Chapter 28

New Orleans, 1951

 

 

I wasted no time after we landed. I gave Lucy an excuse about having to go to the school library to study, and I took off like a scalded dog. I headed to one of the el cheapo storage lockers inundating New Orleans, as I suppose they are in most other large cities. I found mine and began wading through the boxes and junk the two of us had collected. I don’t suppose we have any more than any other couple; it’s just that our small, on-campus apartment has absolutely no storage space.

I could hardly contain myself. I was breathing heavily, my heart pounding. I was out of shape and thought I best stop and take a breather. But I couldn’t wait. Then I saw the edge of it at the bottom of the heap, in the far corner. I tossed things right and left to get at it. I didn’t care what I broke. A garish lamp, a wedding present, shattered into a thousand pieces, scattering glass over the rest of the stuff. Then I saw a name stenciled on an olive drab canvas bag: Tech Sgt Eric Schneider, AUS, followed by a string of serial numbers. I hurriedly removed the rest of the storage from off his duffle bag, throwing more things every which way. In my haste, I fell down. I lay panting in the bric-a-brac, which I swore was going to find itself at a garage sale soon. I forced myself to lie there until I caught my breath, lost as much from anticipation as from exertion. I crawled across the broken glass, unsure of my footing if I stood up. Finally, I got my bleeding hands on a corner of it; heaving as hard as I could, I pulled it free.

I stood it on end, looking for an attached key to the lock that ran through the metal eyes of the overlapping flaps. There wasn’t one. I rushed to my car looking for a screwdriver, knowing full well I couldn’t pry the lock off if I found one. It would have to be cut or sawed off. They were built sturdy. They were designed to carry a soldier’s valuable possessions, so they were almost tamper proof.

I threw the bag in the trunk and headed for home, leaving all my junk strewn about outside the locker. I didn’t care if somebody stole it all. I couldn’t wait to be on my way.

I found a hacksaw. And then I made sure Lucy was someplace else when I attacked the lock. I poured out the contents on the cement in front of our small apartment. One of my neighbors took note of my acting as though I was possessed. He didn’t speak. He only stared. I didn’t care. I was desperate. I had other things on my mind than what he might be thinking.

I found it. I really found it, and after all these years. I should have known it would be here, and that it would be loaded with a treasure worth untold millions of dollars.

I felt around the bottom seam of Eric’s old field jacket. Sewn in the lining were six round objects. I could feel each one. I knew what they were. They were extremely rare un-circulated twenty-dollar double eagle gold pieces from the Merkers mine. I took the jacket inside, and using a pair of scissors, I removed the stitches. There before me, affixed to a piece of tailor’s tape, was a fortune. Each coin was worth dozens of ingots, maybe a wheelbarrow full of them, maybe a dozen wheelbarrows full. They were worth only twenty dollars, but to collectors they were each worth at least a quarter of a million dollars in pre-war money.

I wrapped the tape in an elastic band and headed for the back yard. I buried them in a shallow hole and sat down, completely drained.

But gone was the depression. Gone were the memories of all those years of gloom and foreboding. Gone were all my worries. I was as wealthy as Midas. I smiled. And then I began to laugh. And then I began to laugh hysterically. I beat them. I beat them all. I even beat the demons from out of Steinmann’s box. I did what no one else in history has done. I beat the spear. I was alive and well and I was rich. And above all I have the woman I want, and she loves me. And I don’t have to go to work in the oil fields. What more could I ask for. What was there to wish for? What battlefields were left to conquer? I was a success beyond my wildest dreams. The world was mine. And nobody knew I had the coins. And nobody was going to find out and take them from me. Not this time.

There was another thought that came hurriedly to mind as I sat gloating on the ground in front of my cache: Ralph’s story about his spear was just so much nonsense, as I always believed it was.