by Aiden James
What about someplace that came with modern comforts and utilities? A place that was far, far away from America and hopefully out of reach from Kaslow’s homicidal radar.
Australia? The Philippines, maybe? Or…New Zealand?
New Zealand sounded intriguing, and I had visited both islands on a regular basis back in the early 1900s. This wonderful country offered nearly every climate and terrain I loved, and the people were strong and kind to strangers. I started making the arrangements to relocate my family to this wonderful country in my mind. I even added special accommodations in my fantasy world for Larissa Jones to come along as Beatrice’s private nurse and companion.
But, what about Alistair and his girl, Amy Golden Eagle—who would probably not go anywhere without her brother, Jeremy? That made five people and counting….
It was while thinking about this shit that I somehow drifted off to sleep. Normally, when I do rest in this manner, my consciousness moves through a narrow corridor where I am completely surrounded by thick darkness. The corridor seems endless, and along both sides of the corridor I sense souls of the dead…watching me, and speaking in whispers too faint to decipher.
Of course, none of this is likely real—I don’t see dead people. But…it does mark the place where my dreams start. Like everyone else on the planet, I nearly always dream when I sleep. That night was no exception. Most of the time my dreams are peaceful—despite the heavy burden of guilt I have carried since my ultimate betrayal of Jesus Christ in Jerusalem two millennia ago.
I am, however, occasionally visited by nightmares. That night, I thought such an event was happening. Loud explosions erupted all around me, and clouds of falling soil fell upon my head. I soon determined that I was crouching inside some sort of cave room that was approximately fifty feet wide, but less than five feet in height. It was quite dim, with the only illumination coming from a hole in the center of the room. Through this entrance, an assembly line of Chinese men dressed in silk changpaos moved up and down a pair of thatched wooden ladders while carrying small steamer chests into the cave from above. The jingle of metal on metal and small stones when each chest was stacked along a rear wall in the room made it obvious to me that items of incredible value were being transported there.
The explosions would come and go, with the men ducking in panic and peering anxiously up toward the lighted opening. One of the men suddenly called anxiously to the others from above the entrance, and then machine gun fire sprayed into the hole, sending the bullet-riddled body of the man tumbling down upon his terrified companions. They all scurried away into the cavern’s shadows, carrying what they could.
Roughly a dozen more men descended into the cave, and these were attired differently than the first group. I recognized the black boots and dark blue pants from what the Japanese infantry wore during World War II. But, I had never been this close to them—even when I enlisted with the U.S. armed forces in the Pacific. These soldiers were no more than eight feet away from where I was crouched.
As the soldiers crept into the cave, they fired shots in every direction. Death screams from direct hits accompanied the flashes of bright light from each expended round. Even so, I heard the sound of survivors moving deeper into the cave, as if the subterranean shadows would save them. Perhaps such a tactic worked for some, since the soldiers seemed reluctant to venture after them, and instead fired multiple rounds from their automatic weapons in every direction again. Of course, none of the shots hit me, since I was a mere voyeur in spirit.
A lantern that had been turned down exploded when a bullet hit it, in one corner of the cave room, roughly thirty feet away to my right. Suddenly, that entire section of the room was brightly illuminated from fire as the lantern’s fuel landed on several larger chests that immediately ignited. Nearly a dozen similar chests were stacked against a wall behind these other chests. One of the Chinese men moved over to them, where the nearest chest was propped open slightly. I caught a glimpse of a metal armor vest in the firelight, along with something faint…but glowing blue.
Holy shit, it’s my coin!
I tried to get closer to it, as the Japanese infantrymen opened fire on the defenseless man. Like so many nocturnal travels, I couldn’t move quickly. Meanwhile, the man tried desperately to close the lid to the chest, as if it were direly important to do so. He did manage to pull it mostly shut, and then he slid down the side of the chest, slumping dead from a bullet that pierced his heart from behind.
I tried to get close enough to verify that the coin bore the eagle and Caesar’s profile. But, it was as if an invisible force prevented me from drawing any nearer to the chest. All at once, the world around me grew dark and I was pulled back into my hotel room. I cursed silently at the lost opportunity to mentally take notes on the cave’s physical details and the chest’s other glowing contents. Contents that were apparently important enough for the Chinese man to sacrifice his life to protect.
The dream might’ve been some sort of prophetic gift from one of The Almighty’s merciful angels. It’s happened to me before. But, where in the hell was the place I saw? It definitely was a cave, and it had to be somewhere in southern China. Someplace where the Chinese people had tried to hide their treasured possessions before the Japanese army could pillage the region. I had read accounts of what happened during the Battle of Hong Kong, which was the Japanese invasion that came within hours after the bombing of Pearl Harbor.
Think, William…where is this place?
The vision’s images that seemed completely real had already begun to fade. I fought to hang on to the textures that embraced my senses. Things like the earthen smell, the panicked voices of the men about to die, and other sounds besides gunshots and explosions.
I had heard gulls screeching nearby and the crash of water.
The frigging thing must be buried in one of the islands here!!
It was either in a cave within Hong Kong proper itself, or on one of the surrounding islands. In some ways, this was almost as bad as the prospect of my coin being buried under the city’s sprawling skyline. Either way, I had no idea on where to begin looking. And, what if the Japanese had plundered the cave in my vision, once the gunfire cleared and the bodies quit moving?
For a moment my blood ran cold. But, then the part of me that clings to divine inspiration told my heart the soldiers I saw hadn’t taken my coin. My heart told me that for whatever reason the cave was left alone and my coin waited for me to come claim it. My left hand began to tremble, and I knew in that instant that I would find my prize—beyond any doubt. Provided, of course, that Viktor Kaslow didn’t take me out of the present lifetime first.
I now had renewed inspiration to remain in Hong Kong.
Alistair would be so pleased…and Roderick, not so much.
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About the Author
Aiden James resides in Tennessee with his lovely wife, Fiona, their two sons, Christopher and Tyler, and a feisty terrier named Gypsy. An avid researcher of all things paranormal, he spends much of his time investigating haunted locales throughout the Deep South.
Please visit his website: www.aidenjamesfiction.com
