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storiesfromcolt · 6 years

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Fame, Fortune, and glory

(Still working out organization on tumblr. It’s a little rough at the moment.)

Corrin Carter wiped his forehead, his hand falling to his side slick with sweat. Mexican jungles had a propensity to cause that. In his hand he gripped a small, leather bound journal full of scribbles, maps, and diagrams. Its author was the famous explorer Francisco Pizzaro, the Spanish Conquistador of 1532. If the conquistador could be believed, the journal’s scribbles and drawings would lead Carter straight to the fabled El Dorado, the Incan city of gold. With no small amount of luck, that is. The venture had already taken its toll on the treasure hunter, costing him a few relationships, nearly his weight in gold, and he had even managed to get on the bad side of Rafe Matthews, an antiques tycoon with a practical army of armed guards at his beck and call. Rafe often played the role of a completely legal and slightly stuck-up man with a passion for antiquities. That whole role was largely a façade to fund his less legal excursions to find these antiquities and treasures. Long story short, Corrin found himself crossing paths with him enough to peeve the dealer into a harsh rivalry. Now, a few hundred dollars after he started this chase, Carter found himself in the middle of nowhere with little more than a map and an ever-shrinking sense of confidence.

“Corrin?” Carter swiveled his head, snapping out of his reverie. His older brother, Hector Carter stood behind him, his brow furrowed quizzically. “You back on earth?” Carter shook his head. “Yeah, sorry. Just… thinking.” Hector had been the only person so far that believed Corrin’s outlandish ideas, let alone followed him. The two had always been close since childhood, camping, fishing, exploring together. In a way, they never outgrew that. They just went from chasing butterflies to chasing ancient treasures. Corrin stuffed the journal into his back pocket again, then turned to survey the tangle of trees and vines in front of them. “The journal says it’s this way. I think. Maybe.” Hector let out an audible sigh of frustration. Corrin shrugged apologetically and continued on.

The two continued their trudge through the jungle, the nearly ancient journal acting as their only guide. It was a fairly uneventful slog, but that made it all the more unbearable. Every tree started to merge together, every rock formation became the same. Finally, the pair resigned themselves to a short break. Hector slumped himself against a protrusion of granite with a huff, while Corrin flipped through the journal manically as he paced, opening his mouth to start planning their next move when the roar of an engine cut him off. Turning his head towards the direction they had come, Corrin watched an armored half-track truck rumble towards them, with little regard for the foliage that stood in its path. Its hood displayed a bright blue logo, with Rafe Antiquities emblazoned front-and-center.

“Ah, crap.” Corrin stood up, grabbing his brother’s arm to encourage him to get up as well. “Rafe? Aw, Corrin, you made friends.” Corrin ignored his brother’s sarcasm, pushing him away from the direction of the truck. “Yeah, it’s not a mutual thing. Just go!” The two dove down an embankment, sending Corrin into a puddle of muddy sludge. They listened with bated breath as the engine roared closer, then thundered past. Letting out a much-needed sigh of relief, Corrin helped his brother back up the embankment. The sudden jump had left his shirt and jeans caked in mud, with a throbbing pain in the back of his skull. He rubbed the back of his neck as he gazed down the half-track’s wake. “Well that’s just not fair.” Hector joined Corrin at his side, chuckling.

“Private army, huh?

Corrin nodded. “Yup. Antiques dealer. Doesn’t like me very much.”

“Even I could have told you that. But let me guess, they have guns.” Hector wiped mud from his face.

Corrin looked over at his brother. “Yeah. Lots of them. Are you up for it?”

Hector grinned. “Of course.” The pair began trekking after the half-track with as much speed as their aching legs could manage.

The Carters found the half-track stopped before a cluster of ruins that were unmistakably and extravagantly carved with Incan symbols. There were two stone pillars, around 6 feet high, with faces of animals and spirits glaring down at the men below. Corrin and Hector approached slowly, crouching behind a fallen log. The passengers of the vehicle had already dismounted and were scouring the area around the pillars. “We have to get around them.” Hector nodded in agreement, and the two started to move as quietly as they could manage. Eventually they made it to the pillars, where they hunched behind a jumble of debris. Ahead of them, the driver side door of the half-track swung open, another figure stepping out. He was tall but built fairly stocky. The sleeves of his button-up shirt were rolled to his elbows, and his eyes were rimmed with round glasses. As he stepped out of the vehicle, Corrin noticed the holster strapped to his right thigh, a trend carried throughout his band of mercenaries. Hector elbowed his brother, who was still staring at the newcomer, eyebrows furrowed in frustration. “That’s Rafe, right?” Corrin nodded, turning away from the scene. Hunched against the rubble, he looked around, eyeing anything that could help them get out of their current situation. What he found was even better.

