The Treasure Map

Image by Pexels from PixabayJason paced forward, staring over the curled patch of deerskin in his hands.

“You’re not going to find anything,” Tyrone called after him.

“Shut up. I’m counting.” Jason’s mouth continued to move after his terse response.

“Just because you found it in McCreary’s shed doesn’t mean it’s that square on the map.” Tyrone jogged to catch up with Jason.

Jason stopped, turning east, only then addressing his brother. “This wavy line shows where Silver Creek pours into the Illinois River. That’s how I know this is McCreary’s shed.”

He pointed a little north of east and said, “Would you say that clearing is teardrop shaped?”

“Maybe, but who cares? So, there’s a question mark on some stupid map. If McCreary had treasure, he wouldn’t live in that broke-down dump.”

“He was a miserly bastard. But he dressed too nice to be poor.” Jason started forward again, counting under his breath.

“He was also a creepy old coot. Instead of treasure, you might just find some teenager’s body.”

“Are you trying to make me lose count?”

Tyrone followed along in silence until Jason stopped in the center of the clearing.

“That’s twenty-three paces. Right where the question mark is drawn.”

“Yeah, but there was no compass bearing or anything. If your guess back there was off by three degrees, we could be twenty feet from the spot.”

“Look who got all book-smart.”

Jason traded the map for a trowel.

It struck something hard the moment it hit soil. “What do you think of that?” Jason asked, tossing Tyrone a white rock with a question mark in Sharpie.

A foot beneath that, the trowel thunked into hollow wood, and Jason pulled out a small chest.

“Not a body, then,” Tyrone said.

Jason opened the chest.

A small white card read, “Made you look.”

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