Abraham's Treasure Page 3

  ‘A is the beginning,’ Jerome whispered to himself, blocking out James, who was scribbling furiously on his pad. ‘A is first and foremost.’ That’s what Father Mackey had said.

  ‘First. The beginning,’ he repeated out loud. ‘I got it!’

  James looked up from his scribbling. ‘What?’

  ‘The first clue is Adam? Get it? First? The first man God created.’

  James scratched his head. ‘Yeah, but we don’t know no Adam.’

  Jerome sighed. His brother, for once, made sense. ‘True.’

  ‘The very beginning,’ James said. ‘Father Mackey said always start from the beginning.’

  ‘The beginning! The beginning!’ Jerome yelped.

  ‘Shhh! You’ll wake up Granny.’

  ‘She still out on the porch.’ Jerome could hear the creaking of her rocking chair.

  Jerome picked up his Bible and thumped on it. ‘Adam. The Garden of Eden.’

  James jumped up again, his afro forming a large halo around his head. His brother’s excitement was just that contagious.

  ‘Garden of Eden. The Botanical Gardens!’ Jerome exclaimed.

  ‘Botanical Gardens!’ James echoed, jumping on the bed.

  ‘Calm down,’ Jerome composed himself as if he’d known the answer all along. ‘We still don’t know nobody named Adam.’

  ‘Maybe he work there,’ James said. ‘We’ll ask somebody. Maybe we can ask Granny. She know everybody.’

  Jerome looked at him incredulously. ‘You mad, boy? Never mind. Don’t even answer.’

  ‘What?’ James looked confused.

  ‘We can’t just ask… What we go’n ask him once we find out who he is?’

  ‘You right. We can’t just say, “Adam, where de treasure?”’

  ‘Finally, you using your head.’

  ‘He probably waitin’ for us.’ James sounded firmly convinced.

  ‘Yeah? You think so? With your million dollars in a suitcase? Jus’ like on TV?’ Jerome shook his head sardonically.

  They heard Granny’s rocking chair shift and then footsteps. They fell silent. ‘I wish we could go and see him now,’ James whispered.

  ‘Now?’ Jerome looked at his watch. It was eleven-thirty, way past their bedtime. They had to be up at six-thirty for summer school. Besides, there was no way anyone would be at the Botanical Gardens at this time of night. The place was plain frightening once it got dark. There had been so many stories of crimes and just strange events. People getting robbed. Attacked by flying, unknown creatures in the bamboo house. Chased through the sweet lime bushes by rabid ghosts. Lovers hearing strange noises and seeing sub-human shapes materialising out of the dark and then vanishing into the air. He didn’t want to admit it but as curious as he was about Adam, the idea of being alone in the Gardens at night made him a little afraid. ‘We’ll go tomorrow after school.’

  ‘Coward,’ James mocked.

  ‘If Granny find out we leave the house now she will make this summer worse than it already is.’ Jerome could already see it: no more trips to the river, even more time at church, more chores. But he couldn’t sleep. What if this Adam person knew exactly where the treasure was hidden, or at least could point them in the right direction? The sooner they found this man the better. He could start spending his share today! He heard James snoring and looked over to his brother’s bed in disbelief. How could he sleep at a time like this!

  Chapter 5

  The next morning they could not lie to themselves even though they did an admirable job lying to Granny. They put on their uniforms, white shirt, navy pants and navy tie, kissed Granny good-bye and left the house. ‘Behave yourselves today,’ she said. Every day Granny was up before dawn watering, weeding and tending her plants.

  ‘I could hardly sleep last night.’ James said as soon as they were out of Granny’s sights. Jerome didn’t answer. He was deep in thought for a couple of reasons. For one, he was thinking exactly what James was thinking: that they go to the Botanical Gardens now instead of after school. But there was another concern. Petra. Jerome looked back but there was no need to. He could feel the thud of her heavy footsteps on the asphalt before he even heard the thump, thump, thump of her massive feet.

  ‘Run!’ James yelled and took off, leaving Jerome to gasp into a sprint.

  ‘I want my diary back!’ Petra screamed as she chased them down the narrow road.

  Jerome’s legs cut through the air as he panted and his chest began to catch on fire. He was not an athlete like James; but he had to run because he didn’t want to get punched in the arm by Petra. He just wasn’t in the mood. He could hear her breathing hard not far behind him. He picked up his legs and tried to stay close to James. Then he noticed James had stopped and was standing near the gate that led to the Botanical Gardens. Jerome looked back. Petra was bent over, one hand on her waist. ‘Petra, you all right?’

  ‘I hate you!’ she panted, loud enough for them both to hear. ‘I hate you and your ugly brother!’

  ‘She OK,’ James said laughing.

  Jerome caught up with his brother at the gate. ‘Why you don’t just give her back her stupid diary?’

  ‘You never know; I could need it one day. I might want to read it some day.’

  ‘But what about me? She will beat me up, too, and I don’t have nothing to do with it.’

  James shrugged. He’d already regained his breath even though Jerome was still panting like a thirsty dog. ‘We have time before the first bell, wanna go in?’

