A Treasure Deep

by Alton Gansky

  Suddenly the chamber was awash in brightness. Gleason had activated the work light. Its powerful beam was blinding at first, and it cast a shadow of Perry’s body against the wall. The light was set low, so Perry’s shadow reached from ceiling to bridge. After his eyes adjusted, the work light was a big help, but Perry still had use for the flashlight in his hand. Running its beam along the surface of the wall, he studied each stone within reach, hoping to find an indication of a previous opening.

  He was not disappointed.

  Just as with the first wall, this one had a pair of large stones that seemed to be placed as lintels. Once Perry felt he had discovered all there was to be discovered about the stone partition, he clipped the flashlight to his belt, raised his gloved hand, and set it on the first stone to be removed. It was positioned right below the large stone header. Unlike the other opening, Perry had planned to make this one as small as possible but still allow the free passage of a man.

  “We’re dying of suspense out here,” Gleason called in. “How about some play-by-play before we have coronaries?”

  Perry chuckled, as much from nerves as from Gleason’s request. “The wall is identical in construction to the first, including a couple of cantilevered lintels. The stones are fitted tightly together. It looks like mud or something was used to fill the joints. It’s a masterpiece. I’m getting ready to pull the first stone. Stand by.”

  “We’re not going anywhere without you,” Gleason said.

  “Good,” Perry retorted. “You know how I hate to be alone.”

  He took a deep breath and wondered if the builders were devious enough to create a wall that would cave in on itself if tampered with. Tightening his grip on the first stone, he pulled. Nothing. He pulled again, attempting to wiggle the stone from side to side; bits of compacted dirt fell from the joints. Hermetically sealed, Perry thought. A good sign. He pulled gently but firmly. Still nothing. He was considering trying another rock when it finally budged. Gently he pulled, and the stone came free.

  Perry waited for something to happen: for the ceiling to crash down or the wall before him to fall forward in a single mass, squashing him like a bug under a boot. Neither happened. The only result he could detect was a dank, sour smell rushing out of the small opening. The chamber was breathing for the first time in two millennia.

  “First stone is out,” Perry announced. He held it up and examined it for a moment. It looked like all the others. He dropped it over the side. It took a full second before he heard it crash into the water below. There was no doubt now; the pit was deep.

  “Tell me that was the stone,” Gleason said with apprehension.

  “It was the stone. I’m removing the next one.” The next stone came free easily, as did the next. One by one, Perry gently removed stone after stone, dropping each into the pit and forcing himself to ignore the cracking, splashing sound. In what seemed like hours, Perry had successfully removed enough stones to leave an opening of three feet wide by four feet high. It was enough for now.

  “I have a decent-sized opening now,” Perry announced. “It’s time to take a peek.”

  He pulled the flashlight from his belt, took a deep breath, and tried to calm his anxious nerves. It was a monumental task. Leaning forward, he clicked on the light and shone it in the room.

  The beam pushed through the ebony darkness and reflected off dust that floated in the air. The dust, Perry assumed, had been set to flight by his removal of the stones. The light shone on the distant wall. “I see another stone wall about ten feet back. I assume that it’s the back wall of the chamber.” He aimed the light up. “The ceiling is identical to the one in this room.” Perry let the light track down the wall.

  His heart thundered in anticipation. His mouth was dry; his stomach became a tight knot. Slowly, he let the light fall until it fell on something different than a stone wall. There was a protrusion, a bench made of stones identical to the chamber. Perry let the light trace the bench. It rose from the floor by three feet, and he estimated it to be seven feet in length. From his location he couldn’t judge its depth.

  He was breathing harder now, taking in air in ragged inhalations.

  “Perry,” Gleason called.

  He didn’t answer.

  There was something on the bench. His light shook as he traced its form in the white beam.

  “You okay, Perry? Talk to me, buddy.”

  “Uh . . . yeah . . . I’m fine.”

  There was a noise . . . a crunch . . . a grinding . . . a pop.

  The wall collapsed with a roar. Dust billowed everywhere, filling the compartment with a choking cloud.

