Lost Cipher (12 page)

CHAPTER 24

They found the bedroom down the hall and a lamp just inside. Compared to the fancy room where Alex was sleeping, this room was plain. Two narrow beds with simple, square headboards and a small dresser were pushed against the walls. On top of the dresser next to the lamp lay a dusty, old-fashioned baseball mitt that reminded Lucas of the players in baggy uniforms and tiny caps he'd seen in old pictures. The walls were empty except for a puny rack of deer antlers and a couple hooks that held an antique-looking BB gun. Lucas wondered if this had been Creech's room when he was a boy. Like the bedroom across the parlor, it looked as if decades had passed since anyone had slept in it.

“Better than a cave in the woods,” he whispered to George.

“Maybe,” replied George, his eyes wide to let Lucas know he still saw Creech as a threat.

Lucas sat down on the bed closest to the door and slipped off his boots. The room was musty and warm, so he got up and pried open the only window, pausing to breathe in the cool night air. Investigating another door, he found that it led out to a small porch at the corner of the house. He was exhausted, but the night outside felt better than the stuffy house, so he turned out the bedroom light to keep from attracting bugs and started out the door.

George had already settled into his bed. “What are you doing?” he asked in a panicked whisper.

“I can't breathe in here,” he said. “Don't worry, I won't be out here long.” He left the door open a crack on his way out.

He swatted the dust and old spiderwebs off a rusty chair and sat down. The crickets and katydids were roaring compared to the quiet of the old farmhouse, and fireflies flickered against the dark wall of the trees edging the meadow around the house. Above, in the last of the twilight, bats dove and spiraled, hunting bugs attracted to the dim light from the house. A breeze carried the damp scent of freshly mowed hay. In the distant valley west, the soft lights of other farms sparkled, and the sight of them reminded Lucas of how far he was from Indian Hole. Before long, his eyelids drooped and he nodded off to sleep.

When he woke, there were more stars, and the moon had risen higher. He had slept for an hour, maybe longer. Groggily, he pulled himself to his feet and rolled his head on his shoulders to loosen the stiffness in his neck. The door to the bedroom was still cracked, and he stepped back inside. The room had cooled some, and George was snoring softly. Quietly, Lucas sat down on his bed, stripped off his dirty shirt, and lay back on his pillow.

He had just drifted off again when the floor outside his door creaked.

Careful not to stir the covers, Lucas lifted his head enough to see the shadow of a tall figure cast by the moonlight streaming into his room from the parlor.

Creech was just outside the door, looking in and listening.

Then the faintest of footsteps crossed the parlor, moving away. He heard a metallic click, and a soft-green light filled the crack of the bedroom door.

Lucas slowly swung his legs to the floor and crept silently to the doorway, keeping his face back in the shadows as he peered out.

The light came from a green-shaded lamp on top of a large, rolltop desk. Creech was hunched over the desk, the side of his wrinkled face glowing in the lamplight as he quietly worked a key into the lock for the desk top. He was moving slowly, glancing back at the bedrooms every so often. Whatever he was doing, he was trying hard to keep it a secret.

Creech slid the desk top up inch by inch, then reached in with both hands to remove a small box. Its worn wood had a soft, antique glow, and a small, black padlock was hooked to the front. Creech left the top of the desk up and clicked off the lamp. He held the box closely to his chest with one hand and turned to go back upstairs. At Lucas's door, he stopped again.

For a moment, he stared directly into the shadows where Lucas was hidden. But then the old man was out of sight, his footsteps ascending the creaky staircase.

Lucas crept closer to his door, enough to stick his head out and peek up the stairs. There was no sign of Creech, not even a light from upstairs.

Scared as he was, Lucas couldn't help wondering what else was hidden inside the old desk. Stepping as lightly as he could, he crept across the moonlit parlor.

He didn't dare turn on the light, but even without it, he could make out the dusty surface of the desk. There was a dark rectangular imprint left behind by the old box Creech had just removed, as if the box had been there a long time.

A book lay next to the outline of the missing box. It was small and thin with a handwritten title scrawled on a primitive cover made from some kind of smooth bark and bound with a tattered red ribbon. The book looked like something out of a museum.

Without disturbing the dust, Lucas gingerly picked up the book and moved over to a moonlit window to read the title.

Blue Ridge Verses. By Annie Morris
.

A book by the old man's ancestor, the same one buried outside.

Lucas opened the book to the first page and saw that the handwritten words were a poem titled
Leaves
.

