The Treasure Map

by Tyler Scott Hess

  “I have to show this to the Elder,” I tell him.

  “You don’t have to show me anything,” he says, hovering over us. “I’ve seen the schematics, the numbers, and the layouts. They’re lying to you.”

  “I found these on the State’s own network,” Rafe insists.

  “I know,” the Elder says. “And how hard was it for you to uncover this information?”

  “Not very. I’m good at what I do,” Rafe says.

  “I’m sure you are, but the State is smarter than you think. You found what you were looking for and moved on, just like they wanted you to do. But those aren’t the real plans, and The Port isn’t as safe as that map tells you it is. Tell me, which village do you think the State would want to protect? Some rinky-dink town like Akiva, filled with people who make their living from growing vegetables, or The Port, the region’s major transit center? We’re going to Akiva. We’ll be safe there long enough to prepare.”

  “Prepare for what?” I ask.

  “What’s this I hear about Akiva?” asks a young woman entering the room. She’s the same one that greeted us when we entered the safe house, if you can call it that. “I thought we were going to The Port.”

  “Change of plans,” says the Elder. “Right, Rafe?”

  Rafe looks back at his computer, twitching as he relinquishes the thought that he had figured out the State’s weaknesses so easily, before turning and nodding his head a single time.

  “Sheffield, Felicity, get in here!” she yells. “These guys say they want to go to Akiva now.”

  “Akiva?” asks a muscular man entering the room, who looks like he must be a year or two older than me. He’s followed by a young girl, the one who fell at the Vespasian. I know little about Sheffield, but he carries himself like he’s the leader of the other escapees. “Have you lost your mind? Didn’t you show him the maps you found, Rafe?”

  “The Elder says the maps are fake,” Rafe tells them. “He says we’re safer going to Akiva because it’s not an important village to the State.”

  “Of course it’s important to the State,” Sheffield scoffs, throwing his hands up in the air. “They have a huge base on the west side of the village. I saw guards go in and out of there every day when I was a kid.”

  “You’re from Akiva?” I ask.

  “Lived there my entire life,” he says. “At least until my time in Justice Hall. I lived two blocks from the base until I was arrested on some trumped-up charges. I didn’t deserve to be in that hell and I’m not going back. Akiva is every bit as dangerous as that map shows.”

  “It’s a lie,” the Elder presses. “I believe you when you say there were military trucks entering and exiting every day, but they weren’t filled with guards. There’s nothing to protect in Akiva. It’s a storage facility, not for weapons, but for food supplies in case of an emergency.”

  “An earthquake just happened the other day,” says the young woman who has yet to introduce herself properly. “Won’t they constantly be taking supplies into Ariel City right now?”

  “Not that sort of emergency,” the Elder shakes his head. “Enough of this conversation. We don’t have time to argue. We have to get ready to move.”

  “Who put you in charge?” Sheffield retorts.

  “Let me make this clear for you, kid,” the Elder says, moving in close to the chiseled young man, undaunted by Sheffield’s muscle-bound frame. “I’m not going to waste my time arguing with someone with limited information. We are all in grave danger and we have to find the safest place for us to go. I know this region, I know these towns, and I know the system inside and out. If you want to die with your companions, then please lead the rest of these youngsters into the busiest village surrounding the capital of the most powerful nation left in the world. But if you want to survive, if you want to make it year after year as the outcast that you now are, just as I have since you were a schoolboy, then you will take my directions as I give them. Got it?”

  Sheffield looks over to the others, who are too busy staring at the floor to signal their consent. I can see his mind pacing back and forth, looking for an alternative, something that won’t destroy what he had so quickly built up in his mind.

  “We need to stick together,” I tell them. “And we have to be united. A house divided will fall. I don’t know about all of you, but I don’t plan on falling, and the Elder’s reputation should be enough for us to trust him.”

  I look to Sheffield, whose breath is in his nostrils, his fists clenched under his armpits, and his eyes scouring the room for any sign of dissent.

