No Romance Chapter 17

Chapter 17, “No Treasure Nearby. Search Elsewhere.”

Now, Jack wasn’t quite sure if this would work. That is to say, he wasn’t quite sure what “this” was. He just knew that a rope bridge presented possibilities.

            As they neared the actual bridge, palm trees all around them, they saw the full extent of the turquoise pool of water that lay beneath it. It wasn’t just a pool of water at all, but a large-sized lagoon (as Jack had hypothesized), almost a lake. The bridge led across the lagoon, a good eighty or ninety feet below, and to a black igneous island covered in thick growths of trees. The island wasn’t quite an island, however; on the left the vertical cliffside of Mt. Diabolo shot up out of the water like a wall, making Mt. Diabolo the connecting land between the two sides. A circle of cliffs surrounded the lagoon (which in turn surrounded the island), making it seemingly impossible to escape if one were to fall in. A small, black, rocky shore at the base of the island was the only land accessible from the bright water.
            Annie stood in awe of the contrasting black and turquoise colors on display.
A sign very similar to the other signs Jack had encountered on this island was posted right next to the bridge. Written in black arial lettering against a white metal board were the words,

No treasure nearby. Search elsewhere.

Three Seas said, “It looks like we should search elsewhere. Maybe we should try going south.”

Jack stared at him, gaping. And everybody stared at each other. It wasn’t a very comfortable silence.

“You know,” Jack started, “Probably a lot of people were deterred by that sign. People believe the written word so much in this story. Paula didn’t think to bring up my last name to Golbez because it had a single letter different. One letter that didn’t even make a difference in the pronunciation. Golbez noticed it too, and lectured me on it. Even that roller-skating eagle got offended when I accidentally forgot it was spelled with a Y! People will believe anything if it’s written down. Like all of this, right now. All of us, this whole story, this whole situation. So yeah, I guess it’s no wonder that this sign is successful. Now we could either obey it and go somewhere else, or rip it down and pretend we never saw it. I’m going to go ahead and rip it down. Everybody okay with that? Yeah, like I care.”

He grabbed the sign and tried to tear it off. It didn’t budge. He tugged at it again, but no luck. It was there permanently. After a few more tries, Jack, somewhat embarrassed and breathing heavily, said, “Okay, looks like we’re just going to ignore it. Can you trust me? Me, the one who communes with the gods regularly? Let’s just go across this bridge.”

He made to step onto the bridge, but Three Seas stopped him.

“Wait. You want us to follow you across there? Going to a place where there’s obviously no treasure? How do we know this isn’t just one of your traps?”

Jack groaned. “Here, I’ll show you. Carl Sagan, cross this bridge.”

The Super Tiger got up from his haunches and trotted over to the bridge. When he noticeably saw how high the bridge was from the water, he looked back to Jack with a look that could have only been pleading. Jack, just as he had with Annie all those chapters ago, bid him continue, saying, “Go on. You’ll be fine.”

Annie, meanwhile, started getting suspicious. “Hey,” she said slowly, recognizing the scenario and moving over to Jack. “But...there’s no vine here. What are you doing, Jack McDowell?”

“My mind isn’t its usual thing today,” Jack said quietly. The plan I had wasn’t much of a plan. But it should work anyway. I’m trusting the gods.”

Carl Sagan then padded very carefully across the bridge, placing each paw carefully on the wooden slats. But he made it safely to the other side, where he found a comfortable place and sat down once more on his haunches in a cute little stance where his paws were farther apart than normal.

“See, it’s safe,” Jack said to the Johnsons and to Mortimer. “Who’s next?”

            “I volunteer,” Mortimer said. “I want to figure out this whole treasure thing.”
            Then Jack remembered his---admittedly meager---plan and stopped Mortimer quickly.
            “Mortimer, were you not ever told about the treasure?”
            “Never,” he said, shaking his head.
            “Really? What were you getting paid with?”
            He shrugged. “Just room and board. Having a family, that kind of thing. Also the job gave me a lot of mysteries to solve.”
            “Yeah, right, weird, anyway---”
            “But I never thought to solve the mystery of why we were sent out there...hm...I just did what I was told when it came to that.”
            “Well, if you ever see him again, ask Amon Dem. He was pretty open with me about it. But no! I will cross this bridge next. Annie, I want you to follow me.” Jack started out before Annie could finish her second word of protest (after “But---!”). “You’re better than that, Annie!” Jack called out over his shoulder.
            She frowned and sniffed. Then she thought about it. Something went through her mind at that moment, and she gave a confirming nod and followed Jack onto the bridge, just a few seconds behind.
            The Johnsons all looked each other in the eye, as eye contact was really their only method of communication with each other. Mortimer did not tarry with them as they conferred in silence but waited a good ten seconds or so and stepped onto the bridge behind Annie. He seemed to be driven by his own motives, apart from anyone else there. The Johnsons finally made up their telepathetic minds upon seeing the bridge being crossed safely and followed the whole crowd.
            Jack stepped on the last wooden slat as the ropes connecting the bridge to the mainland snapped.
            He had been expecting it.
            As it swung down against the black island he grabbed onto the top slat his feet had once been standing on and secured his feet against a slat further down. He yelled for Annie to do the same. And it seemed she heard him over the sound of her own screams, as she hearkened to his command and held on. Both retained their grip as the bridge impacted against the cliff wall.
            When he had for sure gotten his footing, Jack hoisted himself up onto the island and turned in time to see the three Johnsons falling into the turquoise water below, a drop of almost a hundred feet. Their cries were distant and grew fainter until the succession of splashes. They were alive, and very much out of the way.
            Jack grinned in triumph. “Now THAT’S what I’m talking about!”
            Annie stared up at him in confusion. “That’s what you’re talking about?”
            “I am talking about this.”
            Jack lowered himself to his belly so he could reach down to help Annie. He had to coax her up, one slat at a time, which was difficult because he couldn’t read her face, and so he didn’t know quite how to treat her. She was either traumatized at having to go through that kind of ordeal again or totally accepting of it as pretty much routine now. She was shaking, but also climbing up at a good pace.
            “What are you feeling?” Jack said as he gripped her wrists and pulled her up the rest of the way. He didn’t notice the stony glare she shot at him. Securely on the ground again, she shook herself free from Jack’s grip and rolled over on her back, breathing heavily and staring straight up at the sky.
            “I...don’t know,” she said between heaving breaths. “Nothing, I think. Or everything.” She seemed to be shifting between two different realities, but Jack didn’t take too much notice. He was remembering Mortimer.
            Carl Sagan went over and started batting at her hair.

