Gasparilla's Treasure (Trip Mongomery Book 1) (7 page)

The walls were cracked and the floor was dusty inside the small, dark room.  There were some old terra cotta pots, paintings, and a few other antiques scattered about.  Sarah stood in the middle of the room with a look of amazement on her face.

“This room was built over three hundred years ago,” Sarah whispered.  “We’re standing inside a moment in history.”  She was entranced.

The bright flash from Josh’s camera startled Sarah.   Josh laughed as he showed the picture to her.  Her mouth hung open and she looked a little like a zombie.

“Josh!” Sarah exclaimed.  “Delete that picture right now.”

“No way,” said Josh.  “This is part of history now.”

“But look at me,” cried Sarah.  “My mouth is open so wide, it looks like I’m trying to catch flies in there or something.”  She grabbed for the camera.

Josh pulled back.  “These pictures are staying, so just back off and get used to it.”

Trip was looking through the
Gasparilla book while Josh and Sarah argued.

“Come on guys, stop it,” said Trip.  “We have to figure this clue out before someone realizes we’re in here.
The bearer of earth holds a quarter where coquina borders surround a base of lime, shell, and sand
.”

“So these are the coquina walls,” said Sarah.  “And the floor is the base.  So what is
the bearer of earth? 
It could be the title of one of these paintings or something.”

Josh snapped another picture.  In the dimly lit room, the flash nearly blinded Trip.  “Josh, you have to stop goofing around and help,” said Trip.  “You’re going to get us busted.”

“Oh, come on,” said Josh.  “There’s nothing here, just a bunch of dirty old clay pots and a few stupid old paintings.  If we don’t find something…”

“What did you just say?” interrupted Trip.

“I just said
if we don’t find something
...  And then you didn't let me finish.  You just cut me off.  It was pretty rude if you ask me.”

“No, you said clay pots.  These pots are all made of clay,” said Trip.

“Actually,” said Josh, “I said dirty old clay pots, not just clay pots.  Look at them, they’re filthy.”

Last summer, Trip’s mom had made him take a pottery class and during one of the classes, they gathered their own clay.  It surprised Trip that they just dug the clay right out of the earth.  When he heard Josh mention the pots, it hit him.

“These pots are made of clay.  And clay is…” Trip urged them to reach his conclusion.

“Muddy,” said Josh.  “Clay is muddy.  One time I was hiking with my dad, and I slipped in something, and my dad said it was clay.  I really don’t like to go hiking, but sometimes my dad made me.  I think he was…”

“Josh,” interrupted Trip.  “Clay is dug out of the earth.  These pots are made from earth.”

“And to bear something,” said Sarah, suddenly lighting up, “means to hold it up.  So the bearer of earth would be whatever is holding up the pots.”

They looked at all the pots in the room, and all were resting on the floor.  All but one.  There was a thick wooden shelf inset into grooves in the wall.  It held up a single pot with a small plaque next to it. 

Sarah read the plaque.  “La Olla Tierra is one of the only fully intact pieces of early Spaniard earthenware still in existence today.  It has kept its place on this shelf since the original house was built in 1702, but could possibly date back as far as…”

Josh picked up the pot. 

“Careful with that!” warned Trip. 

Trip and Josh examined the pot, but there were no markings or symbols, and there was nothing inside the pot.  Trip turned his attention to the thick shelf on the wall.  He noticed there was a small gap where the shelf fit into the wall.  He firmly grabbed it and the shelf easily slid out.  Now they saw a small hole in the wall where the shelf usually rested.  Trip handed the shelf to Josh and reached into it.  He gently felt around the edges.

“Maybe there’s a lever in there or something,” said Josh.  “Feel around for a lever that will open a secret passage or something.”

“There’s nothing in here,” said Trip, disappointed.  Then he had an idea. “Give me that shelf.”

Josh handed the heavy wooden shelf to Trip.  He examined it, and hidden in the back edge was a small hole.  Trip put his finger in the hole and felt something.

“There’s something in here!” Trip cried. 

He fished around, and finally pulled out a very old, yellowed rolled up piece of paper.  He carefully unrolled it and drew in his breath. It was a handwritten map!  But it was torn along two edges.

“I’ve got it!” said Trip in complete wonder.  “It’s the first piece of the map.”  They stared at the delicate map piece in silence.

“We better get out of here,” Sarah finally said quietly.  “We don’t want to get caught.”

Trip slid the shelf back in the wall.