Turning more pages, he found that each held a different poem, all in the same fancy cursive. The edges of each page were brown and brittle, and he had to be careful not to tear them from the ribbon holding them between the covers.

He noted a few of the poems' titles and read some of their first lines. Most had to do with the mountains or the forest, though a couple were more like love poems. Lucas imagined a teenaged girl growing up in the shadow of the mountains, wandering the same waterfall-laced hollows and rocky peaks the three of them had struggled through the last two days.

But their experience had been an ordeal. Annie Morris's words described her mountain world as a paradise—just like Lucas's was to him.

Suddenly the ceiling creaked, and the sound of footsteps crossed toward the top of the stairs.

Creech was coming back.

Lucas closed the book and moved quickly away from the window. He was still holding it delicately, trying not to disturb the dust on its cover, and when he stepped toward the desk, he lost his grip. The book fell from his hands. Its pages fluttered, and Lucas knew Creech would hear it hit the floor. He shot his hand out blindly, barely snagging the old book by one cover.

Frantically, Lucas placed the book back in its spot on the desk. By now, Creech was at the top of the stairs, where he'd surely see Lucas run for the bedroom. Lucas looked around the parlor in a panic. He scurried to the one corner that lay in the shadows and put his back to the wall just as Creech's legs appeared on the staircase.

Creech crept down the stairs with the old box in his hand. He glanced once at Lucas's room, then walked silently back to the desk. For a terrifying moment, Lucas expected him to turn on the lamp again. Instead, he placed the box next to the book and began to close the desk.

Then Creech stopped.

He leaned in closer and touched the book's cover. Quietly, he picked it up and moved to stand by the same moonlit window where Lucas had been just moments before.

Lucas's heart hammered in his chest as Creech examined the book. Surely, he'd left fingerprints or knocked the dust off when he'd caught it. Creech would know he'd held it just minutes ago. And the old man would find him, hiding like a thief.

But Creech moved out of the light and set the book back in place. He closed the desk and locked it, not quite as concerned about keeping quiet now. He dropped the desk key in his shirt pocket and started for the stairs.

When he reached the door to Lucas's room, he stopped to look in again.

Across the parlor in the shadows, Lucas could see George's bed illuminated by the moonlight from the parlor, but his own empty bed was out of sight, hidden in darkness behind the door. He watched as Creech lightly placed his hand on the door and began to slowly push it open, trying to peer deeper inside. What would Creech do to him when he caught him snooping around?

Just then, George's rhythmic snoring erupted into a single mighty snort that seemed to rattle the entire house.

Creech and Lucas both nearly jumped out of their skin.

It took Creech a few seconds to recover from the scare, but George's snoring seemed to satisfy him that both boys were asleep, and he backed away from the door. Casting a final glance toward the desk, the old man disappeared up the dim staircase.

Lucas let out his breath, but he waited until Creech's steps crossed the ceiling above him before tiptoeing back across the parlor. As he passed the old desk, the curtains fluttered and the breeze blew something bright across the floor at his feet.

A piece of paper.

Lucas reached for it, and when he touched its brittle edges, he knew what it was.

One of the poems. It had come loose when he'd dropped the book.

He started to slip it under the locked top of the desk but stopped. If the old man opened the desk in the morning, he'd know someone had been in it. There was no way he could get the page back into the book, not without telling Creech, and he wasn't about to do that. Not without being a long way from Moccasin Hollow first.

Careful not to tear the paper, Lucas folded the page and put it delicately into his pocket. He slipped back into the bedroom without moving the door and climbed into bed. After thinking on it for a few minutes, he decided he'd explain the page to Maggie and hope she wasn't too afraid to return it to Moccasin Hollow for him.

Once Lucas's heart finally stopped racing, it didn't take long for his exhausted body to give in. He fell asleep wondering about the box in the desk and why the old man was so bent on sneaking it to his room in the middle of the night.

CHAPTER 25

The room was already bright when Lucas woke.

George was watching him. “Jeez, Lucas, I didn't think you were ever going to wake up. He's cooking breakfast in there, but you gotta go in with me.”

Lucas started to tell George about Creech's mysterious retrieval of the old box, but a faint thumping noise interrupted him. George noticed him listening, and they both deciphered the noise at the same time.

Helicopter. Getting closer.

It sounded like it was coming down the side of the mountain straight toward Creech's farmhouse.

