One Minute to Midnight (23 page)

Garcia is sitting at his desk like an
end of game boss, and he's holding something in his hand.
"You should not have come up..." He starts.
I shoot him in the shoulder with my Beretta. There's no time to
monolog with the bad guy, and the thing he's been holding rolls
onto the floor by my feet. A hand grenade. In a flash I pick up the
live grenade and toss it out the window where it explodes four
floors down. Then another explosion shakes the alley. I shoot
Garcia one more time as he begins to rise with his own pistol. This
bullet enters his temple and he falls dead to the floor. I run over
to the window and confirm my worst fear. The second explosion had
been Peach's car, and the grenade fell through the passenger side
window. Damn. Garcia was dead, but so was she.

In my grief, I think about that
painting with the little blue boat, and it occurs to me that I'm
one of the little people on board going down with the ship. I
escape back to my apartment, but it's not long before the dots are
connected and the boys in blue are heading my way. I hear the
police downstairs and I think that if there is any justice in this
world it was not served today. More guys like Garcia will replace
him, because that's the way the system is set up, but there's no
replacement for people like Peach. She loved me and died so I could
live in this world.

the island

Alexander James finds a treasure map in the
attic of his deceased grandfather with no clue it will forever
change is life.

Alexander received the bad news that his
grandfather Quincy Dekhart died in his sleep four days ago, at the
age of ninety-three, on a full moon. Dekhart had been an adventurer
in his youth, so his house was filled with the spoils of his
journeys as a treasure seeker and man of the world. Alexander would
often spend hours walking around the four-story house grandpa
Dekhart had filled with exotic objects. There were African
ceremonial masks, fertility sculptures from Indonesia, shrunken
heads he had retrieved from New Guinea, and thousands of other odd
objects for Alexander to peruse through as a child. Alexander's
mother had an open mind, and would sit with tea talking with her
father as her small son disappeared into the recesses of the old
house, letting his imagination run wild.

"Go play, sweetie, but be careful!"
She would say.

"Watch out for vampires!" Grandpa
Dekhart would often chide.

Now, with his grandfather gone and his
ashes scattered in the ocean, the old haunt took on a lonely,
deserted feel. Alexander stood in the foyer, looking around at an
empty house full of collected memories. Alexander grieved the loss
of his friend and mentor. The priceless pieces of history he so
desperately wanted for his own collection, at one time, now lacked
the luster they once held when his grandfather was alive. Alexander
wanted none of it now, but since his mother was selling the house,
movers would be there in two days to haul everything off to a
storage unit. Alexander passed by the clawed hand of a shaman taken
from the Asmat tribe Quincy Dekhart had camped with in New Guinea,
during one of his field collection quests. It was mounted in such a
fashion that the index finger appeared to be pointing an
accusatorial verdict to all passersby. Many other artifacts glared
back at Alexander as he inhaled the familiar odors of dust. An
overwhelming urge to go to the attic swept through him like a gust
of wind through an open door. Nostalgia and fond memories of
running up and down the stairs as a child, being chased by unseen
monsters, made him smile as Alexander traversed the creaky old
stairs, as if guided by an unseen hand.

The door to the attic stood ajar, and
the odor of mothballs was so strong Alexander's nose tingled. He
entered the darkened room, flipped on the overhead light bulb, and
stood staring at a dust-covered chest that stood about two feet
tall, and three feet wide. Vintage military uniforms from countries
all over the world hung on racks, like a strange surplus store,
along with other tribal and ceremonial garb from indigenous people
Quincy had met. The chest looked, to Alexander, older than anything
else in the room, with an iron clasp bolted to the front and a new
looking padlock through the clasp eye. The padlock was open, and
through the dust covering the entire top of this mysterious chest,
Alexander could see handprints. Had his grandfather moved the chest
as a final act before his death? Was Alexander supposed to find
this and open it? It seemed as if his grandfather was still guiding
him along, even after passing into the next world. Alexander moved
forward, knelt down, and removed the padlock.

The latch creaked as he flipped it up,
and opened the chest lid. Dust blew around and fell to the floor in
lazy piles as the hinges squealed their aged and rusty protest.
Alexander winced and looked around as if someone would have been
disturbed by the noise.

"What do we have here?" He
said.

The contents were old
letters, baseball cards from the nineteen thirties, a derby hat,
and other odd baubles, but toward the bottom Alexander found
something interesting. It was a folded up piece of lambskin covered
with brown stains, possibly a coffee spill. He carefully took it
out and unfolded what appeared to be a treasure map. Scrawled
across the top in cursive were the words
Don Diego's treasure, buried in dormant volcano,
1823
. A crude map legend gave him the
distance from shore to shore. Two hundred miles off the coast of
Florida in the Atlantic Ocean on a large island, surrounded by
smaller ones, was a small black X, which was next to a drawing of a
cave opening. Alexander had never seen this island on any
traditional or modern map, and later that night when he
crosschecked it against other world maps, Diego's island would
indeed be absent from those drawings. A letter was pinned to the
inside, addressed to Alexander. With care, he removed the letter
and opened it to reveal a message from his grandfather.

Dear Alexander,

If you’re reading this, I have moved
on to the next world. I wish I could accompany you on your
adventure. I should have used this map to find the treasure on
Diego's island years ago, but life races by, and before you realize
what has happened, it's too late. Take this treasure map and use it
to find the riches waiting for you, grandson. I'm with you in
spirit, and I will meet you at the end of the path.

Love,

Quincy Dekhart, your
grandfather

Within a minute, Alexander's cell
phone was in hand and he was dialing his best friend Peri
Lyle.