  “What do you think, Maia?” Sheffield asks, looking over to the one who had greeted us upon our arrival. So that’s her name.

  Maia scrunches her nose, her eyes half-hidden by strands of brown hair covering her face, quickly sizing the Elder up and down. “I’ve heard enough,” she says with a crisp voice. “We’ve made it through a rough couple of days, and we’ve proven we can survive through harsh times, but that doesn’t mean we know enough about these villages. Most of us spent our lives secluded in different towns surrounding the City. We can’t know as much about the region as someone who has spent years dodging the State. If we’re going to trust someone, it might as well be him.”

  Sheffield spits on the ground. “Anyone else?” he asks, but the younger ones don’t have the courage to choose sides, leaving him without support. He has lost the battle.

  “So it’s decided,” the Elder says. “We head to Akiva at nightfall. Come on, it’s time to gather provisions for our trip.” He heads out of the room, shouting orders, as the others begin to follow him without further delay.

  I’m about to leave the room as ordered when I feel a tug on my shoulder. It’s Sheffield.

  “What’s your deal?” he asks me, grasping my collar, his eyes fixed on mine. “You two come in here in the middle of the night and you act like you’re in charge of us. So what makes you trust this guy so much? Is he your father or something?”

  I grab his hand and swing it away from me. “He’s not my father. He’s the Elder and if you’re one of the Faithful then you should know as well as the rest of us that his reputation precedes him. And he’s the best chance any of us have of living to see another day.”

  “Stop it, Sheffield,” Maia commands. “Quit acting like you’re the alpha dog. You know as well as the rest of us that we need help if we’re going to survive. You might look tough, but we need an expert, and whoever the Elder really is…he’s what we’ve got.”

  “I don’t care,” Sheffield says. “I don’t need any of you. I made it here all on my own, didn’t I? I’m the only one in here who can say that. The rest of you had to pair up to find this place. I’m a survivor.”

  “The rest of us know we need each other,” I tell him. “Feel free to go at it alone, if you will, but you’re not going to like the results.”

  Maia stares at us, shakes her head, and blows the hair out of her eyes as she walks past us and out of the room. Sheffield brushes his shoulder against mine and pushes his way into the common area where the Elder is laying out his plans. I take a deep breath and walk into the room in mid-sentence.

  “Nice of you to join us, Niko,” the Elder says, interrupting himself, before asking Rafe to retrieve one of the laptops. Rafe rushes to the other room as the Elder asks each of the others what skills they possess.

  Everyone already knows what Rafe has to offer, but the one I always thought to be the crazy twin has his own abilities, though somewhat less sophisticated. “I like to blow things up,” Wiley says with a twisted smile. “Back home I was known for my collection of dynamite and grenades as much as I was for anything else. If I hadn’t been arrested for the faith, I probably would have found myself in prison for setting off an explosive in the wrong place or at the wrong time.

  The Elder nods and looks over to Felicity, the youngest of us all, and waits for her to say something. She withdraws her eyes from his gaze as she thinks about what she can offer the group. �
��I’m…small,” she says meekly, her voice audible, but lacking confidence. “And sneaky. I don’t know what else I have to offer, but I’m good at hiding. I was the last one in my village to get caught for being one of…you know…one of us. I could have made it longer, but I was running out of food. I don’t need much, but…”

  “Very good,” the Elder says. “And what about you?” he asks Sheffield. “How can you help?”

  Sheffield puffs out his chest. “I’m strong,” he boasts. “I can carry the supplies. Put it all on my back and we’ll be fine. It’s not like any of these other ones have any meat on them.”

  “Too risky. They will all have to learn to carry their own load,” the Elder says. “But I’m sure we can find something useful out of your strength. Who’s left?”

  “What about your boy?” Sheffield asks. “What does he have to offer?”

  “I told you, he’s not my father,” I reply, trying to control my temper.

  “I know the trails,” Maia cuts me off. “I’ve been in and out of the villages since I was a little girl. I may not know which towns are safe anymore, maybe I never knew as much as I thought I did, but if we need to get to a town, then I know the shortest route. I can get us to Akiva in half the time you have planned for us.”

