by DJ Dalasta
Rock stood on the causeway squinting into the morning sunlight. He kicked the ground for no reason other than to send a small pebble cascading off the road and into the water. He scuffed the toe of his white tennis shoe in the process. His friend, Brett Silver, shifted to his left, staring across to Oak Island, its narrow entrance now a maze of yellow caution tape and patrolled by Nova Scotia police vehicles.
Over a full month had come and gone since the explosions killed six people and left a dozen badly injured. Rock thought that Seth Delega would be back to work by now but the detectives wouldn’t let him return to the island. It would seem the heartless murder of six individuals wasn’t being taken lightly. Two security officers died from the initial blast, David Bennington, Anna’s long time friend, died in the conference room, Jen Berent was killed by glass shrapnel, a research assistant to Haden Green had his lungs collapse after being hit by flying debris and Ryan Maims ended up dying from his wounds two days later. There were over a dozen injuries that required immediate medical attention and even the big meathead, Jacob, almost succumbed to his head injury in the following hours.
The island and its various sites were the objective of six separate bombings. The two dams were completely destroyed. The money pit and borehole x-10 were hit and collapsed inwards on themselves. The office was targeted from the outside of the conference room and the explosion at the lot holding the heavy machinery tore the expensive equipment to pieces. In all, the entire expedition and all of the progress was wiped away in a matter of seconds. Rock just wondered why the orchestrators waited until morning to set the plan in motion.
“How’s Anna,” Brett asked.
“She’s ok,” he lied. In truth, Anna was a mess. She found someway to heap the blame squarely on her shoulders and there was nothing Rock could do to change that. What really baffled him was that she wanted to continue with the dig, thinking somehow finishing this would help her cope with what happened. Seth Delega wasn’t much help either. He was always around, pressuring her to be ready when he finally wrested the island back under his control. Rock figured that would be any day now.
“What about the sites?”
“I haven’t seen them but from what I’ve heard they’re completely destroyed. By the time Anna gains control again, it’s going to be two months before she is even back to where they were before this happened. Plus, she’ll need a few new people brought in to get up to speed. What happened is beyond discouraging.”
“Any ideas on who?”
“I have one,” Rock said. He had the Cooper’s pegged for this. They threatened sabotage and here it was. He told the authorities about the men, though he realized Michael Cooper was most likely not even a real name. He tried calling the number on the business card but the line was no longer in service. He ended up giving the detectives the address of the office in Florida, the only real piece of evidence he possessed.
“This doesn’t affect what you told me though.”
“Not at all,” Rock said. “We’ll be striking out on our own once the police give us access to the waters.”
They walked along the shore and back towards the hotel. Rock refused to stay in one of the houses provided by Delega knowing full well somebody would be listening to him at all times. He found the resort to be cozy enough and even negotiated a better price by staying for such a length of time.
Once inside the room, Brett sat down in the armchair near the window. “You know the mark on that map is clearly on land, why do you want to search the water again?”
“These symbols, up on the left,” Rock pointed to the grouping of lines and shapes he knew no way of decoding. “They say something and I’m willing to bet they tell how far and which direction from the mark to go to find the real place they stashed whatever it was they were hiding.”
“But you can’t decipher them.”
“No.”
“You do recall your hunches have been totally wrong before. We’ve spent months in the wrong place.”“But I’ve been right before as well.”
“But this seems even a little out there for you. Guessing some symbols say something and not believing what’s clearly marked on the map.”
“It’s not just a hunch,” Rock leaned forward. “The marked spot is a decoy, something to throw off someone if they came into possession of the map should they not be the one it was meant for. Only the person it was meant for would be able to read these symbols and that person is lost or long since dead. But as such, only those symbols could tell the actual location. And they lead to some other spot on this map. Since the island has been thoroughly dug and scoured, personally, I think that leaves the sea as the potential hiding place.”
“Underwater caverns?” Brett said.
“Exactly.”
“When did you say this all took place?”
“Early to mid 18th century.”