Lucas threw back the covers, and both boys dashed out into the parlor and through the kitchen, following the roar of the chopper out onto the back porch. Creech was already there, waving his arms over his head to signal the pilot, though he didn't need to. The blue-and-white helicopter hovered down over the massive oak tree in the backyard. “Virginia State Police” was painted in large blue letters beneath the pilot's window. The downdraft from the whirling blades sent a shower of leaves and grass swirling around the backyard. Over the noise of the chopper, Lucas heard Creech cursing.

Suddenly a voice boomed down at them. “If you are Alex Cruz, George Funderburk, or Lucas Whitlatch, cross your arms above your head!”

Lucas immediately signaled the helicopter, and George followed his lead.

“If the third boy is with you, make the same signal!” Lucas and George both crossed their arms again.

The loudspeaker blared again. “If any of you needs immediate medical attention, make the same signal!”

This time Lucas wasn't sure. He hadn't even seen Alex this morning. The old man shook his head, but Lucas figured Creech just didn't want the helicopter landing in the middle of his backyard and shredding his garden to pieces. How long would it take for help to come for Alex if the helicopter didn't take them out now?

Just then the screen door slammed behind them, and a hand came down on Lucas's shoulder, using him for support. It was Alex. He was leaning on a wooden crutch, but he was smiling.

He shouted over the racket of the whirling blades. “I don't need a police helicopter for a stupid busted ankle!”

Lucas yelled back, “What about your snakebite?”

Alex held up his hand. It was still swollen and the thumb was purplish, but no worse than the night before.

“But don't you want to ride out of here in a helicopter?” George asked.

“We're in enough trouble already!” Alex yelled back. “We don't need to make it worse!”

Creech nodded in agreement, and Lucas wondered if there was some other reason he wanted to keep the Virginia State Police out of Moccasin Hollow.

The pilots didn't wait any longer for their reply. “Stay at this location! Help will arrive soon!” The helicopter gained altitude, tilted forward, and glided over the house and into the valley.

Creech looked at Alex. “Looks like somebody else gets to carry you today,” he snorted. “I'd like to see the looks on their faces when they find out I ain't got no driveway.” He went back inside and the boys followed him, Alex hobbling with one arm over Lucas's shoulder.

Once inside, Alex sat down heavily at the kitchen table and propped his foot up in another chair. Creech came to rest in the chair next to him. “Let's see that bite, boy.”

Alex laid his arm on the table, wincing only a little when he did. The old man took his hand gently and looked closely at the bitten thumb. “Like I said, mostly a dry one. Won't be able to use it all the way for a while, but I guess you get to keep your hand after all.”

Alex smiled brightly for the first time in two days. “I don't think I'll be alive long enough to worry about my hand if I don't get some food in me. I dreamed about food all night.”

Creech got up and pulled an old crock from the refrigerator. He retrieved a dozen eggs and a slab of bacon wrapped in brown paper. “Can't have them gossipy fools in town thinking Ol' Giddy tried to starve you to death too.”

After he fixed the breakfast, Creech disappeared upstairs, but the three boys spent nearly an hour at the table. Alex ate so much that even George warned him to slow down. By the time Lucas took his dishes to the sink, Alex had eaten a bowl of the leftover stew, half a dozen eggs, and nearly a dozen thick strips of bacon.

All of a sudden, they heard a shout from the field at the front of the house. “Mr. Creech? You up there? I hear you've been keeping some of our campers for us.”

It was Maggie.

The old man came down the stairs yelling.

“And I hear you and that brother of yours can't keep track of the young 'uns you got over there. They're endin' up on my property like dogs off a busted chain.”

They heard footsteps on the porch and the shuffle of other people entering the parlor. Lucas figured it was a bigger crowd than the old man had seen in a long time. Creech entered the kitchen first, and Maggie was close behind, with two paramedics on her heels. One carried a folded-up stretcher, and the other lugged a big orange case. Both were sweating heavily and breathing hard.

Maggie started to speak but stopped when she saw Alex's swollen hand and bandaged ankle. “I thought you told the chopper you didn't need first aid. What did you do to yourself?”

Alex held up his hand. “Sorry, Maggie. I got bit by a copperhead. Knocked me off a rock too, and I think my ankle's busted. He glanced at the old man. “Mr. Creech here found us and got me back here. Not sure how, but he did.”

Lucas interrupted. “It's true, Maggie. He took care of Alex's bite. Carried him down the mountain on his back too.”

“And speakin' of snakes,” Creech interrupted, “you best tell your brother to stop with all his crazy-snake-man business, or he's gonna get a visit from me. Probably givin' them campers nightmares.”

