God Stones: Books 1 - 3 Read online

  It soon became apparent that what they had discovered was a wooden structure about three feet wide. Could this be the wooden vault? The one that many Oak Island legends claimed held the site’s treasures? Once they uncovered the top, they carefully began excavating down the sides of the structure. It was unadorned, bearing no markings whatsoever, made solely of rough-cut timbers. Simple wooden dowels bound the timbers together, creating a uniform box framework.

  After they exposed the top and two of the sides, they worked to expose the end of the box. Since one end seemed to go back under the undisturbed wall of the swamp, and therefore was under some thirty feet of soil, they chose to work the structure carefully back toward the center of the swamp. Using this strategy, they hoped to find at least one end of the wood box with less digging needed. Their strategy paid off as they reached the end only a few yards away.

  Excavating down into the front of the framework, using only a spade and mattock, they discovered it was open on the end. Breanne’s heart pounded with anticipation of a treasure to come.

  Instead of treasure, what they found was more daunting work. The open end was sealed with stones piled from top to bottom. Okay, no big deal. They must have just sealed it with a wall of stone, she thought. With help from her brothers, Breanne excavated a five-foot-deep trench in front of the structure’s open end, complete with steps to allow them to climb in and out of the trench. They would need these stairs and the room to work for removing the stones obstructing the entrance.

  The stacked stones filling the opening were large, most weighing between fifty and a hundred pounds. To compound the difficulty, stinking seepage was pooling at the bottom of the dirt steps, requiring the use of a pump to constantly pull the liquid stank from the hole. While Breanne had never had an issue working in the dirt in the past, this was something different. It was God-awful gross, plus it drew bugs in clouds. As interesting as the wood structure was, she just wanted to be done with it.

  Unfortunately, the stones seemed to just keep going. Behind each stack of stones were more stones, and behind those were even more stones. The stones didn’t seem to just be blocking the entrance; they seemed to be filling the structure entirely.

  “Dad, I don’t think this is a treasure vault at all,” Breanne said, her pants covered in stinky swamp mud.

  “No. It isn’t.” Her father looked up from the map he had been studying and gazed off into the distance. “Based on angle and direction, we’re dealing with a tunnel, and if my calculations are correct, it appears to lead towards the Money Pit.”

  “The Money Pit?” she asked in surprise.

  “What’s the big deal with the Money Pit?” Paul asked.

  “Well, for starters,” Charles said, “the Money Pit is probably one of the most dug-up places on earth. However, since it has been dug up so much over the years, the original location was lost. We know the general area, but treasure hunters have been trying to find the true location since it was first discovered a few hundred years ago. Interestingly, the general location is about a couple hundred yards to the east.”

  “Then what is this?” Paul asked, tossing a large rock into the pile.

  “Perhaps an additional flood tunnel designed to usher water from the swamp into the Money Pit. Legend says the Money Pit is booby-trapped to flood whenever someone tries to dig in it, and historically the area has flooded right around ninety feet each and every time. Think about it. This swamp could have provided plenty of water to get the job done before it was drained.” He pointed at the rock pile. “The rocks were likely to keep the tunnel from collapsing or filling with debris while still allowing water to flow through. Other tunnels supposedly came from Smith’s Cove, but why not pull from various places? It’s ingenious, really – a design to prevent would-be treasure hunters from ever reaching the bottom of the Money Pit.”

  “You don’t sound convinced, Dad,” Breanne said.

  Her father pursed his lips and nodded. “I don’t know, something doesn’t quite fit. I’m missing something.”

  “Maybe it was more than a flood tunnel,” she said slowly.

  “What do you mean?” he asked with interest.

  “Well, we have already concluded through soil samples in combination with examination of the strata from both sides of the swamp that it is a complete fake, right? We know this island was once two separate islands with a channel running between them. It seems like an awful lot of work to hide a flood tunnel.”

  Paul and Edward tossed their stones into the pile, then paused to listen.

  With a captive audience, Breanne started to pace back and forth, looking down onto the wood structure. “It’s too big, and so deep in the ground – it just seems like so much work for nothing more than a flood tunnel. Why make a flood tunnel this big?”

  Her father twisted at his whiskers thoughtfully. “You’re right, Bre. I think you are really on to something!” It was like a veil had been lifted as it dawned on him. “This tunnel may be a treasure tunnel – the one that leads directly to a treasure chamber. Hah, it is too big. Much bigger than the flood tunnels of legend, even big enough to transport a treasure through.” He pointed into the distance. “At this trajectory I would bet money it will end up far deeper than needed for a simple flood tunnel. And the placement. It is too well hidden, like you said… too deep. There has to be a connection with the bodies. They must have dammed off both sides, moved the treasure in, and sacrificed the builders right here so they could never tell anyone. Then they construct this artificial swamp right over the top to hide the evidence.”

  “Pops, you really think someone killed all these people and just dumped ’em at the bottom of the swamp, all so they wouldn’t talk?” Paul asked.

