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

hands up to the top of the shaft, and pulled down hard, slipped and fell to the ground, the rod clanging against the rocks.

“Dammit!” Blue said. “You weak fuck!”

Jerry rolled onto his knees, sweating profusely. “It’s there, I’m telling you!”

“Caterina, you try!”

She picked the bar up from the rocks, moved it around until she felt purchase, then did as Jerry had and slid her hands up to the end of the bar. Blue glanced back at Gunner and Jack, who I was certain had inched closer. The sound of the pry bar clanging against the rocks made me whip my head back.

“It’s too heavy!” She let the metal rod drop to the ground.

“You two stay back!” Blue waved the shotgun at Gunner and Jack. “Reilly, pick up the rod. You make one stupid move and you know what happens!”

Blue’s shirt was soaked with perspiration as he swung the gun around from man to man. Should I try to take a swing at him with the metal rod? Would Gunner jump him, or let me get shot? Knowing him, I couldn’t take the chance. And either way, it wouldn’t help Nicole and Gisele.

The long pole slipped into a groove and hit a definitive termination. There were several smaller boulders behind the big one, so it wouldn’t roll too far when pushed off the spot. I guessed this made it possible for someone to check it without the incredible hassle of trying to manipulate a thousand pound chunk of rock each time. Had Jerry set that up, or had the Calypso crewman?

“Come on, Reilly!” Blue said.

I slid my hands up to the end and pulled straight down. The pry bar pressed against the flat boulder beneath it and the big rock moved steadily backward, first one foot, then two, before it came to a stop against the smaller rocks behind it.

All I could see was dirt and gravel underneath where it had been.

“Now what?” Blue said.

“There’s about a foot of dirt on top of it,” Jerry said.

“Reilly, throw the bar down and back off so Jerry can dig.” He swung around—Gunner had taken a step forward. “You come any closer, you’re dead!”

“I want to see the gold,” Gunner said.

“Back!”

The metal rod made a loud clang when it landed in the rock field. Jerry edged past me, got on his knees, and started pulling dirt back with his palms. After several minutes there was an audible clunk.

“Keep digging!” Blue said. “How big’s the trunk?”

Jerry paused, took a knee and turned toward us. He held his hands two feet apart, then three feet up and down.

Holy crap—if full, that would be a fortune.

Blue came to the same conclusion.

“Dig!”

I edged closer to Caterina. From my peripheral vision I spied Gunner edging closer to Blue, who was now transfixed by the metal lid that was becoming more evident with each handful of dirt brushed aside.

Jerry paused, his shirt soaked. He slipped, lost his balance, and nearly fell over.

“Don’t stop, Atlas! Get that trunk out of there!”

Jerry coughed. “I need water.”

“He’s exhausted,” I said. “Guy was almost dead a few days ago—he came here from the hospital, for God’s sake”

“I said dig!”

“Let me do it,” I said. “He won’t be able to lift the trunk out anyway.”

Blue gritted his teeth. “Fine! Get to it!”

Jerry rolled to the side and sat with his head down, panting hard.

It only took a few minutes to brush enough loose dirt away before two heavy-duty handles appeared. I took hold of the handles on each side and tried to lift the trunk. It moved slightly before dropping back with a thud.

“It’s too heavy!”

Blue looked from Caterina to Jerry, then shook his head and turned back to his right.

“You! Dodson, come help him!”

Jack came. I grabbed the left handle and he took hold of the right.

“On three,” I said.

He winked.

“One, two, three!”

We lifted the trunk out of the earth. I heard a grunt, and then—

BOOM!

We dropped the trunk and I dove for cover. Gunner had Blue on the ground—they were wrestling for the gun.

In what seemed like a moment but was only a second, Gunner rolled over and sprang to his feet with the shotgun in his hands.

“No!” Jerry screamed.

“Sorry, Jerry,” Gunner said. “Write them a check.”

The rest of us stood still or lay flat on the ground, waiting for the inevitable gunshot from below. I risked a quick peek at the boat—Black stood frozen in surprise.

“Shoot them!” Blue screamed at his brother.

“Let’s go, Dodson, grab the other handle,” Gunner said.

My eyes caught Jack’s. He glanced away.

“You can’t, they’ll kill Gisele!” Jerry stepped forward and Gunner swung the gun on him.

“You can buy your wife back, rich boy,” Gunner said. “You can’t buy your life back. Now back off!”

Jerry watched in horror as Gunner took one side of the aluminum crate in one hand, then gave Jack a sharp look.

Jack hesitated. “We’ll be back for you.” With that he bent down and seized the other handle of the trunk, staggering under its weight. There had to be a lot of gold in there.

“Stop!” Black’s shout was barely audible. “I’ll shoot one!”

Gunner laughed.

I balled my fists. Son-of-a-bitch!

In a flash, Blue sprinted after Jack and Gunner like a cornerback bearing down on an unsuspecting wide receiver.

“Look—” Truck started to shout, but I grabbed his arm.

I bit my tongue as Blue dove for Gunner’s legs. Gunner went down and the trunk was ripped from his and Jack’s hands. It tumbled forward and the gun flew from Gunner’s grasp.

I dove for it.

A mid-air collision with Jack knocked us both clear of the gun and we tumbled down after the aluminum trunk. Rocks dug into my bare legs and my face pressed into gravel. We came to a stop with him on top of me. His fist reared back and aimed at my face.

“That’s enough!” The voice was female.

All four of us—Jack and me in one ball, Gunner and Blue in another—froze and looked up.

Caterina scooped the gun up. She