Chapter 28
Sean sat at the wooden table with his hands folded, staring straight ahead at a candle flickering in the dying light of dusk.
They'd made it to Rick Teague's place in under forty-five minutes. That wasn't to say the journey was easy. They had to hike over rough terrain, dirt roads littered with sharp rocks, and then there was the heat. Temperatures had climbed to their zenith before the three men arrived at Rick's cabin.
Tommy and Reece had offered Sean their shoes several times, but he refused, choosing instead to walk the entire distance barefoot. After ten minutes of walking on scorching hot earth and slicing one of his feet on a rock, he accepted Tommy's socks, but nothing else.
The physical pain was a welcome respite from the emotional stabbing in his heart.
"You want something to drink?" Rick asked, setting a glass of water next to Sean's elbow.
"Whiskey if you got it."
Rick, a fifty-five-year-old guy with a scruffy graying beard and overly tanned skin nodded. "Sure. I've got whiskey."
Rick scurried over to a cabinet he'd built with his own hands and pulled down a bottle of Jack Daniel's.
He'd built the entire cabin on his own, from the foundation to the roof over their heads. It was an impressive achievement, and the results were better than could have been expected. There were a few things that would have raised an eyebrow here or there, like the bathroom that was only separated from the rest of the living room by a shower curtain. Then again, Rick lived alone and probably didn't have many visitors.
Considering that last fact, the house was remarkably clean — probably a remnant of his OCD past still coming through.
"Anyone else want a whiskey?"
"I'll have one," Reece said, raising his hand.
Tommy stared across the table at his friend. "You don't drink, Sean."
Rick returned with three tin cups, all with generous amounts of amber liquid sloshing around inside.
He set one in front of Reece, Sean, and Tommy.
Tommy put up his hand as if to say he'd pass.
"I am tonight," Sean said in response to his friend's comment. He raised the cup to his lips and tipped it back.
He swallowed every drop and then reached over, took Tommy's cup, and poured the contents down his throat before the burn of the first shot could hit him.
Tommy raised both eyebrows, surprised at his friend's actions. "Okay, so now I guess we're at a frat party?"
"You'd be drinking too," Sean said. He held out one of the empty cups toward Rick, who was standing close by, still holding the bottle. "Mind if I have another?"
"Go right ahead," Rick said as he poured a double.
Reece sipped his drink and watched as Sean downed his third.
Letting out a long sigh, Sean held his cup out again for another refill. Rick started pouring again, now unsure if he had enough left in the bottle to quench his visitor's thirst.
"I think that's enough, Sean," Tommy said. "You're gonna get sick."
"I'll decide when it's enough." Sean looked at their host. "Am I drinking too much of your whiskey?"
"Not at all," Rick said. "Plenty more where this came from. Though, I'll have to go out to the shed to get another bottle at this rate."
Sean pounded two more drinks before he slammed his cup down on the table and sniffled.
"Had enough?" Tommy asked.
Sean didn't answer. Instead, he got up out of the chair and walked outside, letting the screen door slam behind him. He'd put on some shorts and a T-shirt Rick stored in boxes. The sandals were from a time when Rick took beach vacations. They were a tad big on Sean's feet, but fit well enough to warrant wearing them.
"Your friend," Rick said, sliding into Sean's seat, "had a rough day?"
"You could say that," Tommy answered. "Just watched his girlfriend get shot right in front of him."
"Crikey." Rick thought for a minute and then turned to Reece for his next question. "What were you all doing out here anyway? Taking these Americans on a tour of the bush?"
"We were looking for something."
"Looking? Found, I'd say. That is, if you were looking for trouble."
"A friend of mine went missing. And someone tried to kill me, shot up my whole house. I barely got out alive. All because of an email she sent."
"Email? What kind of email?" Rick took a sip of his drink.
"His friend — a woman named Annie — found something we think leads to a treasure of some kind."
"Treasure?" Rick's ears perked up.
"Yeah. We don't know what it is, only that some guys over a hundred years ago went looking for it. They spent a good amount of time trying to find it, but had to give up in the end when one of them took ill."
"So you're looking for a treasure, eh?"
"We're not treasure hunters, per se," Tommy said. "I run an artifact recovery agency out of Atlanta. It's our job to preserve important pieces of history for the rightful owners — or governments."
"Ah," Rick said with a nod. "So the treasure for you is just making sure these artifacts are kept safe."
Tommy was somewhat surprised the man understood what he was talking about. After all, he was a hermit living out in the middle of the Australian outback.
"Yeah, pretty much."
The room fell silent for a couple of minutes before Tommy pushed the chair away and walked over to the kitchen counter. The room was dimly lit, both from a single lamp that hung in the ceiling overhead and multiple candles throughout the building. Rick preferred to stay off the grid. Why, no one knew.
Tommy grabbed a jar of rice and opened the lid. He looked inside at his phone. He'd been surprised to find the device still in his pocket after the trip down the river. The thing was completely soaked, though, and would need to sit in rice overnight if it was going to have any chance of being usable again.
"So this treasure," Rick broke the silence, "I suppose there was some kind of map or something that led you out here to Watarrka?"
Reece relayed the whole story up to that point — how they'd visited the museum in Sydney, the Baiame Cave, and Kata Tjuta before coming to the canyon. He told what happened at the waterfall and how someone was trying to kill them with a long-range rifle.
Rick listened intensely until Reece finished the story. When the tale was done, Rick nodded and finished his cup of whiskey. He poured another and offered one to Reece, who accepted with a nod.
"You sure you don't want one, Tom?" Reece asked. "Wouldn't hurt."
"I don't drink, but thank you."
"More for us, eh, Reece?" Rick said. The two clinked their cups together and took another draw.
Tommy sat back down at the table and looked out through the screen door. Sean was nowhere to be seen.
"I should go look for him," he said.
"Nah, mate," Rick disagreed. "There's nothing you can say to a man who has had that kind of day. All you can do is let him be. Let him think about what happened. And let it either kill him, or make him stronger."
"He's my friend."
"And that is exactly why you must leave him alone." Rick raised a finger at Tommy. "Now, from the sounds of all these clues you've been finding, it sounds an awful lot like you're looking for something the Aborigines call the Golden Boomerang."
Tommy's right eyebrow shot up. "Golden boomerang?"
"Mmm hmm."
"Never heard of it."
"Me either," Reece said.
"Most people outside the Aboriginal cultures haven't. Shoot, most Aborigines haven't heard of it. Only a select few get the knowledge of the boomerang passed down to them from their elders. Keeping it secret is how they keep the thing safe."
"If it's a secret, how come you know about it?" Reece looked skeptical as he lifted the cup to his lips.
"That's a legitimate question. Can't say I wouldn't be wondering that myself if I were you." He took a draw from his cup and then set it back on the table, smacking his lips as he swallowed the warm liquid. "When I first moved out here, I became friends with some of the tribesmen. They were kind enough to teach me about their culture and their beliefs about the world around us. And not just the world — the entire universe.