Page 7 of Explorer's Revenge
“I need to know everything about what you found down to the tiniest detail, so sober up and answer my questions and I’ll pay your tab for the night before I leave.”
His eyes narrow before he drains his beer. “Deal.”
“Good.” Sitting back, I grin at him as the woman drops off a plate of fish and my drinks. I tuck into it, groaning at the flavor as Conrad watches. Once I’m done, I sip the beer.
“Get on with it then,” he snaps, and I hide my smile as I lean back in my chair.
“How did you get there?”
“I’ve already been through that,” he retorts.
“Fine, so you crashed there. Where exactly, a beach? Any other entry points you found that might be better? What about shade? Anything I need to be aware of in terms of risk? And this city, how far in was it?”
“Fuck, I need a beer,” he mutters. “There was a beach, but it was a huge trek through the jungle. I was hoping to find someone or get to the other side in hopes there was a better beach.”
“Why? What was wrong with that beach?” I ask.
“It had huge cliffs next to it, and I thought it would be impossible to get a boat to it. Anyway, the cliffs lead straight to a path deeper into the jungle and the city. Wish I had taken that way.”
“Okay, so cliffs,” I murmur. “And through the jungle?”
“You’re smart,” he mutters sarcastically as I narrow my eyes. “Don’t remember much after that. I was too fucking terrified and running just to get away from that shit show.”
“But you remember seeing ruins, and that’s why I am here,” I hedge.
“Vaguely.” He shoots me a look that holds more intelligence than I thought he was capable of.
“So why not go back and sell all this for yourself?” I ask, voicing something I’ve been wondering.
“I’m not ever going back there.” He shivers in fear. “Not ever.”
“Why is that?” I press, sensing it’s deeper than him simply not liking the rough terrain or ruins. There is something that puts an uneasy look in his eye. I need to know what it is, because whatever scares him sends a shiver of excitement through me.
“Shit that I saw there,” he mutters, eyeing me warily.
“But I thought you only vaguely remember?” I counter, getting sick of his runaround.
“I vaguely remember enough to know to stay the fuck away from that place. No money or shit is worth the evil I felt there. The skeletons . . . You’re a fool, but go right ahead and get yourself killed searching for gold.”
I want to tell him it isn’t about the gold, but he’s not worth it. Skeletons? It could be from plane crashes, shipwrecks, or, hell, ancient tribes, so that doesn’t scare me, but something clearly traumatized him. You don’t travel the world and experience the shit I have without believing a little about the supernatural, so I’ll respect what he thinks he saw and use extra caution.
“Believe me or not, but I saw what I saw,” he snaps.
“I do believe you.” I stand, tossing money on the table. “Which is why I’m here.”
I grab my backpack and wave goodbye to the waitress, but he calls out, stopping me. Turning back, I meet his eyes.
“Be careful, okay? Something there is . . . hungry.”
“Always am.”
I pay for my stuff and walk to the plane, his words echoing in my head.
Evil . . .
What makes a forgotten island evil?
I guess I’m about to find out.