  “Well, we need only look at history to answer that. Qin Shi Huang, the first emperor of China, ordered the killing of an unknown number of people, maybe thousands involved in the building of his great tomb and terracotta army, all to protect the location from discovery. The same goes for Genghis Khan. He allegedly ordered the death of one thousand foot soldiers to protect the location of his tomb from ever being found.”

  “That’s messed up,” Edward said, twisting his face in disgust.

  “Indeed,” his father replied. “You know, before coming here, if you were to ask me about this island, I would have laughed and said it was nothing more than a wild goose chase – heck, I would even have been willing to put substantial money on nothing ever being found here. But just look at this! Undeniable proof that something is hidden here, something even bigger than a mass grave!” He paused, shaking his head. “The treasure hunters of the past spent their lives searching this island, knowing in their hearts something’s buried here, and you know what? They’ve been right all along… I was the one who was wrong.”

  “The question is who would do this, and what were they hiding?” Edward asked.

  The boys worked for several days removing stone after stone, climbing up and down the carved dirt steps. Breanne helped with any rocks that were light enough for her to manage them, but after a few days, it became apparent this was not going to work. The problem was that the wood was so old and waterlogged with centuries of swamp water that, as the boys removed the heavy stones, the tunnel began to slowly collapse. The final straw came when they arrived one morning to find the tunnel had completely collapsed overnight.

  “I sure hope we don’t plan to give up like those guys did when they found their Money Pit had flooded overnight,” Breanne said.

  “Not a chance, baby girl. We need a new plan, and it just so happens I have one.” He smiled at her. “Did you know that a television show filmed in the Money Pit, as one of the last great mysteries, intent on capturing the big find on network TV? The hardened treasure hunters spent season after season drilling, digging, and pulling back the earth, but – like Geraldo opening Al Capone’s safe – the big find never came. But do you know what we have that they didn’t?”

  They all stopped and looked to him expectantly.
r />   Their father pointed at the tunnel. “We have a big fat arrow.” He quickly measured the drop of the tunnel over the twenty yards of length they had uncovered and plotted its trajectory. With his calculations complete, he deduced at what depth and location the tunnel would intersect in the area of the old Money Pit. This was assuming, of course, that the tunnel stayed true to course over the next one hundred yards. “Time to go.”

  Everyone, especially Breanne, was elated to be leaving the swamp. With their new coordinates in hand, they packed up their equipment.

  By now, summer was nearing an end and soon the ground would freeze. Rather than risk partial excavation and unknown complications, like more hidden flood tunnels, Dr. Moore decided to mark the location and wait until spring thaw to start again.

  Breanne’s year was up, and she was supposed to report to university for the fall semester. As much as she wanted to throw herself into her studies, she was too invested in this mystery. She had to see it through. Besides that, her father needed her. Who else would keep him safe? Not her brothers. They were liable to let him do something stupid. No, she needed to stay, to see it through. She just had to somehow convince her father to let her postpone school. Finally, she cornered him and went for it. “I’ve already spent a whole summer doing the worst of it in that nasty swamp, and you know I can be an asset in the research, preparation, and planning for spring. I’m way ahead in my studies anyway. School can wait just a little longer.” She stood up straighter and looked her father directly in the eye. “This could be a major discovery, one of the biggest of all time.”

  He smiled softly and, just like that, she was back in. She hadn’t even needed the sad puppy dog face and “Please, Daddy?” she had kept in reserve. There was one condition, though. After this upcoming dig season, she would have to report to university, no matter what the condition of the site. She thought she would be happy, but she didn’t feel happy – she felt something else, something… ominous.

  7

  The Book

  Present day

  Petersburg, Illinois

  With the final rays of the day’s light fading, shadows came out of hiding to impose their will, slowly devouring everything into darkness. Garrett, Lenny, and Pete made their way down the steep driveway of the old Victorian. “You boys come back tomorrow. The pond will be filled, and we can throw those pennies in and make a wish!” Eugene shouted after them.

  “We will, Eugene. See you tomorrow,” Garrett yelled back up the driveway.

  “Hey, speak for yourself – I’ll be okay if I don’t get to throw my penny in the pond. What does he think, we’re twelve?” Lenny said.

  “We don’t want to hurt his feelings, man, c’mon. It won’t hurt you to swing by, Lenny,” Garrett said before turning to Pete. “Oh, and you, dude,” he said, pointing a finger. “What the hell was that? Not cool. Work is difficult enough to come by – the last thing I need is to lose a repeat customer like Eugene, who also just so happened to mention he had even more work for me to do in the basement. So out with it. What did you steal?”

  “I think saying I stole it is a bit of a stretch,” Pete said.

  “Just because he didn’t know it was behind the wall doesn’t make it cool to take it, asshole,” Lenny said.

  Pete pointed a finger at Lenny. “Okay, dickhead, just for that—”

  “Guys, knock it off!” Garrett interrupted. “Dammit, Pete! It wasn’t yours, and you almost got us caught!”

  “Jeez, I’m sorry,” Pete said.

  “Yeah, well, that was a real bonehead move, asshat,” Garrett said with a scowl.

  “Well, what do you want me to do – give it back? He doesn’t even know he had it.”

  “What the hell is it anyway?” Lenny asked.

