Liberty

CHAPTER ELEVEN

“Well this is it.”

Dane and Bones had hiked through a short trail and then veered off the path to follow the final trickle of water to where it ended, ignoring the signs to stay on the trail. The snow meant that they didn’t see much, but they could tell the basic path of the creek. Fortunately the storm, which had hit Philadelphia had spared this area, and the snow was not deep. This was one of the origin points of the Chesapeake River.

“Right, but we need to keep going northwest. It’s probably in some other land in the state forest like Mort said, not right here.”

Bones shook his head. “This is not much to go on, but you’re right. We’ll keep looking until we find it or it gets dark.”

Time passed, but Dane really had no sense how long they were out there. He had learned not to bother looking at his watch when faced with this kind of situation; it just made things worse. They walked thirty feet apart with Bones slightly in front, scanning for any sign of an old house burned down over a century ago.

They had crossed a couple of roads, passed around the periphery of a few houses and probably covered five miles when Bones stopped and pointed a finger.

“What is it?”

“Does something look odd to you about those trees?”

Dane looked at where Bones was pointing. He’d seen so many trees in the past hours that they all blurred into one. These trees were all maples, which were quite common in the woods. But they were of uniform height and more importantly all in a row, at least twenty of them stretching for a hundred yards or so.

“Great catch Bones. Those didn’t just grow like that naturally, they had to be planted.”

“Like a driveway?”

They found one end of the row of trees and searched the area, but found nothing. Then they trudged to the other end and started doing the same thing.

Dane spotted something, which generated an inkling of concern. “Bones, did you walk over here yet?”

“Nope.”

“Well neither did I, but there are footprints.”

Bones joined him. “Looks like maybe the Sons beat us here. Should we follow them?”

“Could be them, could be someone else, but I can’t think of a better option.”

He removed the AR-15 from the sling in which he carried it. “We need to make sure we see them before they see us.”

“I like the way you think, Maddock.”

They followed the footprints, Bones leading Maddock by about fifteen feet. A couple minutes later, Bones veered off towards a nearby tree and Dane figured that nature had called. He looked down at his weapon and flexed his fingers against the grip.

When he looked back up, Bones had disappeared.

“Bones?” Dane didn’t yell, not wanting to attract the attention of the creators of the footprints. Hearing no answer, he made his way towards the tree. About three feet away, he saw the snow disappearing into a hole.

“Are you down there, Bones?”

After a few seconds, he heard the reply. “That’s affirmative, Maddock.”

Bones sounded irritated but not hurt, and Dane couldn’t help chuckling. “So you fell down a hole?”

“Maddock, I think I found it.”

“Found what?”

“I fell into some sort of structure with a dirt floor. Ceiling is about six feet high. It looks old, too. You should come down here.”

“Think you could get out if you had to?”

Dane saw Bones’ head appear about a foot below the level of the ground. “Sure. The roof actually feels solid except for the spot where I fell. I think a tree root weakened it.”

“Ok, stand back, then.”

Dane took out his flashlight, sat down, and slid into the hole. He landed easily, allowing his knees to bend and absorb what little shock there was. He could just about stand up without bumping his head, but in the beam of his light he could see that Bones had to stoop.

He had landed in a room about ten feet by ten feet square. Bones was moving down the one exit from the room, a hallway three feet wide. The walls were dark with age, constructed of stone with some sort of cement or mortar in the joints. The ceiling consisted of sturdy slabs of American Chestnut, still in surprisingly good condition considering over a century of wear. The floor was dirt, damp but still hard-packed.

“Bones, where are you going?”

“Dude, we’re searching for some old lost remnants of a burned down building and we fell into an underground structure. Seems like we should at least see if we can find any clues down here.”

Dane couldn’t argue with that. He followed Bones down the hallway, his flashlight reflecting off the wall. They came to an opening on the right, which led to another room similar to the first. Dane’s light revealed only bare walls and dirt floor, so they continued down the hall.