  “About time one of you said something pertinent,” the Elder grunts as he grabs the laptop from Rafe, sets it down on the table, and quickly manipulates the screen. “Please, my dear, show me on this map the way you intend to take us.”

  “The trails I know are not on any map,” she says with a mischievous smile. “And we won’t be taking the beaten path to get there. I know some of us have been more weakened by Justice Hall than others, but we don’t have the luxury of staying in plain sight. We can begin by hiking up these hills, cutting through this side of the forest, and skipping over the narrow points of several creeks, but we won’t be found by guards out there.”

  The Elder smirks and looks around at the rest of us. He proceeds to explain everything we will need to make it to Akiva. His plan is to stay there, if at all possible, until the State believes we are a lost cause. That won’t be easy. Everyone knows our names. They’ll recognize our faces. We’re eventually going to need a better plan, and he knows that, but we have to get there first.

  One answer the Elder did not receive, of course, is what I have to offer the team. If I was pressed any further, I’m not sure I would have an answer to give them. I’m not an expert on anything like the twins are with technology and explosives, nor physically gifted like Sheffield, and I’m not sneaky like Felicity. I thought I knew the trails well enough, but Maia’s knowledge far exceeds my own in this region. But I’m as resilient as the rest of them and we’re all in this together. I hope I find a way to prove myself.

  Maia grabs me by the arm, turns me around, and stuffs a backpack into my stomach. “Snap out of it,” she tells me. “I don’t know what’s going in your head, but there’s no time for delay, we’ve got to get these filled and ready to go by sunset.”

  I nod my head and try to remember the Elder’s instructions. We need supplies that will help us in every situation, not just food, but tools and communication devices. We all expect regular people to forget about us in time, but president Shah won’t rest until our necks are broken, with or without cameras recording the action.

  I head to the back rooms to see if I can help Rafe with his equipment, but when I arrive it’s the Elder sitting at the command station, listening to the State’s radio news station. I dare not bother him, but I have to know what’s going on for myself, so I stand silently and listen.

  At first, it’s the same rhetoric about our dangerous natures and information on what to do if we are sighted on the streets of Ariel City or in any of the villages. The lies don’t phase me like they once did. It only takes two or three thousand conversations with patriots to realize they’ll believe anything the State tells them to believe. They don’t want to bite the hand that feeds them. They don’t know what it’s like to be the one who is bitten.

  They repeat the names of those of us who have escaped, expressing their deep concern for the safety of those living in the villages, and the assumption that we are alive until proven dead or captured. Everything they have said has surely been regurgitated a thousand times since the day we fled and will continue until they receive a breaking report.

  “We have new information regarding the six escaped convicts,” says the surly male voice. “Authorities believe they are in the company of notorious outlaw Bramm Coyle, who is infamous for his role in the last known prison break a decade ago. Coyle, impersonating a prison guard, was involved in a plot leading to the escape of five men and women from Justice Hall, three of whom were never found, and one who was set to be executed on Independence Day before the earthquake struck. There have been no sightings of the reclusive con artist in well over a decade. We will provide more information as the State gathers intelligence on the matter.”

  The Elder turns off the transmission, clasps his hands together, and stares at the monitor. I know better than to say anything, but Rafe comes in the room and starts packing his equipment into his pack. The Elder ignores him for a minute or two, but eventually gathers the strength to push himself out of the chair, walks around me without looking me in the eyes, and heads out.

  I’ll talk to him about this, but this is not the time. I look over to Rafe and ask if he needs help with his equipment. He blinks his eyes repeatedly while shaking his head. “Too important,” he tells me. “I can’t let any of this stuff out of my sight. I’ll let you know if there’s anything extra you can carry when I’m done here.”

  I shrug my shoulders and leave the room. I look for the next best place to start jamming my pack full of supplies when I bump into Maia in the hallway.

