A Treasure Deep (38 page)

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

“Perry,” Gleason called.

He didn’t answer.

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

“You okay, Perry? Talk to me, buddy.”

“Uh . . . yeah . . . I’m fine.”

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

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

Perry dropped to his knees and covered his
face.

JOSEPH STOPPED ROCKING.

He sat straight up and stared at the distant
wall.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I don’t know. I’ll go check.”

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

Rutherford zoomed the video camera in on
Joseph.

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

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

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

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

“I said no. Back off. Now!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What about me?” Brent asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Anne had stopped listening.

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

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

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

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

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

Another step.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?” Jack said. “Off the bridge?”

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

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

“Why?” she asked.

“The last floor collapsed. Remember?”

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

“Not necessarily. How is he?”

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

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

“I’m not leaving.”

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

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

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

“Yes.”

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

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

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

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

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

“No.”

“Blurred or double vision?”

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

little dizzy.”

“You got smacked on the head, remember?”

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

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

“Anne? You shouldn’t be in here.”

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

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

“Wait until you get my bill.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“A chrysalis,” Perry said.

“A what?” Anne said, clearly confused.

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

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

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

“Got it.” Gleason disappeared down the
bridge.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I bet you thought I was pulling your leg
back at the pizza parlor,” Perry said.