Jack leaned over the edge to look for Mortimer. He was still clinging to the bridge, but very close to the bottom. And he seemed desperate.

            “Help!” he cried, seeing Jack’s face.
            “I can’t!” Jack called down. “I need you to go with the Johnsons! They need someone with your kind of detective abilities to find a way out of there! The mystery of the black rock lagoon! Just let go of the bridge! You’ll be okay!”

Jack flashed the thumbs up signal.

Mortimer’s mouth curled down in dread. It was about as exaggerated as a horseshoe.

Then Jack, changing tracks, gave him a salute.

And Mortimer’s face turned into a steely resolve. He knew what that salute meant. He would give himself to the cause. He could do this. As he let go of the bridge his mind tried to determine what the cause actually was. He hit the water too soon, though.

Jack stayed at the edge to make sure Mortimer was okay, and of course he was. He surfaced soon enough and started swimming toward the Johnsons on the other side of the lagoon.

Jack stood and slapped his hands together to shed the dust and dirt. “Well that’s cleaned up all nice and tidy!” he said. “Now the question is, where do we go next?”

Annie was rolling back over onto her hands and knees, rising slowly to her feet. “You know, you didn’t have to coddle me like that. You didn’t have to help me up.”

Jack didn’t register what she said at first. “Think of the mystery we have now!” he said, spreading his arms open wide and taking in the sight of the black island. “I don’t know what happens next! I’ve finally reached a point where I don’t know what to do. Isn’t it wonderful? Isn’t it...exciting?”

            Annie stared at him coldly. “I’m a grown woman. Perfectly capable of getting myself up a simple ladder.”
            The childlike wonder and excitement in Jack’s eyes faded and with a sober look he appraised her carefully. He thought he knew what was going on. But he didn’t want to light the fuse. Not yet. So he would have to allay the situation for now. Cool things down.
            “I’m sorry,” he said, something like hesitation in his voice. In reality it was deliberation. Precision. Choosing both his words and his pauses carefully. “But I...didn’t want to lose you.”
            Again he saw a liminal conflict in those flashing eyes, those big brown eyes that had seemed so helpless and afraid in so many circumstances, yet so cold and capable now. They started blinking, faster and faster, and the icy look on Annie’s face melted back into a watery smile. “Really?” she said, hopeful.
            “Really,” sighed Jack and he turned away. “So...now what?”
            They heard angry shouts of the Johnsons faintly in the background. They ignored them.
            “Well I think it’s obvious,” Annie said. “Take out the map.”
            “What?”
            “We’re alone now. No one to steal it or abuse it now, right? Where is it, anyway?”
            I thought about it and realized what the gods had been intending by collapsing the bridge. And damb it, I thought I was breaking free.
            Whoa, sorry, technical malfunction there. Jack should not have been speaking to you. Please ignore it. He’s feeling fine. We’re in control. Let’s move along.
            Jack sighed and frowned. He closed his eyes and shook his head vigorously. “Augh, no, damb it, okay, okay, there’s nothing else to do, nowhere else to go. Fine. Here’s the map.”
            With that, he unsheathed himself from his jacket and threw it on the ground.
            Annie joined him in frowning, but for different reasons. “The jacket?”
            “Take a gander,” he said, walking a few steps away before putting his hands on his hips and sighing again. “Go on, look.”
            Annie knelt down by the jacket and took it in her hands. She examined every inch of the thing but found no tracings or symbols or anything maps usually had. She had just opened her mouth to tell Jack there wasn’t anything there when she saw the slightest loose stitching on the inside. Her fingers followed the thread up to the top of the jacket, obviously hand-sewn by someone with little experience in stitching. She carefully took the loose flap of cloth in her fingers and started pulling on it. The thread popped out easily, one stitch after another, until a dirty brown map was revealed, about one foot square.
            “It’s...here!” she breathed, gingerly taking the sweat-soaked piece of cloth in hand. “What everyone’s looking for, here in my hand. A long lost secret to an ancient treasure...”
            Jack, observing her silently, saw the tiniest hint of a darkened expression in her visage.
            “No,” she said, very quietly, only to herself. Jack could barely hear, and even then it was because he was the hero and he needed to. “I have to do the right thing.” She looked up suddenly. “But how did you know where it was?”
            “It was the only place that made sense,” Jack said, still more focused on her than on the map. “Eli Noyce said some things, Hilti said some things, things about an X on a map, and Noyce giving his life for it, and Noyce passing on the jacket as his most treasured possession, all that stuff. But I didn’t get it fully until we were at the Cardaccians. The fool Vanasmas was after a map, one that Noyce was going to give him for some reason or other. But I didn’t know why. Then that other fool Djetta said that to find their precious treasure one would need a map. Golbez had connected these earlier for me, but it was an offhand comment so I didn’t think of it right away. He said that he had a treasure he was keeping hid from Vanasmas, but also that his map had been stolen thirty years ago and he was worried about someone coming along and taking it. But he was crazy, so, again, I didn’t think much of it. I kind of put all these facts together a while ago.”
            “But why didn’t you tell anyone? Why wait till now to reveal it?”
            Jack shrugged. “Just a whim. I wasn’t even sure it was in the jacket. Just a lucky guess.”
            “So that means...that means that we’re going to find it, right? We get to---!”
            “No,” Jack said, utter finality in his voice. “We’re not. We’re not going to find it. We’re not going to look for it. No. No. No. Hell no. We’re not looking for any treasure, and we sure as hell aren’t looking for one that was once possessed by the gods. No. No no no no no. No.”
            “But look!” Annie protested, standing and going over to him. “Just look at it!”
            She forced it into his hand. He gave it less than a second’s glance, only noticing one thing about it---a bright red X in the dead center---before crumpling it up and throwing it in her face.
            She gaped at him, hurt and astonished. He muttered a curse at the predictability of the reaction and spun on his heel before walking away.
            “We’re not looking for any dambed treasure and that’s bleepin’ it!” he shouted over his shoulder. He wasn’t aware of where he was going, just that it was away from her, away from that bloody map.

