ANOTHER CLUE
-Dis/Claimer- x x x . Chapter Eighteen . The camper was parked several blocks away from the historic home of Betsy Ross. As it jerked to a stop, Riley’s body swayed, but his limitless gaze was anchored and lost. He did not look up as Ian, Ben, Patrick, Carl, and Walt left the camper, leaving him and Abigail to themselves. Abigail sat at the table eavesdropping through the open window. After a time, she looked over at Riley. He was still leaning against the cupboards on the floor expressionless. “Carl and Fischer as staying in the cab until the rest of them come back,” she said quietly. Riley made no response. Abigail frowned, waves of guilt beating against her continuously. Why hadn’t she warned him on the phone two days ago? “Riley, I’m sorry about Carolyn,” she tried gently, knowing it was useless now. “I should’ve told you when I had the chance.” Riley looked at her slowly, a slight feeling of betrayal developing. “So you knew… How did you find out?” he asked accusingly. “Ian told us on the boat before we left the Statue of Liberty,” she said. “When he meant to leave you both for dead, thinking we’d never see you again.” Riley just grimaced, his eyes now moving around restlessly. Riley turned off the blow dryer in the bathroom, his tuxedo still damp. An angry snarl of hatred towards Carolyn for pushing him the pool surfaced, and he finally just left the bathroom, not wanting to miss the fireworks. As he started downstairs, he heard a faint click from within the library. People had probably just wandered inside. He rolled his eyes as he walked downstairs. “Hey, what are you doing in here?” he asked, turning to address the roaming party guests. “The party’s out…side…” Carolyn had a gun on her with the George Washington at Princeton portrait dangling behind her and Walt. It was just a cover up, and he knew it now. Walt was only pretending to harm Carolyn so that the act looked innocent on her behalf. They had it all planned. He wondered how she communicated with Ian, how Walt got into the party. But anymore, nothing Ian pulled off surprised him. She even looked like him. How did he miss that? The blonde hair and the eyes? She acted like him at first, too, before the portrait incident where she decided to pretend to be nice. His first impression of her had been right – stuck up, selfish, and bigheaded. She was a Barbie… Riley shook his head, rubbing his face with his hands. “I hate that man,” he muffled. Then, he lifted his head up. “And his sister, too.” x x x Carolyn walked between her brother and Ben as the five of them approached Betsy Ross’s home. She looked up at the First American Flag waving gently in the wind with a scorn, still hating herself, her brother, and Riley. Herself for not telling Riley sooner, Ian for telling him, and Riley for not reading the note she had given him the night before. This was the last situation she ever wanted to be in. “Come on.” Walt pushed her forward, and she fell back in step with the others. Inside, a woman greeted them in colonial attire, handing them pamphlets and giving them a brief history of the house. Ben looked interested but impatient at the same time. Carolyn stayed silent, not paying attention. Eventually, the colonial woman moved on to the next incoming party, and Ian, Ben, Patrick, Walt, and Carolyn stepped aside in a corner. Ian held out a map, and he and Ben looked it over. “Which fireplace?” Patrick asked, looking at the map with them. Ian looked over at him. “What do you mean ‘which fireplace?’” he asked. “Ben-“ “Back in Colonial times, houses had a fireplace in almost every room,” Ben told him. “This house has quite a few, but only one was really that famous.” “I’ve never heard of a famous fireplace, Ben,” Ian said. “You’ve seen it,” Ben said, looking over at Carolyn, “in the background of a painting.” Carolyn’s nodded. “Charles Weisgerber. 1893.” “’The Birth of Our Nation’s Flag,’” Patrick said to them. “It shows Betsy Ross showing the finished flag to George Washington, George Ross, and Robert Morris from the Congressional Committee.” “The flag was first revealed to these men in the Flag Room, more commonly known at the time as the parlor,” Ben said to them, moving to the head of the group. “It’s over this way.” The rest of the group followed him. Upon entering the room, several families and groups were looking around and talking. Ben stopped and held them back until the groups left, motioning them off to the side. Carolyn watched a young couple wander around the room hand in hand, pointing interestingly at certain things and sharing a laugh. She smiled sadly at them as they left the room, oblivious to her stare. Why hadn’t he read the note? Nevermind. Why hadn’t she told him? Why? She was a coward. “Over here.” A selfish one at that. “Carolyn.” She sniffed and looked around, noticing they