  Perry dropped to his knees and covered his face.

  JOSEPH STOPPED ROCKING.

  He sat straight up and stared at the distant wall.

  “Joseph?” Claire said. “Are you okay, sweetheart?”

  “Uhh . . . Perry . . . uhh . . . uhh.” Joseph bolted to his feet and stepped back from the workbench. “Perry . . . uhh . . . uhh.” He put his hands to his face, dropped to his knees, and bent forward until his forehead touched the tile floor.

  “Joseph, what is it?” Claire kneeled next to her son. “Joseph? Sweetheart?”

  Joseph began to weep in giant, explosive sobs that belched out like smoke and ash from a volcano. The sound of it terrified Claire.

  “What’s going on down there?” Rutherford asked Julia. His eyes were affixed to one of the monitors on his desk. “What’s wrong with him?”

  Julia stepped to her brother and looked over his shoulder. “He looks sick.”

  “Not sick,” Rutherford corrected. “He’s paralyzed with fear. Why?”

  “I don’t know. I’ll go check.”

  “No. Stay here. Let’s see what happens.”

  Rutherford zoomed the video camera in on Joseph.

  ANNE’S HEART SEIZED as she heard the sound and saw dust fly from the opening like heat from a blast furnace. “Oh, dear Lord, no,” she gasped.

  “Perry!” Gleason shouted and hopped on the bridge. He lowered his head, clearly intending to charge through the mouth of the chamber.

  “Gleason, no!” Jack bellowed. The sound of his voice rattled Anne to her core. “Stand fast.” The sheer force of the words made everyone freeze in place.

  “I’ve got to get to Perry,” Gleason objected just as loudly.

  “I said no. Back off. Now!”

  Anne watched as Gleason’s gentle faced hardened into a mask of dark anger. “Why?”

  “Because you may kill him if you go in there,” Jack said with words sharp enough to cut stone.

  “What?” Gleason’s hands turned to fists as he stood on the fabricated bridge.

  “Think, man, think,” Jack said. “If he’s fallen, then there’s nothing we can do. If he’s injured and you rush it, then you may over stress the bridge and we lose both of you. You’d be killing him.”

  Gleason started to speak but then stopped, his mouth open, poised to deliver a scathing comment, but no words came. His expression changed. He understood, and now so did Anne.

  “Everyone listen to me. We’re going to do this, and we’re going to do it right.” Jack had seized full control in a moment. “Gleason, come back here with me. You too, Doc. I want your weight back here.” The men did as they were told.

  “What about me?” Brent asked.

  Jack’s face softened. “I have no right to ask this, pal, but you’re the lightest one. Do you think you’re up to going in and seeing what happened?”

  Brent looked at the opening that glowed ominously as the work light lit up the dust that hung in the air. “Yeah, man. I’ll . . . I’ll do it.”

  “No,” Anne said. “I’m the lightest one here. I’ll go.”

  “I can’t let you do that, Mayor,” Jack said. “It’s bad enough I’m asking an intern to do it.”

  Anne had been in too many negotiation situations to know that she would never win this debate, and precious seconds were ticking by. She looked at Jack and the othe
rs who had joined him as human counterweights. “My mother used to say that it’s easier to get forgiveness than permission.” She crossed the distance from her position to the bridge, and with no further comment, walked into the dusty void.

  “Mayor!” Jack bellowed. “Anne, get back . . .”

  Anne had stopped listening.

  THE ROOM WAS thick with dust that filled Anne’s nose and mouth. She coughed several times and felt a suffocating fear. But a greater fear drove her forward. She had to know what had happened to Perry.

  She waved at the dust to clear her vision, an effort that was both futile and silly. One tentative step followed another, and the terror of falling grew within her. Her mind registered the facts: she stood on two-by-four decking strung between the rails of two aluminum ladders. There was no rail to hold onto, just the twenty-four-inch vertical wall created by the width of the ladders set on end.