After passing several similar rooms, they reached an ancient oak door. A rusted lock nominally prevented passage, but one blow from the stock of Bones’ AR-15 sent it clattering to the ground.

“See, even locks are no match for Mama Bonebrake’s boy.”

“Just open the door, Hercules.”

The room beyond the door contained several pieces of furniture, including a bed and a couch. Layers of grime blanketed everything, but unlike the other rooms, it had the feel of a dwelling as opposed to a cellar. Bones put a hand on a small table next to the bed, wiping off the dirt.

“Hey, this looks like it’s been charred. Must be the old Marshall place we’re looking for.”

Dane chuckled. “And we literally stumbled into it.”

“You stumbled, I fell on my butt. Now that I think about it, if this was the basement of a house that completely burned down, it wouldn’t look like this. There would be more damage above us.” He gestured to the solid beams of the ceiling.

“Could be an underground shelter. Normally you only saw those in the nineteenth century in places with a lot of tornadoes, but they had them other places on occasion. Doesn’t really explain the fire damage on the table. Looks like the bed suffered from fire as well.”

Bones suddenly moved to one corner of the room. “What’s this?”

His beam illuminated a metal chest about three feet long and two feet high. Unlike the rest of the stuff in the room, no layer of dirt or grime adorned it. And the broken lock next to it was modern.

Dane shook his head. “I don’t believe it. A treasure chest.”

Bones grinned. “That’s almost as cliche as ‘X marks the spot.’ Kinda looks like someone beat us to it.”

Dane’s hand tightened on his Glock and the AR-15 felt heavier in the strap across his back. He swung his light around the room and saw another door across from the one through which they had entered. Then he saw the footprints forming a path in dust towards it.

“No way to tell when, Bones, but I think you’re right. Might as well open it anyway.”

The chest was empty, with sides made of metal and bottom padded with cloth.

“Look, the Randolph Coat of Arms.” Bones pointed to an image stitched into the padding.

“We’re obviously on the right track. But what does it mean?”

“I’ll tell you what it means — that is a bat at the top of the crest like we thought. Obviously we’re dealing with vampires.”

Dane rolled his eyes and Bones laughed. “Just kidding, bro. It means we’re still playing catch-up. Our path lies in that direction.”

His eyes followed the path of footprints. They moved to the door and opened it, Dane noting another broken lock lying on the ground on the other side. More footprints in the dirt extended down the hallway. Dane kept his Glock ready while Bones gripped the AR-15.

“Is that light up there?” Dane switched off his light and confirmed the presence of natural light coming from a low staircase ahead. He turned to Bones.

“How do you want to handle it?”

“I’ll just poke my head up and see if the coast is clear. If I get decapitated, you’ll know not to follow.”

Before Dane could think of an answer, Bones had eased his way up so his feet were on the third step from the top. He called down in a voice just above a whisper. “Seems okay. Wait, I see—”

Automatic weapons fire interrupted him and suddenly his feet were no longer visible from the top step. Dane wanted to follow, but stopped himself. “Bones!”

He heard what had to be Bones returning fire, and then a mix of weapons, which became impossible to distinguish. He was almost ready to poke his AR-15 out and join the fray when Bones came flying back down the stairs head first. The big man rolled into a crouch, rifle still in his hands.

His eyes held a combination of anger and pain, the latter Dane figured was likely due to rolling on his injured shoulder. “You okay?”

“Yep. Fire coming from three sides. Looks like we’re not going out that way.”

Dane tightened his jaw. “It must be the Sons of the Republic again.”

“You can take that to the bank. Did I forget to mention who I saw?”

“You might have had other things on your mind, what with getting shot at and diving down a staircase. Spit it out.”

“I’m seeing ghosts. Actually just one ghost: someone we both saw go down with a head wound in Boston.”

“You don’t mean—”

“That’s right. O’Meara was with them.”