by Phil Lollar
Milo, sitting behind the wheel, laid the dagger across his lap, still pointed at Emmy, who sat between him and Johnny. “Now, you both behave yourselves,” he said casually. “I’d hate for us to have an accident.”
Johnny looked for a way to escape, but tied together as he and Emmy were, with Milo holding the rope, he saw no way out. The kids were short enough that no one could see they were bound unless they looked directly inside the car. They all rode in silence.
The town hall was deserted, which it always was on Fridays. The clock gleamed in the late afternoon sun, and the tower looked positively monumental, casting a long shadow across Main Street.
They parked in back, slid out of the car, and made their way rapidly up the sloping parking lot to the rear entrance. Milo unlocked the door, and they all went inside. The thud of the shutting door echoed throughout the empty hall. Milo guided them to the door marked “Do Not Enter,” pulled out another key, and unlocked and opened it. On the other side stood an old, musty, wooden staircase that spiraled up the walls.
“Far as I know, nobody’s been up here in years,” Milo said, “so you might wanna watch your step. Some of the stair treads may be rotted out. You first, Sherlock.”
Johnny frowned at him and shook his head. “We can’t climb tied up this way,” he said.
Milo whipped the dagger under Johnny’s nose and then said, “Fine, I’ll cut you loose. Just don’t get any ideas.”
He sliced through their bonds, and they rubbed their wrists and felt the blood rush back into their fingers. Milo pointed the dagger at Johnny and then at the stairs. “After you,” he commanded.
Johnny started climbing, stepping on each tread as if it were made of eggshells. Emmy followed, and Milo brought up the rear. The stairs creaked with every step.
Though the tower itself seemed sturdy, it wasn’t insulated, and Johnny realized the thick boards that made up the exterior were the only things between them and the outside. Shafts of sunlight shot through tiny gaps between the boards on one side, making small pools of light on the steps and opposite walls. The afternoon breeze whistled through the gaps as well. Cobwebs were everywhere, and the bones of mice littered the steps.
“Hurry it up!” barked Milo.
Johnny gritted his teeth and quickened the pace. But about three quarters of the way up, he stepped on a tread and felt it crack. When Emmy stepped on it, it gave way, and her foot and leg slid through the hole. She lurched forward and screamed, “Johnny!”
He grabbed her arm and pulled her up, then felt more cracking beneath his feet. Milo pushed Emmy forward from behind, and they scrambled up a few more steps while Milo leapt over the demolished tread and scaled the cracking steps to join them. They could hear the pieces of the broken tread bang and clatter as they plummeted to the bottom of the tower.
“Are you all right?” Johnny asked Emmy.
She nodded, shaking. “My leg is scratched up, but I think I’m okay otherwise. Thanks for saving me.”
He squeezed her arm. Then he glared at Milo and shouted, “This isn’t safe! This whole thing could come crashing down!”
“Keep moving!” Milo roared back. “We’re almost there!”
Johnny grabbed Emmy’s hand and trudged upward.
At the top of the steps was a trapdoor. “No handle or latches,” Emmy muttered.
“On this side, at least,” Johnny replied. “Makes sense. You wouldn’t want to accidentally lock yourself in up there.”
“Stop gabbing and open it!” Milo ordered.
Johnny pushed, but it didn’t move. He then put his shoulder against it and heaved, and the door gave way. It wasn’t a door at all, just a thick, square board covering the opening. Johnny slid it aside and climbed the remaining steps into the clock room.
The room was basically a big, wooden box, about twelve feet long, wide, and tall. It was even mustier than the staircase. There were fewer shafts of light here, but more cobwebs and mice bones scattered about, and a few birds’ nests clung to the corners near the ceiling. The floor was covered with a thin layer of dust.
The back side of the clock face took up almost one whole wall, its mechanics silenced by neglect and corrosion. There were numbers and hash marks on the inside that matched the numbers and hash marks on the outside, but the inside numbers went counterclockwise, with 1, 2, 3, 4, and 5 going down the left side of the circle, 6 at the bottom, and 7, 8, 9, 10, and 11 going up the right side, with 12 at the top.