One of the paramedics pushed his way around the table and started examining Alex's hand. The other one was already preparing a syringe. “We'll give you something for the pain,” he said.

“I gave him somethin' last night, and he didn't even need nothin' this morning.” Creech snickered. “Stop babyin' him. His bite ain't bad.”

“I'll need to see what you gave him, Mr. Creech,” insisted the paramedic who was examining Alex's bite.

“It's right there on the counter. Same stuff you so-called
professionals
use.”

“These men are here to help,” Maggie said sternly. “And they've got to stretcher Alex a half mile back to the car all because
someone
doesn't believe in having a driveway.”

It was obvious that Maggie and Creech weren't tangling for the first time. But Creech didn't seem to mind Maggie standing up to him. In fact, he ignored her and grinned at the paramedics. “And he ain't exactly light as a feather,” he chuckled, enjoying himself.

Maggie shook her head at the old man's rudeness and turned back to the boys. “How exactly did you three get so lost?”

Lucas didn't hesitate. “It was my fault. I talked Alex and George into exploring a cave we saw. It was up in the Preacher Rocks.”

“A cave?” asked Maggie incredulously. “You mean like the kind we said you could get killed in?”

“I thought maybe it would be a good hiding place for…” He dropped his head. He felt safe calling himself a treasure hunter in front of Creech now, but that didn't help the embarrassment.

“The treasure? Oh man.” She sighed. “You have
got
to be kidding.” She sounded like she might explode, but Creech beat her to it.

He slammed his hand down on the table, making everyone in the crowded kitchen jump. But the anger wasn't directed at Lucas. He was glaring at Maggie.

“And that's
exactly
why you and that brother of yours ought to be keeping your traps shut about the treasure!”

“Just wait a minute!” she snapped back. “We ran into a couple of treasure hunters on a hike. Right up from the camp. The kids all wanted to know what a couple of strange men were doing digging in our woods. What were we suppose to tell them?”

The old man groaned. “What do you think a bunch of kids are gonna do if you tell 'em there's millions of dollars buried around here? They're kids, ain't they?”

“We told them it's just a story.” She glared at her three campers. “Only
three
of them didn't listen so well.”

One of the paramedics interrupted. “Miss Cates, we still need to get this one to the hospital. His bite looks okay, but his ankle's in bad shape. And it's going to take a while getting him back down that trail.”

“You're right,” Maggie agreed. Her tone softened, and she walked over to the old man. “I suppose we do owe you a big thank-you, even if you are a cantankerous old hermit.”

She stuck out her hand as if to shake, but when he reluctantly reached out, she surprised him with a quick kiss on the cheek. Lucas and George looked at each other, and even the paramedics looked shocked.

Creech turned bright red and bristled at the attention. “I suppose I don't get no reimbursement, do I? These boys nearly ate me out of house and home. I'll need to make an extra trip into town now just to restock.”

One of the paramedics encased Alex's lower leg in an inflatable splint, and they hefted him onto the stretcher. Lucas and George followed as they carried him out onto the front porch, and Creech walked out behind Maggie.

At the bottom of the stairs, Lucas turned back to Creech. He wanted to thank the old man, but Creech simply nodded at him before he got the chance. When Lucas turned to head down the hill, the old man was still standing at his door with Maggie.

Lucas caught up to George and the paramedics and walked beside his friend on the stretcher. Alex was strapped down so he couldn't fall off.

“Talk about embarrassing,” he mumbled glumly.

They walked downhill through Creech's front yard, along a well-worn trail to where the woods began. Lucas saw that the path was really a set of old, overgrown wheel ruts.

“Looks like somebody had a driveway here once,” commented one of the paramedics.

“Tracks are too narrow for a car,” replied the other from the front of the stretcher. “Maybe wagons, but a
long
time ago.” He stopped and looked back up at the house. “Think we ought to wait for her?” he asked his partner.

Maggie was still on the front porch talking with the old man. Creech waved his hands in front of her, like he was still angry about something and letting her know. Lucas figured they were still arguing about her campers getting lost or maybe negotiating what the camp would owe him for his troubles.

They watched as Creech went back into the house. He returned with a piece of paper and shoved it into her hands. As she read it, Creech kept talking and pointing toward them. Then Maggie nodded once and handed the paper back to Creech.

“Probably a bill for all the food you three ate,” joked one of the paramedics.

“Or maybe he's charging you for staying overnight,” said the other. “C'mon, Alex here has a date with a doctor.”