were now the only ones left in the room. She slowly walked forward with the others towards the fireplace, crossing her arms in front of herself reclusively as Ben kneeled before the fireplace. He ran his fingers over the blue and white ceramic tiles smoothly, a question in his eyes. After a moment, he touched the center tile at the top of the fireplace and tapped it. “’The illegible keystone,’” he echoed aloud, “’in this bed of coals lay.’” Carolyn leaned in, watching him pat his pockets. He then looked up at them. “Do one of you have a knife handy?” Carolyn went to shake her head, but Walt suddenly produced a large blade from inside his belt wordlessly. Ben and Carolyn’s eyes doubled as Ben took it from Walt slowly. “Perhaps not that handy…” Ben commented. “Just get us what we need, Ben,” Ian said with calm impatience. Ben was already wriggling the knife between the two tiles with difficulty and little success. “I could use a hand…” Patrick kneeled beside his son, adding an extra force behind the knife’s stainless steel blade. With a few pushes, the blade proved itself useful separating tile from cement. Ben caught the tile before it could fall to the floor and call attention to them, letting out a sigh of relief. Instantly, he felt a cold draft on his face and looked up – a hollow space of cold brick and stone was before them where the tile had just been. All of them leaned in further with interest, Carolyn craning her neck over the others for a look. Ben dodged his head around looking into the dark hole, something catching his eye. He reached in blindly, but his cramped fingers were able to grab something. “What is it?” Patrick urged. “I… hang on…” Finally, Ben’s hand withdrew from the hole, a small rolled piece of parchment caught awkwardly between his fingers. He stood slowly with the others rising around him curiously. “It’s a scroll,” Ian said in amazement. “Yeah,” Ben said, looking over its intact thread of disclosure. “It’s well preserved, that’s for sure. This thing looks like it could’ve been written only ten years ago.” “Never mind that, what does it say?” Ian asked impatiently. “Let’s get out of here first,” Ben said. “I’d rather not discuss it here.” “There’s no one-“ Carolyn cleared her throat loudly, and the others looked up as she glanced over her shoulder at an entering family. Ian scowled in defeat at them as Ben discreetly replaced the tile and handed Walt his knife back. “Let’s go,” Ben muttered, leading them out of the parlor. x x x Riley had fallen into a state of unrest. He had no idea what to do with himself as relentless thoughts passed through his mind over and over again, tiring him mentally. He couldn’t sit still, and he didn’t want to move. He was actually beginning to feel ill. The plate of steakhouse buffet food before him only sickened him more. “Riley, eat something,” Ben said from next to him quietly. His friend did not reply; he simply twiddled with his fork, moaned indifferently, and propped his cheek into his fist despondently. Ben grew silent himself as the others around them ate and talked avidly. “Look, she’s clear down there,” he said, nodding towards Carolyn at the other end of the table. She looked just as thrilled as Riley did. “See? She’s not bothering you.” Riley huffed a sarcastic laugh inwardly. Ben sensed it. “Just eat,” he said again. “I’m not hungry,” Riley, said, a little stubbornness present in his tone. “I did not pay 5.95 for you to sit here and stare at the food. You could’ve stayed outside and done that. Or did you want an up close view?” Riley kept looking down at Carolyn, her presence distracting him completely. At chance, she glanced up quaintly as well and met his eyes. It was brief, Carolyn looking down first. She couldn’t even look at him. Ben watched Riley continue to glare over at her. He had a longing under his angry gaze that wasn’t totally concealed. He went back to stabbing at his salad innocently. “Did you know, too?” Ben looked up, realizing Riley was out of his trance. “Excuse me?” “Did you know that… she was… who she was?” Ben shook his head cluelessly. “Only at the Statue when Ian meant to kill the both of you.” Riley sighed in annoyance. “No, I mean before that. He was your investor for two years and you never met any of his immediate family? She wasn’t poking around in illegible operations with him before? Never saw you on any of your excursions?” Ben lowered his voice. “I think she was actually tricked into this like we all were.” Riley stared at him in disbelief. He was defending her! “You what?” “Well, she was meant to die with you in the Statue according to Ian, and he didn’t talk very kindly of her when he let it out.” “Psh… I don’t blame him. She’s a backstabber.” Ben set his fork down suddenly. “Exactly.” Riley looked up. “What do you mean ‘exactly?’ Stop with the reverse psychology crap. I’m not in the mood.” “No, no,” Ben said. He lowered his voice even more. “Ian felt that Carolyn had betrayed him, so he tried to have her killed.” “And?” “She did something Ian didn’t like,” Ben said, trying to get Riley to catch on to his train of thought. Suddenly, Riley’s face came out of his cheek as he sat up, looking from Carolyn to Ben. “She sided with us?” Ben shrugged. “Possibility it was something else, but it seems logical. What else could she have done? If she really did turn against Ian, maybe she did side with us.” Riley stared at him with disgust. “Whose side are you on?” “My side.” “No, I mean me or Carolyn. Who are defending here? That… liar? She tricked you into letting you into your home and potentially harming you, Ben,” Riley reminded him. “And Abigail and Charlie and Sally. It was always like that. She’s only in it with Ian for the treasure.” He felt empty hearing his own words and sighed, facing a hard reality. “That’s it.” Ben shook his head, looking around the table. “Maybe so, but I doubt it.” Riley picked up his fork and looked at it boredly. Ben’s thoughts sidetracked him, and he glanced down the table at Carolyn. She caught his eye on her again but looked away. He sighed, looking back at his fork. She is such a liar. x x x Carefully, Ben unrolled the tiny scroll as the camper headed out of Philadelphia. Ian, Riley, Carolyn, and Patrick leaned in for a closer look, but the scroll appeared blank, save for a fancy cursive ‘F’ in the upper corner. Riley made a face. “’F?’” he asked skeptically. “That’s it?” “Maybe we have to find more scrolls,” Ian suggested. “The letters on the scrolls will spell out something?” “Better than that,” Ben said, going through his pockets. “What?” Carolyn asked. “That ‘F’ is a symbol for fire,” Patrick explained, touching the scroll pointedly. “Old messages written in invisible ink had an ‘F’ or ‘A’ in the corner to indicate how to reveal the ink’s message.” “The ‘F’ means we need fire to read the message,” Ben finished, pulling out a lighter. “You’re gonna torch our clue?” Riley asked. “No, I’m gonna read it to you,” Ben said with a nod. “Grab a napkin or something. I want to write it down.” Riley reached for a napkin behind him, but a hand beat it to him. He became rigid and looked up at Carolyn who averted him eyes for a moment. He slowly took his hand away (despite an overwhelming urge to curl his fingers between hers) and lowered it awkwardly to his side. Carolyn took a deep breath, a napkin, and a pen and turned back to the table. Ben, Ian, and Patrick looked at them for a moment before Carolyn cleared her throat. “I have the napkin,” she announced, readying her pen. Attention was back on the scroll as Ben carefully moved the lighter under the scroll his father held in place. Two lines of text appeared in the middle of the small scroll, and Ben’s eyes lit up. He moved the lighter to the left to read the message with a smile. “Ready?” he prompted Carolyn. She nodded with anticipation as the others listened. Ben scanned the lighter behind the scroll and read aloud: “’Forty feet below,’” – Carolyn scribbled his words down hurriedly as Riley looked over her shoulder – “’two million pounds are buried.’” The sound of Carolyn writing was all that was left as the message passed through all of their minds repeatedly. Carolyn put the pen down, and Riley picked up the napkin. She continued to look at it with interest, too. Their wall was suddenly translucent. “’Forty feet below two million pounds are buried?’ What is that?” Riley questioned. “Like an X marks the spot?” “We just don’t know where X is,” Carolyn said, looking over at Ben who was deep in thought. Ben searched his mind, having a familiarity strike him with the phrase. He knew he had heard it before. And then, he smiled. “What?” Ian asked. “I think we’re about to find it,” he said, looking up at everyone. x x x Night fell, and the camper was speeding on a dark highway northbound. Carl, Walt, and Fischer were in the cab pushing fifteen above the speed limit while the others rode out the trip in the back. Abigail was at the table with Ian and Patrick eating some food to fight of the hunger pangs she had been experiencing recently. Riley sat on the bottom bunk with him laptop, his eyes keen on the material he read. Ben sat next to him, hunched over in thought. “You could be wrong, you know,” Riley said, causing Ben to look up. “It says here that the Halifax professor that found the stone engraved the message on it as a hoax to get more digging funds, but after forty feet, they didn’t find anything.” “Yeah, I know,” Ben, said as Carolyn came over, handing each of them a glass of water. “But they’ve found other things below it that would suggest otherwise.” “Like…?” “A watch chain, a pair of crude scissors, cast iron-“ “Probably from the people that