“You do realize diving equipment was less than stellar at that point in time,”
“I know, you’ve told me before,” Rock didn’t want to hear it all again. The diving bell was around but the advances in depth and time that could be spent underwater was hardly advanced. Perhaps the best of the era was the design of English astronomer Edmond Halley. The same man that Halley’s comet is named after. His diving bell, constructed of wood, included a valve to rid the helmet of used air and a fairly simple system of weighted barrels and a long hose to replenish the divers good air supply. It was genius for the time. A person using such a system could go to a maximum of about 60 ft and stay under a little over an hour. But that was more than enough time and depth to place something and then leave.
The next morning was cool and grey when they pushed out. The water was slightly rough, pressed by a steady wind from the Northwest. Rock eased them out and then throttled up to a full 35mph and splashed around with the powerful sport boat to wake himself up. After a few minutes he headed towards Oak Island. He took them along the shore at a slow pace.
They mapped out all the depths around the island and found that for the most part, it ranged from very shallow at just a few feet, to seventy and up to eighty in others. Rock finally positioned the boat just off the eastern tip of the island and anchored.
“You’re going to hang out up here,” he said to Nate, who had been allowed to join them for the outing, “and we’re going to start on the eastern end first. When we’re done, we’ll come back up and then work our way around the island somewhere else. I don’t know how long we’re going to be cause I don’t know what exactly we’re looking for. See if you can’t come up with some theories while we’re gone.”
Brett started putting on his gear and Rock did the same. Nate sat on the back of the boat with his shirt off soaking up the intermediate sunlight that made it to the deck. They put together their tanks and donned the wet suits. Rock sat on the ledge ready to go.
“We have company,” Nate said, “just as you predicted.” Rock looked over and saw another boat stop one hundred yards away. He reached for his binoculars and scanned the deck. It was a Delega security boat, one of the five tethered at the docks. There were four men aboard and one was staring back at him.
“Shit. If we find something we’re not bringing it up,” he said. “At least not right now.”
Rock set the binoculars back down, fastened his mask and tumbled over the side. Brett followed his lead. After the initial splash he oriented himself and began the swim downward, towards the ridges that outlined the drop off from Oak Island. The water was clear and cold and the silence underwater was always welcome. He loved the contrast between the rugged surface and the peacefulness that arrived just a few feet beneath the waves. Brett immediately swam in front, taking the lead.
The sea floor rested only thirty feet below. It was rocky and uneven, sloping steeply upwards to then even out and become the islands Eastern tip beach. But he wasn’t interested in the beach. He was looking for openings in the base of the r
idges that could lead to some form of cavern, or at least an area that would be able to hide something effectively from the elements.
He swam up and down the ridge, checking each of the crevices, running his hand along the rock and pushing at various intervals. He didn’t know exactly what he hoped to find but the island was big enough for this to take weeks to explore. He swam to the bottom and picked up a few rocks, turning them over in his hands and letting them fall back down. He picked up whatever looked suspiciously man-made but it always turned out to be something rather ordinary. It felt like only a brief time had passed when Brett touched him on the shoulder. He motioned it was time to go back up.
They clamored aboard the boat and Nate immediately began helping them with the gear. Rock noticed the security boat closed the distance by half since they dove, an hour before.
“Anything?” Nate asked, helping place the air tanks to the side.
Rock and Brett slumped in the seats, “nothing,” he said.
Brett slicked his hair back and took in the sun, “it’s just too big a place to be looking, especially if we don’t know what exactly we are trying to find. This is going to take forever and there’s a good chance if there is something, we’ll miss it completely.”
Rock hated to admit it, but he was right. “Ok,” he said. “Let’s start thinking out loud here or at least narrowing our field of view.” He looked over at Brett who remained silent and shrugged. “Nate, any ideas?” Nate tilted his head to the side and swayed slightly. “What is it Nate, speak up.”
“Well, I had some time up here and was looking at the map and thought that maybe the stone triangle isn’t as menial as you think it is.”
“Ok, I’m listening,” Rock tried to sound accepting. He knew he sometimes came across as intimidating, and as result stifled other’s ideas. It was something he strived to change since he knew talking aloud about possibilities was the best approach to problems. He always preferred to have open communication. It came down to probabilities. The more ideas, the better the chance one is correct.