Johnny noticed what looked like a small door on the right side of the clock face, about halfway up, no doubt used for maintenance back when the clock was in use. A couple of thick, rusted iron bars leaned against the wall next to the clock.
As he took it all in, uneasiness welled up inside Johnny, and he knew why: The wood, mustiness, gloom, and boxy-ness evoked his familiar hatred of coffins. He felt the walls closing in on him. His hands grew clammy, his forehead began to sweat, and he shuddered. He closed his eyes and took in a deep breath, trying to calm himself, as Emmy and Milo climbed through the hatch.
“Johnny?” Emmy said softly, laying a hand gently on his arm. “Are you all right?”
The breath and her touch worked, at least temporarily. He opened his eyes, nodded, and gave her a small smile. He took in another breath and noticed something peculiar at the top of the clock.
Before he could check it out, however, Milo grabbed him by the shoulder hard and spun him around. “So, where is it?” he demanded.
“Easy, Skeezix!” Johnny replied. “Did you think it was just gonna be lying on the floor? Old Huck hid it!”
“All right,” snapped Milo. “Where?”
“Think!” Johnny said. “It can’t be in the floor, because we’ve seen under it and know there’s no room there. Same with the walls—they’re only board-thick. So that leaves just one other place ...”
“The ceiling!” Milo said, looking up. “It’s twice my height! How am I supposed to get it?”
Johnny shrugged. “Beats me. Maybe you should go get a ladder.”
“Graaah!” Milo shoved Emmy to the floor savagely and grabbed Johnny by the collar, lifting him up on his tiptoes. “You think you’re so smart, don’t you, you little brat!” As Milo spoke, spittle flew from his lips. “Smarter than everybody else in the world!”
“No,” Johnny grunted, “just smarter than you.”
“Yeah? Well, we’ll see how smart you are when I shove this blade in your—”
“Aarrrr—uuh!” Emmy screamed as she swung one of the metal bars in a roundhouse blow that caught Milo squarely in the kidneys.
“Unnhhh!” Milo jerked back, letting go of Johnny, who fell to the floor.
Emmy swung again, knocking the dagger from Milo’s hand. It flew like a rocket and stuck in the wall opposite the clock.
Emmy swung a third time, and this blow glanced off Milo’s shoulder and banged against his head above his ear. Milo staggered back, dazed. He tried to right himself, stumbled sideways, and tumbled through the hatch.
Emmy dropped the iron bar, and she and Johnny scrambled to the opening. Milo toppled down the stairs and then hit the cracked treads, which gave way and sent him plummeting down to the next level. “Aaaaaahhhh—ooof!” He rolled down several more steps, caromed off the wall, and then slid, head first, a few more steps, finally coming to a stop against a framing beam about halfway down. He didn’t move.
Emmy was horrified. “I didn’t mean for him to fall!” she sobbed. “I killed him!”
Johnny grabbed her by the shoulders and said, “You saved us!”
They heard the door at the bottom of the tower bust open. “Sheriff’s Department!” a familiar voice echoed up the tower.
“Deputy Miller!” Johnny yelled.
“Johnny?” came the reply. “Is that you?”
“Yes, sir! And Emmy Capello! We can’t get down. There’s a gap in the stairs.”
“You both just stay put!” Miller hollered.
“That man is Milo Knox!” bawled Emmy. �
��He tried to kill us!”
They heard the deputy’s footfalls on the steps. “I know all about it! I found Wilson and Arty!”
“Is ... is Milo ... d-dead?”
There was a pause. Emmy sniffled softly.
At last, Miller’s voice floated up to them. “No, but he’s pretty banged up.”
Emmy sighed with relief, collapsed onto Johnny’s shoulder, and cried harder than ever.
“Listen,” Miller called, “we’re gonna have to get him outta here and then figure out a way to get you two down. So just sit tight! Help is coming!”
Johnny and Emmy scooted back from the hatch. “‘Sit tight,’ he says,” Emmy muttered, still sniffling. “Like we could go anywhere. What else are we gonna do?”
Johnny rose and took a breath. “Get the gold,” he answered.
Emmy blinked. “The gold! I forgot all about it! But how are we gonna get it down from the ceiling?”
