Not all treasure is on a map. That is what the worried
man told me. He kept looking over his shoulder and then fixed me with a stare.
I actually took a step back. It was like he just struck me. In his eyes I saw
something, madness, what? I’m not too sure. It was a malady from somewhere
else. Almost like it was alien. And I was being drawn in like a spaceship
caught in a tractor beam. He spoke.
“I tipped an alien flying saucer down into the lake.
Up there,” the unhinged man said, pointing to the upper peaks. There was only
one lake in the area and it was by the peaks.
I looked at him. Took in everything about him. His
ripped jeans, dirty shirt and jacket, wild eyes. A low life mountain wannabe. The bastard has dragged me in by telling
me this. What if it’s true and he’s not mad? People kill and get killed for
information. Will I die? What if he has company waiting outside?
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