Cave of Discovery

CHAPTER 9 - THE MONK

  Jason sat in a rocking chair on the hotel porch and stared at the street. The afternoon was warm, and the chair's creaking was hypnotizing. His arms and legs felt heavy and his eyes started to close.

  "Rocking chairs are dangerous on a day like this."

  He jumped and his eyes jerked open. The Hummer leaned against the porch railing looking down at him.

  "That's why there's so many senior citizens in this town that sit for hours on their porches and rock away the time," she said. "They were about your age when they first sat down. Then their thoughts drifted the wrong way. When they opened their eyes their bodies had changed. They discovered they were old and couldn't get up. So now they just rock - all day long."

  Jason wasn't sure what to say.

  "Where's your partner?"

  "What?"

  "Daniel. Aren't you two always together?"

  "Oh. He's finishing up his summer class in Spanish. Aunt Rosalita thinks it's part of his heritage."

  She nodded. "So you're on your own for awhile. What interesting things have you planned to do with this free time?"

  He shrugged.

  Her eyes were a darker blue than he remembered, and he felt caught in their grasp. The corners of her eyes crinkled and a slight smile tugged at her mouth.

  "It's cooler in the woods. There's a wealth of exciting things underneath the green boughs just waiting for an intrepid explorer."

  He stood up and the chair banged against the wall. She reached out and caught the arm, stilling the rocking motion.

  "Life is a treasure. Have a good time." The bell over the door jingled as she went into the snack shop.

  He stared at the door for a moment, then headed for the woods. The Hummer was peculiar, but she was right about it being cooler under the trees. Sunlight flickered in and out between the branches as he walked along the path. An intermittent breeze ruffled his hair and dried the sweat on his brow. Last year he spent a lot of time in the woods behind his house with his friends. He wondered what they were doing now.

  A woodpecker's rat-a-tat-tat made him stop and look around. It was quiet with an eerie feeling of expectation. He always felt that way when he was alone in woods. Like the trees were trying to communicate with him, but he wasn't able to make out what they were saying.

  Pine needles on the path muffled his footsteps, and their scent mingled with the odor of decaying wood. The path got fainter. Soon it became hard to distinguish which way it was leading. He looked back, but there was no sign of the path.

  It was like the trail back home that led to the old tree house. It appeared and disappeared. You had to rely on landmarks. The hollow log. The fallen tree. The pond. Last year he and Daniel came up with an elaborate scheme to convince his parents to let them camp out in the tree house. They were going to try it this summer. Now they would never have a chance to see if the plan would have worked.

  As he walked farther, maple trees began replacing the pine. Other trees slowly mixed in until he was walking under tall oaks. His footsteps now rustled through the fallen leaves of past seasons. A shrill cry made him look up. High above him, an eagle soared. It made several lazy circles before flying out of sight.

  There was a loud crack as his foot came down on a dry branch. Startled, he looked around. There was an opening in the trees in front of him. He stepped between the branches onto pavement. Now he knew where he was. There was the Haunted Cave sign pointing up the boardwalk. Haunted Cave, or maybe Eagle Cave he thought.

  Uncle Matt's tours were in the morning. No one would be here the rest of the day. This was his opportunity to check out the cave again. As he followed the boardwalk he squinted in the bright sunlight. His shirt felt hot against his back. Would he see the girl in the deerskin dress? Would she be sitting beside the pool?

  Then he remembered he didn't have a lantern. His shoulders slumped. The boardwalk ended, and he stood before the dark entrance. Cold air blew from the opening, beckoning him inside. He took another step forward. Glancing back he saw heat waves rising from the boardwalk. They distorted the image of the trees and made the ground shimmer like a pool. He turned back to the cool cave.

  Just a few steps inside. Not far enough to get lost in the darkness. He let his fingers trail along the cave wall. His eyes began to adjust, and it didn't seem so dark. There was a soft glow ahead. He blinked several times and rubbed his eyes. A shaft of light lit up the center of the main chamber. He had forgotten about the hole in the roof. He hurried forward, but stopped at the edge of the pool of light. Someone was sitting there.