  “I don’t know, some kind of old book or something. I didn’t get a good chance to check it out.”

  “When we get around the corner, let’s see it,” Garrett said.

  The boys quickly made their way down the driveway and turned onto Snake Hollow, a winding road that led past one of the largest mansions in Petersburg. Once they were certain they were out of sight of Eugene’s house, Pete reached behind his back and produced the object from his waistline.

  “It looks like part of a busted book,” Lenny said.

  “It looks old. Well, nice going, Pete, you stole old trash,” Garrett said.

  “I didn’t steal it! And if it’s just old trash who cares? It is old, though, very old,” said Pete, turning the book over. The front cover was missing, but the back appeared to be made of black leather that was brittle and peeling, sucked dry of all moisture over countless years of sitting behind Eugene’s basement wall.

  Flipping it back and forth, Pete continued to appraise the find. “It looks like a good chunk of it is missing – at least several pages along with the front cover – but it’s hard to say how much without knowing how thick it was in the first place.” Pete frowned critically at the book, observing that the remaining pages were crisp, water stained, and yellowed with age.

  “Open it and see what you can tell already,” Lenny said, growing impatient. “I have to get home.”

  “You guys called and said you’d be home a little late. Stop freaking,” Pete said.

  “Yeah, but my parents know how long it takes, and they know I am on my way, so just hurry the hell up, would you?”

  Pete turned his attention back to the book. The front of the first page was completely faded, and nothing was legible in the dim glow of the streetlight. As he started to turn the page, it cracked and a corner broke off, brittle with age. “Man, this thing must be really old. I’m afraid if I force it open, I’ll destroy it. Let me take it home and figure out what I can do with it. Then tomorrow after church we can see it in the light.”

  “Whatever,” Garrett said. “But if it’s worth anything, we better give it back to Eugene somehow – I don’t know, tell him we found it or something. He likes antiques – he would probably dig it.” Taking a step closer to Pete, he slugged him in the shoulder.

  Pete yelped, raising his free hand to rub his shoulder. “What the hell was that for?”

  “You almost got us caught. Be more careful,” Garrett said. “Oh, and guys, whatever you do, don’t tell anyone about it. I don’t want people thinking we’re thieves and it getting back to Eugene or my parents – God only knows what they would do to me.” But Garrett knew all too well what his father would do and what he would use to do it.

  “All right. Deal,” Pete said.

  “Sounds good to me,” Lenny said.

  Their pact sealed, the boys parted. Garrett and Lenny headed down the sidewalk towards the north side of town. Pete quickly crossed the street to make his way across town in the opposite direction towards the dilapidated apartment building he called home.

  “Hey man, you down to run home?” Lenny asked.

  Garrett smiled. “I know we got permission to be a little late, but these streetlights are making me nervous.”

  “Race you!” Lenny said, taking off.

  “Oh, it’s on!”

  The boys were the epitome of best friends. They had a lot in common, sure, but fate played a part too. To deny that would be to deny fish swam. In a town the size of Petersburg, didn’t fate have to play a part in bringing together two people with so many similarities? Both boys were adopted. Lenny was fully adopted, with white stepparents, while Garrett still had his biological mom. Both boys loved music, and both boys were on the cross-country team. Also, both boys loved everything related to martial arts, including Bruce Lee, ninjas, and Kung Fu theater. Both boys took taekwondo from a local dojo up on the square. Since neither of the boys had much money, Grand Master Brockridge had worked out a deal with the boys back when the dojo first opened. They had taken every belt test together and achieved their black belts in only a few short years.

  However, the kinship Garrett felt with Lenny went beyond friendship. He had always felt they were more like brothers. On the surface, it was pl
ain enough – they did everything together. But Garrett knew it was more. To Garrett, Lenny was what free looked like. Lenny was free with his thoughts – freer still with his tongue. God, he wanted that. He wished he didn’t have the damned rules, the training, the secrets, and the questions he was finding harder to ignore. He wished he could be more like Lenny. It was like Lenny didn’t worry, not about nothing, while he worried about it all.

  Feet slapping pavement, the two boys reached their neighborhood a few minutes later. “Dude, are you getting slower?” Garrett grinned.

  Lenny was hunched over, gasping, with both hands on his knees. “No, bro, you’re getting faster. I haven’t lost any speed. What the heck are you doing? Taking protein shakes?” He spit between his feet, then rubbed it into the gravel with the sole of his shoe. “I could barely hold you in sight. If we were running much further, you would have dropped me for sure.”

  “Like I could buy protein,” Garrett said, holding one side of his nostril closed with a thumb while clearing the other side with a sharp exhalation. “I know cross-country practice doesn’t start until August, but I can’t help it, I’m just feeling it, so I run a lot more – like to and from work and school.”

  “Well, it’s working, man. See you tomorrow,” Lenny said, as he turned to head down the alley to his place.

  “Hey, Lenny, can I ask you something?”

  He turned back towards Garrett. “What’s up?”

  Garrett stepped close, glanced over both shoulders, and in a lowered voice asked, “Do your parents make you do extra training in the evening or at night?”