  A pressure grew inside her, an impulse to turn and run for the opening. For a moment she felt like a dam about to give in to the unrelenting force of an engorged reservoir. She was foolish to have done this. Who was she kidding? Death was eighteen inches to her right or left. One misstep and she’d plummet to the aquifer below. It was a certain, horrifying death.

  Voices of despair rang in her head: “Flee . . . run . . . escape . . . it’s too late.”

  Anne took another step forward. Fear or no fear, voices or no voices, blackness or light, she was going to push ahead. If that meant careening to her death in abysmal blackness, then so be it.

  Another step.

  “Perry?” The dust began to settle, and the work light began to do its job. Anne’s body cast a long shadow, and in the shadow she could see a form—a human form on its knees, bent over, face down. “Perry!” She turned to the opening. “He’s still on the bridge.”

  Kneeling on the coarse boards, Anne laid a hand on Perry’s back. It rose and fell. He was alive. “Perry? Perry, can you hear me?” There was no response.

  She moved her hand forward and touched his head. His hard hat was gone. She felt moisture in his hair. Raising her hand so the light behind her could shine on it, she saw a dark crimson. Perry’s head was bleeding.

  “Talk to us,” Jack shouted. His voice weighed heavy with concern.

  “He’s unconscious. There’s some blood from the back of his head, but he’s breathing.” She wondered what to do next. The first thought was to drag him out to safety, but his position, size, and dead weight was more than she would be able to manage. Although it was only eight feet or so, it might as well have been a mile. She’d have to think of something else.

  She looked ahead, to the place where the wall had once been. A pile of stones littered a floor—a floor that was only two feet away. If she couldn’t go back, then she had to go forward. That was the safest thing to do . . . maybe.

  Rising, Anne steadied herself and stepped over Perry’s body. Unconscious and in the position of a penitent saint, his body filled the narrow space between the ladders, leaving her to make one big step, the most important step of her life. To totter, to tip, to fall would be the end. Anne chose not to think about the matter any longer. Instead she raised her left leg and gently placed it on the other side of Perry’s bowed body. “Don’t wake up yet, Perry,” she whispered. A vision of his coming to and suddenly sitting up played on her mind.

  Once her left foot found purchase on the wood deck, she raised her right leg, completed the step, and breathed a sigh of relief. Another stride and she was standing on the other side of the stone rubble, feet planted on the ancient floor that had, only moments before, been hidden by the now defunct wall.

  Quickly she began to pick up some of the detritus and toss it to the side. With the area in front of the leading edge of the bridge clear, she reached forward with both hands and grabbed Perry’s collar. Clutching the material in her hands, she pulled with all her strength.

  The man’s body moved forward barely a foot. She tugged again, and his limp form stretched out on the bridge. Several more back-aching pulls and his whole body finally rested on the room’s rugged floor.

  “He’s off the bridge,” Anne shouted. She looked back to the opening, blinded by the brilliant work light.

  “What?” Jack said. “Off the bridge?”

  “I’ve moved him into the new chamber.”

  There was silence. She expected a cheer, but heard nothing at first, then the sound of footsteps on the bridge. The work light dimmed as a body stepped in front of it. Gleason appeared. “Don’t move,” he said.

  “Why?” she asked.

  “The last floor collapsed. Remember?”

  Anne suddenly felt sick. She hadn’t thought of that. “I’m an idiot.”

  “Not necessarily. How is he?”

  “Still breathing. He took at least one blow to the head. I don’t know how serious it is, but he’s out cold.”

  Gingerly, Gleason stepped from the bridge to the floor. “Get back on the bridge,” he said.

  “I’m not leaving.”

  “No one is asking you to,” Gleason said quickly. “Until we know the floor is safe, we should limit the weight on it.”

  “Oh,” Anne said and moved to where Gleason had been a moment before. She watched as he bent over Perry and rolled him onto his back. “This is a lousy place to practice first aid,” he said.

  He felt for a pulse in Perry’s neck. “Heartbeat seems steady.” Seeing Perry’s flashlight clipped to his belt, Gleason removed it and, bending over Perry, continued his examination. “Is this where you felt the blood?” he asked as he ran his hand along his friend’s scalp.

