The Lost Journal

by Chris Blewitt

  Suddenly, Madison heard the rustling of leaves outside. She got up from her crouch and headed toward the door and listened. The noise was louder now. It was definitely not the wind.

  Suddenly, she was afraid.

  Then voices. Barely audible, she heard whispers. Willie and Arthur would not be whispering. They would come right to the door calling her name. She made a quick decision and trotted back to the opening in the floor and threw the heavy wooden cover over the opening, blocking all contact with Seth. She had to protect what they found, even if it meant isolating him down there. She killed the flashlight and walked to the corner of the room, farthest from the door.

  The voices got louder and she could sense someone was getting closer. She waited in the corner. The door inched open and the first thing she saw was a gun.

  She screamed.

  The door opened wide and two men stepped in. The gun disappeared in the darkness. One of the men lit a cigarette lighter and she was caught in its’ crossfire. It didn’t take long for her to recognize the British accents.

  “Well, well, well,” Max said. “Look what we have here.”

  Madison said nothing. She put her hand on the can of mace and slowly removed it from her pants pocket.

  “What are we doing back here, Miss?” Max asked.

  She maintained her silence and watched as the man with the lighter moved around the small room. He didn’t seem to notice the plaques on the floor just yet.

  Max became more aggressive. “What,” he paused, “are you doing here?”

  Madison decided to play it cool. “Nothing,” she responded.

  “I wouldn’t call hiding out in a tomb, nothing, Madison.”

  Her eyes displayed a look of shock as the man spoke her name.

  “Yes, I know you’re name, Madison. I know all about you and your little friend, Seth. I know what you’re doing here so don’t even try to lie to me. My question is this, what did you find?”

  She shook her head and said, “Nothing.”

  “That’s probably a lie, right Evan?” he said, looking over at his partner who was still looking around the room. Max looked at her hands, one he could clearly see was holding a flashlight. “Give him your flashlight.”

  Evan walked over and Madison reluctantly handed it over.

  “You probably have found nothing. But, Seth, well, he probably has found something, that’s why he’s not here. Am I correct?”

  Again she said nothing. Her gaze stopped short of the hole in the floor that was now covered. She did not want to reveal his whereabouts.

  “Where is he?” Max demanded.

  Now she had to lie. “He’s outside, looking at the circular courtyard.”

  Max didn’t know whether to believe her or not.

  Evan interrupted his thoughts. “Look, I got something.”

  Max followed the light and found Evan down on one knee looking at the floor. He appeared to be reading something.

  “Grave markers,” Evan said.

  “We didn’t find anything,” Madison interjected. “Just the markers.” She prayed Seth didn’t start knocking on the floorboards, signifying his need to get out.

  Evan and Max spent a few minutes reading the markers and brushing off the dust of the ones that Madison and Seth had not read. Max looked up at Madison and said, “Do you even know what you’re looking for here?”

  She shook her head.

  “I thought not. I guess you’re some kind of treasure hunter, eh? Think you can find the Holy Grail or the next Hope Diamond. Well, my dear, this could be a little more valuable than that.”

  Evan flashed the light around the room. “There’s nothing else here,” he said.

  “Then let’s go find Seth,” Max said while standing up. He walked over to Madison and grabbed her arm. “You’re coming too.”

  She thought about the mace in her hand but they had a gun. She took one last glance over her shoulder at the covered hole as they made their way out.

  <><><><><>

  Seth heard the loud thump on the floor above him. He quickly made his way back to the open room, past the rat and over to where the open hole should have been. It was closed up. He heard small footsteps above and thought about pounding the flashlight on the ceiling. Why cover the hole? There was only one explanation that he could think of. They’d been discovered.

  He had to move fast.

  He made his way back to the coffin and heard a scream. Madison’s scream. Because of the thickness of the wooden floor, she sounded far away, but he knew she was still on the floor above him. He now had a dilemma. Stay there and find something useful, or try and save Madison from whatever it was that was caused her to scream.

  He chose the former and proceeded to search the coffin. He moved his light around and saw that this was not the only coffin. There were at least six that he could see, and due to the fact that there were nine markers above him, he guessed he would find the additional three. His focus was only on finding one, Bushrod Washington.

  The coffins were all made of wood and well made at that. None of them were crumbling at the corners or falling apart, but they were covered in filth and dust. Cobwebs stretched over them like blankets over a newborn baby. He had to find Bushrod’s coffin, as grotesque as that sounded. Would Bushrod really hide something in his own coffin? And who would’ve put it in there after his death anyway?

  Seth felt he was on a wild goose chase, but he had to keep looking. Something was out there and he wanted to find it. The rat had left the first coffin he came upon so he had carte blanche to search its’ surroundings. He was not going to open any of them until he had enough reason to do so. He took the sleeve of his jacket and pulled it over his hand and started to clear away some of the spider webs. At the very top of the coffin, on the side, he made out an inscription. The initials ABW were ornately inscribed into the wood. Nothing else. He thought for a second and came to the conclusion that it was Anna Ball Washington, Bushrod’s wife.

