Chapter 6
“The Treasure Hunt Club”
Traveling east on I-20 through Shreveport, Nick’s chosen route would eventually take him to Vicksburg, Mississippi and then to Jackson. From there, he would take state highway 49 on a straight shot to Biloxi. He drove without really thinking, just letting his mind drift. On those occasions when he had to change lanes or otherwise negotiate through the traffic on the Interstate, he did so robotically with as little conscious thought devoted to the task as possible.
The sun had just finished setting as Nick crossed the grandfather of all North American rivers, the Mississippi. The last vestiges of the sun’s reddish-gold light glinted gently off the water of the mile-wide river. From Nick’s vantage point on the bridge that spanned the Mississippi, the view should have been particularly spectacular. It was wasted on Nick, however, as still preoccupied, he barely noticed the river as he crossed it. A “Welcome to Mississippi” sign greeted him as he exited off the bridge and into the Magnolia State. He had only traveled a few additional miles into Mississippi, when his cell phone trilled, startling him.
Nick was unable to afford the monthly bill of a regular cell phone plan, so instead, he had bought a cheap phone at Wal-Mart and purchased minutes. As he fumbled for the cell, he tried to remember how many minutes he had left, and decided he had approximately an hour or so. There wasn’t a caller ID on the no frills phone, so he was mystified as to who as would be calling him.
“Hello?”
“Nick, where are you?” Mark’s concerned voice asked over the phone. “You weren’t at your place when Patty and I went by, and nobody has seen you since…since, well…since you left Lisa’s.”
So that explained the phone call Nick thought as he closed his eyes momentarily in dismay. Mark and Patty had somehow found out about Lisa kicking him out and were worried about him. When they hadn’t found him at his trailer, their worry had only increased.
“What did he say?” Nick heard Patty’s concerned voice ask in the background.
Patty was Mark’s wife. They had been high school sweethearts, and with Nick serving as Mark’s best man, they had married at 19 despite both their parent’s protestations that they were too young. Mark and Patty’s parents fears had quickly proved unfounded, as their marriage had been rock solid ever since. In fact, the two were inseparable, and when you saw one, you usually saw the other. Although Mark was his best friend in the whole world, Nick considered Patty a close second. In his opinion, she was the nicest, kindest, most patient person he had ever met. Short, at only barely five feet tall, Patty tended to be on the plump side and was constantly dieting. She wore her reddish brown hair short and curled in beneath her ears, and had sparkling green eyes. Her smile was her best feature, however, and Nick knew it could light up a whole room. Thinking of his friends and how happy they were together compared to his own disastrous personal life, brought a lump to Nick’s throat.
“Nick, answer me! Where are you?” Mark demanded.
“I’m…I’m on my way to…to Biloxi” Nick managed to say.
“What? Biloxi? As in Mississippi?” Mark asked in disbelief. “Why?” In the background, Nick heard Patty demanding details.
Nick didn’t know what to say. The fact was, he wasn’t sure himself why he had gone on this impromptu road trip. All he knew was that he needed time alone to do some long overdue soul-searching. Finally, he said, “I…I just had to get away, Mark. I…I can’t explain it any simpler.”
There was a pause over the phone as Mark considered what Nick had said. Suddenly, Patty’s voice came over the phone, as impatient, she must have taken the phone from Mark.
“Nick, listen sweetie, we know you got laid off from your job and what happened to you and Lisa. I can only imagine how hurt and upset you are right now. The thing is, you don’t need to be alone, especially now! It’s not healthy! Why don’t you come stay with us for awhile? I’ll make my famous chicken spaghetti you like so much! We can play cards, go to the movies, go bowling, anything you want!”
Patty’s warm, concerned voice caused Nick to smile despite himself. Not for the first time, he thought of what a lucky man Mark was.
“Thanks Patty. I might take you up on that when I get back. But…but I really need to do this for…for myself. I hope you understand.”
Hearing the finality in Nick’s voice, Patty sighed. “Promise me you won’t do anything foolish or impulsive then, ok? And promise you will call us the second you get back to Pleasant Mountain?”
“I promise” Nick said chuckling. “Besides, you know me Patty; I never do anything foolish or impulsive!” From the sound of Patty’s nervous laughter, Nick knew that was exactly what she and Mark were worried about!