Nate continued, “I know you think that since it points to the money pit, that it is part of the decoy you say that the whole place is. But what if it is a direction that’s disguised as part of the decoy. You know. It points to the money pit but what if you extended that line to the shore.”
Rock laughed out loud. Nate suddenly fell quiet.
“No, no, that’s perfect,” Rock slapped Nate on the back. “Absolutely perfect. It so simple, it could be exactly the right answer.”
“Really,” Nate’s straight lips curved upwards. He was grinning ear to ear.
“Sure, you need to speak up sooner, we may have wasted the whole morning.” Rock stooped over and opened his backpack and took out a red folder. Inside, he pulled out an aerial map of Oak Island and laid it out. Already marked in red ink was the money pit, borehole x-10, the stone triangle, and both Toudrey’s cove and Smith’s cove. He placed down a straight edge and drew a line from the stone triangle to the money pit and then continued it on towards the shoreline. It hit the edge and he drew a big circle. “That’s where we’re headed, but first let’s take lunch.”
They sat on the boat for over an hour, chatting and eating cold cuts. Rock wanted to make it appear as though they were just enjoying themselves and not too enthusiastic about searching for treasure. He didn’t want to make it look like they were onto any leads. Though certainly the simplicity of Nate’s observation made it a likely candidate for success.
Much of the popular speculation about Oak Island revolved around such artifacts as the stone triangle as well as positions of certain stones, right angles and geometric elements. The numerous outside theories and solutions became so complicated at times that Rock had trouble following most of the explanations. They dealt with too many numbers and perfect shapes. With enough time, any theory could be made to sound great with the right numerical scheme. And he knew, if he had trouble following such directions, then the creator of the theory was simply trying too hard. Simplicity, when put up front is the most complicated of things, and the easiest to miss or dismiss. The idea they were about to follow was simple, and in that laid its most convincing argument. It was right there, staring at him in the face and he missed it completely, too wrapped up in his own theories and views. That’s why he tried never to do things alone. His ideas, often times were completely off mark.
After lunch he started up the boat and made a round about way to come to a rest on the North side of the island, just to the East of Toudrey’s cove. They stalled on deck for some time and then donned their gear once again and flipped overboard. Rock was a little more optimistic for this particular site. He actually felt excited.
They dove for almost an hour again with no results and Brett finally called Rock back, to resurface. Reluctantly, Rock climbed aboard the boat and slumped on the bench. He didn’t say anything to either Nate or Brett other than to tell them they were moving slightly to the East and diving again. Brett agreed but reminded him they could only stay under another hour as they had just a single tank left for either of them.
Once below the surface Rock swam for the cliff that dipped vertically into the water. This part of the island didn’t slowly ease into a beach but dove quickly down to the ocean floor. The sunlight streaked through the water to easily brighten the entire area. Brett immediately started examining things at a close range and Rock followed him at first but after twenty minutes of no results he decided he’d rather see it from a distance. He swam thirty feet from the land and turned around, taking in as much of the site as he could in a single view before it became too blurry or distorted.
Then he saw it.
Swimming in one place and smiling through his regulator, Rock stared at a smooth outline of five clearly distinct rocks in a perfect horizontal pattern. They were either placed on the wall deliberately or they were already there and chiseled to appear in likeness, but there was no doubt, from his vantage point, they were clearly marked. They were lined up one right after the other, about ten feet from the floor, equidistant in spacing.
He swam to Brett and signaled for him to follow his lead. Rock led his friend back away from the wall and showed him the line. Brett saw it immediately and slapped Rock on the back. Excited, both men made for the wall and positioned themselves at the middle stone. Rock carefully wiped away the algae and sediment that covered its surface and found a metal spike barely poking out of its center and a small rusted ring attached to the end. He paused. There was nothing etched on the stone as he was expecting. They quickly checked the other four and found them to be identical.
Rock looked at his time gauge, thirty minutes left before they needed to think about resurfacing. He swam back again to have a look from a distance but saw nothing new and was starting to become discouraged. Brett called him over and put his finger through the ring hole and made a quick motion as if he wanted to try and pull the stone out.