“I was really hoping for a secret passage,” said Josh.  “Wouldn’t that have been amazing if a hole had opened up in one of these walls or something?”  Josh gently put the pot back on its shelf and made sure it was in exactly the same place.  As he removed his hands from the pot, he lost his footing and slipped, stumbling into the pot.  La Olla Tierra crashed down, smashing into hundreds of pieces.

“Oops,” said Josh.  “Look at that.  I can fix that… I think I have some glue in my backpack.  Hang on a second.”  He started to go for his backpack.

“No time,” said Trip.  “We have got to get out of here.  Fast!”

They slowly opened the door, trying not to make any noise.  Trip peeked out and spotted the tour guide in the distance.   She ran towards them to see what had happened.

“Can’t go that way,” said Trip.  “We need to go out the other door.”

They hurried to the other side of the room and slowly cracked the door open.  Trip poked his head out and looked both ways.  This door opened to an inside hallway.  Trip didn’t see anyone, so he opened the door and stepped in the hallway.

“The coast is clear,” he whispered.  “Let’s get out of here.”

They exited the room and gently closed the door so no one would hear them.  Just in time.  They heard the tour guide as she entered the room.

“AAAAAA!” she shouted from the other side of the door.  “La Olla Tierra!  It’s broken!”

Trip, Sarah and Josh bolted for the exit door as fast as they could.  The tour guide threw open the door and stepped in the hallway, furious when she spotted them.

“Stop right there! Security!  Security!”

A stocky security guard ran around a corner from the other end of the hallway and closed in on them.  Josh was tired and out of breath.  He slowed down.

“Just go on without me,” Josh said as he came to a stop.  “I can’t make it.”

Trip stopped and dragged him along.  “Yes, you can,” encouraged Trip, breathing heavily himself.  “We’re almost there, come on!”

The tour guide and security guard were closing in as Trip pulled Josh toward the exit door.  Trip pushed the door hard, but something was blocking it.  He felt resistance as he pushed even harder against it.  One last shove, and it opened just enough for them to squeeze through.  He held the door as Sarah and Josh wiggled their way through.  Trip was about to work his way through the door when the security guard grabbed his arm.

“Not so fast kid,” barked the security guard.  Lucky for Trip, the security guard was out of shape since his normal duties included sitting on a stool in the reception area greeting guests, not chasing down energetic kids.  Trip pushed hard on the door one last time and yanked his arm free.  He was out the door before the security guard knew what happened.

Trip looked back as he ran down the street.  He saw the security guard pull the door closed.  As it clicked shut, one of Eli’s goons fell flat on the ground.  He had been standing by the door, hoping he would see what Trip was doing inside, when Trip shoved the door open.  The blow of the door knocked him out cold.

Eli was disgusted when his goon brought him the news later that day.  He bit into a candy bar and took a drink from a bottle of cold water. 

“Can I get some water?” the injured goon asked as he held an ice pack to his head.  He had run straight back to tell Eli what happened, even though his head throbbed the whole way and he was thirsty.  Eli took a huge swig from his water before he answered.

“Do you deserve water?” Eli barked.  “This is so embarrassing for me.  I can’t believe they knocked you out.  Do you know what the kids at school are going to think about me if they find out?”

“How was I supposed to know they'd come running out the door like that?” the goon pleaded.

Eli took another big gulp from his bottle, letting some spill down his face.  “You are pathetic!  Did you at least get to see what they were doing in there?”

The goon was afraid to answer, so he just shook his head.

“You really are useless!  Now get back out there and find me something I can use!” Eli roared.  Eli poured the rest of his water on the goon’s head.

“There’s your water, you loser.”

He threw the empty bottle right in the goon’s face and stormed off.

In the attic, Trip and Sarah looked over their notes into the late hours of the night.  The excitement of finding the first map piece wore off quickly when they realized they had no idea what to do next.  They were at a stand still. 

Wearily, Trip looked at a page in the
Gasparilla book for the millionth time, and noticed something he had not seen before.  It was a small, smudgy shape at the bottom of the page.  He had no idea what it was, but he was sure this was the breakthrough they needed.  Excited, he rushed to show Sarah, but after examining it, she pointed out it was only a smudge of chocolate from Trip’s thumb. 

That was it.  That was the only excitement, and the only glimmer of a chance that they would figure out the next step.  Trip was irritable.  It had been
so exciting as they hunted down the first piece of the map, and he had been sure things would take off after that; and now nothing. 

He put down the
Gasparilla book and rubbed his eyes.  As they came back into focus, he found himself looking at Sarah.  When he first saw her in the schoolyard a few days ago, he thought she was pretty.  In fact, he thought she was the prettiest girl he had ever seen.

