by Angie West
***
Actually, I slept almost until the next night—six o’clock to be exact. Scrubbing a hand across my face, I shoved off of the bed I hadn’t even bothered to unmake when I’d practically collapsed on it the night before—and stared in horror at the chain that dangled against the scarred wood of the doorframe across the room. I’d went to sleep without locking the door. I was lucky that someone hadn’t walked into my room and put a gun to my head as they stole my purse. The smart thing to do would have been to grab my gear and get going. I made coffee and flopped onto the bed instead. I glanced nervously at the door before digging the papers out of my bag. The first page was one I had already read most of the previous night. It was what I had been fervently hoping for all week—a letter from my brother.
Sis—if you’re reading this, then you’re involved in this mess and I’m sorry. You have no idea how sorry. I was hoping that it wouldn’t come to this. The thought of you having to get mixed up in my problems was almost enough to give me pause. But I had to do this. I hope that in time you can understand and forgive me. I know you must be scared right now. But look at it this way…if you are reading this, then you’re also smarter than everyone else involved. John will come after you, make no mistake. Don’t underestimate how far he will go to protect his own interests. You’ll have to be very careful, Claire. Now back to the basics—what you need to know. Five years ago, I found something, buried deep in the earth. It was a key. By rights, it belongs to the African government. I took that key, Claire, and for five years, I told no one of its existence. The key was unusual from the start. It is a disc cut into two halves that fit together to form a whole. It bears the symbol of a land that many believed to be the stuff of fairytales, or nightmares…an old legend: a myth. The symbol is very distinct, and I have seen none like it before or since. You’ll find drawings of the key that I pulled from a book and scanned. The picture is a bit dark, but at least you’ll have an idea of what to look for; it’s not a large item and will be easy to miss.
“No. No,” I started, staring down in disbelief at the pages in front of me. “Mike, you are NOT sending me on a wild goose chase.”
The key, by rights, does not belong to me or to you. Perhaps I should have turned it in or even disposed of it myself. But I am a man of science, Claire, and an adventurer as well, and a find of this magnitude could change the world. Everything that we once thought impossible—but I’m getting ahead of myself, when there are more pressing matters to be addressed. There are notebooks in my apartment that will explain a bit more. I used our old code from when we were kids. Clever huh? Get them and de-code them. Don’t give them to John.
“Too late.”
But just in case someone has intercepted them, I’ve included the more pertinent information for you in this document. Your instructions are simple enough, dear sister. In a storage facility, you will find a box marked ‘Dishes.’ There’s a large serving plate at the bottom of that box. You’ll find the key taped to the bottom of that plate. If I’m not back in six months, find that key and destroy it. That’s very important Claire; you have to finish what I’ve started and destroy the key. Don’t try to follow me.
“Right,” I snorted.
I love you. I’m sorry.
P.S.—what about John, you ask? Look under the tree in your backyard. I hacked his computer and broke into his office. I’ve given you enough evidence against him to put his embezzling ass in prison for a long time. It should be plenty of incentive for him to leave you alone. Unless you want to give it to the cops and let him hang. I’ll leave that up to you, Claire Bear.
P.P.S—Bring a shovel.
“Bring a shovel? Bring a shovel. Oh—oh, that’s just—damn it!” I threw the papers down and began to pace.
“Bring a goddamned shovel,” I swore, spacing the words out for good measure. “Well, isn’t that just great. Yes, I would get right on that—if my place wasn’t being staked out. By men who want to kill me.” Thank you, Mike. Thank you ever so much, I thought bitterly. Immediately I felt guilty for being angry with Mike when he was…was what? I thought helplessly. Lost? Dead? No, I still refused to believe that. He was smart. He wouldn’t go and get himself killed. Would he? Only one way to find out, I figured.
“Looks like I’m going on that wild goose chase after all,” I murmured and sat down to finish what I had begun to think of as the story from hell.
It was almost the middle of the night by the time I had read everything. Oh God, that was everything, right? was all I could think for a moment. The rest of the pages Mike had included in his file detailed the various creatures and beings of the world in specific and terrifying clarity. The rest had detailed the treasure of sorts throughout the land. Mines and caves and oceans full of gold and jewels and oil. Well, I thought, shaking my head, that probably explains John’s involvement; rather, his apparent obsession to get to Mike and now me. He didn’t really want either of us. He wanted at least one part of the key, and he wanted to get rich. Richer, I amended silently. Follow the money, right?
I glanced down at the pages again as I shoved them into my bag. I had a choice to make. I had enough information to find the key, destroy it and consider my brother as good as dead, for he would certainly be forever gone to me. According to the legend, if the key was destroyed, the doorway to the ‘other’ land would be closed forever. The key was actually believed to have been destroyed. If it had been, I would be at home, I thought bitterly. Mike would be safe. Things would make sense. Hard as I tried, I couldn’t see the excitement in the situation the way Mike had. Not that I tried too hard. There was nothing like running for your life to dampen the mood.
I pressed a cold hand to my forehead and surveyed the room one final time. I was pitifully lacking, I suddenly realized. What did people do when they were on the run? False identification? Yes, I nodded, smiling a bit. That’s what I needed. A fake I.D, lots of cash. A fake passport and hair dye. Oh, and scissors. I would have to cut my hair. Every spy movie I had ever seen was running through my head. Yes, I nodded again, pleased with myself for such quick thinking. I had to effectively cease to exist.
But where did one go to purchase a fake I.D.? I exhaled then, feeling deflated and defeated. I realized I had no idea how to go about getting a fake I.D, or even who to ask. A computer search might help, but I wasn’t sure I had that kind of time. I doubted that people would advertise their services for a quick and confidential fake record transfer, anyway. With the limited resources I had at the moment, it wouldn’t do any good to learn the process for myself.
Well, shoot. I could pay in cash, but realistically, I would have to leave the country soon. There would be no way to go unnoticed at the airport. I had to use my passport. I had to use my credit card too; my bank was six blocks from my home, and I could only take $300 dollars from an ATM. I chewed a fingernail and gave this a moment’s thought.
“Can’t be helped,” I muttered, and on that sentiment, I closed the door and stepped out into the hallway.