“We aren’t.” He turned and started examining the clock wall.
Emmy jumped up. “What? After all this? Why not?”
“It’s not in the ceiling.”
Emmy stuttered, “B-but you solved the riddle!”
Johnny looked up to the top of the clock. “I know. It led us to another clue.”
“What clue?”
Johnny grinned. “A clue to where the gold really is.” He took her hand and pulled her to the wall opposite the clock. “You remember the Bible verse?”
“Yeah. ‘Thou shalt love the Lord thy God’—”
“I mean, where it’s found. In the Bible.”
“Oh! Uh, Mark ... Mark ...”
“Chapter twelve, verse thirty.”
“Right!”
Johnny motioned to the clock. “You can barely see it from the inside, but if you look closely—and remember, we’re looking at it from the back—the clock’s hands are frozen at twelve thirty.”
Emmy studied the clock for a few seconds, and her eyes widened. “Wow! Yeah, I see it! You think old Huck froze them that way?”
“I don’t know about that, but I do know he chose those numbers for a reason.” Johnny took her hand and led her next to the clock. “I noticed something when you and Milo were climbing in. Look where the hour hand is pointing, between the twelve and the one.”
Emmy squinted. “Hey! Something’s carved into the wood!” She looked at him, but he was looking at the bottom of the clock.
“Something is carved down here, too,” he said, “where the minute hand is pointing!”
She crouched down. “It’s numbers! Four, five, and six!”
“Right!” said Johnny. “Can you read what’s up there?”
“No, I need to get closer!”
Johnny made a cradle with his hands. “C’mon, I’ll give you a boost.”
She stepped into the cradle, and he heaved her up as high as he could. She kept her balance by holding on to the clock.
“Can you read it?” he grunted.
“Yes! It’s letters and numbers! M-A-T-6-2-1.”
“Great!” He lowered her, and she hopped to the floor. He took a deep breath. “Whew!”
She rolled her eyes. “Oh, c’mon, I’m not that heavy! ... So, 4-5-6-M-A-T-6-2-1?”
He shook his head. “No, start with the letters and numbers at twelve.”
“Then it’s M-A-T-6-2-1-4-5-6?”
“Yep.” Johnny grabbed his bag.
“You think it’s another Bible verse?”
“Absolutely.” He pulled out the book and flipped through it. “M-A-T ... that’s Matthew ... 6 ... 21 ...” He read the verse, studied it for a moment, and chortled with glee. “Oh, Huck! You were a very clever man!”
Emmy held out her hands. “What, what?”
Johnny handed her the Bible, pointed out the verse, and picked up one of the iron bars.
Emmy read the verse aloud: “‘For where your treasure is, there will your heart be also.’” She shrugged. “So?”
Johnny moved past her to the clockworks. “There are eleven words in that verse. Read words four, five, and six.”
Emmy counted them. “‘Treasure is, there’!” She nearly dropped the Bible. “There? There where?”
Johnny fitted the iron bar into a slot in a large bolt in the back of the clockworks. “Where the clock hand points.”
Emmy’s mouth fell open. “You mean, six twenty-one?”
He shook his head. “Hand, not hands. It won’t be the hour hand, ’cause it would point down below us if we set the clock to 6:21. So it can only be—”
“The minute hand at twenty-one!” She hopped up and down, giggling.
Johnny grabbed her arm. “First of all, stop hopping!” he said. “We don’t know how stable this floor is. And second, are you gonna help me move the minute hand or what?”
“Oh! So that’s what these iron bars are for—to set the clock.”
“When it still worked. It’s all rusted over now, so it’ll take both of us. We want the hand to move left to the hash mark at twenty-one minutes, just below the four. See it?”
“Yes! So we need to pull right!”
“Correct.” He gripped the bar, and Emmy bunched in beside him and did likewise. “Ready? One ... two ... three!”
They pulled with all their might, teeth clamped, veins popping, muscles straining. At first nothing happened, but then they felt the minute hand begin to shift. The rusted gears of the clock groaned as the hand inched closer and closer to the hash mark.
“We’re past five!” Emmy yelled.
“Keep ... pulling!”