  He became aware of a sound. A low voice intoned unintelligible words as it rose and fell in a musical chant. The voice trailed off when the figure looked up. His coarse brown robe was tied with a simple rope belt, and he clutched a wooden cross. The light reflected from his bald head giving the image of a halo.

  "Welcome my son," he said. He held out his hand and gestured him in. "Come, and join me in my prayers." He let the cross drop against his chest where it hung suspended on a string of beads.

  Jason said, "I didn't mean to interrupt. I'll wait here."

  "As you wish," he said. "You're not one of the conquistadors. Who are you?"

  Jason didn't know what he meant. All he could think of was the robbery reenactment. Maybe he had interrupted another performance. "I didn't think there were any tours this afternoon."

  "Ah, that is well. My heart is heavy during the tours of duty. And though you are hidden in the darkness I feel that you have a good heart."

  "Are you part of an acting company?"

  "I travel with a company of conquistadors," he said. "They believe I am here for the comfort of the natives." He leaned forward and dropped his voice to a whisper. "But it is for their spiritual enlightenment that I remain." He laughed. "Truly it is they who need my help the most, though they would not say it is so."

  Jason heard faint sounds like a chain-link fence rattling and shoes clicking on the sidewalk. He looked back to the opening. Another tour group? The cave was getting crowded.

  "They seek for treasure in the ground, but it is not where they think."

  He spun back around. "It's not? You know where the treasure is hidden?"

  The monk removed the cross from around his neck and smoothed out the string of beads. He laid it in his lap. "They are coming. If you are not part of their troop, then you should go now."

  "Who's coming?"

  The noises were getting louder and harsh voices mixed with what sounded like a horse neighing.

  "The conquistadors," the monk said in a raspy whisper. Marching footsteps were coming down the corridor. As he jumped to his feet, the cross clattered to the ground. He stepped out of the light toward Jason. With frantic motions he gestured to the back of the cave. "Quickly!" he hissed. "You must hide."

  Jason was not sure what was coming into the cave, but he felt the monk's terror and dashed across the room. As he brushed past the old man a bitter cold swept down his side making his leg numb. He staggered and tried to catch himself, but his fingers had lost all feeling. With a cry he fell to the ground and rolled over and over, coming to a stop in the circle of light.

  The echoes from his cry died out leaving the cave silent. He was facing the entrance, but the room was empty. Just one side of his body was cold. He rubbed his hands together. The fingers were stiff and ached as he tried to massage feeling back into his leg.

  When he swung his legs around to get up, he kicked something and it skidded across the floor. He crawled over to see what it was. The wooden cross lay at the light's edge with its string of beads stretching out into the darkness. He laid it on his leg and straightened out the string. The beads looked like turquoise and pink coral. He slipped it over his head and dropped it down inside his T-shirt where it lay warm against his skin.

  He had plenty of time to think on his way back to the Silver Lode. Had it all been a show? He half expected to see everyone waiting for him on the porch with a video of
the performance. Like a practical joke show on television. But everything was quiet as he entered the lobby.

  He heard a car engine. Maybe Daniel was home from class. When he stepped outside an old truck was pulling out of the parking lot. Its faded bumper sticker read I Like Ike. Silas again?

  The wooden cross felt smooth against his skin. Bradley had told them to let him know about any artifacts. Was it an artifact? He decided it was better to find out now, and headed for the museum.

  He jogged up the museum steps and hurried past the gift shop to avoid the clerk. Now that he was here, he wasn't sure it was a good idea. Instinctively he pressed his hand over his chest where the cross lay hidden.

  He passed a display case full of weapons and slowed his steps. A dagger with a jeweled handle caught his eye. It was too fancy for a pirate's weapon and didn't look functional enough for fighting. Probably a show piece for a rich landowner. He heard footsteps and voices approaching. Quickly he darted down the hall past the Employees Only sign.

  The voices faded as he made his way down the secluded corridor. The muffled sound of his sneakers seemed to echo off the walls and announce his presence. At any moment he expected to be caught and escorted out.

  He stopped in a doorway. It was the room where they had talked to Bradley. Peering inside he scanned the area. It was empty. He stepped inside.

  Light streamed through the window and fell on the shelves holding the rows and rows of labeled drawers. The tarnished brass handles were old and worn, and the varnished wood glistened.