On a hill overlooking the pillars sat a massive stone structure, barely visible through the leaves and vines that encrusted it. Like the pillars, it was abundantly carved with massive Incan symbols. Corrin prodded his brother, pointing towards the building. “Looks like they’re missing something.” Hector followed his brother’s finger, his eyes falling upon the outer walls. With a chuckle, he considered the vines and rocks leading up to it. ‘Those vines are too weak, and there aren’t any good handholds in that rock. And with Rafe and his lackies watching, how do you plan on getting up there?” Corrin turned back around, careful to not be noticed by any of Rafe’s men. The half-track was too far away to give them any help, and the rock wall was sheer as far as Corrin could see. Then the pillars caught his eye. One was close enough to the rock wall that he could probably get to it if he could jump from high enough on the obelisk. He looked back towards his brother. “Cover me.” Hector reached for Corrin’s shoulder. “How do you expect me to-“

Without giving Hector time to object any further, Corrin started towards the pillars, keeping himself low and out of sight. Hector eventually caught up, his face contorted in a mix of displeasure and excitement. “Little warning next time?” Corrin only shrugged, finally reaching the tall pillar. Rafe’s private army was keeping tabs on almost every part of the site, which would make it all the more difficult for the brothers to make their way up the pillar. Nevertheless, Corrin found a ledge on the pillar, pulled himself up, and started climbing. It was easier than he had thought. The deep carvings helped to give him plenty hand and footholds. “Alright. Halfway there.” Corrin muttered, his arms beginning to ache. As he reached and took another hold, there was a sickening crack, and the rock beneath his hand suddenly pulled apart. Half of his body pulled away from the pillar as the dislodged rock fell to the earth. With a restrained groan, Corrin pulled himself back into the pillar, pressing himself against the rock in a frantic endeavor to keep himself hidden. One of the mercenaries below hollered, but other than that it remained quiet. Corrin finally made it to the top of the pillar, bringing him eye-to-eye with the edge of the rock face. Mustering his strength, and counting a little bit on luck, he leapt from the pillar.

He hit the shelf hard, his stomach colliding with the hard granite. Pulling himself up was more difficult than he thought it would be, since his arms were still raw, but he managed to get himself onto solid ground. Hector was close behind him, up the pillar and onto rock cliff. The two made their way inside the stone building. The inside was almost as dilapidated as the outside, with foliage reclaiming a majority of the once glamorous decorations. The ceiling and walls were still in decent shape, however, which made the interior fairly dark. Corrin looked around the room, taking in the walls, each of which were identical, save one that had a deep impression the shape of a keyhole. “Hey.” Corrin walked towards it. “What’s this?” As he strode closer, the depression seemed to deepen, seemingly the entire thickness of the wall. Corrin knelt, reaching out to touch the back of the shape. Hector crouched beside him, equally intrigued. Corrin’s fingers finally met with the material in the back of the hole, but it wasn’t what he was expecting. “It’s… it’s a plant, they’re vines. They must’ve grown over it. This is a window!” Corrin grabbed a fistful of the greenery and began pulling and tearing. The window was eventually revealed, and Corrin wasted no time in peering through it.

The window was pointed directly at a hill a mile or two away from where the building was. A few small ruins dotted the landscape, with one large tower emerging from the ground at their heart. Its sides were caked in flora, from the foundation all the way to the rounded top of the cupola. “Hey, Hector, look at this. I think we found our destination.” Hector knelt before the window. “Okay, fantastic. More ruins. Haven’t seen enough of those recently.” Corrin sighed, pulling Pizzaro’s journal from his pocket. “Not just any ruins. Pizzaro wrote about this. See? We’re close. If we can just-” His explanation was cut off by the noise of two engines below the rock face, and footsteps just outside the building. Corrin shoved the journal into his pocket, urging his brother to get up. The treasure hunter hurried to the door, just as a uniformed man with the Rafe Antiquities logo on his shoulder stepped in his way. Carter’s face met with the butt of a rifle, sending him back, sprawling on the floor. Hector backed up, helping his brother to his feet.

“Carter, when will you stay out of my way?” Rafe Matthews stepped through the door of the ruined building, followed by a pair of soldiers who forced the brothers back to their knees. Corrin looked up at the man, chuckling. “You’re going to have to be more specific. There’s two of us here now.” His sarcasm was responded to by another gruff hit to the back of the head., sending him to the ground in a heap again. Rafe leaned closer to Corrin, unholstering his handgun and gripping the handle. “Well, then, Corrin, tell me what you found and give me the journal, or we won’t have to worry about there being two of you much longer.” Corrin sighed, climbing to his feet, his hands held up in surrender. “Alright, fine. The journal’s in my pocket. Just grab it.” Rafe sneered, walking behind Corrin and bending down to take the small book. Corrin smirked himself, allowing a curt remark of Rafe’s distractibility. “Well. That was easy.” He quickly brought his elbow around, catching Rafe in the jaw. Hector took his lead, shoving one mercenary to the wall. The last remaining guard lunged for Corrin, who ducked, kicking the disoriented henchman to the ground.