  That was how he got it into his coffin.

  According to the small monument in the front, Anna died two days after Bushrod. She certainly could have placed something in his coffin. He scrambled around to the next coffin and saw the initials, AW, Augustine Washington. Seth moved to the one on the other side of Anna, brushing away cobwebs that covered his face as he walked and shining his flashlight ahead of him. He took the sleeve of his jacket and brushed away the spot where he saw the other initials and found him. BW – Bushrod Washington.

  “Damn,” he said aloud. “It’s about time, Bushrod.”

  He looked at the coffin. It was more rounded in the middle; the others were mostly flat and rectangular. Bushrod’s was the same length and type of wood as his wife’s. There was an eerie silence, and even the rats were quiet as Seth contemplated his next decision. He decided to check the outside of the coffin first, delaying the inevitable.

  You do not desecrate these graves, he heard Willie say in his ear.

  Seth walked around the edges of the coffin, using his left arm to hold the flashlight and his right to brush away the filth and grime so he could see better. Again, he didn’t know what he was looking for, but he decided to look anyway. Maybe there was another inscription on the coffin. He made one full turn around the entire coffin, cleaning it as he went. When he came back to the top where the initials were, he had found nothing else. The coffin was sitting on the floor and unless he flipped it over, he was not going to get a good look underneath. If he flipped it over, Mr. Bushrod himself may have come rolling out.

  Now what?

  It was almost time to open it. Seth was not looking forward to this. The last time he saw an open casket was when his grandmother passed away a few years before. His dad and granddad were silently weeping nearby. He didn’t like that experience one bit. Seth didn’t know the specifics about decomposition, but he didn’t think there would be a body in there. Bones? Maybe. Could bones live forever? Could they survive two hundred years? He was going to find out.

/>   He walked toward the middle of the coffin and turned to face it. The lid looked heavy, most likely heavier than all the others due to the roundness of the top. He grabbed the crowbar out of his backpack and placed his hands on it, one in the front to keep it steady, one in the back to lift the lid. He placed it where he thought it should open and pushed it as far in as it would go under the lip. He used his right hand as a fulcrum and pushed down.

  Snap!

  Little splinters of wood tumbled about as the crowbar shattered the lip and it slipped out of his left hand. He tried it again a little further down and got the same result. He had to get the tip of the crowbar further into the coffin. He took it in his right hand and positioned it under the lip a third time. He placed his left hand on the top of the coffin for balance. He pushed with his right hand with all his might and steadied himself with his left.

  Snap!

  The wood splintered again, only this time it wasn’t where the crowbar was, it was where his left hand was, on the top. The top of the rounded coffin was hollow, and Seth’s hand went half-way through the splintered wood. He was shocked at first and quickly removed his hand, checking for blood but finding nothing. Seth used the crowbar and started to clear the hole to make it bigger. The wood came apart easily and he was able to shine a flashlight inside. It took only a few seconds to find the leather pouch inside. He removed it and brushed away the dust. It was small and brown and was tied up at the top with twine. As Seth tried to untie it, the rope almost disintegrated in front of his eyes it was so fragile. He opened the top and reached inside.

  <><><><><>

  The brewing process was not a simple one, yet it had existed for thousands of years. The first known beer was documented by the Egyptians in 9500 BC. They used open fermentation and let the natural yeast from the air ferment the sugars in the beer and convert them to alcohol. The Belgian Monks then mastered the process of producing great ale. They used all types of spices that made the beer unique: cinnamon, cardamom, star anise, nutmeg, cloves, orange peel, you name it. President Richard Bowe sat behind his desk in the Oval Office looking at the dark liquid in his glass, seeing perfection from the Monks of Belgium.

  It was getting late and he wasn’t to be bothered. His wife of only eight years had retired to bed an hour ago. He was lucky to be elected as a newlywed of only a couple years. Most presidents before him had twenty plus years of a stable marriage before even considering the position. At least he didn’t sleep around like his Vice-President. Damn Castle. He leaned back in his chair and drained the last of his glass and considered opening a second bottle, until his phone rang.

  It was his cell phone. Only a handful of people had the number. His wife of course, the Vice-President, his chief of staff, the secretary of defense and about six others of importance. He had given the number to someone new about three days ago though, the person on the other end of the line.

  “Yes,” he said.

  He listened intently as the caller spoke.

  “Okay,” he said.

  More conversation.

  “When was this?” Pause.

  “I see,” he said.

  “Okay, thank you.”

  More conversation and the President lifted his head to the ceiling. “Yes, I know, you will not be forgotten when this is all over. Your cooperation will be rewarded.”

  Bowe ended the call and walked around his desk. He opened the door to his office and asked his secret service agent to come inside. The middle-aged man with sharp eyes had a concerned look on his face as his boss brought him inside the Oval Office.

  The President looked at him, lowered his voice and said, “Brent, what do you know about Agents Kohler and Pierce?”