  “Yes.”

  “The cut feels small, and the bone seems intact. That’s good . . .”

  “Ow.” Perry moved, batting away Gleason’s hand.

  “Take it easy, buddy,” Gleason said. “You took a knock on the noggin. I’m just checking to see if any marbles are missing.” Perry remained still as Gleason finished his field exam. “Anything else hurt?”

  “My pride,” Perry said. “When did you become a medic?”

  “You know me, I read a lot. Let me ask you some stupid questions. Do you hear any ringing in your ears?”

  “No.”

  “Blurred or double vision?”

  “I’m fine,” Perry said sitting up, then swayed. “Whoa . . . a

  little dizzy.”

  “You got smacked on the head, remember?”

  “That explains the headache.” Perry looked around. “How did I get here?”

  “Anne dragged you off the bridge while you were napping.”

  “Anne? You shouldn’t be in here.”

  “It seemed like a good idea at the time,” Anne said, quoting Perry’s earlier words to her. “What happened?”

  He moved his head in a circle and grimaced. “I was looking through the opening when I heard something, and then the wall started down. I dropped and covered. One of the rocks must have beaned me behind the ear. Next thing I know, Dr. Kildare is poking the lump with his bony finger.”

  “Wait until you get my bill.”

  Anne watched Gleason help Perry to his feet. He wobbled for a moment then found his legs. He drew a deep breath, coughed from the dust, then Perry’s expression changed as if the fog had finally cleared from his mind. He looked at the empty bridge, then his feet.

  “We’re in the chamber!” He spun and gasped.

  Anne had been too frightened and too preoccupied to look past Perry. Now she followed his eyes. “What is that?”

  THE SHARP PAIN in Perry’s head was extinguished by the onslaught of raw emotion within him. Before him were the objects of his search—the treasure that had driven him the last six months. Here, right in front of his eyes, were the objects of such value that dollar amounts meant nothing. No monetary value could be applied to them. The diffused light from the doorway filled the area with an eerie twilight. He took a step closer.

  “Careful, Perry. We should check the floor.” Gleason sounded apprehensive.


  “No need, buddy. This is what they were protecting. The people that buried all this did so to protect it, not destroy it.”

  “Yeah, well, they’ve already surprised us three times; I think we should avoid a fourth.”

  Gleason was right, but Perry was confident in his assessment. He walked across the floor. It felt rigid, and his footfalls returned a solid sound, not a hollow one that would indicate a cavity beneath.

  “What is it?” Anne repeated. She moved close to Perry, standing by his side looking at the unusual sight.

  “A chrysalis,” Perry said.

  “A what?” Anne said, clearly confused.

  “A chrysalis . . . a cocoon.” Perry kept his eyes riveted to the object. “How’s the bridge, Gleason?”

  “I’ll . . . I’ll check.” His voice was soft and held the waver of amazement. A moment later he said, “It looks sound. This end is resting firmly on the ledge. It should be okay, as long as nothing pulls it back, or we don’t bounce too much.”

  “Invite the rest over,” Perry said. “Tell them to come one at a time. You follow last and bring the work light with you.”

  “Got it.” Gleason disappeared down the bridge.

  “A cocoon?” Anne said. “Of what? It looks like . . . mummy wrappings.”

  “A good description,” Perry said. “The chrysalis is what’s left of the burial.”

  “This is what you were telling me about? This is from the tomb of Christ?”

  “Yes,” Perry whispered. “We’re looking at what no one has seen since the first century.”

  A gasp came from behind them. Perry turned to see Dr. Curtis with a hand to his mouth. His hand shook. “It’s here . . . it’s really here. I couldn’t make myself believe it. Even after you told me about the document, even after I saw what was in the coffins, I still couldn’t believe.”

  “I’m behind you, guys,” Brent said. “Man, this place is eerie. Glad to hear you’re okay, Mr. Sachs . . .” He stopped short, the sight of the object stunning him to silence.