They pulled and yanked and yanked and pulled. “Come ... on ... Almost ... there!” Johnny took a breath and gave one last, mighty heave. The hand shifted up and pointed right at the hash mark.
“Stop!” Emmy shouted.
They both relaxed and stood for a moment, gulping in air. “We did it!” Emmy exclaimed.
Johnny pointed up at the maintenance door. “We need to look out of that and see where the hand is pointing!”
Emmy cradled her hands. “My turn to give you a boost!”
Johnny grinned and nodded. They moved into position, Johnny stepped into the cradle, and Emmy heaved him up as he crawled along the clock face to the door. He tugged it open and stuck his head outside.
A cool breeze washed over his face and made his eyes blur with tears momentarily. He blinked them away, drank in the incredible view for a second, and looked back at the clock face. He could follow the line of the minute hand perfectly, and when he saw where it pointed, he howled with laughter. “Ha ha ha! I don’t believe it!”
“What? What?” Emmy grunted.
“Let me down!”
Emmy did, and Johnny sank to the floor, still overjoyed. “I know where it is, Emmy! It was right under my nose!”
Emmy crouched beside him. “Where? Where?”
“You wanna see for yourself?”
She recoiled in alarm. “No! I don’t like heights!”
“You’re up in a tower.”
“But I’m not outside it! Now tell me where the gold is!”
Johnny smiled.
Thunk!
Johnny’s shovel hit something solid. Emmy heard it as well. He grinned at her joyfully, and she jumped down into the hole and helped him push away dirt.
It was a few hours later. Milo was now in the hospital, being treated for a slew of injuries and under arrest for multiple counts of assault, threatening minors, kidnapping, and attempted murder.
The town doctor had checked out Wilson and Arty. Both had mild concussions but were otherwise unharmed.
Deputy Miller had supervised the rigging of a block-and-tackle system up the inside of the tower to rescue Johnny and Emmy by lowering them down its center. Emmy went first, whimpering the whole way, her eyes clamped shut. By the time Johnny got down, both sets of parents were waiting for them.
The kids explained what had happened that afternoon and the past few weeks concerning the treasure, Thaddeus, G.W., old Huck, and Ben. D
eputy Miller was so astounded by their story, along with Wilson’s, that he decided, with the parents’ permission, to let it play out.
And so, when Johnny’s shovel went thunk, it wasn’t just Emmy who moved in for a closer look. It was also Harold, Fiona, Charlie, Emmy’s parents, Hen, Deputy Miller, Wilson (Arty went home to change his pants), and a reporter from The Provenance Standard.
Johnny and Emmy cleared away the dirt and uncovered a rusty metal box about the size of an apple crate. They tried lifting it out of the hole, but it was too heavy. Johnny looked at Emmy, and she jerked her head slightly in Wilson’s direction.
Johnny nodded and motioned for Wilson to come and help them.
Wilson bounded into the hole, and the three of them raised the box out of the dirt, set it on the ground, and scrambled out of the hole.
Johnny was concerned that the rust might have weakened the box so that it would fall apart in their hands, but it held together. Stamped into the metal on all sides were the letters C.S.A.—Confederate States of America.
The box was sealed with a padlock, which was almost rusted through. A light whack with the shovel knocked it clear. Johnny looked at Emmy and Wilson, who both nodded. They all put their hands on the lid and pulled it open.
Inside were dozens of canvas pouches, each also stamped “C.S.A.” in faded red lettering. They were tied at the top with thin strips of cloth. Johnny picked up the one closest to him and shook it; it jingled. He untied the cloth strips, opened the bag, and upended it in the box.
Gold coins poured out.
Everyone gasped. Wilson fell back into the hole. A flashbulb popped. Deputy Miller shook his head in disbelief and started laughing. It caught on, and soon everyone joined him. A cheer went up.
Johnny and Emmy could not wipe the smiles from their faces. They hugged, and when they broke apart, they each saw tears of joy streaming down the other’s face. Another flashbulb.
Everyone slapped Johnny and Emmy on the back and shook their hands. Emmy’s mother and father smothered her with hugs and kisses. Charlie and Hen tried biting the coins. Fiona hugged Johnny and kissed his forehead.