But even if he wasn’t aware, we were. He was heading further into the island.

            “Uh, Jack? Jack?” Annie said. She had recovered quickly from the offense after taking note of something on the map, which had fallen to the ground. After picking it up she had taken note of some of its more prominent details. Particularly the big red X right next to another X-shape, but one that looked more like an intersection of pathways than an actual X. There was also the big turquoise spot curled around the red X. “Jack!” she said again.
            Jack, meanwhile, had just passed through a wall of trees.
            “Aw, damb it all,” he said upon taking in the shiny, spectacular, gloriously golden sight.
            Then came Annie’s voice from behind.
            “Jack, I think we’re right at the treasure site!”
            “I know,” he said barely loud enough for her to hear, pinching his nose between the eyes. He sighed, the most epic and discouraged sigh of his entire life.
            Annie, map and jacket in hand, came running through the trees and stopped at Jack’s side. The intense shine glued her eyes to the sparkling gold. There were piles of it, massive piles, some of them twenty feet high, of gold coins, only gold coins. A path wove in and out and around the piles, interspersed with jungle trees that had somehow grown up in between them over the years. We say “somehow” because bounding them on all sides were tiny mountains of black rock, only slightly higher than the gold piles. But against the blackness the gold shone all the brighter.
            “Mnhjuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu” was the sound that came out of Annie’s lips.

The pair walked amongst the gold, Jack saying nothing in response to Annie’s malfunctioning mouth. Her eyes traced across the treasure; she unconsciously reached out to take one of the coins, but Jack grabbed her forearm as quick as a cobra. Annie’s eyes instantly went to Jack’s.

“Wait,” he said harshly. “Have you considered that this gold might be...cursed?”

Annie stared at him, wide-eyed, open-mouthed.

Jack laughed and let go. “I have, and it isn’t. Look at this.” He took one of the coins in hand, gave it a quick glance, then showed it to Annie. “British imperial gold. Golden guineas from the 18th or 19th century. King George the third was kind enough to show his ugly profile to everyone in the empire. What we’re seeing here is beyond what any one people or even tribe could have. Bought with blood. The blood of innocents. Taken by a murderous cult hiding in the mountains. Gathered and offered as tribute to the gods. The same gods that are writing this story. This is their gold now. And they wanted it back. That’s why I’m here. That’s why I was sent. That’s why this whole thing is happening. So no, it’s not cursed. If it is, it’s cursed against our enemies, not us. The treasure of the gods, indeed. The question is...why would they care about coinage?”

            Jack’s eyes thinned as he once more turned to examine the piles of gold all around them and the black igneous rock that made up the island.
            “There’s something more than this. There has to be. Something that Vanasmas is after. I don’t think he’s being entirely honest with his tribe. He wants something more out of this than the Johnsons do. And that’s what we have to find. So the gods are telling me, in any case. There’s something more here, deeper in.”
            Indeed, the path continued on, past the piles of coins. Jack grinned, motioning to it with his head, and said, “Let’s go.” He took Annie’s hand. She remained speechless still. Just the way Jack liked her.
            They wandered around a few more mountains of gold coins and found that something more. Statues made out of pure gold deposited here and there, some upright, some lying on the ground in haphazard positions. Statues of monkeys, of women, of warriors. Jewels of all varieties took the place of their eyes. Emeralds, rubies, pearls, diamonds (though no sapphires). Open treasure chests full of bangles, necklaces, bracelets, earrings. It seemed endless.
            “No,” Jack said, brow creased and fists clenched. “There has to be something more.”
            “More?” Annie said with incredulity. “You want more?”
            “There’s gotta be,” said Jack as he moved purposefully ahead, stepping over a fallen statue of a female monkey warrior. He passed around, across, and between the various golden displays, looking for something and clearly not finding it. He did this for several minutes as Annie continued taking in the shine of the riches surrounding her, not breathing a word as if in a trance.
            “Okay, idiot me,” Jack said finally, emerging from a circle of statues of angelic beings that seemed to have been frozen in the middle of something sinister. The looks on their faces were frightening, but Jack wasn’t afraid of anything. “Annie, hand me my jacket, please.”
            “Oh, yes,” she said, breaking off her stare and giving the jacket back to Jack.
            “Stupid solution to everything,” Jack muttered as he put it on. “Isn’t there ever anything clever I have to do?”
            When it was snugly around his shoulders once more, he saw the area with new eyes. “Over there,” he said with a quick point toward a wall-like line of statues all doing the can-can. He maneuvered past the statues; behind them was a twisting passageway through a split in the black rock. Jack was about to venture in when Annie cried out his name.
            “Jack!”
            Irritated, he poked his head over the wall of statues. “What?”
            “What is...that?”
            “What is what?”
            “This!”
            Jack, grumbling, maneuvered back through the statues and looked at what Annie was pointing at.
            It was a brown safari hat. Sitting on the ground in the midst of all the gold, plain as day.
            “It is a hat,” Jack said.
            “But where did it come from?”
            “It’s Eli Noyce’s. I threw it out of the plane, remember? We could have just jumped out right then and saved all the trouble of this stupid adventure.”
            “Yeah...that feels like a lifetime ago,” Annie said, her eyes having lost focus as she continued staring at the hat.”
            “We’ve died a few times, admittedly,” said Jack with a sigh. “Man. It’s hard to believe that we’re the first to find this, other than Golbez. And that Archie Leach character and...Scot MacDowell.”

“So were they all only deterred by that sign?” Annie said, not noticing Jack’s hesitation at the mention of his presumed grandfather. “It might fool a lot of people on this isle, but not all, surely?”

            “No, no,” said Jack. “Remember, some of the Johnsons encountered a monster.”
            He reached down and picked up the hat. He did not put it on.
            Annie froze. “Jack...what’s that?” She pointed again at exactly the same place. But this time the hat wasn’t there. It had been covering the real story up.

It was a footprint. Not a human footprint. Something big. Something huge. Something with claws. Like...the footprint of a gigantic two-ton chicken.