Rock held up his hand. It usually wasn’t his method to start pulling and pushing things that held historical significance. These were indeed placed here by someone and pulling them out could potentially destroy the information they were trying to portray. Or it could be the only way to get at the information. They did have pull rings attached to them and that’s exactly what Brett was getting at.
He closed his eyes and thought about the best course of action. The best thing to do would be to return to the surface, get the video camera and still camera and document their find. Report their find to the proper authorities and come back numerous times and check out everything before ever pulling out one of the stones. That would be appropriate.
Rock put his hand down and then he gave Brett the thumbs up signal. Brett nodded and tightened his finger around the loop and slowly pulled backwards. The stone didn’t budge at first but Brett kept pulling with more pressure until it loosened and finally started to emerge. At first, Rock tho
ught it would just pop out, the part facing him was a good square foot in size and didn’t look to be pushed in that far. But the stone kept coming. It slid out from its shelf, grinding away the crud around it and Brett was now over four feet back from where he started. Finally, the end came out of the hole and sunk down towards the ocean floor. Brett let the weight of it go and the long rectangular stone settled on the bottom.
Rock swam up to the hole and shined a light into the opening. It was hollow. He could see all the way to the other side. There was almost two feet of rock between him and the water on the inside, which meant they found the cavern they were looking for. Now he just needed to find out how to get in.
Brett grabbed Rock’s shoulder and pointed him to their left. Rock followed his finger to a small dust cloud that was swirling at a spot where the cliff met the ocean floor. They carefully moved closer and saw that a crack opened almost a foot in height and over four feet in width. Rock put his head to the rocky bottom and peered underneath. The cavern was on the other side.
In front of him was an immense boulder that was somehow suspended to make the opening. Its top was concealed in the cavern and Rock had no idea what was holding it up. He tried to move the rock and Brett helped him, pulling and pushing with all their strength but the stone was too large. Brett tapped him on the shoulder again and made the same signal as before. He wanted to pull out all the stones. Rock hesitated for a moment but then nodded his head.
They proceeded to the first in the sequence and Brett pulled the small ring. It took him a minute before he was able to dislodge the stone but soon it was retracting as the one before. It boasted the same length and once again, Brett let it fall to the sea floor when it cleared the shelf. They watched the large boulder to the side and it pulled slightly upwards, enlarging the gap. Rock checked it out and figured one more pull would give them enough room to squeeze underneath.
He waited by the opening and gave Brett the sign to pull the next one. His friend moved to the next stone in the sequence and started pulling it. When the long rectangular rock hit the bottom, the boulder in front of him lifted another foot off the sea floor. Rock measured the dimensions and at this point he could squeeze through the opening. The sun’s light illuminated the cavern to a point but he’d need his artificial light if it moved much deeper.
Brett swam up next to him and together they both looked inside. Rock wanted to go through, but he was concerned as to what exactly was holding the boulder. If it fell back down after they passed beneath, the cave would likely become their tomb. He started looking around for something they could jam it with. His gaze fell on the long blocks that Brett had pulled out.
With his friend’s help they managed to stand one of them upright and tip it to the height of the opening, jamming it into the upper corner and the other end along the sea floor. It looked strong enough. Rock’s gauge read about 15 minutes remaining and he decided he was going to have a look inside. He gave Brett the signal to stay put. His friend looked disappointed but understood his role. If something happened, he wouldn’t have much time to get Rock back out and if he couldn’t, at least they would know where his body would be.
Rock quickly worked up his courage and swam into the cavern. He flipped on his flashlight and shined it at the top of the boulder. He immediately wanted to swim back. Without the safety of their jammed stone in place he wouldn’t have ventured any further. The boulder was being lifted by a single metal chain, hooked to the top of it by some means he could not discern at the moment. What he saw of the chain frightened him. It was caked with the color of rust. Iron would be the element that made up most of the metal, if not all of it and as a result its strength would be greatly compromised at this point. One link on that chain would fail due to corrosion and then this cavern would be sealed completely, once again.
