Robbed of Soul: Legends of Treasure Book 1

Home > Mystery > Robbed of Soul: Legends of Treasure Book 1 > Page 28
Robbed of Soul: Legends of Treasure Book 1 Page 28

by Lois D. Brown


  Another black bug flew by, threatening his now swollen arms. He wondered if it was edible? The idea was ludicrous. However, he thought, how many times had he seen the annoying pests land on cactus flowers. What if they were bees, gathering some kind of pollen and turning it into … honey?

  Using the lighter fluid, some dead vegetation, and a few matches, Jonathon started a small fire. He then took a long knife from the mess bag and with it removed one of the low-hanging nests from a nearby ledge. Even though he was stung several times in the process, he didn’t care. Carefully, he laid it next to the smoldering fire. A hoard of the awful, buzzing beasts flew from the hole at the bottom, leaving it safe to explore.

  Gingerly, Jonathon took the knife and sliced. Sure enough, the knife came out sticky and sweet.

  “I don’t need you, Riley!” He shouted into the air with defiance.

  At the place where he’d cut it, the nest pulled apart, revealing an intricate design of honey combs. Surprised, Jonathon noticed the cells of the nest were not the usual hexagon shape. Instead, the canyon bees had repeated one shape over and over again, interlocking them like a finely crafted puzzle. It was a six-diamond Aztec flower.

  Jonathon’s mouth dropped open, a glob of honey still on his lips. This was the secret. Look for the bees, and he’d find the treasure. There must be a mother nest and that would be where the Aztec priests had hidden the valuables.

  Jonathon was irked that it had taken him so long to figure it out. Probably due to Riley’s incessant complaining, no doubt.

  Covering every inch of his body with spare clothing, he set out, certain this would be the most important day of his life. He noted the most common flight pattern of the bees. The majority of them headed to the northeast.

  As he made his way further into a deep gorge, his boot slipped on the loose dirt and he fell onto his back. Looking up into the air, moving black polka dots were everywhere. The stings were so frequent now he hardly noticed them. Adrenaline does funny things to a person.

  Dusk was settling in. The cool felt good on his skin, and the bees made their way back into their homes for the evening. Relief at last.

  Jonathon kept walking, using the last batteries in his flashlight. He couldn’t have gone more than 200 feet in the dark when something appeared before him, like a sign from the mighty Aztec gods themselves. In an alcove off to his right sat a bee’s nest the size of Volkswagen bug. The thing was enormous, majestic in fact.

  Behind the eighth wonder of the world was the opening to a cave, a pool of water sneaking out from its entrance—the hiding place of Montezuma’s treasure for the last five hundred years. It felt like sacred ground, except that nothing was sacred to Jonathon.

  Inching his way forward, fearful that the bees would hear him and exit their gigantic home to see what the disturbance was, he approached the cave entrance.

  The water felt like ecstasy on his bleeding feet. He dipped his hands into the pool and felt its soothing power. But he didn’t let himself rest long. Further inside the dark tunnel was what he wanted. He stumbled into the dark cave until at last, the corridor opened into a large cavern. One sweep with the flashlight showed hills of gold cups, headbands, statues, everything. A treasure beyond compare.

  He set down his packs, lit a lantern, and immediately began sorting the treasure into objects that were easily carried by hand and those things too large that would have to be gathered in subsequent trips.

  Hours passed and he lost track of time. When he finally noticed the growling in his stomach, he realized it must be near breakfast time. He already knew what was on the menu—honey.

  He loaded a few of the smaller pieces of gold into his backpack and headed toward the entrance. Nearing the opening, he realized it was later in the day than he thought. He hoped the bees wouldn’t be out in mass yet. Cautiously he peered out the cave, hugging close to its walls. All seemed quiet.

  He tiptoed out into the sunlight. It warmed his head and shoulders, and for the first time in weeks Jonathon felt relaxed. The treasure was his and he was on his way home.

  He’d passed the enormous nest and walked about a few yards south when a wall of darkness appeared in front of him. It reached twenty feet in the air, like a large black curtain drawn in front of a stage. But unlike the audience of a play, Jonathon had no desire to see this performance. A steady hum reached his ears. He stopped, prickles ran up and down his arms. Slowly he took a step backward. That was the insects’ cue. They flew toward him in a solid mass. He turned and ran for the safety of the cave but tripped over a low growing cactus.

  “Help,” he screamed, but no one heard his cry through the blanket of Aztec bees simultaneously injecting poison into his body.

  From the top of the gorge’s ledge, Riley lowered his binoculars, spit out a piece of cactus, turned around, and walked away.

  # # #

  For more short stories based on American treasure hunting legends, see Lois D. Brown’s Treasure Hunters: A Collection of Short Stories: In five different short stories about treasure hunters, author Lois Brown brings the most unlikely of characters together: Ancient Aztec warriors, a card shark named Harry, members of the Ku Klux Klan, Ute Princess Shami, and many more. They all encounter danger; some find riches; and the unluckiest of them die. Get ready for the chilling twists and turns of treasure hunting at its creepiest.

 

 

 


‹ Prev