            Jack looked down, then back up. “Probably the monster,” he said, grinning. “Hoo boy, this is going to be fun.” He withdrew his revolver out of the back of his waistband. “Come with me. We’re going exploring.”
            “You think you’re going to hurt the thing that made these tracks with a gun?”
            Jack frowned. “This isn’t a gun. This is Wrench. Shut up and come on.” He placed the hat on the head of a statue of an animal trainer with a whip in its hand and started moving away.
            It was then that Annie started noticing all the other footprints around her. Every sighting evoked a new high-pitched syllable from her. None of the syllables, however, would have made actual words.
            “Come on!” Jack repeated with a groan.
            Upon seeing that he was going ahead without her, Annie ran to catch up with him. She tried to grab his free hand, but he shook her off.

“None of that. You know my policy,” he said.

But when she tried again, he let her.

She didn’t say a word at this, but followed him behind the wall of statues and into the passage through the black rock. The near-dusk sky above them was at certain times covered by rock, making it a sometime tunnel, snaking back and forth, ultimately leading them in a leftward arc.

Annie’s nerves sparked at the slightest shadowy movement, which was always either Jack’s or her own, but she never once jumped or screamed, nor did she make any sudden movements. She was able to keep herself under control. And Jack knew this because of the steady grip of her hand in his. Sweaty, yes, but only because of the heat. He would have found himself impressed at her development, but he knew its reasons. This was why he let her hold his hand: not because he was getting softer, but because he was getting shrewder. He wanted to know who Annie was at any given time. This was the subtlest way of deciphering it.

The passageway ended in complete darkness.

“A cave?” Annie whispered.

“I don’t think so,” Jack whispered back as they crept forward into it. They could see a slight sliver of light in the otherwise pitch blackness. “This looks man-made---”

“Jack, watch out!”

Another shadowy movement. This one real, and not either of them. Jack broke his grip on Annie’s hand and raised his revolver, training it on the four-legged shape that had passed across the sliver of light. He fired. The report echoed immediately, revealing that they were in a tightly constructed chamber.

They heard a kind of animalistic groan. It sounded moody. Whatever was in there had been unaffected by the bullet. Jack was about to fire again when his eyes adjusted to the darkness enough to see who it really was.

“Oh!” Jack said, feeling stupid. “It’s just Carl Sagan.”

Jack stuffed Wrench back into his waistband and quietly handled Annie’s wrist. Not her hand, her wrist. To check her pulse. It was high, but she had otherwise remained perfectly calm. Her state had started shifting more rapidly, but never delving completely into the other. Like a slowly rising tide that gets higher and higher on the beach with each wave. Jack knew that at some point soon it would have to be confronted. But for now everything was okay.

“What are you doing here?” he said to Carl Sagan, ruffling the top of his head and scratching behind the ears.

“Jack, we should see what this place is first, don’t you think?” she said, taking her wrist back and moving forward into the darkness.

They couldn’t see him properly in the darkness, so Jack wouldn’t be able to interpret based on eye contact with the animal, but he guessed that Carl Sagan had just gone exploring after they had left him to discover the treasure. Which meant...

“Yes,” he said to Annie. “We should explore this place. I don’t think it’s a cave.”

“What then?”

“Among other possibilities, a back way. Carl Sagan got in here somehow without us noticing him.”

“Wait...I think this is...wood.”

And wood it was.

            “Is this...is this the ship?” Annie said. “The one the Indies crashed all those years ago?”
            “Probably,” said Jack. “Pity we don’t have a lantern. Let’s move out into the light. Be very careful where you step.”
            “Why?”
            “You never know in places like these.”
            They felt their way through the belly of the ship in almost total darkness. Their hands found not just rotting wood, but vines and roots of trees and climbing ivy, as well as other slimy things that could have been anything. They stepped in puddles as they made their way through the wreck, seeking the light outside. It was not a pleasant experience, but neither of them complained and before long they had passed safely through it, crawling through a splintery hole that had been bored at some point in the wreckage.
            And what they saw upon exiting the ship made them both gasp in awe.
            Before their eyes stood not more piles of treasure, but what could have been a treasure house: a grand stone temple built into the side of Mt. Diabolo itself. Obsidian stone steps led up to patio at the feet of a massive arched entranceway, a gaping maw with only darkness visible therein. The same parasitic plant life that had enveloped the shipwreck also covered the exterior of the temple, like cascades of a waterfall. The mountain walls on either side of the temple were covered in green trees and shrubbery, ferns, palms, and flowering plants. The igneous portion of the little treasure island they had found did not reach the temple.
            Between the two adventurers and the temple was a dusty brown clearing that looked too big to be natural, so expansive it could have fit the entire fleet of jeeps at Golbez Industries side by side. Jack noticed this; Annie did not. She stepped closer to the temple as he turned around to get a look at the shipwreck.
            What remained of the ship was nearly invisible from the outside, so absorbed had it been by the jungle flora. But close as he was to it, Jack saw that it had clearly smashed against the huge black rock the island consisted of. He also noticed some black lettering underneath a few strands of ivy, and he pushed them aside. Only part of the christening remained: “Guffin.”
            Jack snorted, then rejoined Annie in the middle of the clearing.
            “What is this?” she said, craning her neck to take in the full breadth and height of the temple.
            “A place we’re not going to venture into,” said Jack. “Whatever’s in there isn’t worth our time. Though to be fair, none of what we’re doing here is worth my time.”
            “It’s a temple, though. An ancient temple!”
            “Ancient? I’m not so sure about that. Who built it, and how? And more importantly, why? That’s the question none of my peers are ever able to answer, or even ask. The question is all the more relevant because the dambed treasure isn’t even in here. It’s back there. So what was the point of building a temple if you’re not even going to hide the treasure of the gods in it? We’re not going in there. I’m not much of a puzzle-solver, anyway.”
            “Then what do we do now?” Annie said, slightly disappointed.
            “We find the things that Vanasmas wants. Whatever it is.”
            “And that wouldn’t be in this big ancient temple so conspicuously placed right next to a hoard of gold and jewels and precious things?”
            Jack paused. “Yes,” he said after a moment. “I think you do have a point. Damb.”
            “But hey, what’s that? What’re those?” she said, pointing towards the temple.
            Four short plinths stood on the temple patio, each giving off a distinct colored glow at the top. One was red, one was blue, one was orange, and one was green. Jack did not comprehend how he could have missed these when first examining the temple, even if it was from a distance. He ran up the steps two at a time to study the plinths more closely. Annie followed more hesitantly and kept a short distance from Jack on the steps.
            The glows could have been fire, but they gave off no heat. Jack passed his hand through, feeling nothing.
            But no. He definitely felt something. A kind of pulsating power emanating from each plinth. And as he looked he found something more. Images, carved symbols in the tops of the plinths.

