A Scary Vacation

by Jack Haller

laughing when we hit the trail and followed Charlie.

  “Shhh,” he turned his head toward us.

  “You think somebody is out here?” George asked.

  “I don't know. I've always wondered what happened to that treasure map. It doesn't hurt to be cautious.”

  The open fields gave way to a forest as we marched in silence. My thoughts were of gold and I'd give odds that George was thinking of the same thing. We came upon a group of rocky hills.

  “This is it,” Charlie said as he disappeared through a crack in one of the rocks.

  I looked at George.

  “We've come this far,” he said.

  I nodded and went through the crevice Musket had just gone through.

  A light flashed and he said,” Over here.”

  George was behind me as we walked toward the light. Charlie held it high so it illuminated the wall of the small cave. He smiled with pride like a parent whose child had just done something wonderful.

  What I saw did not resemble anything I had ever seen before.

  I opened my mouth to speak. “Holy smokes!” was all that came out.

  “Awesome,” George muttered.

  We stared at a stack of gold bars about four feet high and six feet long. I made an attempt to assess the situation, but my mind refused to function. That glittering stack of gold completely mesmerized me.

  Musket's voice broke the silence. “It will be turning dark before long. Grab a couple of bars and follow me.”

  The pack sagged on my shoulders, but the thought of being rich kept me from feeling the weight. Charlie led us back to the car. We climbed in with the bars and started for his cabin.

  “Over there,” he said.

  The headlights revealed a pair of ruts running through the middle of the woods.

  “Use your parking lights,” Charlie directed. “Take the fork on the right.”

  About a mile farther, the ruts ended abruptly in front of a small cabin with a covered porch across the front.

  “Bring your packs,” Musket said, climbing out of the car with his knapsack.

  His flashlight led us into the cabin. He lit a kerosene lamp and took the stairs to the cellar, waving us to follow. There were two long planks lying on the earthen floor against the wall. Charlie placed the bars he was carrying on the wood and gestured for us to do the same. Six gold bars didn't make much of a pile compared with the stack we had gazed upon back in the cave, but I figured it was worth close to the four mil Charlie promised us.

  Back upstairs, he crawled into the only cot in the tiny cabin, leaving the floor for George and I to toss and turn on with visions of gold in our heads.

  Next morning, the three of us went to work. The gold had lost none of its magic overnight. We loaded our packs from that stack of gold in the cave and started back to the car.

  “What are you boys up to?”

  A voice from nowhere startled us.

  I took off running toward the car. A man stood in front of me, blocking the path.

  “Settle down now,” he said, waving a pistol in the air. “Get over there with your buddies.”

  My stomach felt like it does when the car slides on ice, and the steering wheel becomes useless. As I walked toward George and Musket Charlie, I spotted a man behind them. He was holding a large branch and effectively blocked the trail to the cave.

  “Drop those sacks on the ground,” the gunman ordered.

  George let his pack fall. Then he ran toward the cave. Our captors hadn't expected that, and it took them by surprise. He bowled over the man with the branch. The pistol went off.

  “Go after him,” the gunman hollered at his accomplice. “You two,” he pointed the gun at Charlie and me. “Put your hands on your head and sit down over there.” He motioned toward a large fir tree at the edge of the trail.

  He opened one of the packs, keeping an eye on Charlie and me as he peered inside.

  “Hey! Looks like the map is real. This guy must have a lot of friends,” he said as he pulled out a gold bar.

  He removed a second bar and placed it on the ground next to the first one. Then he gathered the other packs and emptied them, making a small pile of gold.

  “Carl,” he called out to the other man.

  “The map was right. Come on back.”

  Silence.

  Again, he called, “Hey, Carl.”

  Louder.

  “Come on back here.”

  More silence.

  Charlie and I sat against the fir tree and watched George sneak up behind the gunman and smash a boulder on his head. There was a dull crack as the gunman fell to the ground. George leaped at him and came up holding the pistol.

  “Yahoo!” Charlie shouted.

  “Way to go, buddy,” I yelled, jumping and dancing in circles with Charlie.

  “He won't give us anymore trouble,” George said, dropping the gunman's wrist.

  “Dead?”

  He nodded.

  “And his friend?” Musket asked, searching the dead man's pockets.

  “Yep.”

  “Here it is,” Charlie held it up. “The Indian leather map I told you about.”

  “They must have got it from his wife,” George said.

  “However they got it, they were about to find the cave.”

  “Right,” George sounded different. “We'll have to work fast before somebody else shows up.” He was still holding the pistol.

  “We'd better bury these corpses before the buzzards start circling and attract some unwanted attention,” Charlie said.

  “No time,” George said waving the gun.

  “You two can do that tomorrow. Right now we need to reload these packs and get back to the car.”

  “Gold fever,” Charlie whispered. “He's got it sure.”

  That queasy feeling returned to my stomach. The friend I ran track with during four years at college, just killed two men. He showed no signs of remorse. He seemed only concerned with getting the gold out of the cave. I shuddered to think what would happen when the cave was empty.

  George didn't say much the rest of the day. I talked a little with Musket Charlie before George told us, “No more talking. You two split up.”

  We planned to overpower him at the cabin when he dozed off. That plan never had a chance to work because George didn't sleep. He just sat on the cot, holding the gun with a creepy look on his face.

  I finally slept until I felt my ribs hurting. I opened my eyes to see George standing over me. He kicked me again.

  “Get up. We're going to move a lot of that gold today. We'll make four trips instead of two.”

  Musket Charlie sat next to me in the car, giving directions as George trained his gun on us from the back seat. When we got there, George had us drag the bodies into the cave. I entered first, then Charlie. When George came through the crevice, Charlie jumped him. The gun fired. Then George fell to the ground. I scrambled for it before he could react. I backed away keeping the pistol aimed at him. But there was no need. He was out cold.

  “He shot me,” Charlie cried. “That son of a bitch shot me.”

  I went over to him, to see if there was anything I could do. He clutched his stomach. Blood colored his shirt and fingers. George came to, and lunged at me. The gun rang out three times. My college friend got a queer look on his face as he fell to the floor of the cave. Charlie moved and I turned the gun on him.

  “You had to do it,” he said, hands in the air. “He..he was going to kill you. An...and me, too.”

  My mind raced. I thought of police, and an inquest, and somebody taking the gold away.

  “That's right. I had to do it. You know that. But you need a doctor. That will mean questions, and police, and somebody taking the gold away. Goodbye, Musket Charlie,” I said, squeezing the trigger one more time.

  He slumped forward, and blood trickled from where the bullet went into his head. Now there were four dead bodies in the cave. I shrugged, stuffed two gold bars into my pack, and headed for the car.


  * * *

  I sat upright in bed. Did that U-haul roll over? No. It was a dream. Today's Friday. George and I will be celebrating at the Littletree Inn tonight before we have to go home.

  Awwwww, George. Why'd you have to get gold fever? Maybe I wasn't happy with my job. But I could have kept at it until... I never even thought about killing anyone, that is before the gold came into my life. Now I'll always look over my shoulder and wonder if someone knows, if someone's going to come after me, if someone's going to take the gold away.

  My watch said two-thirty. I can't figure it all out now. I need to sleep. I'll need all my strength come morning. There's a lot of gold left in that cave, and I have to move it all...

  all by myself

  THE END

  Author's note: The gold in this story is based on historic fact.

  In 1880 the United States Cavalry found two wagons at the bottom of a ravine in Targhee Forest, Idaho. It had only been a matter of hours since a band of Indians attacked the wagons and robbed them of two million dollars in gold bars. The Cavalry killed the Indians in swift retribution. However, the gold was never found.