Knowing his time was running low he left the mystery of the opening behind and continued forward. The cavern moved about fifty feet inwards and then started pushing him upwards at a diagonal. At this point the sunlight was well faded and in addition to his standard flashlight, he flicked on the miners light on his forehead. The walls were beginning to narrow and he finally came to a stop, running into a solid wall. The only way to go was directly up. The water continued above him and he ascended slowly. He watched his depth pass twenty, then ten, to five and then he burst above the sea level line and into open air.
He removed his goggles and shined his lights around him. He took out his regulator and coughed. The air was stale. He was surrounded on three sides by sheer walls but the last way produced a small ledge with iron rungs that were hammered into the rock. To his delight, they still held.
Rock climbed out of the water and stood up, the ceiling reached another ten feet above his head. On the ground, he found lengths of old rope, wood and even bits of cloth that had been left behind from whomever had been here before. On the ceiling, above the water was a metal ring anchored into the rock.
He started removing some of his gear to be able to maneuver more easily. He checked his air supply. It only took him five minutes to swim this far so he had plenty of air to get himself back out again. Brett however, would be very worried. Hopefully, he wouldn’t come in after him.
Rock began walking through the cavern. The ground was all rock but relatively flat, as though it had been cleared at some point. His unprotected feet took sharp pains at various intervals but nothing cut too deep. The walls continued to narrow as he progressed. Rock had never exhibited the signs of claustrophobia but if he did suffer from the fear, this would be the place. At around sixty feet he came across more splintered wood, nails, and heaps of hardened blue clay. He shined the light ahead and found a small wall. It stood almost four feet high with rocks layered atop one another like brick. In between the stones was more of the blue clay, sealing them together. The wall appeared waterproof and ran from edge to edge. Even if for some reason the sea level rose, it’d have to rise over four more feet, past the level of high tide, to get beyond the barrier.
The space between the wall and ceiling was no more than three feet and Rock climbed over and squeezed into the room beyond. He shined the lights in front of him and smiled. His heart felt like it would beat through his skin when he saw three old chests sitting before him, each one adorned by a corpse. The bodies were small and the bones gleamed a pure white. They wore plain colored robes and even thinning hair remained atop their heads. Rock found that slightly disturbing. “Good day,” he said aloud and bent his head. “Rock Tilton, it’s a pleasure.”
He stepped forward and bent over the first chest. There was no lock on it and he simply unhooked the rusted latch. It took some effort to open the lid and finally after a good tug, it released. He shined the light inside and saw a heaping of golden items. He picked them up and turned them over in his hands. He couldn’t tell where exactly they were from but they held true to weight and color. Next, he opened the chest on the right. It contained a different arrangement. Diamond-encrusted bands, emeralds, rings and silver coins filled its volume. The two chests alone were probably worth millions. But that’s not what peaked his interest.
Rock moved in front of the final chest, the one in the middle, and cracked it open. He shined his light within and saw it was left mostly empty. A dirty white cloth rested over something at the bottom. He set his light aside, wedging it between two rocks. He carefully reached within and picked up the item. He let the cloth drop to the ground. It was a book. He bent down and brought it into the light.
His heart fluttered.
He ran his hand over the rough, faded cover, feeling the grooves of a familiar sigil. “Not good,” he said aloud as his eyes fell over the symbol of a rose. It was a simple little picture in the lower corner but due to recent events, it spoke volumes. Michael Cooper had been speaking the truth. He knew what was down here all along.
Rock opened the pages. They folded outwards, in a
long sheet. It reminded him of the way the few existing Mayan codices unraveled. Then something fell. It drifted to the ground. A single letter, sealed with cracking red wax rested between his knees. He picked it up.
“Ok. Who are you?” As he slid his fingers over the wax, his headlamp flickered and shut off. The room darkened. Rock realized he never changed the batteries. “Idiot,” he slapped the side of his head.
Calmly, he reached out for the other light but stumbled and knocked it from its place. The flashlight tumbled to the ground. He heard it shatter and suddenly, he couldn’t see.
Chapter 11
Nova Scotia, July 2012
