Kathy Reichs - Seizure

“I’m barely winded. Don’t be such a baby!”

The space between the branches had been converted to a makeshift excavation site. Buckets, shovels, and other implements lay scattered on the sand. Our electric lantern hung from a bough, lighting the inside of the deepening hole.

“This could be the wrong tree,” Chance grumbled. “But say it’s not. If we’re off by even a yard in any direction we’ll dig right past whatever’s down there. If anything’s down there.”

Hi and Shelton were leaning against the trunk, ropes in their hands, buckets at their feet. My role was more … supervisory.

“This is the right spot,” I said. “I’m positive.”

“Based on what?” Chance crossed his arms. “Convince me.”

“This tree has a substantial root system, but none stretch under this one spot. Also, from here there’s a direct line of sight to the watchtower.”

“That’s it?” Chance was incredulous. “That’s your brilliant reasoning? You can see a hundred dead trees from that tower!”

“The cross sighted on this tree, and we’re excavating the only reasonable location near it.”

Chance pointed at Hi and Shelton. “Why can’t they dig?”

“They’re holding the safety ropes.” Ben tossed a shovelful of dirt over his shoulder, forcing Chance to dance aside. “Sand holes are inherently dangerous. If the sides cave in, we need someone to pull us out.”

Chance snorted. “Tubby and Tiny here?”

Hi bristled. “We’re stronger than we look.”

“Keep yapping,” said Shelton. “We won’t bother with you.”

“Enough.” I pointed Chance back into the hole. “Dig.”

Another hour. Three more feet.

Hi and Shelton were slumped against the tree, taking a break from hauling buckets. Ben and Chance had slowed noticeably.

No one would meet my eye. I could sense a rebellion forming.

And they were right.

I should’ve called it off earlier, but couldn’t handle the disappointment. I’d been so sure.

Thunk .

“Was that your foot?” Ben’s voice sounded muffled down in the pit.

“No,” Chance said. “My blade hit something.”

Thunk thunk thunk .

Clank .

“What was that?”

Hi’s question roused Shelton from a light doze. “Wha happa?”

“Holy crap!” Chance sounded funny.

“Find the corners!” Ben ordered.

“Guys?” I stepped to the rim and peered down into the hole. Ben and Chance were on their knees, clawing with their bare hands.

“Get back from the edge!” Ben ordered.

“Spades!” Chance barked. “Now!”

“Okay, okay!”

Heart hammering, I grabbed two trowels and returned to the pit.

“Incoming!” I dropped the implements. “What did you find?”

No reply.

Sand and mud flew from the pit.

“It’s wood!” Ben yelled. “I think it’s a chest of some kind!”

“Rope!” Chance called. “We’ll have to haul it up!”

Shelton grabbed two lengths of nylon rope and chucked them into the hole. Moments later, the coils came flying back out.

“Keep one end up there, you idiot!”

“Sorry dude!” Shelton was bouncing on the balls of his feet. Hi gave him a calm-down gesture with both hands.

I lowered one end of each rope. Ben and Chance worked quickly, exchanging words I couldn’t hear, hostilities forgotten.

“Ready,” Chance yelled. “Send down the escalator!”

Shelton, Hi, and I hefted a six-foot length of spiky driftwood we’d placed beside the pit.

“Ready?” I asked.

“Ready!” Jinx .

Working together, we maneuvered one end of the log into the hole. Ben and Chance seated the crude ladder, then cautiously climbed out.

Once both were safely topside, we withdrew the driftwood. The pit held.

“We found something!” Ben was trying to contain his excitement but failing. “Whatever’s down there is definitely manmade!”

“We tied lines to handles on both ends.” Chance had four ropes looped around his forearm. “We just need to pull it out!”

“Four corners,” Hi instructed. “If everyone hauls at once, the pit shouldn’t collapse.”

We raced into position, everyone bursting with frenzied energy.

“Turn your back to the hole, shoulder your rope, and walk slowly away.” Hi had belly-crawled to the pit’s edge. “If you move in unison, the load should stay balanced.”

“Ready?” Ben glanced from face to face. Everyone nodded.

“Step! Step! Step!” Hi called out the cadence.

I felt resistance at first, then it lessened. There was a soft grating like sandpaper moving on wood.

“Step! Step! Step!”

I inched forward, muscles straining.

Something snagged and my rope went taut.

“Put your backs into it!” Hi urged. “Just a few more feet!”

I leaned my shoulder forward, dug in my heels, and tugged with all my might.

I heard a clonk, then the shush of cascading sand.

“It’s up!” Hi called.

Ben tied his rope to a branch and raced to Hi’s side. A dirt-crusted chest hung suspended an inch above the hole.

“Hurry!” Shelton whined. “I can’t hold much longer.”

Ben grabbed for the nearest handle and steadied the box with two hands. Hi snagged the other side.

“Shelton and Tory, release on the count of three. Chance, hang tight. Ben and I will pull the chest toward us.”

“Uno! Dos! Tres!”

Shelton and I dropped our lines as Ben and Hi hauled backward.

The chest slid onto the sand between them.

Just like that, the treasure was ours.

WE GATHERED AROUND the chest.

Behind it, the pit gaped like an open wound in the earth. The petrified cedar loomed just beyond, cupping our little band like a vast skeletal hand.

The full moon cast long, ghostlike shadows across the beach.

We huddled close, shocked into silence, barely daring to believe that our find was real.

We found Anne Bonny’s treasure. It really happened .

As the realization rocketed home, I began clawing away centuries of grime. Other hands joined mine.

The chest was dark brown, constructed of wooden slats nailed to a stout wooden frame. Thick metal banding reinforced its sides and corners. The top was domed, like a small coffin.

Wooden handles were nailed to both ends. A rusty latch and padlock secured the lid. Though clearly ancient, the chest looked rugged and durable, capable of surviving centuries underground.

“Good Lord!” Chance looked stunned. “An honest-to-god treasure chest!”

“Of course!” Hi laughed. “You thought we were digging to China?”

“It just hit me.” Chance ran both hands through his hair. “I mean, look! We just pulled a freaking pirate chest from the freaking sand!”

“I feel you.” Shelton’s fists were pressed to his temples. “I never thought we’d actually find something. It’s a whole different ball game now.”

Ben knuckle-rapped the chest. “Sturdy.”

“Test the lock.” I was too amped to say more.

“They built to last back then.” Ben tugged the padlock, but it didn’t budge. “We’ll need a tool of some kind.”

“Try this.” Hi tossed him a shovel.

Ben wedged the blade against the hasp and raised a foot to stomp down.

A voice rang out from the dunes behind us.

“Enough!”

Ben spun, shovel in hand.

I sprang to switch off the lantern, then crab-scuttled back to the chest.