"Hi Alexander, sorry to hear about
your grandfather. I would have been there at the funeral, but I was
out of town on business." Peri said.

"I know, and thank you, but he
wouldn't have minded. He wasn't much for funerals. The man never
attended one in his life until his own. Listen, I found a map, a
treasure map to some uncharted island."

"Are you serious? You know I love this
kind of stuff. Are you gonna' go?" Peri asked.

"Yeah, I think so, you want to join
me?"

"I'm in! Let me pack a bag, and then
I'll be right over. I know a guy who owns a fishing boat, too! He
could take us, unless this island is half way across the
world!"

Alexander hung up the phone, closed
the lid to the chest, and sat down on the dust covered box mulling
the treasure map over in his hands for a few more minutes. He felt
exhilaration in the pit of his stomach that had not been there
since his childhood. The mummified remains of someone's pet dog
from two thousand years ago, shelves of leather bound books
detailing the past histories of cultures no longer in existence,
mysteries untold around every corner. This was his chance to
further the dreams of a man he had respected his whole life, and
experience a taste of freedom on the high seas. He folded the map
and placed it into his pocket before going home.

In three days Alexander
and Peri were sailing the seas with their Captain, one Spitz McGee.
He owned a deep-sea fishing boat named
Sexy Sandra
, which he rented out for
excursions and sword fishing trips in high season. Today he was
fighting to keep his boat from sinking into the Atlantic, as twenty
foot swells rocked the small ship and turned the stomachs of his
two passengers. Sea sickness is one of the worst feelings in the
world, and Alexander and Peri were miserable. The sickness came on
with a belch, like the unexpected release of pressure when too much
carbonation enters the stomach. No more than twenty seconds later,
the sensation that they had been punched in the stomach doubled
them over.

"You boy's OK, down there?!" Spitz
yelled. He was upstairs on the control deck steering, with little
success.

"Peachy!" Alexander yelled back. Peri
was beyond words, and grunted.

After an hour or so, the sea calmed,
the terrible storm moved on, and the trio were left to their own
devices. The ocean was now as still as a frozen lake and it seemed
like they would never move again, until a fog moved in around them
that was so thick it looked like a black wall. Spitz walked below
deck and the seasick friends sat up, holding their still aching
stomachs.

"Well, we survived that one. Wish I
could say it was the worst storm I've ever sailed through, but this
was mild. You guys are weak! Ha Ha!" Spitz laughed. "But,
seriously, we did almost die more than once." Spitz expression
became sterner.

He stood five foot eleven,
stocky, and had greasy blond hair that was just long enough to
drape his shoulders. Alexander thought Spitz had the rugged good
looks of a model in men's clothing ads. The fact that he captained
a boat like
Sexy Sandra
out into the middle of storms like the one they
had just been through was enough to earn his respect, too.
Alexander was about to say something witty when the fog parted, and
through the gray a seashore became visible.

"I sure hope you're right about this
island, guys." Spitz yelled down. "Because there are hundreds of
these islands out here that ain't on any nautical map I’ve ever
seen."

"I think that's it." Alexander said.
His stomach was beginning to settle, the nausea fading.

"How are we supposed to get in
there?"

Behind the small beach were tall
cliffs surrounding the island, and to scale them would require the
skill of a professional climber. Neither man had such experience
and the task ahead seemed impossible. Palm trees and low lying
plants grew at the base, as if the island were a crown, ringing the
head of some submerged ocean god. The sea was beginning to become
choppy once more, and the waves pushed the fishing boat toward the
rocky shore.

"There's an opening in the island! See
that dark recess in between the trees? I think it's a way through."
Alexander shouted.

"You two take the dingy to shore and
I'll wait here. Don't take longer than three days though, or I'll
have to return home. If I do leave you here, I'll come back in a
week or so; I got bills to pay and there are customers on dry land
looking for my services, sorry fellas." Spitz said.

"You're not leaving us here!"
Alexander protested. Spitz frowned, his brow furrowing. His hand
was moving to the bottom of his shirt and the guys could see a
metal object in his waistband.

"We'll be back in three days, don’t
worry everything's cool. Alexander, let's go." Peri said. "Spitz
has a terrible temper so, don't piss him off," he mumbled to
Alexander.

For a moment, Alexander pictured Spitz
abandoning them there the minute they were out of sight, and felt
his stomach sink.

"Three days? We'll be back sooner."
Alexander winked. Spitz was eyeballing him for his earlier
outburst, but relaxed his stance.

"Have fun, and don't get yourselves
killed. Good luck!" Spitz said. He clapped them both on the
shoulders.

The tiny three-man boat was lowered
into the ocean, and as the two adventurers were climbing down the
ladder, a fin appeared in the water next to them.

"I don't mean to be a downer, but
there’s a really big shark down there." Peri pointed.

"Yeah, that's not good." Alexander
replied. He started back up the ladder.

"Oh no you don't." Spitz said. "We
didn't come all the way out here so you can bail out at the last
minute because of a little old shark. Get in the boat...he's in the
water and won't hurt you." Spitz was holding a small pistol on
them. Had they been near home, Alexander would have thought the gun
almost comical, but out in the middle of uncharted islands, it
looked like a cannon. Alexander descended into the boat with Peri,
and fired up the onboard motor. Through one choppy wave after
another they cleared the fifty yard distance to the ominous gray
shoreline, and stepped onto the wet sand.

"There's the opening! Up
ahead!"

Alexander yelled.

Rain began to fall as they made their
way past the shore and into the dark opening. A path that had been
fashioned from bamboo boards led off into the darkness beyond.
Ominous cliffs on both sides rose high into the sky, as pellets of
cold rain shot from the sky like icy bullets.