Then came all the distractions: the fight with Eli, Pappy’s coma, and the start of the treasure hunt.  But now he noticed again how beautiful she was.  She was also smart, funny, and adventurous, unlike most of the girls he knew.  And Trip thought she liked him.  Sarah lightly brushed a few strands of hair away from her face as she jotted down a few notes.  Trip could not look away. 

Josh abruptly brought him back to reality.  “Why are you staring at Sarah like that, Trip?  Your mouth is open and I think you might be drooling.”

Sarah looked up, and Trip looked away, embarrassed.  She smiled a crooked smile and blushed a little.  Trip looked back as she smiled in his direction, and this time Sarah looked away, embarrassed.  She went back to her notes.

Josh played his game again.  He was completely unaware of what was going on between Trip and Sarah, nor did he care.

“If we're going to keep spending so much time in this attic of yours,” said Josh, “I'm
gonna need you to rig me a Playstation 3 or Wii in here.”

“Josh, we could really use your help on this,” said Sarah.  “We're getting nowhere.”

“Well, what are you guys looking for?” asked Josh, focused on his game.

“I don't know,” said Sarah, defeated.  “A clue, maybe.  Anything that can help lead us to the next piece of the map.”

Trip stood up and took a deep breath, held it for a couple of seconds, and let it out.  He was exhausted after such a long day, and he was confident they would not make any more progress tonight.

“It's getting late,” yawned Trip.  “We should call it a day.  We'll work on this tomorrow.”

“Have you guys figured out what that NRHP112979 means yet?” asked Josh, still focused on his game.

Trip and Sarah looked at each other, confused.  “NPHR what?” asked Trip.

“On the back of the map there,” said Josh.  “It says NRHP112979.  What's that mean?”

Trip grabbed the map piece and turned it over.  There were a few handwritten words on the back.  Sarah leaned in close to Trip to get a better look.  Trip had never felt uncomfortable around Sarah since the moment they met, but for some reason he felt awkward having her so close to him.  Her cheek practically touched his.  It was hard to breathe.  Luckily, at that moment, Sarah grabbed the map piece and walked away from him.

“
High above NRHP112979
,” Sarah read from the map.

Trip regained himself.  “That must be our next clue.”

Josh put down his game and joined them.  “OK, if that’s our next clue, what does in mean?”

“We're going to need more resources,” said Sarah.  “Tomorrow after school, we'll go to the Flagler College Library and hopefully figure this thing out.”

They packed up their things and called it a night.

That night, Trip could not sleep.  For hours he sat in the attic looking at the pictures Pappy had left for him.  There were only about fifteen of them, and they were of Pappy and Trip’s dad in different locations around the world.  Trip wistfully thought about how great it would be to hunt this treasure with Pappy.  He had never really known his dad, but he and Pappy were close.  He was surprised how young Pappy looked in all the pictures.  And in some of the photos, Trip’s dad was about the same age Trip was now. 

As he went through the photos for the hundredth time, Trip noticed something he had not seen before.  The photos were all taken in public places, and there were other people going on about their business in the background.  That was not the unusual thing.  But in every single picture, there was an old Native American man in the background.  In some of the photos it was hard to find him in the blurry backgrounds, but in some of the pictures, he was right behind Pappy and Dad.

Trip picked out the picture with the best view of the old man and studied it closely.  He had long grey hair and a bandana tied around his forehead.  Deep wrinkles creased his entire face, but the wrinkles were most pronounced in his forehead.  His lips were pursed tight together at a strange angle, sending small wrinkles out from his mouth like spider webs.

But what held Trip’s attention most were the eyes.  They looked right into Trip’s soul and bored into him.  Trip found it difficult to look away. 

Trip woke up gripping the picture in his hand, and didn’t remember falling asleep.  He had been studying the picture, and the next thing he knew he woke up.  That is all he could remember.  How long was he asleep?  He looked at the clock and saw it was just after three thirty.  He must have only been asleep about twenty minutes.

He looked at the picture again, and the man was not there.  He shuffled through the pictures and could not find the man in any of them.  How could that be?  Trip still felt the old man’s eyes studying him.  He could still see the tight lip grimace.  And yet, the old man was not in any of the pictures.  Had Trip been dreaming?  That must be it. 

He continued to look over the pictures for more than two hours, and again drifted to sleep in the attic, surrounded by his past.  He dreamed about the man in the pictures.

He awoke with a start. The man seemed so real to Trip, even now, but it must have been his imagination playing tricks on him.  Trip decided he should try and get some real sleep, so he put the pictures away and trudged down to bed.