Lost Contact (The Bridge Sequence Book One), Nathan Hystad [primary phonics books .TXT] 📗

up when my finger snagged something. I grabbed hold of it and lifted, hefting a burlap sack from the water. The bag dripped, making a hundred small ripples as I stared at it.

I exited the lake in a hurry. What had been so important as to hide all the way out here?

I set it to the rocky ground, tugging my shoes on, and suddenly being in the cavern with the bats high above was too much. Taking the prize, we returned abruptly, jogging the short distance to the storage room.

“What’s inside?” Marcus whispered as we stepped outside. A constant insect chirping carried across the entire quarry now that the sun had set, and I clutched the bag in my grip. I didn’t know if I wanted Marta to see the contents, but I couldn’t delay any longer.

I pulled my pocketknife out, carefully slicing the top of the bag, and reached inside. The object was chilly. Metal. It was six-sided, like a cube, with a two-inch-thick frame. Along each edge was an opening, five inches tall and wide. I ran my finger through the hole, smiling as I understood what I was seeing.

“This is it,” I muttered.

“That shape. The hex. It’s like the empty holder in El Mirador,” Marcus said reverently. Marta just stared at us, probably not understanding what we were so excited about.

“Do you think this is it? The thing that creates the Bridge?” Marcus asked, and I frowned at him, shaking my head curtly while turned from Marta. We’d said we wouldn’t speak of it in front of anyone, and he’d just broken the cardinal rule.

I returned it to the bag and beamed at our guide. We were still missing a piece, and I had to know. “Marta, did your father keep any books? Journals? Something that might be of use?”

She shifted uncomfortably on her feet. “I have some of his things. Jose repaired the house after he passed. Found some stuff.”

I raised an eyebrow but refused to let myself get too far ahead. “Can we see it?”

____________

“This is intense. Six coordinates, Rex. Six slots in that… whatever you found.” Marcus paced the room Marta had offered us for the night.

There was no cell reception, so we couldn’t check the locations on a map. I held the single sheet of paper in my grip, careful not to smudge the old ink. I was certain it was my father’s handwriting, and it brought even more questions. Were these the coordinates of the spots where he’d found the six Tokens, or was it something else?

“We should take her van,” I said, peering at the door.

“Madison gave us enough cash. We can offer to buy it,” Marcus said.

“We need some cell service, and that’s probably a few miles from here, at least. I doubt that town even had internet, but I could be wrong. I forgot to check when we passed through.” I sat on the bed, the springs protesting.

“Are we going to tell Madison?” Marcus asked. I was used to flippant easygoing banter, but his expression was grave. This was serious, the real thing, and neither of us knew exactly what to do.

“I don’t think so. Not yet.” I stared at the door, trying to listen for Marta’s footsteps. “I guess it depends on what Marta has from her father.”

I waited silently, thinking over the few details we knew. My father had disappeared with Clayton Belvedere in 1989. Hunter Madison had funded their initial expeditions, but something happened that caused my dad to cut him out of the deal. The Bridge. Hunter admitted that he’d been part of the Believers at one point, but bailed on them due to differences in principles.

Dirk and Clayton hired Marta’s father, Luis, after meeting him in Venezuela, and this meant he’d been with them in Portugal, the day they vanished. Did her father have something to do with their disappearance? Could he have killed them, stolen their things? Or had it been as Marta indicated: Luis had been a loyal employee, and they’d paid him well to hide this article somewhere it wouldn’t be found?

This was bothering me. “Marcus.”

He stopped pacing long enough to glare at me. “What?”

“Why?”

“Why what? Why are we here?”

“Why were these coordinates on Clayton’s gravestone?” I asked.

He plopped onto the bed beside me with a huff. “Man, I’ve been wondering the same thing.”

I didn’t know my father well. I’d been a little boy when he’d gone, so to me, he was a distant memory with rough stubble, magnetic brown eyes, and a smirk that when you saw it, you knew everything was going to be all right. Only it hadn’t ended up that way. I could remember him picking me up and placing me on his shoulders, the smell of his musky cologne stuck to his collar.

The more I’d learned about him later in life, the more I understood his passion for adventure. My mother had claimed she got more than she’d bargained for when they met, and there were days when I thought she considered marrying him was the biggest regret of her existence. Then I remembered her in her bedroom after he’d gone for the last time, staring at a picture of their wedding and crying. Near the end, she’d admitted to me that she loved his spirit, but that he wasn’t meant to have a family.

I glanced at the watch he’d given me and ran a finger along the fractured leather strap.

“What did you come up with, Rex?” Marcus asked me, and I forgot I’d even started a discussion.

“My dad. He wouldn’t have left loose ends. He was so particular with what he added into his journals and the clear lack of evidence of his trips, that this couldn’t be his work. Dirk Walker didn’t want us to locate this artifact.” I picked up the metal Token holder, hefting it in my grip.

Marcus’ eyes went wide at the revelation. “So it was all Clayton. He set this up with Marta’s dad.”

I nodded, lowering the item