The Carters bolted from the building to find that two more cars, smaller silver jeeps, had joined Rafe’s convoy. They had brought extra manpower, making the area below a hive of people. As soon as Corrin and Hector had reached the edge, the soldiers below opened fire on them. Bullets whizzed and ricocheted around them as they jumped from the edge and landed behind the cover of a large log. Corrin grabbed his brother’s arm. “Go for the jeep!” Hector nodded, taking off towards the closest vehicle. Corrin, on the other hand, ran the opposite direction towards one of the standing pillars. If they wanted to get the jeep out of there, they’d need to shrug off some attention that they had drawn to themselves. Corrin placed his shoulder to the stone, pushing his weight into it. The historian inside of him cringed as he pushed, but the projectiles flying past his head straightened his priorities. With one final push, the pillar fell, sending mercenaries scrambling out of the way. As the dust settled, Hector turned the ignition in one of the jeeps pulling it alongside him. Corrin had just enough time for him to throw himself into the back.

As the two brothers sped towards the tower in the distance, Corrin again pulled the journal from his pocket. He found it to have a deep channel through the cover, made by a stray bullet during the firefight. Corrin smiled to himself, running a finger through the groove. Oh well, he thought. He wouldn’t be needing it anyway. If Pizzaro was right, then the Carter brothers were one small step away from finding the legendary city of gold.

The uneven terrain, lack of an established road, and the Jeep’s tattered suspension rattled both of the treasure hunters’ bones as they proceeded towards their next destination. Distantly behind them, the engine of another vehicle roared to life. Rafe had apparently recovered from the calamity moments before. Corrin turned to study the tower before them, which seemed to stay ever far away. “C’mon, Hector. Pedal to the metal!” Hector ignored him, his gazed fixed intensely at the monolith protruding from the hill in front of them. After what seemed like ceaseless time driving, Hector slowed the jeep down, pulling it close to the entrance of the tower. Corrin anxiously sprang from the car and walked hurriedly into the structure. The inside was mostly hollow and unadorned, save for a spiraling staircase that led to the top. Hector joined his brother, marveling in the ancient construction. “Well, whaddya say we get climbing?” Corrin nodded, hesitantly taking the first step up the dilapidated staircase.

The top of the tower was capped with a large stone covering, held up by pillars. Corrin gawked at the scene in front of him as he took the last step. A vast, seemingly endless sea of trees and hills sprawled in front of him. The blue sky above the canopies of trees was interrupted by a massive thunderhead, flashes of lightning gleaming amidst the dark gray gloom. The air was already damp, and a clammy wind blew through the exposed lookout. Turning away from the awe-inspiring scene, Corrin found a large turntable in the middle of the rotunda, with two large handles sprouting from either side. Hector emerged from the stairwell, out of breath from the climb and mumbling what Corrin could only assume were frustrated obscenities. “Come on, wheezy. Give me a hand with this.” Corrin grabbed one handle as Hector lumbered to the other. “Corrin, haven’t you ever thought about if this doesn’t work? I mean, this tower’s ancient and hardly stable.” Corrin fastened his grip on the shaft in his hands. “Well, only one way to find out, isn’t there?” Begrudgingly, Hector began to push one way while Corrin forced the turntable the other.

There were a series of clicks followed by a loud rumbling and the droning sound of rock grinding on rock. Suddenly excited, Corrin turned around feverishly for the source of the noise. The cliff face behind them had started moving, a portion of the wall sliding down into the earth to reveal a large cavern within. Below them, a new silver jeep entered the scene, with Rafe gripping the wheel with white knuckles. In his excitement, Corrin didn’t notice the sound of the vehicle below him, the sound of a new magazine being loaded into a handgun, or even his own brother’s shouting as he reached for him. That was, until there was a loud discharge from the ground and pain ripped through his shoulder. Corrin fell forward, tumbling off of the tower with just enough time to grab the ledge with his right hand. His left shoulder felt like it was on fire, any small movement sparking pain throughout his whole arm. Hector flung himself to the ground, grabbing his brother’s arm and hauling him to relative safety. “Shall I prove my point more?” Rafe inquired threateningly. Corrin pulled himself to his knees to find Rafe below them, handgun still pointed at the top of the tower. Rafe grinned at the brothers, his smile twisted in a mix of arrogance and self-proclaimed victory.