Patty handed the phone back to Mark and they talked a few moments more, with Nick promising to call again sometime after he got to Biloxi. Saying goodbye, Nick clicked off his phone, and once again, he was driving alone in the solitude of his car.
An hour later got Nick into Jackson where he stopped to grab a bite to eat and fill up his car with gas. By the time he was on the road again, it was approaching eleven o’clock at night. The traffic was light as he left Jackson behind, and yawning, he concentrated on trying to stay awake. A half-hour later, he slowed down as he entered a small hamlet. A sign announced the town’s name as “D’Lo”, and other than it, a blinking yellow traffic light, and a post office with several other buildings clustered near it, Nick found scant evidence that a “town” existed there. Yawning repeatedly now, he sped up as he passed the D’Lo city limit sign.
Nick had traveled less than half a mile from D’Lo, when a motel suddenly appeared alongside the road. A neon sign atop the motel identified it as the Poolside Motel, and Nick briefly considered stopping there for the night before discarding the idea. His funds were limited and another hour would put him in Biloxi. Besides, he figured if he had made it this far, he could make it all the way. No sooner had he made this decision, than he heard a loud popping noise followed shortly by his car swerving. Gripping the wheel hard, Nick fought to keep the car under control, before finally slowing down and pulling to a stop by the side of the road. Pulling a flashlight out of the glove compartment, Nick got out of the car.
Shining the flashlight on the tires, Nick soon discovered the problem. His left, rear tire had suffered a blow-out. Cursing, he was in the process of opening the hatchback of the Sprint to retrieve the spare, when sudden realization caused him to stop and pound the top of the little car in dismay. He had used the spare tire to replace a flat several months ago, and he had not replaced it. He had no spare tire! Slamming the hatchback back down in frustration, Nick looked up and down the road. The black ribbon of highway stretched away in the murky dark in both directions without a single car’s headlights to be seen. In fact, he now realized there had been little traffic since shortly after he had left Jackson. Looking at his watch, he saw it was almost midnight, undoubtedly the reason why there was no one on the road.
Nick stood beside the car fuming while he considered his options. Finally, he sighed in resignation and got back in the car. Starting it back up, he turned it back around and, flat tire and all, slowly made his way back to the motel. Five minutes later, he pulled into the cracked asphalt of the motel parking lot. A single light was on in the motel’s office. As Nick opened a glass door and entered the cramped office, he saw no one there. An old, yellowed map of D’Lo and the surrounding county hung from the wall behind a counter with a cracked Formica top. An antiquated swivel chair sat on the floor behind the counter. Resting on top of the counter was a mason jar filled with small replicas of the Confederate battle flag. A handwritten sign taped to the jar said “50 cents each”. A swivel rack stood next to the counter, and it was filled with bumper stickers. One of the bumper stickers said, “I Love GRITS: Girls Raised In The South”, while another had a picture of the Confederate flag, which said, “Heritage; Not Hate!” Finally, a small metal bell was screwed to the wall right above the counter. A piece of nylon cord hung from the clapper inside of it.
Nick was about to turn and search elsewhere for the night manager, when he heard a snoring noise coming from behind a partially closed door just to the left and behind the counter. Reaching up, he tentatively pulled the cord a couple of times, the bell ringing loudly in the small confines of the office. Abruptly, the snoring stopped, and a thin, middle-aged man exited the door and into the office, sleepily rubbing his eyes as he did so. Mussed, brown hair stood up from the top of his head, much like a rooster comb.
Peering curiously at Nick, he asked, “Yes suh. What can I do for you?”
“I…I guess I need a room for the night. My car has a flat and I don’t have a spare.” Nick replied.
“Sorry to hear that, but we can sure fix you up for tonight! The room’s forty dollars a night and I’ll just need you to sign here!” The night manager sounded impossibly chipper to Nick for someone who had just been awoken from a sound sleep. Perhaps he had a lot of practice at it he thought as he signed the old-fashioned ledger the manager handed him.
“Is there a place nearby that I can get another tire?” Nick asked as he handed the ledger back.
The manager thought briefly before answering. “I got a cousin, Bobby Dale, who owns a tire shop not far from here. Actually, he’s my 2nd cousin, once removed, but he still gives me discounts on tires. Family’s family you know” he said winking at Nick.
