by Adrien Leduc
Chapter Sixteen
ALL IS NOT LOST
Thirty minutes later. The dig site.
They say that those who die watch over us, at least, those who were close to us. But I don’t feel as though Josh watches over me. No. It just feels like he’s gone. It just feels like he’s gone and that he’s left a big hole in my heart. A big hole in my heart that no amount of crying seems to fix.
I wipe my tears and head away from Troy and Uncle Marty who’ve fallen into conversation with Fabrice.
“Don’t go too far, Sarah!” Uncle Marty calls after me. “We’ll just be a few minutes. I want us to walk down to the beach together.”
“Okay!” I call back, happy I’m facing the other direction so that none of them can see the fresh tears that have begun to trickle down my cheeks.
I pick my way across the trodden down dirt, careful to avoid the holes and large rocks that pocket the area.
I still can’t believe this is happening. Why did this have to happen?
I wipe my eyes.
My brother...Josh...he’s gone...
I look up at the sky, the sun just beginning to show its face after a cloudy start to the morning.
Poor mom and dad...
In a way I’m glad we’re thousands of miles apart. I couldn’t bear to see my mom break down.
And she will break down...
I trip over a rock and right myself after several staggering steps.
Stupid rocks...stupid dig site...stupid France...
I wish I’d never come.
If Josh and I hadn’t come...
The tears come faster now as I think of what could have been had Josh and I decided to stay with Aunt Karen instead.
It would have sucked...but Josh would still be here...
I glare at the tarp covered hole in the ground we’d seen the first day. The ends of the tarp rustle in the soft breeze.
Stupid Dumnonian Hoard...
I wish I’d never heard of the Dumnonian Hoard.
I stop and pick up the biggest rock I can find. It’s heavy, but not too heavy to throw, and with a burst of anger, I send it flying in the direction of the tarp covered hole. The rock whips right through the opening in the tarp and clatters noisily down the set of stone steps Fabrice and his team had uncovered several weeks before.
“Hey! Hello! Can anyone hear me!?”
I stop dead in my tracks at the sound of a muffled voice coming from beneath the tarp.
“Hello! Please! Help me! I’m stuck...please...”
The voice sounds oddly familiar.
But...it can’t be...it’s not possible...
I hurry toward the tarp, its ends still flapping in the gentle breeze coming off the ocean.
“Please! Somebody! Can anyone hear me?”
I yank back the tarp and find myself staring down the flight of stone steps Fabrice’s team uncovered.
“Hello?”
“...Josh?”
“Sarah?”
“JOSH!”
I scream. I feel amazing. There’s adrenaline. My blood’s pumping. My chest is about to burst with happiness. I feel like I’m flying.
“JOSH!”
I hurtle down the steps and there he is. My brother. Joshua Noah Rosenberg.
He smiles as I approach. “Sarah...”
“Josh...oh my god...thank you, god. Thank you, thank you, thank you.”
Tears. Warm and salty. Flowing down my cheeks.
I drop to my hands and knees and stare at my brother through the iron bars that separate us.
“Josh...”
“Did you miss me?” he asks with a grin.
“Don’t even,” I say, glaring at him even though I’m smiling.
I wipe my tears with the back of my arm and stick a hand through the iron grate.
“I still can’t believe it...” I say softly, studying him from head to toe to make sure he is, in fact, real.
“Neither can I. I was so lucky. That water...it was up to my nose and I thought I was going to drown. You can’t even imagine. I had no light and so it was pitch black down there...”
“And you were in the water!”
He nods. “And I was in the water.”
“So...so how did you get out of there?”
“The water pushed me out. Pushed me into this passage and I had to climb a bit but then I was out of the water and I just kept moving because I couldn’t be sure the water wouldn’t come back.
“So wait...this passage...is that what this leads to?” I ask, growing excited.
He nods, beaming. “Yep.”
“How did you find your way through the passage?”
“With my hands. I just felt my way along.”
I gape at him. “How long did that take?”
“Right until about an hour ago.”
“You’ve been here for an hour already?”