Corrin and Hector stumbled down the last steps of the tower, back into the open air of the jungle. They were curtly pat-searched by Rafe as he began ranting. “Corrin and Hector Carter, I will admit. You have been a thorn in my side for far too long. I think it’s high time we remove that thorn, eh?” Rafe’s other hand reached down to his handgun, a sickening click sounded as he pulled the slide, raising it straight to Hector’s heart. Corrin jumped in front of his brother, right hand raised. “Hold on, Rafe. Hold on. Hear me out.” Corrin reached into his back pocket, taking out what was still in tact of the journal. “You don’t have El Dorado yet. There are still more puzzles. And this is the only way that you’ll solve them.” Staring Rafe in the eye, Corrin threw the journal to the ground, straight into a puddle of mud. The pages were instantly soaked, inside and out. “And we’re the only ones that saw that journal.” Rafe let out an unsettled sigh as he holstered his weapon. “Well then, Brainiac. Why don’t you go show us where these puzzles are?”

The group approached the newly uncovered cavern, Hector and Corrin in the front, with Rafe in the back. The cavern wasn’t as deep as it appeared. What it lacked in size it made up for in adornment, with lavish carvings, furnishings, and of course, gold. In the center of the room, pressed against a wall was a large rectangular box made of stone. The muzzle of a gun prodded Corrin in the back. “Open it.” Shooting a disgruntled look at the antique dealer, He stepped forward, gripping one side of the lid. Hector took the other. With a straining groan, the lid was pulled off and set on the floor. Anxious despite the circumstances, Corrin peaked into the box; And laughed. “What? Carter! What’s in the box.” Rafe was getting upset, his had drawing closer to the handgun at his side. Corrin grinned at the man, leaning against the box. “Do you know what El Dorado means, Rafe?” Rafe furrowed his brow, marching to the edge of the stone container.

Inside was a skeleton, a small sprinkling of gold dust near his shoulders, and a single Incan gold coin. “It means the golden man, genius.” Corrin pointed at the skeleton. “There’s the man.” He took the single coin from the coffin. “And here’s the gold.” Rafe stared at the body in shock. “This is… no, this isn’t real. Carter, do you think I’m a fool?” With a fluent motion, Rafe had his gun squared at Corrin’s chest again, his finger twitching on the trigger guard. With his other hand, Rafe reached down, pulling the skull from the casket. “This, if you can tell, is not a city of gold.” Corrin opened his mouth, a sarcastic remark at the ready, but was cut off by a new rumbling noise. Suddenly, the light inside the cavern shifted, a shadow darkening the area in front of the doorway, and it was growing. The large stone slab rose slowly from the ground, inch by inch.

“Corrin!” Hector called, his voice echoing around the small room. Corrin nodded, suddenly swinging his right arm forward, catching the shocked Rafe by surprise. With another swift movement, he wrenched the gun from his hand, using the butt of the handle as a weapon in itself for another blow to the antiques dealer. Rafe quickly recovered, spinning Corrin around and sending a clenched fist into his still bleeding left shoulder. The hit sent Corrin to the hard rock floor, the gun skittering out of his hand. Hector slammed into his adversary’s back, both of them falling to the ground. Corrin slowly stood back up, reclaimed the handgun, and began backing up towards the door, which had only about five feet of clearance. Defeated, Rafe pulled himself to his knees, an accusing finger pointed straight at Corrin. “Is it worth it, Corrin? All of this work, for a dead body and some gold dust? Answer!” Corrin shook his head, backing up to the moving slab of rock. Hector pulled himself up and was hanging a hand over the edge to help his brother. Ignoring Rafe’s demand, Corrin threw the gun away, gave one last look at his adversary, and hauled himself over the door.

Corrin Carter wiped his forehead, his hand falling to his side slick with sweat. Stuffy airplanes had a propensity to cause that. Hector lowered himself into his seat beside Corrin, handing him a small cup filled with whatever cola the airline had stocked. Corrin kept his gaze in front of him, staring at the single gold coin that sat on the fold-out tray. With a sigh, he picked it up, sliding it into his pocket dejectedly. Hector pushed his little brother’s head to the side playfully. “Come on, Corrin. You did find it. So what if it wasn’t what Pizarro had in mind?” Corrin nodded, chuckling. “I guess you have a point. Besides, this coin alone will probably fetch a whole fifteen dollars at a pawn shop.” The brothers chuckled, recounting the adventure that had just come to a close, and smiled as the ideas of new possibilities and opportunities for adventure began forming in each of their minds.

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