On the red plinth was the image of a book.

The Great Big Book of Everything.

On the blue plinth, a majestic sword.

The Elder Weapon.

On the orange plinth, a crystal.

The Source of Unlimited Clean Energy.

He was just about to check the green plinth when they heard a bloodcurdling sound from the jungle that shattered the eerie silence. The sound of screams, and of the earth shaking.

Then a terrible, terrible roar.

No Romance Chapter 16

Chapter 16, “Three Seas Hates Jack” or "Ay, Bee, and Three"

“I still hate you,” Three Seas said to me after five minutes of silence, clearly trying to break the ice.

            “Don’t worry,” I replied. “I’m feeling irritable too.”
            I was. Readers never bother to wonder how tired a character can get on an adventure like this. And what’s worse is that authors generally don’t, either. So because of the silly “train in three days” restriction by which I’m bound, I have to do it all on their time.
            Consider all that you’ve read so far of this never-ending journey that I’m on, and recall that I’ve only slept two nights of it, and possibly been unconscious for a third. I’m not sure how long I was out in that prison, but either way it doesn’t matter because you can’t count getting knocked out from a punch to the jaw as a full night’s sleep. No, wait, I was also unconscious for a while at the Cardaccians...hm...
            Well so what? So what if I have no idea how much time has passed, or what day of the week it is, or even the year, or if I’ve slept for any given number of hours. And it isn’t just lack of sleep, you know. I’ve been moving constantly these past few days. Walking, climbing, running, all that exercise you normal flubs do willingly and on your own time. Morons.
            Nor is it just physical fatigue. I came to this island to get away from my usual life. My trip was supposed to be a vacation on a tropical island, getting to know my long lost father, and then it turns out that everyone wants to kill me, as if we’re on some kind of terrorist nuclear submarine. Which is normal, but man do you get mentally tired from that! Getting shot at and shooting others, meeting people you don’t want to have to meet, rejecting a romance that could have been such a nice outlet, such a welcome release from all this dambed pressure...from having to do the same things over and over and over again. It’s exhausting.

I came out here for a break---a well-deserved one, let me tell you---and then it’s just more bloody, incessant adventure. And I use that first adjective literally.

So you’ll understand when I tell you that I had no intention whatsoever of leading these guys to a treasure. Not only do I not think they deserve or need it, I don’t want to do this quest at all. I’m tired of adventure and I’m tired of the whole treasure idea. The gods try my patience so often that now I’m going to try theirs.

So off I led them into the jungle, the dambed thin, bright, and promising jungle, purposefully not retreading the path that would have taken us to the encampment, the spot I knew the treasure to be near. Instead I went at random directions, taking long strides that to them would hopefully indicate I knew exactly where I was heading, but to Annie would give away that irritation I had so cheerfully expressed to Three Seas.

“What are you doing?” she hissed in my ear at one point. “Where are we going?”

“Don’t worry about it,” I grumbled lowly.

In fact, I was looking for some kind of jungle terror. Something that would distract and maybe even take down the Johnsons so I could get away, Annie theoretically (but not necessarily) at my side. It was a better prospect than just disarming them. Three Seas had his very out-of-place crossbow and the other two, bless them, had long but sheathed stone knives. I gave some thought as to how to best get one of those knives so Annie could cut the ropes off me, but despite her little moment at the encampment, I doubted her ability to summon at will that part of herself that could do violence to others or at least stall them enough to get me free. So no, I couldn’t depend on her. Not for any stealth or subtlety, anyway. So I continued to search for that jungle terror.

And then I remembered the boxcutter in my boot.

I would have slapped my palm to my forehead if I could.

So no, I would not have to depend on Annie’s cleverness to get free. Just on her cooperation. And that was a relative given.

I did find it remarkable that after all this time trekking through and traversing a wild, uncivilized island, we had yet to come upon some menacing beast or venomous serpent or any real threat at all. The jungle should have been filled to bursting with panthers and snakes and hellishly horrifying insects. Even with our protection from the gods, it seemed a little suspicious that the only beast we crossed paths with was Carl Sagan.

Where was that guy, anyway? I felt like he should be making his reappearance any time now.

But that was...

And this was...

My plan. It depended on the gods. I sighed as I realized there was no way I could really “search” for something to come along and eat the three Johnsons. It would happen randomly, if it happened at all. And just as the gods protected me and Annie as we walked through the jungle, so would the gods be in control if we stumbled upon something violent. Either way it would be up to them, a deus ex machina. Indirectly, but one nonetheless.

Damb it.

And of course, that was when I came upon the empty patch of ground surrounded by ferns. I knew instantly what it was, and how to use it to my advantage.

“Annie,” I mumbled. The Three Johnsons were a couple seconds behind us, but Annie had stayed close to me. “Go around. Hug the ferns. Do not step in the middle of that.”

Before she could protest or wonder out loud or whatever it was she was scripted to do, I dashed quickly and leaped across the patch. Because I had no arms to balance myself I fell forward upon landing but rolled on my shoulder and ended up back on my feet at the far edge. When Annie saw my steps sink slightly on the fringes of the dirt, she understood what the patch was and did exactly as I directed her to do: stay on the edges.

As I predicted, my speed made the Johnsons give chase after me.

“Hey!” Three Seas barked. Ay and Bee made some other threatening, monosyllabic sound in their own language that probably equated to the same thing. Not that “hey” has much of a meaning in ours.

Three was ahead of the other two by a bit and he crossed the patch first. But he never actually did cross it. No, his feet got stuck in the very middle. The quicksand slowly started sucking him under, the pull getting more and more intense as he struggled to free himself.

“Help! HELP!” he cried in despair. The two other Johnsons just stared dumbly at Three. “Quicksand! Help me, you idiots! Curse you, and curse the chief for sending you with me! You and your lack of English! Augh!”

It was dragging him under very slowly, but also, as they say, very surely. Annie was staring at Three with shock and horror.

“Annie,” I said again, quickly but clearly. “Don’t look at him. Look at me. I need you to help me.”