“Er, that’s great. Uh, how far from here is it?”
Hearing the concern in Nick’s voice the manager snapped his fingers saying, “That’s right! You can’t drive your car since it’s got a flat! Tell you what, after breakfast tomorrow, I’ll drive you over to Bobby Dale’s. He’s got a wrecker and can tow your car to his shop. He’ll have you fixed in a jiffy, and then you can be on your way!”
“Hey, that’s fantastic! Thanks, uh…”
“Name’s Merkel, Jedidiah Merkel, although everyone around here calls me Jed!”
“Well, thanks Jed! I really appreciate it.”
“No problem. D’lo may be a small town, but it’s got friendly people!” With that, Jed gave Nick a large brass key to his room.
Nick exited the office and looked for room number 23, the number stamped on his key. Several security lights in and around the motel and its parking lot aided Nick with a dim illumination as he make his way to his room. He saw that the lay-out of the motel was relatively simple, as two blocks of rooms led from the office, forming a “V” shape. As Nick followed the numbers on the rooms in search of his own, he discovered a restaurant was located behind the motel. Too tired to do anymore than simply note the presence of the restaurant, he finally found his room near the end of one the row of rooms. Going back to his car, he gingerly drove it next to his room and parked it. Taking the key, he unlocked the door to his room, and then returned to his car.
As Nick was taking his duffel bag from the car, he noticed the painting in the back of the car for the first time. He had forgotten all about it! Tossing the duffel bag on the bed in his room, he went back and opened the hatchback of the Sprint. Reaching in, he picked up the still wrapped painting and took it out of the car. Gazing at it, he was in the act of placing it back in the car when he felt something slid within the painting.
Curiously, Nick took the painting back out of the car and carefully shook it. There it was again! There was definitely something sliding around within the wrapped painting! Thinking that a piece of the frame must have broken off, Nick took the painting back to his room and sitting on the bed, began to remove the cardboard and other wrapping material. When he had finished, he lay the painting on the bed and looked in puzzlement at it. The frame was whole, and there were no broken pieces he could see. Picking it up, he began to turn it over, and he felt something slide inside between the frame and the painting. His curiosity now thoroughly aroused, Nick carefully inspected the back of the painting.
Unlike most modern frames, Nick discovered the back of the frame was not made of paper or cardboard. Instead, it was made of a sturdy, laminate sheet of wood screwed into the frame itself. Pulling a pocketknife from the pocket of his jeans, Nick flipped out one thin blade and using the blade’s tip, began unscrewing each of the screws holding the back of the frame in place. When finished, he had a small pile of screws lying on the bed. Using the pocketknife’s blade again, he carefully wedged it between the frame and the painting and began to pry the thin wood backing off. Suddenly, the back of the frame popped off, and a flat, rectangular object fell out and into Nick’s lap. Picking it up, Nick stared at in amazement. It was a book!
Turning it over in his hands, Nick examined the book carefully. The book was thin, and was about a foot long and half again as wide. It was bound in a dark gray, leathery material that was slightly abrasive to the touch. Peering closer, Nick could see no title on the book. Flipping it over, he examined the other side of the book. He soon saw it was just as blank, with nothing written on the cover to give a clue as to the book’s name or subject. Sighing, he flipped the book over one more time, and almost dropped it from surprise. There, on the front cover of the book in gold, filigreed writing were the words, The Book of Lost Treasures. There had been nothing there when he had examined it moments earlier, he was sure of it! Gulping, he set the book down on the bed as if it were hot to the touch.
Finally, Nick picked the book back up and peered closely at the book’s title, which had appeared, as it were, out of thin air. The letters and words were all written stylishly with exaggerated loops and whorls, and the writing style reminded Nick of a Puritan hymn book of the early 1700’s that he had seen pictured in his high school American history textbook. Shaking his head, he carefully opened the book and turned to the first page. It was completely blank save for the words, “Your Name” at the top of the page. Quickly, Nick flipped through the rest of the book, and found without exception, that each and every page was blank! Puzzled, Nick set the book down and began to pace the room, thinking hard.