have fallen in and died over the years of digging,” Riley said. “That number is around nine or ten, minus the machine malfunction fatalities.” “There’s another stone with 1704 carved in it.” Riley shrugged, failing to see the significance of this. “So?” “Daniel McGinnis didn’t find the Pit until 1795, and he was only seventeen at the time.” “The Pit?” Carolyn asked, not able to hold her curiosity anymore. Riley threw his head back, rolling his eyes. “Good job,” he said to her. “Now he’s going to launch himself into History Mode.” “I am,” Ben said, turning back to Carolyn. “The Pit is another name for the Money Pit,” he began. “In the late 1700s, Daniel McGinnis and his two friends were on Oak Island when they found a circular depression in the ground next to a tree that looked as if it had a pulley system on it at one time. They heard rumors of pirates in the area before, so boys will be boys; they decided to come back to see if they would discover any buried treasure.” “Did they?” Carolyn asked with interest. “Not much in the way of a treasure chest of gold and jewels, but they started a phenomenon in the treasure hunting world,” Ben said. “I’ve never even heard of Oak Island,” Carolyn said. “Why is it so fascinating?” “Because in this Money Pit, people keep coming across layers of bound logs perfectly preserved under hundreds of feet of sand,” Ben explained. “Small artifacts dating back centuries… genius entrapments-“ “Like flood tunnels,” Riley inserted with a pleasant mocking smile. Carolyn looked back at Ben, and he nodded. “Tunnels were dug from Smith’s Cove and South Shore Cove straight into the Pit. This would suggest the designers meant to keep their treasure hidden forever, as some possible masterminds up for the title have promised.” “Captain Kidd, Blackbeard-“ “The wealth of the Mayan Empire-“ “Other random pirates-“ “And of course,” Ben added with a meaningful look to Carolyn, “The Templars.” Carolyn gave him a skeptical look. “The Templars built a Money Pit to hide the treasure?” She got no answer and sighed. “That’s almost historically impossible.” “Well the treasure switched hands often, don’t forget,” Ben said, “and when it came to America, chances are some of the ships that were lost at sea and never heard from again were drawn off course somehow by pirates or storms-“ “And they all ended up at Oak Island?” she ventured sarcastically. “Some sunk of course, but ships that were taken, by pirates especially, were pillaged and the Europeans’ gold became their gold.” Riley looked up from his laptop. “I thought pirates rarely ever buried treasure?” “True, but Blackbeard was always claiming he had hid his treasure in a place that only Satan and himself knew about,” Ben provided. “Pirates hardly ever hid their gold, but when they did, the hot spot of the North Atlantic Ocean was Oak Island.” “How is all of this true?” Carolyn asked. “Were there maps at all or-?“ “Oh yes, many maps surfaced in the nineteenth century,” Ben said. “Old men on their deathbeds claiming to be part of Captain Kidd’s crew spoke of the location of the treasure, and most stories would point to the island. There’s even a large formation of stones on the island that make a giant arrow pointing directly toward the Money Pit.” Carolyn found it intriguing, but the story felt empty to her. “I’m sorry, but I find it hard to believe that a few lost ships could hold more wealth than the treasure you found in New York.” “The island was along a common water route,” Riley said. “Other groups of people had the opportunity to hide stuff there, and they did.” “It’s been rumored that various undiscovered treasures are there,” Ben said. “From Vikings to pirates to the Spanish and Francis Bacon. It’s an accumulative treasure, making it worth worlds more than what we found.” Carolyn’s mouth opened in awe. “Francis Bacon?” “Well, not as a builder per say, but-“ “His rough drafts of Shakespeare’s manuscripts are said to be hidden there?” Carolyn asked with excitement. Ben nodded with a slight smile. “That’s right.” Carolyn smiled in disbelief. Riley cast her an unsure look. “Francis Bacon?” “It’s been a longstanding theory that Shakespeare didn’t write his own plays since none of the original works have been found in document,” Carolyn explained. “They say Francis Bacon was a hired writer for Shakespeare, and after his plays became a success, Bacon hid them from the world so they would never know the truth.” “Francis held great respect for Shakespeare, so he did not want to jeopardize his friend’s success,” Ben added. Riley quirked a smile as he continued to look up information on his computer. “I hate Shakespeare. It’d suck for all those literary people to find out Shakespeare was a liar.” He chuckled. “Reminds me of the DaVinci Code.” “I heard about Francis Bacon as a kid and always wanted to know