“When I got here I shouted and shouted and no one answered. So I sat down...(he rubs his eyes)...and I guess I fell asleep.”
I feel myself smile. “And then I rudely awoke you with a rock.”
“Is that what woke me up?”
I shrug. “Most likely.”
“Sarah!”
The sound of Uncle Marty’s voice from without interrupts our conversation.
“Down here!” I holler back.
A second later the tarp is peeled back once more and I see Troy and Uncle Marty standing at the top of the stairwell.
“Joshua?” It takes awhile, but eventually the expression on Uncle Marty’s face changes from one of sheer confusion to one of utter joy, and then he races down the stone steps, two at a time, toward us. “Joshua...oh...Joshua...my dear nephew...”
I so seldom see grown men cry (I can’t remember the last time I saw my dad cry), that when I do, I start to cry too. And as tears flow freely down Uncle Marty’s face and he sticks his hands through the iron bars to embrace my brother, I feel my own tears start to flow fast and fierce.
“How ever did you manage to end up here?” he asks, astounded, as he takes a step back and wraps an arm around me, his eyes still on my brother, examining him from head to toe as I had done minutes earlier.
“Well...” And Joshua tells Uncle Marty what he’d told me - how the water had pushed him into a secondary passage that branched off from the main hole and how, with no light to guide him, he had felt his way along the passage, foot by foot and step by step, until he’d reached the iron grate.
“Well now that...” and Uncle Marty shakes his head in bewilderment.
Troy, who’d been standing silently behind us on the bottommost step, murmurs his agreement. “Yeah...wow.”
“Doctor Rosenberg?”
We all turn and now it’s Fabrice who I see standing at the top of the stairwell, looking down at us.
“Is everything alright?”
Uncle Marty smiles and moves to the side so that Fabrice can see Josh. “Everything is fine, just fine, Doctor Rondeau.”
Chapter Seventeen
GOING HOME
Our last days in France were a blur. Josh and I had interview after interview as the story of the discovery of the Dumnonian Hoard and our run-in with Mika and Ludwig became front page news.
There were other chests filled with treasure at the bottom of the hole and these were pulled up, one by one, by Fabrice and his team the day after Josh had been found alive. According to Uncle Marty, the treasure was valued at more than ten million euro (I’m not sure how much that is in dollars) and it was already being hailed as one of the biggest finds ever.
Mom and dad video chatted with us every night - they’d seen us in the news - and needless to say, they were relieved we’d soon be returning to Canada.
“Your Aunt Karen will pick you up from the airport,” mom had said during our last conversation, casting a stern eye at Uncle Marty. “We’ll be back a few days after you and your dad has already said we’ll rent a cottage for a week.”
The prospect of this, coupled with our i
mpending trip to Paris the following day had given me more excitement that I could handle and I’d squealed and hugged Josh so tightly he nearly lost consciousness.
For our last supper at the Duguay’s, Uncle Marty took everyone out (Armand and Madame Duguay included) to the fanciest restaurant in Porspoder - Chez Gustaud - a dinky little hole in the wall kind of place with some of the best food I’d ever eaten.
Josh had ordered five rounds of crême brulée, earning him praise from our server, Rémi, though Uncle Marty wasn’t too impressed.
When it was finally time to leave, the following morning, there was a tearful goodbye and Madame Duguay pinched my cheeks so many times I doubt I’ll ever need to wear blush again. Josh was given new headphones to use with his Nintendo DS and Armand gave us a stack of books on Brittany.
Troy was in great spirits because he too had been interviewed by the French press for his role in the discovery of the Dumnonian Hoard.
As for Uncle Marty, well, let’s just say he vowed not to take Josh and I on another expedition anytime soon.
THE END
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Originally from Saskatoon, Adrien makes his home in Victoria. He is a graduate of Carleton University (B.A. '10) and is passionate about Canadian history. An avid reader and writer, Adrien hopes to write and publish many more works in his lifetime. Be sure to check out his other novels and short stories, available through all major book retailers. Follow Adrien on Twitter: @auleduc