“Is he going to die?” she said, breathing rapidly and flaring her nostrils.

“If he is, it’s because you’re not helping me right now. I need you to reach into my right boot and pull out what you find there. Hurry.”

She did exactly as I asked and came back up with the boxcutter. “How am I supposed to help him with this?” she said in consternation.

I sighed and with all my might resisted rolling my eyes and cursing her the same way Three, now up to his knees in quicksand was now cursing Ay and Bee for not being helpful in the slightest. I did take a moment to appreciate the parallel between us before returning to the situation at hand.

“You’re going to cut these ropes off me. That’s how you’re going to help him.”

Realization dawned in her eyes and prompted a little “oh!” out of her mouth as it tended to. She got right to sawing the ropes off with the boxcutter. It took a little longer than would have been preferable; boxcutters aren’t terribly sharp and I felt very strongly I should help the poor guy out. Now that I was in the moment, I realized I couldn’t very well kill these people, or even let them be killed, even if it was by their own stupidity. How can I kill a man whose name I know?

The ropes soon dropped away and I could move my arms again. Time to be a hero. Or at the very least, a nice guy.

“Okay, listen up, people,” I said, stepping as close to the quicksand as I could while staying in perfect view of the three Johnsons, including the one who was now up to his belly button in sand. “I am your friendly local action-adventure hero, and I hope this little experience has taught you a valuable lesson. You don’t tie up Jack McDowell. That’s the lesson. Now, here’s what you need to do, friend.”

I proceeded to explain to him how to escape the quicksand. It wasn’t the most complicated thing. All you had to do was wiggle your legs. This allows the water part of the quicksand to loosen the thicker parts and you can gradually rise out of it. Real quicksand can’t suck a human being all the way under anyway. Indeed, Three Seas, once it was up to his belly, had stopped sinking. As to whether this quicksand was real or not, well....well, whatever. He had stopped and was trying my advice. Not without a harsh and humiliated glare or two.

And as to why I had a change of heart? Well, it had somewhat to do with my attempted rebellion against the gods. It’s like when a teenager wants to do something, then finds out her parents also want her to do that thing, and then suddenly she hates it and refuses to do it. Childish? Yes. Petulant? Sure. Rebellious? Heck yes. Especially yes. I had to rebel any way I could. Every moment where I can successfully rebel, no matter the end result, is a triumph. So when the gods provided me with an opportunity to do just what I wanted to do in causing the death of my captors, I decided to use it to save them. Gain freedom and some power over my captors, yes, but not kill them.

This whole thought process happened in that instant when I saw the quicksand for the first time, just a page or two behind here.

And eventually he got out, but not without me snatching his crossbow first. I handed it to Annie, who looked like she had no idea what to do with it. The boxcutter went back in my boot. Then my gun came out of my waistband. The Johnsons had never thought to take it away from me, or even look for it. I waved it around, getting their attention.

“Guys, guys, guys. Look, I have a gun and I also have some concerns about this expedition we’re on. Here’s my first question: how did you expect me to find the treasure without using the map that you think I have?”

They looked at each other, two of them because they didn’t understand a word I was saying and the other, Three, because he was trying to find some allies who would help take the fall for his stupidity.

“You said you would lead us there,” he finally said. “You made a deal. A promise.”

“Did I? I don’t really remember, and I’m too tired and irritable and pissed off to think it all the way through right now. The fact is, I’ll lead you wherever you want me to lead you, but you’re going to have to trust me. If you don’t trust me, I’ll do something like this again.”

“Do you have the map, then?” Three asked.

“Why would I need a map? I’m the hero, the One Who Was Chosen By The Gods. I can find anything I need to. I found this quicksand just now without having a map for it. The gods are on my side. They wanted me free, and thus I am free. You see that?”

“Look, I don’t like being dependent on you,” Three said with spite and a harshly pointed finger. “But---”

“But we’re going to have to work as a team, is that what you’re going to say?”

“---but you said you needed the map to get there. Do you?”

“I implied it. Not the same thing.”

Three looked at me. Cold. Confused.

I relented.

“Okay, maybe I’m not making any sense right now. Like I said, I’m tired. But we need to get this over with. So let’s just go.”

I suppose what I was really trying to do was rationalize my decision not to kill them, yet still give myself an opportunity to leave them behind, yet keep them from finding the treasure, yet trying to dance with the gods and dodge their designs, yet...

I turned to see Annie. She surprised me. But only for a second.

While at first she had held the crossbow awkwardly in her hands, when I next saw her she looked like she had practiced and hunted with it for years, holding it loosely yet confidently. A very peculiar image to one who knew only Annie. But not me.

I met her eyes and she looked away, shoulders slumping and her grip on the crossbow faltering. She looked like Annie again.

            Finally we did “just go.” Past the quicksand, deeper into the unpaved, untamed, uncivilized jungle. And I had no idea where that was; we were completely at the mercy of the gods. I wondered if the gods had wanted me to lose the Johnson tail all along, and even though it was probably true, I stopped and gave up that line of thinking because of the utter futility of my life if it were true. If I accepted it I would be totally defeated. So even if I was defeated, I didn’t want to know it.

We came across a hill with a steep slope that had incremental ridges of rock every ten or twenty feet, like layers of walls meant to protect a tightly-protected city at the top from a siege. They weren’t tall like walls, though, they were more like steps, similar to a ziggurat. Switchbacks could have been paved from level to level, but I felt like climbing this slope up straight. It looked impressive, like it might lead somewhere significant.

There were no trees on this slope, only vivacious green grass and the intermittent lines of stone going all around the hill, so we came out from under the canopy as we ascended. Every time we met a ridge we had to hoist ourselves up. All this under the hot, humid, late afternoon sun. Things got sweaty fast. But of course that didn’t matter to Annie or me as we were very attractive people and physically incapable of looking or smelling otherwise. The Johnsons, meanwhile, in addition to not being great to look at, started to stink real bad. It became a very pungent odor, and at the same time I noticed it, we all heard the high-pitched, almost crackling roar of a tiger.

But it wasn’t a tiger. No---it was a Super Tiger.

That was what I hoped. And expected. Theoretically it could have been another tiger, but how would tigers have ever gotten to that island---isle---in the first place? No, I was fairly sure that Carl Sagan was the only one who matched that description in this place. “That description” being “a tiger” and also “one who roars.”