where he could’ve hid them,” Carolyn said breathlessly. “The Wye River was to be the spot, but it was later found empty after its whereabouts were compromised, so it was said he took them somewhere else.” “Oak Island,” Ben said. She laughed. “This is too much.” “And a little too convenient,” Riley jutted in. “Hard to believe all of the world’s greatest missing treasures could be buried on such a small island. Wonder if we’ll find Atlantis while we’re at it?” “We might,” Ben said. Riley looked up at him slowly, the comment sounding more serious than sarcastic. His mind reeled at the thought. Immediately, Riley went back to his laptop, wondering if he should search for theories on Atlantis being near Oak Island. “Truth is,” Ben continued, “no one’s ever found significant evidence that there really is a treasure there. Just little remains and possessions and puzzles that keep leading us on to dig further…” “Yeah, until the whole thing collapses,” Riley said. “That Pit is extremely unstable. They have floods and cave-ins all the time.” “The land around it is also a contributor,” Ben told him. “If there are random cavities around the main shaft, that only adds to it.” “What are the chances of us surviving if it’s so dangerous?” Carolyn asked. Ben gave her an honest look, sighing. “I cannot honestly tell you that,” he said levelly. “It is a very unstable place, but it is so meticulously designed that it’s brilliant in itself. We may find nothing more than a button or a piece of cloth. I don’t even know what we’re going to do when we get there…” “You don’t?” Carolyn asked. “It’s not as simple as jumping into the hole in the ground and landing on a mound of treasure,” Riley said with a hint of impatience. “And we don’t have time for a whole full-blown expedition plan,” Ben countered. “We’ve got to be smart and fast about it, though there’s no way we could really be safe.” “What do you mean we don’t have time?” Riley asked. “We’ve got until 6 o’clock tomorrow night before we even get there.” “Okay, I’ll think go of something,” Ben said sarcastically before he got up and left. Riley’s mouth fell open in protest, but he said nothing. His mouth simply closed again, and his shoulders sagged. He looked over at Carolyn for a moment, but she stood and left with nothing to say. Why did she have to be on Ian’s side? He looked back at the computer, the cursor blinking in the search box. After staring for a moment, he began to type. Atlantis oak island. x x x As the activity level of the camper fell later into the night, Carolyn’s mind ran overly exhausted in the top bunk. She wanted it just to shut off, to die. But her mind was stubborn and unforgiving at the late hour, further tiring and frustrating her. Below her, a distracting soft glow came from the bottom bunk. Riley sat dreary-eyed, tracking their location on a map through the GSP on his laptop. They were about an hour into New York now, but he really didn’t care. He still disagreed strongly, but was Ben possibly right? Did Carolyn really side with them for a time? It didn’t matter. She lied. But she said she had tried to tell him… When? “Riley, I have to tell you something-“ “This can’t wait!” Carolyn said in exasperation. “Just listen!” “What?!” “I’m Ia-“ The gunshots. "-er!" “What?!” Riley yelled again. He pieced it together. “I’m Ian’s sister!” His stomach dropped violently as he stared at her. “What?” “Riley, please, just-“ More gunshots entered the bathroom, and Carolyn screamed loudly. He doubled over her, but it wasn’t until after he hit the floor that he felt numb. His mind wasn’t putting together things easily, and Carolyn was shrieking even louder. He took several sharp intakes of air and felt something roll out of his mouth. He touched it with a shaking hand and saw that it was blood. “Riley! Riley, no! No no no- Stop!” He looked over his shoulder in a dreamlike state as Walt came in. Another gunshot fired, and Riley’s eyes doubled in size as a searing pain tore up his spine. Carolyn fussed over him with tears streaming from her eyes. He wanted to reach out and tell her it was okay. He wanted to forgive her. “Riley… oh go-“ Two more shots, and Carolyn was suddenly on the ground with him writhing in pain. He slowly reached out for her, but another shot blacked out his vision, and he jolted awake in front of his laptop. He panted as he snapped the laptop closed, touching his lip to assure himself he was blood-free and not dying. Is that what would’ve happened if she had gotten to tell him? If so, he suddenly found himself glad she hadn’t – otherwise they’d be dead. He may have hated her for double-crossing him, but part of him still told him it was cruel to wish her dead. He was better than that. He wondered if - just maybe - Ben really was right. . Please Review .
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