  “Your pack is still empty?” she asks. “Do you think this is a joke?”

  “I was attending to another matter,” I tell her, unwilling to get into a debate at the moment, moving on without another word.

  “Don’t prove Sheffield right,” she says before I turn the corner and enter the kitchen.

  I don’t acknowledge her statement in any way, but I know what she means, and I agree. I have to prove myself, not to him, or anyone else, but to myself that I can be of some value to this group. Before my capture, it was enough that I was the son of Hobbes Monroe. No one questioned his authority among the Faithful. He was bold in speech and convincing with wisdom. I was supposed to be just like him, but I was always in his shadow and never made it out with my own identity. Never thought I’d be in this position.

  I start to sort through shelves and cabinets, looking for anything that could be of use to the group. The food supplies are all chosen to last for as long as possible, but some are more portable than others. But I’m less concerned with the food, which the others have mostly ravaged already anyway, and more concerned with tools. I search for knives and anything that could be used as a stake or hammer. My pack is half full when Rafe runs around the corner, grabs me by the shoulder, and tells me he changed his mind.

  “I can’t get it all,” Rafe explains. “There’s too much for a little guy like me. How much room do you have left in your pack? Looks like plenty. Come on.”

  I follow him back to the room, this time having made some progress to satisfy the others in holding my own, but no one is around to see it. I haven’t heard much chatter from anyone since we broke apart for preparations. Everyone except Sheffield has acknowledged that we need each other to outlast the State’s pursuit. They’ll never stop pursuing those they consider unstable and threatening criminals, but none of us truly know each other, except for the twins.

  Sure, I spent some time with Rafe and Wiley in the cafeteria, but even then we were too focused on our bread, soup, and impending execution for much dialogue. I know little of the others, and I doubt they know each other very well either. Then there’s the Elder, who my father knew in the old days, but maintains a shroud of mystery around his speech.<
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  I watch Rafe as he busies himself packing my bag with what looks to be the heavier items from his console. He repeatedly tells me to be careful with nearly every item, explaining their importance and function in the process, not that I understand anything he tells me. I nod my head as I think about how to maintain their safety through whatever hidden path Maia has planned for us. “Don’t fall. Got it.”

  “Are you fellas about done?” the Elder asks softly after quietly entering the room. His typical audacious demeanor must have been tempered by what he heard on the radio, though I can see in his hand that his wits have kept him moving forward with a full pack, pockets stuffed on every side.

  “Almost,” Rafe tells him as he jams a keyboard into my pack. I regret offering him my assistance. I hardly had the chance to put anything in there that would be of any use to us on our journey, let alone to myself if for any reason I am separated from the others.

  “Can I talk to you?” I ask the Elder.

  “No,” he says. “There’s no time. The sun will set soon and we must be on our way.”

  “You can’t keep secrets from us,” I tell him. “You need to explain what the news reporter was saying. Who is Bramm Coyle?”

  “Bramm Coyle is a figment of their imagination,” he answers briskly. “And a useful one to our cause as well as theirs. The State doesn’t want people to know about me, so they conjured a story about the day I escaped with a few other captives. There was never a Bramm Coyle in the employ of Justice Hall. Only an old man with more understanding than they liked. Now get your gear. It’s time to go.”

  His answer was every bit as gruff as I expected, but if he thinks I’m going to let him slide away like that without further explanation then he is mistaken. If the State has the people thinking Bramm Coyle is with us, real or imagined, it means officials know the Elder is the one who has really joined our cause.

  Rafe hands me back the pack, and just as I feared, it’s a heavy load. I lug it over one shoulder, then shift the weight to the center as I wrap my other arm through a strap. The Elder leads us back to the main room where the rest have already gathered. The others have packs just as full as mine, but with varying weights and supplies. Their eyes look as tired as mine feel. Everyone has suffered more than any man or woman should in a lifetime. Yet we press on because we have no other choice. Seven rebels joined by a love for the Faithful and fear of the State. Seven individuals who must learn to act as one. We have a long way to go.