So there stood Carl Sagan at the bottom of this hill, roaring up at us like a regular big old cat who’s found either unwelcome visitors in its territory, lunch, or both. And it started leaping up, one giant step at a time.

The Johnsons freaked out. As they realized they couldn’t climb fast enough to outrun such a strong and agile beast, they decided to run across the hill rather than up it. So they took off, following the curve of the stone ridges around the side of the hill, with a stream of shrieks and yelps and not a moment’s concern for us, their now-liberated captives.

Carl Sagan soon reached us and accepted a pat on the head from me as greeting. I realized that he wasn’t really roaring at us at all, but rather using the only sound he was capable of making to say, essentially, “hello.” He wanted us to stop so he could catch up to us and rejoin our party!

“What a good Carl Sagan he’s being!” Annie said as she patted him on the head too.

I knelt down to his level. But given his size, he ended up being taller than me so I stood back up. “Carl Sagan, Annie’s right. You’re being an excellent Carl Sagan, and so we have another job for you. Chase after those guys for us. Don’t kill them or anything, just scare them and keep them away from us. Chase them in circles if you can. We just want to get away from them. Can you do that?”

What I heard was a sort of huff, or it could have been a sneeze, but it was accompanied by a nod of his head, so I assumed he had agreed to it.

“We’re just going to the top of this place. Track our scent when you’re done with them, if you have to. Shouldn’t be too hard, I don’t think.”

And Carl Sagan took off, now following their scent, which was sweat.

“Well that was a freebie!” I said cheerfully. “Come on, let’s get up there.”

We did. The grass faded near the summit of the hill, making it look like the head of a poor balding man. Were there any bald people on this island? Isle? I couldn’t remember. Anyway, the top was mostly a dry dusty brown, boring on its own terms but for the view. The view was utterly magnificent, especially so given my sudden ascent in mood as well as altitude. It looked out over the entire upper canopy, a sea of green with our little bald summit the only land in sight, all under the cerulean sunset sky.

“Wow,” Annie breathed.

“It’s something,” I agreed. Then I noticed the sign. Just like the one on the shore Annie and I had seen at the start of the story. Right in the middle of the summit.

Windswept Peak

of Mount Diabolo

(Don’t get swept off!)

And like that my cheeriness died.

“This is Mount Diabolo?” I said. “We’re right next to where we were before? The encampment? This is where those bastards in the clouds led us? Aw, son of a---”

“But look at the pretty view!” said Annie, pointing one direction but turned around to face me.

“I’ve seen it,” I grumbled as I stared at the ground.

“No, down there,” she said, and I looked up. She was pointing not just ahead at the endless canopy top, but down the mountainside. I walked over to her and peered down.

The slope was practically vertical here, and at the bottom, surrounded by dark, practically black rock, lay a large pool of water, colored bright turquoise.

“I’ve never seen that color in nature before,” she said. “We should go down there!”

“Hmm. We should go down there, yes,” I said. “But not because you’ve never seen that color in nature before. That’s a ridiculous reason. But see, look carefully, through those trees. Do you see what I see?”

Her gaze followed my pointing finger, but didn’t see what I saw. “I don’t see what you see,” she said, not seeing what I saw.

“It’s a rope bridge. With wooden slats. Going across the water.”

She kept looking for it, but unsuccessfully. “So?”

“That means someone’s been there before. And I think we should figure out what that’s about.”

A sudden blast of curiosity had just ignited my brain. It didn’t feel entirely natural, but I knew I had felt it before. It was partially what drove me to solve the various mysteries I had come across on this island, isle, and why I was still here at all.

“I don’t see the point---”

“I’m just feeling curious today, damb it,” I said impatiently. “Is that okay? Am I allowed to feel that, am I?”

That’s when we heard more yelling, more of those shrieks and yelps, a veritable stream of them. Annie and I went back over to the edge we climbed up and looked down. The three Johnsons were still being chased, Carl Sagan at their heels, and back from the direction they had gone.

“Aw, damb it again,” I muttered, scratching my hair. “They’re back. Carl Sagan didn’t get rid of them for good.”

And that’s when I thought of an idea.

“I thought of an idea!” I exclaimed.

“When?”

“Just then.”

“What is it?” she asked predictably, so much that I mouthed the words as she said them.

“You’ll see,” I told her, and out of the corner of my eye I noticed that she mouthed those back.

Fair enough.

“Hey!” I shouted, and started down the hill where the Three Johnsons and I would intersect. I lost control over my footing and began to slide down the grass. When I reached the line of rock I used that as a springboard to jump down to the next level, where I slid down to the next rock, and so forth. It was stylish, though accidentally so, and frankly, really, really fun. The image of me doing this in my mind’s eye made me cheerful again, which was lucky as I would have to convince the Johnsons to follow me across that bridge, and that needed hope and optimism and a grand dream for the future of, well, the Johnsons’ treasure horde. Or something.

I don’t know. I’m tired. Go away.

---

            “Carl Sagan!” Jack yelled as he landed on a ridge of rock. “Herd those guys over here! Back to us!”
            Carl Sagan, who continued to chase the Johnsons, turned his head and perked his ears up to Jack. Then he obeyed the alpha male. Still running across the hill, he overtook the Johnsons, who grew very confused, and hopped around to face them, skidding backwards to a stop. This caused the Johnsons to halt as well, and in that second of silence, Carl Sagan roared a terrible roar at them. Then they began pushing and shoving each other as they turned around and ran in the opposite direction.
            But here Jack stood, very stylishly, holding his gun in a half-casual pose, preventing them from escaping Carl Sagan’s clutches. Carl Sagan wasn’t really clutching them; that was a metaphor. They were stuck between a Hero and a Super Tiger on the x-axis, and a ridge of rock and another ridge of rock, presumably also a hard place, on the y-axis.

The three Johnsons looked frantically between Jack and Carl Sagan, wondering what to do. One of them, it could have been Alligator Ay, tried hopping down to the next level of the hill, but before he could drop down, a crossbow arrow flew right past him and into the grass exactly where his feet would have landed had he actually dropped. He quickly scampered back up to his feet to join his fellows.

Jack looked up and saw Annie lowering the crossbow. He hesitated a moment on the image, then pulled himself away to address the Johnsons.

