. “Maybe you took the map and put this note in here in case anyone else came along, like us. Only you didn’t figure we’d show up same time as you.”

  “There’s no map,” Artie said. “That’s all we found.”

  Red Randy, looming over Artie, calmly put the note back in the box, and closed the lid. Then he reached out and grabbed Artie
by the shirtfront slapping him across the face with the metal box. Artie fell backward and sideways into a heap.

  “Gimme that map, white boy, or I’m going to throw you and your bitch head first out this cave. She goes first,” Red Randy said. Threebuck giggled hysterically and danced back and forth.

  “You leave him alone, you big jerk!” Galynn said. She charged Red Randy and started slugging him in the face and chest. Randy slapped her with the palm of his left hand and shoved her away. Her back hit the wall hard and she slid butt-first to the floor, the breath knocked out of her.

  Artie, still a little stunned, reached behind him and grabbed the baseball bat leaning against the wall. He flipped it to get a hold of the handle end, then swung it from his supine position. He wanted to hit the big one in the knees, and then get up and pound them both, but the barrel of the bat connected first with the back of the littler one’s left knee. The blow caused the guy to holler in pain, and buckle to the ground, but the big one turned and kicked Artie in the ribs. Then he did it again.

  “Okay, then,” Randy said standing over the gasping Artie. “We’ll go ahead and get rid of your woman.” He walked over to where Galynn still sat straddle-legged, her back against the cave wall trying to get her breath. He grabbed her by the hair and one of her arms; and, despite her kicking and fighting, started dragging her toward the bright oval of the cave entrance.

  “Wait!” Artie gasped. “I’ll tell you where the map is. Just let her go.”

  Randy, still holding Galynn by the hair, turned to look at Artie.

  “Let her go first,” Artie said.

  Randy thought a minute, then complied, but not before shoving Galynn forcefully to the side with his foot. Galynn crawled to a dark corner of the cave and curled up against the wall, still struggling for breath.

  “It’s in that big jar at the back of the cave,” Artie said.

  Randy went over and picked up the lantern Artie had dropped. He scanned the cave walls until the beam came to rest on the four-foot earthen jar. He walked over to it and removed the lid.

  Threebuck still sat on the floor of the cave holding his knee, swearing and moaning. Artie crawled back toward the collection of things against the wall, searching in the dim light for the pistol he had seen.

  “What the hell is this?” Randy asked as he shone the lantern into the jar. Seething anger rumbled in his voice. He reached down and stuck his forefinger into the substance in the jar, and raised it up under his nose.

  “Hooey!” he said, and shuddered.

  A roar arose in the cave like the simultaneous snarl of an angry lion and the shriek of a livid chimpanzee. The rock walls reverberated with the sound.

  Randy only had time to look up toward the sound and feel his heart stop before a large hairy hand the size of his head grabbed him by the neck, and another encircle his left thigh. He found himself sailing out of the cave into the bright autumn afternoon air, just barely clearing the porch boulders. When gravity overcame his vertical velocity, he had enough time to expel a scream of his own as he tumbled, arms and legs flailing, earthward. He hit, not at the craggy bottom of the bluff, but with an enormous splash in the deep pool of water at that place on the Illinois River once known as Bear Foot Bend.

  The creature, after disposing of Red Randy, stood looking about the cave breathing hard, more in anger than from exertion. He spotted three others spread out on the floor in different areas of the cave, but turned to go to the terra cotta jar first, finding it remained safe.

  Threebuck quit moaning when he saw the large creature come into the cave, but he continued swearing, more in terror than pain. “Sumbitch! Sumbitch! Sumbitch!” he yelled over and over, but the creature’s enraged sound drowned him out. Threebuck quit yelling that one word as he watched it heave Randy out of the cave.

  Threebuck didn’t hesitate making his getaway when the creature went to the back of the cave. He had enough adrenaline pumping through his veins by then to overcome the pain from the blow to his knee. Threebuck scrambled to the porch and down onto the ledge, heading up the narrow and precipitous path, heedless of the dizzying drop-off inches to his left.

  The creature looked up to watch Threebuck scramble out of the cave. He let out another angry growl and lumbered toward the cave opening. By the time he swung out onto the porch and looked up, Threebuck had made it almost three-quarters of the way to the top. The Hill Man snorted, and started up the ledge after him.

  “Artie, are you okay?” Galynn asked. She could barely see him in the dim light across the cave.

  Artie coughed, and sat up with his back against the wall. “Yeah, I think so,” he replied. “What about you?”

  “Yeah.” She rubbed the side of her face.

  “Still trying to come to my rescue, I see,” Artie said.

  “Uh-huh, but he was bigger than Jimmy Mack.”

  “I think we need to get the hell out of here, before that big thing comes back,” Artie said.

