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

The others sat around expectantly, and I appeased them by taking the Tokens out. Six Tokens, six slots.

The first had the half moon over a spoon, and I peered at Hunter’s drawing. It slid it into place, and I checked the next in order. The upside down R with a bird above it was subsequent, and I set it as Hunter had translated, sideways to the right of the first Token.

The third choice was the Token we’d gathered in the stone forest. Three rings, each smaller inside the other. This one was tough to determine which direction to place it, until I noticed the miniscule line etched at the bottom. Hunter’s drawing showed it facing up, and I copied that position as I slid the metal hexagon home.

The last piece was the one Beverly had given me, wrapped for a Christmas gift. I still couldn’t believe she’d had it all those years, a present from my father from beyond the grave. If Dirk Walker hadn’t wanted to be found, why had Dad gifted a Token to his daughter? I supposed I’d never learn the truth, but the fact of the matter was, we’d acquired the six Tokens, and that was what counted.

I couldn’t shake the feeling of hurt, or favoritism, that came with bestowing such a powerful gift. I looked at my watch, the leather straps cracked, the face worn. I wound it on instinct and sneered as it ticked the seconds away.

“Rex, are you going to finish?” Veronica asked. She climbed around Marcus and sat once again. Her foot tapped nervously as I continued.

The Token depicted a tree with burning leaves, and I clicked it into the proper spot, rotating the Case in my hands as I grabbed the fifth piece. The image was disturbing in some off-putting way. It resembled eyes, almond-shaped, in a circle. Lines like sunlight stretched from the round center. It went on the top of the Case. Then there was only one remaining.

“Should we really be doing this now?” Marcus asked.

“You might be right.” I stared at the last Token, discovered in Antarctica. It depicted a shooting star.

“Maybe you should. Just to see.” Fred was behind me, and I looked back to see Bev and the kids there too, my sister holding their hands.

“No. It might not be safe,” I decided. From what I knew, the Case only worked in the cavern, but I was guessing by the conjecture and hypothesis of two dead men. No one could be certain.

As I started to set the Case into the pack, the pilot advised us we were in range of the island’s landing field. The sky was dark, and I saw lightning flash through the window. We were almost at Portugal, the last stop in our adventure.

Unless it worked. Then we had one more to go.

Across the Bridge.

4

The sun hid behind clouds as we drove toward Hunter’s vineyard. Porto was a beautiful city, but I scarcely took notice as exhaustion overtook me. I’d somehow slept on the plane between the landing field and Porto, despite the fact that Veronica had to fly us through yet another storm.

The kids had been petrified, but Fred kept them close, humming a tune to them in an effort to remain calm. Beverly was as scared as them, but I was useless after taking another pill for the pain. Each jostle of turbulence sent a shot of agony through me. But sleep came, and I didn’t wake until we’d landed in the airport near the city.

Tripp handled the local customs agent paperwork with surprising expedience, and then we were off, renting a huge passenger van and a Jeep. Veronica took the Jeep with Marcus, and the rest of us were piled in with Tripp at the helm.

“This friend of yours must have been quite the character,” Fred said. “I can’t imagine owning a plot of land like this.”

The gates were high, and I spotted cameras at either end, sensing our motion as we neared. Tripp used a code given by Hunter, and they opened. The driveway went on for a mile, and it was paved the entire distance. My injury was grateful for it.

“What day is it?” I asked.

For a second, no one answered. “December thirty-first,” Bev finally said. “New Year’s Eve.”

I felt like I was missing a few days. Portugal was gorgeous in the morning light, and the grass here was coated in a fine dew. Hunter’s house was perched on a hill, with the drive over the last ten minutes a constant but patient climb. Once we drove up to it, I could see the valley beyond, and it took my breath away. Endless rows of vineyard spread out. The ground was terraced across the hillside, giving it an even more distinct appeal. Beyond the hills sat a calm lake, and I swore there were swans swimming in it.

The home itself was magnificent. Classic Portuguese styling gave it a two-story colonial appearance, the top floor with eight windows facing the driveway. I imagined the rear of the house would showcase views for miles.

“This is cool,” Carson said, dashing from the van. Fred followed the kids as he hauled their luggage in two hands.

“Don’t go too far!” Beverly called, but neither of her children listened.

“Sorry about all this, sis,” I told her.

“It’s not really your fault, is it?” She stuck her arm through mine, helping me walk the incline toward the front doors.

A woman opened them, her smile friendly and welcoming. She rolled a suitcase out and handed Tripp a set of keys.

“Thank you,” Tripp said, but she didn’t reply, just walked away, not making eye contact. She’d likely been paid to leave when Tripp sent the message, using Hunter’s firm instructions. The woman walked to a red hatchback and drove off.

We had the estate to ourselves.

Veronica and Marcus parked as close as they could to the front steps, and my sidekick hopped out, his computer