  CHAPTER 25

  The thirty-two foot luxury yacht coming up the Potomac slowly churned through the glass-like surface. A ripple here or a ripple there could not disturb the beauty of a craft like that as it moved in silence through the water. Although it was still spring and the temperatures were cool, this did not stop the owner of this vessel from cruising one of America’s finest rivers. Willie had first heard the sound of the engines about thirty seconds before, and they were getting louder.

  He turned his head to follow the ship’s approach. Willie loved boats. It was his dream as a kid to own a boat and go fishing every weekend. As he looked toward the water, instead of finding a ship, he found two men approaching on foot. He had never seen them before. One of them, the larger one, had a white cloth held to his nose and dry crusty blood covered his cheek. Before he could turn and warn Arthur, the men were on him. There were no guns and no use of force either. The men approached and as Arthur turned to see what was coming, they put their fingers to their lips, signaling silence.

  “We’ll start,” Kohler said. “First, don’t start screaming because there’s nobody here. Do that, and I’ll be the first to call the cops because you’re trespassing on federal property. Second, where the hell are your partners? The girl and your grandson?”

  Willie looked back at Arthur and said, “You know these guys?”

  “Dah,” Arthur snarled, “they don’t know anything. They’re just harassing us.”

  “Then what are you doing here in the middle of the night, old man?”

  Willie decided to speak, “I’m giving him an after-hours tour.”

  Kohler chuckled. “Okay, let’s call it in, if that’s what it is. Pierce,” he snapped his fingers, “do the honors.”

  Pierce picked up his phone and pretended to dial.

  “Okay, wait,” Arthur pleaded. He put his head down as he spoke, “We haven’t found anything if that’s what you’re wondering. And, I hope that scream a few minutes ago wasn’t that girl with your cronies.”

  “I told ya we should‘ve went back there to check on her,” Willie said.

  “Why don’t we all go back there?” Kohler said, opening up his jacket to reveal the pistol holstered to his chest.

  The two older men lowered their heads and were pushed from behind by Pierce, around the side toward the back of the tomb.

  <><><><><>

  Madison calmly called Seth’s name in the darkness. She led them back to the circular grove where they saw the marker for the Afro-American slaves that were reportedly buried here. Evan still had the flashlight and was on the outskirts of the circle, scanning his light both inside and outside.

  “You’re screwin with us,” Evan said, clearly frustrated.

  Madison had to play it cool for a little while longer and hope that Seth found something and escaped. She could play this game all night with this little prick. “I don’t know where he is, we split up.”

  Max stood in the center of the grassy arena looking around as Madison and Evan argued. Something wasn’t right. They had found no one, and he knew no man would leave a hot chick like Madison by herself in the dark. He was about to say something when he heard footsteps approaching from behind. He swung his gun in the direction of the tomb.

  The two old men approached, followed by the feds.

  “Welcome to the party,” Max said. “Glad you two could join us.”

  Evan walked towards the center and said, specifically to Pierce, “Wow, I can’t believe you could handle these two geezers. How’s your nose?”

  Pierce didn’t even look at him.

  Max held up his hands and said to all of them, “Alright, where is he?”

  Everyone looked around at each other and no one spoke a word. Arthur looked at Madison who gave a slight nod of her head in the direction of the tomb.

  “Well guess what?” Max said. “No one goes anywhere until he comes back here.”

  <><><><><>

  November 25, 1829

  Bushrod knew his days were numbered. He was in Philadelphia at the time and could not even make it back to his estate in Mount Vernon. His wife, Anna, was at his side weeping. He’d been sick before but not like this. At age sixty-seven, something just didn’t feel right and he had accepted the fact that his time had come.

 
; “Anna,” he said softly. “I want you to do something for me.”

  His wife looked over at him and touched his cheek with her hand. “Anything dear, what is it?”

  “I need you to draft a letter for me,” he said.

  She grabbed the quill and a piece of paper from the desk and waited for him to speak.

  “If you are reading this, you have followed my trail very well. Unfortunately for you, I left what you are looking for in the hands of a new generation. This will ensure the safety of the document that my uncle kept hidden all these years. The safest place for such a document lies with my Uncle George’s only child by blood.”

  “What is this you speak of?” asked Anna.

  “You need not worry about such matters, my dear. Please put that in the safety pouch your mother left you and have the caretaker put it away where I instructed him.”

  Anna was confused but did as he told her. She watched as her husband lay still and closed his eyes.

  CHAPTER 26

  Seth read the note a second time, looking for something else. “If you are reading this, you have followed my trail very well. Unfortunately for you, I left what you are looking for in the hands of a new generation. This will ensure the safety of the document that my uncle kept hidden all these years. The safest place for such a document lies with my Uncle George’s only child by blood.” He had come all this way and still hadn’t found anything. What if the next note led him to another note and so on and so on? What if there was no document? He could not get discouraged. He had to be positive when he told the others what he had found. He folded the note, put it back in the leather pouch and stuffed it in his jacket. He moved back out of the dark cavern and into the empty room.