  “Was that a bear?”

  “Don’t think so,” Artie answered with a grimace when he stood up.

  * * *

  Hayward and Soc watched as the big tawny-colored creature appeared out of the woods at the top of the bluff, and swung with amazing agility down the narrow ledge to the cave entrance.

  “Well, I’ll be damned,” Hayward said with obvious awe in his voice. “Is that...?”

  “Yep,” Soc said. “Probably the same one you saw last night.”

  “You mean there’s more than one?” asked Hayward.

  Soc just shrugged.

  “Well, I’ll be damned,” Hayward said again.

  “This ought to be good,” Soc said as the Hill Man entered the cave.

  From their spot on the opposite bank of the river and below the cliff, the two men heard a horrific yowl. Five seconds after that, a man—a large man—flew out of the cave entrance. He seemed to pause like a diver at the apex of his spring, and then fell screaming and flailing toward the river. Soc recognized the man as the one called Red Randy. He hit the water spouting up a ten-foot geyser and sending a foot-tall tsunami surging against the shore nearest them.

  They waited for the man to bob to the surface, and when he did—face down—they moved toward the river to pull him out before he floated down stream. At the shore, Soc found a six-foot fallen limb with the stub of a branch at one end, and used it to hook under Randy’s t-shirt and guide him ashore. Once they got him aground and turned him over, Soc checked him for signs of life. Almost immediately Randy coughed up water, and moaned.

  “Guess he’s still alive, but he looks pretty busted up,” Soc said. “Now all we got to do is get him to the sheriff, somehow.”

  “I don’t think we can carry him,” Hayward said.

  Soc stood to look around when his gaze crossed the cliff face. “Look,” he said, and pointed. There, the man called Threebuck scrambled frantically up the ledge toward the top. Below him, near the cave entrance, the creature they called the Hill Man swung along the cliff face in pursuit.

  “I doubt he’ll get far,” Soc offered.

  Soc turned again to their captive. He slapped him a couple times on the face. “Hey! Can you hear me?” he asked Randy.

  Randy coughed again and nodded.

  “Think you can you stand up?” Soc asked.

  Randy shook his head. “Leg’s busted,” he said. Then added, “Can’t move my arms... neck hurts.”

  “Well, son, don’t know how we’re going to get you out of here,” Hayward said. “We may have to leave you to go get some rescue.” He looked at the sky. “It’s gonna be dark pretty soon.”

  “Don’t leave me,” Randy said. His eyes widened in fright.

  “Look at that!” Soc said. He sounded surprised. “Artie and Galynn are coming out of that cave, too.”

  “Well, I’ll be... Hey, Artie! Artie! Over here!” Hayward hollered. He stepped out into the river a little so he could be seen, and waved his arms over his head.

  Artie and Galynn looked
down trying to locate the source of the voice. When Artie spotted Hayward and Soc he shouted back, “Hayward? Soc? What the hell are you guys doing out here?!”

  “Might ask you the same!” Hayward yelled. “You guys awright?” He added.

  “Yeah, we’re okay. Who’s that on the bank?”

  “It’s the fella got tossed out of the cave up there. Hey, you got a cell phone on ya?”

  “Yeah,” Galynn shouted back.

  “When you get to the top of the bluff, see if you can call out. Try to get a hold of the sheriff. We’re going to need some rescue down here for this guy.”

  * * *

  Although Sunny had fallen all over Gale with affection and high regard for rescuing her from those killers on Halloween night, within six days they were on the outs again.

  Somehow, Sunny thought, even after they’d experienced all that gunfire, violence, and confusion, Gale had snuck back into her cellar that night and took her terra cotta jar of kimchi. Again! At first she’d laughed it off, because he had, after all, saved her life; but as the days wore on the humor of it began to whither.

  “Okay, Gale, you’ve had your joke,” she said to him. “Now bring back my jar of kimchi. Enough is enough.”

  He’d come over for dinner, and had planned to stay the night.

  “For the last time, I ain’t got your jar, Sunny,” he said, his patience wearing thin. “I told you, White told me he seen the Hill Man take it that night. I don’t know why you won’t believe me on this.”

  “Because you—and White—would like nothing better than for me to believe you. Then you two... boys could continue to play your juvenile games. There is no Hill Man, Gale. Never has been, never will be. It’s all a myth, a story to scare small children on Halloween night... and a few grown men with moronic IQ’s.”

  “Woman, I don’t understand you at all.” Punch got up off Sunny’s sofa and put on his down vest and corduroy cap. He fished his truck keys out of his jeans pocket. “You believe in magical genomes and fairies and them spirits all over ever thing, even rocks, but you won’t never believe the Hill Man is real even when he has tromped around in your own back yard and stood right next to you. I swear to God you are one hard-headed woman.”