Someone had gone to a lot of trouble to hide the book within the frame, of that he had no doubt. The odds of it “accidentally” finding it’s way there were so far-fetched, he didn’t even consider that an option. So, who, and more importantly, why had someone hidden the book within the painting? Immediately, he thought of Hank. He knew from experience that the antique store owner had a mischievous nature, and he wouldn’t put it past the diminutive Hank to pull a practical joke on him. However, the more he thought about it, the more he doubted Hank would have done that. First of all, a prank such as this is something you might pull on an old friend, not a customer you have met for the first time! Hank also knew the reason why Nick had bought the painting, and a practical joke under the circumstances would seem…well, it would seem somewhat cruel. Even though Nick had only met Hank the one time, that was enough to convince him that Hank didn’t have a cruel bone in his body.
At a loss as what to do next, Nick sat down heavily on the edge of the bed. Looking around, he noticed the interior of the motel room for the first time. An ancient chest of drawers sat against the wall in front of the bed, with a small oval mirror hanging on the wall above it. A dark blue, indoor-outdoor carpet that looked equally as ancient as the chest of drawers covered the floor. A coin-operated TV with an honest-to-God set of rabbit ears antenna sat on top of a desk next to the chest of drawers, and a wooden chair was pushed under the desk. A small bathroom was located to the right of the bed and Nick stood up to look inside it. Given what he had seen so far in the motel room, he half-expected to see a claw-footed tub. He was pleasantly surprised to see a modern shower-tub combination. That reminded Nick of how dirty and gritty he felt, and he immediately stripped off his shirt and tossed it on the bed in preparation of taking a shower.
Nick paused as he gave the motel room one final glance. Despite the age of the furnishings, he had to admit the room looked clean. As he was about to turn away to start the water in the bathroom running, his eye caught the night stand next to the bed. Resting on it was old, black, rotary phone. Next to the phone was a pad of stationary with the name Poolside Motel printed on the top, with a green plastic ballpoint pen lying on top of the pad. On impulse, Nick quickly strode over to the night stand and picked up the pen. Sitting on the bed, he picked up the mysterious book and opened it. Turning to the first page he located the “Your Name” writing at the top of it. Hesitating for only a moment, he wrote grandly, Nick Hollister next to it. Grinning, he was about to pitch the book back onto the bed, when suddenly, writing began to flow beneath his name, as if written by some invisible hand!
“What the…!” Nick shouted, dropping the book as if it were a bomb that had gone off in his hand.
His shower forgotten, Nick stared at the book lying on the bed like it was some sort of dangerous snake. Surely this was some sort of elaborate joke someone was playing on him he thought! It had to be! He almost pitched the book into the trash then and there, but his curiosity got the better of him, and sitting back on the bed, he picked the book back up and began to examine it carefully. With the miniaturization of computer chips and electronic components, anything was possible nowadays Nick thought, and with that in mind, he began to search the book for any kind of embedded circuitry or power source like a small watch battery. After five minutes of fruitless searching, Nick finally gave up.
Exasperated, Nick next turned to studying the mysterious writing that had suddenly appeared. It said:
Rules of The Book of Lost Treasures
Rule One: The Book can have only one owner
Rule Two: The Book may reveal the location of only one Lost Treasure at a time
Rule Three: The Lost Treasure must be found before the Book may reveal another
Rule Four: The Book will only reveal the location of a Lost Treasure that is precisely described
Rule Five: Only a Treasure that is truly Lost may be revealed by the Book
Nick read the mysterious writing in silent fascination. Glancing down, he saw there was one more sentence beneath the rules. It asked:
What is the Lost Treasure which you seek?
Reading the last part caused a sudden shiver of excitement to run up and down Nick’s spine. The book claimed to be able to reveal the location of “Lost Treasures”! That meant valuable stuff didn’t it? Nicks’ enthusiasm quickly waned as he realized that what the book purportedly claimed to do was patently impossible. It was crazy to believe otherwise! The sense, however, that there was something extraordinary about the book would not leave Nick, even after he closed the book and prepared to take a shower. Later, as he lay in bed with the lights off, trying to sleep, the same feeling persisted. Finally, he drifted off to sleep, but not before one last thought drifted through his consciousness.
Maybe, just maybe, the strange book could find lost treasures.