  He ran his finger over the number on a label. 52-0229. With a smooth motion, his finger slid under the handle. There was a soft swoosh of wood on wood as he pulled the drawer open. He leaned forward holding his breath. Inside, a turquoise necklace lay nestled on a piece of folded cloth embroidered with blue beaded flowers.

  "Jason?"

  He jerked his hand away and spun around. It was Bradley.

  "Can I help you find something?"

  "No. Well, yes. I was looking?for you," he stammered.

  "Oh?" He nodded at the drawer. "When you're done there, just push the drawer closed." He walked over and sat down at the desk. Jason took a seat in the other chair.

  "So did you come to apply for a summer job? Or maybe to escape from the heat."

  Jason hesitated. The cross felt hard against his chest. He was sure the beads against his neck were the same as the ones on the necklace he had just seen in the drawer.

  "What's on your mind?" Bradley said. He pushed up his glasses with the back of his hand.

  "Well, you said we should let you know if we found any artifacts."

  Bradley looked him in the eye. "You found something?"

  Jason nodded. He pulled the beaded string over his head and laid it on the desk. Bradley let out a low whistle and wiped his hands on his pant legs. He flipped on a light attached to a magnifying glass. Carefully he removed a small, carved stone from under the glass and placed the cross in its place. Leaning over he peered first at the cross and then at the beads.

  "Where did you find this?"

  There was a slight tremble to his voice as Jason said, "I didn't take it out of the drawer."

  "Of course not," Bradley said without looking up. "I know everything in that storage."

  Jason let his breath out with relief. "Is it valuable?"

  "I think it might be."

  "Then it's an artifact." Jason said.

  "I'm?not?sure," Bradley said. He squinted through the glass. "The workmanship is ancient and it looks like it was made with ancient tools, but it doesn't appear to have any signs of age. It's almost like it was transported here out of time."

  Jason felt a chill down his back. Bradley looked up. "I'm not sure exactly what to make of it. You do seem to be very good at finding treasure of one sort or another. Since it's not technically an artifact, you're not obligated to tell me where you found it, but I am interested."

  "Haunted Cave."

  "Doing a little exploring alone?"

  He shifted position. "If it's not an artifact, then can I keep it?"

  Bradley nodded with some hesitation. "Someone must have lost it. I suggest taking it to Standing Bear at the Turtle Shop and have him appraise it. You can tell him I sent you."

  Someone cleared his throat and Jason jumped. He looked up to see Smith. From the corner of his eye he saw Bradley put his hand over the carved stone, hiding it from view.

  "I see you've found a treasure," Smith said as he reached out and took the cross. "Did the map turn out to be useful?"

  Bradley laughed. "Not our famous treasure map from the gift shop?"

  Smith gave him a scornful look and Bradley sobered. "I'm not sure it's an artifact," Bradley said. "I suggested he get it appraised by Standing Bear."

  Smith turned the cross over and examined it. "We are quite capable of determining authenticity right here, Bradley."

  "Yes, of course. I just thought we would need an official certification. And it is his area of expertise?"

  "It doesn't appear to have signs of aging," Smith said. "Pity. You missed your opportunity for fame. After a piece is added to the collection we make up a plaque engraved with the name of the discoverer. However, since this piece doesn't qualify, it should be reported to the authorities as a lost item. You'll receive any reward money, of course." He turned away.

  Bradley's hand hovered over his shirt pocket for a moment, then quickly he folded his hands. "I can write up the paperwork," he said. "We'll need the appraisal certification from Standing Bear. If he thinks it's worth a lot, he can keep it for Jason until we know if anyone is going to claim it."

  Smith stiffened and turned in slow motion. He gave Bradley a cold stare. His eyes traveled down to where there was now a small bulge in his shirt pocket. Then he forced a smile, and held out the cross. Jason's hand closed around the string. Their eyes met as he gave it a gentle tug. Smith's fingers let go one by one and the cross slid from his hand. In a smooth motion, Jason slipped it over his head and dropped it inside his shirt.

  Smith patted him on the shoulder. "You let us know if you find anything else. We don't want you to miss out on your chance for fame or reward." Then he strode out of the room.

  Jason looked back at the desk. The carved stone was gone. Why had Bradley put it in his pocket?