Second Chance Gold (Buck Reilly Adventure Series Book 4), John Cunningham [polar express read aloud .txt] 📗

Another coughing fit interrupted his story, and our climb.

“I told them I’d show them what I found in the morning … you needed daylight to see it. We agreed to split whatever we found fifty-fifty and planned to meet at Eden Rock. Trouble was, they pretty much told me they killed the Calypso crewman’s grandson. I knew they’d do the same to me …”

Another fit of wheezing and coughing—this one went on for several minutes. His face was bright crimson when he stopped.

“Let’s take a break,” I said.

“There’s no time.”

We walked in silence for a while, Jerry’s heavy breathing the only sound. After another fifty feet, he continued.

“That afternoon, I stocked up on provisions and hauled ass out to the Kid. Parked in that same spot and unloaded everything.”

“What did you do with the Jet Ski?” I said.

“Drove to the other side of the island, rigged some wet vines around the handle bars to make it go straight, locked the accelerator, aimed it toward St. Jean and jumped off.”

“You ditched your family?” Truck said.

Jerry glared at him.

“I thought the Gamundis would give up when they found out I’d drowned—”

“They put your wife in the hospital, man,” Truck said.

Jerry looked like he’d been kicked in the stomach.

“I never expected that, I was thinking the time out here would detox me … so I’d be a new man when I returned. I had drinking water and food to last a couple weeks.”

We were almost to the top, but. Jerry’s rest stops were more frequent and his color had faded to chalk.

“What about the treasure?” I said.

“I searched day and night. Any time a plane flew over or a boat ran by, I hid. I’d studied the little map so long and dug up so many islands I had a pretty good idea where it might be.” He caught his breath. “Figures it was the island right outside my house.”

“And?”

“I found it.”

Truck’s eyes lit up.

“I dreamed I’d use the treasure to get out from under my uncle. But when I finally did find it, I … decided I’d … use the gold for something good.” He was panting now. “Not everyone’s … rich here. Plenty of families … like Gisele’s …” He gasped. “God … Gisele …”

“Save your breath, Jerry,” I said. “It’s still second chance gold—for Gisele.”

After more than twice the time it had taken Truck and me to climb the island on our own, we reached the plateau where we’d found Jerry. His bed of leaves and dried grass was still intact, as was the old rum bottle. He walked straight past all that and into a thick grove of bushes.

Truck and I exchanged a glance.

Jerry crawled out backwards a moment later, dragging a long metal bar.

“Hell’s that?” Truck said.

“I’ve had this old lever for years. I used it to slide boulders into the water on Eden Rock after the hurricane.”

I took over the bar, and Jerry led us to a rocky area a few hundred feet away, about fifty feet wide and thirty feet long.

“Moved my camp over here … after … I found it. The map … was amazingly accurate, once I knew … where—”

A deep throated, belly-rumbling, all too familiar growl filled the air.

We turned around just in time to see my former Grumman Widgeon flying straight toward us at high speed from very low altitude, no more than a hundred feet above the water.

The sound shook the ground as Betty flew just over our heads. Truck dove to the ground, Jerry ducked, and I shook my fist at Jack Dodson for flying my plane like a lunatic.

He circled back around. I saw Betty’s flaps drop as she glided toward the calm water halfway between St. Barths and Ile Chevreau, where she touched down smoothly and continued toward the same gravel beach where we’d landed just this morning.

Dammit, Jack, use her landing gear or you’ll tear the fuselage—

“Gisele!” Jerry took off down the hill.

“They have the women?” Truck said.

“Jerry, wait!” I yelled.

He kept running, then tripped, his body moving too fast for his atrophied legs. He stumbled, rolled at least ten yards, bounced up, and continued down at a rate I didn’t think his heart could maintain.

“Dammit!” I said. “Wait here, I’ll go after him!”

Gravity made it hard not to fall down the hill while trying to run. As I closed the gap, I could see Gunner’s mirrored shades and square-toothed smile through Betty’s windshield. I didn’t think about the fact that they had weapons and we didn’t, or any other factors that made our odds of staying alive—much less taking them down—pathetic. I had just one thought in my head.

Time to wipe that shit-eating grin clean!

Jack and Gunner took their time to power Betty down. There was no sign of the women, unless they had them locked in the aft storage closet where I’d been caught.

Jerry paced until the hatch popped open and Gunner stuck his oversized head out to smile at us.

“Mind if we join the party?”

“Where’s my wife, asshole!”

Gunner’s smug smile faded for a moment, then returned even wider.

“And she promised not to tell you about us.” He laughed.

“Funny, Gunner.” I took a step toward him, my fist clenched. “Where are they?”

“We have nothing to do with any missing people!” Jack yelled from inside the plane.

“Thought you’d have learned your lesson, Reilly.” He shoved me backwards and I nearly fell on my ass.

“Then what’re you doing here?” Jerry said. “Where’s Gisele—you told me to meet you—”

“I never told you anything,” Jack said. He stepped out of the hatch and pointed at me. “We’ve been following him. He’s always been good at finding treasure, just not too good at holding onto it.”

Jerry looked from Gunner to Jack, then pushed past them to climb inside the plane.

“Gisele? You in here?”

I heard the rear hatch open, then slam shut. Not many places to hide grown women in a Grumman Widgeon. My gut said Jack wasn’t lying.