“This is my friend, Carl Sagan,” Jack said, indicating the Super Tiger. “And he’s going to help us out with this mission of ours by making sure you’re no danger to me ever again. In essence, guys, you are now my prisoners. Not the other way around. Got it?”

Jack eyed Three Seas in particular. Their steely gazes met and Three Seas had something like shock, something like confusion, something like deference on his face.

Welcome to my world, Jack thought.

“Okay then, let’s move on out,” he said. “Carl Sagan, you stay in the rear, make sure they don’t try any moves on me.”

Now, Jack thought, to lose them completely.

They didn’t find the pool of water immediately. Jack supposed it was something of a lagoon, and he was probably right. It had been a long way down that cliffside from the top of Mt. Diabolo, much lower than the spot where they had initially climbed up the hill. With this in mind, Jack decided to lead them down. They clambered down a slight ravine onto lower ground. When asked by Three Seas if he knew where they were going Jack only replied, “Shut up.”

And Carl Sagan kept them all in line. A literal line, with himself at the rear end.

The ravine got deeper and deeper until it became a gorge, until it became familiar, until it became suspiciously familiar, until it became hauntingly familiar, like something Jack had seen in another life. This rang false to Jack until he saw up ahead a smashed smoking wreck of a vehicle that had evidently crashed headfirst into the stony gorge.

Jack stopped the second he recognized it, and Annie gave one of her little “oh”s. Jack eventually turned around, looking puzzled. Then he winced.

“Was that really earlier today?” he said, rubbing his neck.

“We have to see if he’s all right!” Annie said.

“I’m not checking. That’ll be a gruesome sight indeed. And anyway, he tried to kill us.”

“I think we should help him if he’s still alive,” Three Seas said flatly. “And you especially. Aren’t you supposed to be a hero?”

“Gah, yes, damb it, I guess so. As if I didn’t have enough going on...”

Annie ran to the wreck. The smoking jeep stood vertically, nose down, leaning against the steep side of the gorge, its front end completely crushed. Jack, feeling obligated, jogged lightly in Annie’s wake.

Then they all heard a voice.

“Hey! Hey out there! Please help me!”

Needless to say, all were quite surprised. It even sounded like the guy was completely fine.

“I’m okay, just stuck! Please!”

Mystery Solver Mortimer, as we know him, was completely fine. Just, as he said, stuck. He had faced death in the eye, just as so many of his henchfellows had, but been denied the answer to the greatest mystery of them all. We do enjoy toying with the mortals sometimes.

We kept him in this isolated, immobile state for several hours by means of the jeep’s roll bar, the crushed seat belt mechanism, and the scrunched-up steering wheel giving him a mere centimeter of free movement, not enough to actually escape but just enough to toy with him. Jack saw this instantly and made the first step without so much as a warning to any of the party: pushing the barely-balanced jeep back onto its four tires.

As he did this Annie uttered a scream of fright, then a squeal of protest. Mortimer screamed too, but with a slightly lower voice than Annie.

“What?” Jack said after the vehicle had landed with a bounce on its shocks. “He’s fine. That thing was teetering dangerously as it was. You’re fine, right kid?”

Mortimer, despite his rather antiquated name, was indeed pretty young, about twenty to Jack’s thirty, and looked younger. And while he may have been “fine” in reality, he appeared quite shaken by the experience. Both experiences, really.

He nodded, trembling. Jack swung open the jeep door.

“Well, get out and come along, then,” Jack said with a wave of his hand. “The more the murkier, or some such crap like that. But don’t go explaining to us your life story. We’re not interested.”

“I---I can’t get out, I’m stuck,” Mortimer said. “I’m Mortimer, by the way.”

“Don’t care. About the second part. The first part is simple---” Jack reached over and started tinkering with the seatbelt. When he found it not so simple, he went about it even simpler. He reached into his right boot and withdrew the boxcutter. It took a while to saw that belt down, but he managed it, and soon Mortimer was able to slide right past the protruding steering wheel and out of the jeep, with only a few scratches and some severe psychological trauma as a result. But the second thing wouldn’t come back to haunt him until years later, when he would go through another similar experience. Can’t tell you anymore than that. Spoilers, you see.

“Okay, you can follow us if you like, but you have to stay back there with them,” Jack said, pointing at the Johnsons.

“Who is he?” Three Seas asked Jack. “Does he work for Golbez?”

“Yeah, but just ignore him. If you try to kill him I have to save him. I know his name now. He can never be truly worthy of death at my hand again. If you don’t ignore him, Carl Sagan will eat your face off.”

After some more annoying conversation, Jack continued on through the gorge. Then Mortimer started asking stupid questions. Questions about Jack and Annie, who they really were, what they were trying to do, that kind of thing. Jack didn’t answer a single one of them, but kindhearted Annie did, and it further annoyed Jack until he succeeded at putting them in the background. Eventually Annie caught him up fully, that is, he came to know everything you know now and he seemed to have achieved a great deal of satisfaction.

“Mystery solved!” he declared brightly.

And that was when Jack once more came to a halt. Before them was an intersecting gorge, one that was just as high and just as long in each direction.

“And X marks the spot,” Jack said dryly.

“What is this? Is this a game to you?” Three Seas suddenly said, outraged. Then he spat on the ground.

Carl Sagan growled. Jack didn’t seem to notice or care.

“Guys can’t take a joke,” Jack muttered under his breath. Then, louder, “Okay, I’m hereby deciding that if we go this way”---he pointed left, down the other gorge---”we will find what we’re looking for.” Then he looked up, up toward the canopy where one sliver of blue sky was visible. “Okay? Is that good enough for you? Can you make that happen? Please? I’m sick and tired of all of this, I really am!”

Oh Jack, do you really think we dwell in the sky? We dwell all around you! We’re everywhere, seeing everything at every possible angle. You can even speak in a whisper and we’ll still hear you. You don’t need to shout or make a fool of yourself. We’ll get the message.

So sure, we can make that happen. But only because we already wanted it to happen.

Much fuss and quarreling later (which to explain would be superfluous), they trekked through the gorge Jack had chosen, and soon the brown cliffsides were turning darker and the path was leading upwards. They were coming out of the gorge.

And approaching a wood slatted rope bridge.