  Jerome looked at his watch and then at his brother who was already entering the Botanical Gardens. ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘Coward!’

  Jerome fell in behind his brother and they jogged up the grassy path, past plants that all looked wild but were rare and treasured by the Ministry of Agriculture. Some couldn’t be found anywhere else in the world. But the boys didn’t care about all that. They had one thing on their mind. Adam. Or make that two: Adam and treasure.

  A uniformed man was sitting at the desk pecking at a computer in the main office. They greeted him respectfully but his look said pure suspicion. ‘What can I do for you boys?’

  James decided to speak up before Jerome could stop him. ‘Is Adam here?’

  The man narrowed his eyes. ‘Adam, de caretaker?’ James looked at his brother and smiled widely. ‘Yes, sir.’

  The man sighed deeply and then shook his head. ‘Adam died five years ago. Everybody know that.’ James’s smile disappeared. What now?

  ‘Nobody else named Adam works here?’ Jerome asked.

  ‘Adam? Adam is right here. The first man is right here!’ said a voice. The boys looked around the office but could not see anyone except the man at the computer.

  ‘Who said that?

  The man laughed. ‘Oh, that’s Adam, our talking parrot. He says the same thing over and over all day long.’

  ‘No, I don’t!’ the voice said and a pair of wings flapped frantically for a few seconds.

  ‘A talking parrot that understands people?’ James was wide-eyed.

  ‘A talking parrot that understands people?’ the voice mimicked James’s tone and diction.

  ‘Where is he?’

  ‘Where is he?’

  The man laughed and shook his head. ‘That old bird will drive you crazy.’

  ‘That old bird will drive you crazy.’

  Jerome followed the sound and went to a back room. ‘Who told you to go back there?’ the man said, making Jerome jump.

  ‘I…I…’

  ‘Just ask next time,’ the man growled and went back to his Internet surfing. ‘You can play with him but don’t touch him.’

  James quickly followed his brother into the back room. A large cage sat on a table in the middle of the room and in it was a large parr
ot with dark-dark blue feathers tinged with purple and bright orange on its head. The boys stared at the parrot and it stared them down. Then finally it broke the silence.

  ‘That old bird will drive you crazy.’

  ‘Hello, Adam.’

  ‘I am Adam. The first man. Adam I am. Adam the first man. In the beginning was Adam. Adam. Adam. Adam.’

  Jerome and James exchanged dubious looks. This could not be their clue; this was just a chattering parrot who didn’t even know what it was saying. But James decided to humour it.

  ‘Where de treasure, Adam?’

  The bird hopped back and forth and flapped its wings. ‘Treasure. Treasure. That old bird will drive you crazy.’

  Jerome looked at the bird and thought: this is entertaining but we’re late for school. Time to go. Maybe the clue was in the grave of the old caretaker Adam; it certainly wasn’t with this crazy bird. ‘Let’s go,’ he tugged at James’s sleeve.

  ‘The treasure? Abraham’s treasure?’ James tried again.

  The bird continued to hop back and forth. ‘I’m the first man. Adam. First man. First clue.’

  ‘What?’ the boys said in unison.

  ‘What?’ the parrot mimicked. ‘What?’

  ‘What’s the first clue?’ Jerome asked slowly.

  ‘Wrong question. Wrong question. Wrong question.’ The bird was hopping feverishly now and flapping its wings.

  James’s brow went up. ‘Of course, it’s the wrong question.’

  ‘What’s the right question, then?’ Jerome hissed. He was already fed up with this cackling smart-mouthed parrot.

  ‘We need the second clue. The B in Abraham.’ James edged even closer to the cage, his face just inches from the bird.

  ‘You got it! You got it! Adam is the first man. First clue.’

  James laughed. ‘What’s the second clue, Adam?’

  ‘That bird old will drive you crazy. That old bird will drive you crazy.’ Jerome wanted to reach out and grab Adam by its neck. Instead he grit his teeth and said quietly, ‘Please, Adam. What is the next clue?’

  ‘The place where everybody goes. The high, high place.’

  ‘What? Where is that?’

  ‘Everybody goes by the high place. Go now.’ Adam stopped hopping and stared at the boys stonily.

  ‘But what you mean by high place?’

  ‘Go now. Go now. Go now. Go now.’

  ‘Adam.’ They peered into the cage, trying to make eye contact with the bird.

  ‘Go now.’ Then the bird hopped around once more. ‘Adam go now.’ Then it suddenly flapped frantically as a strange, gargling sound emanated from it. ‘Uuuuuurrrrrrgggguuuur.’

  James and Jerome stepped back. The bird made the sound again. ‘Is it OK?’ Before James could answer the bird fell off its perch. It shivered once and then was still.

  ‘Oh, my God! It dead?’ James said. They could hear the man click-clacking away at his keyboard in the next room. Surely, he would kill them if he thought they’d done anything to hurt Adam the talking parrot.

  ‘Adam! Adam!’ Jerome half-whispered the bird’s name, hoping it would wake up. But no amount of coaxing would get Adam to talk – or even move – again. The boys stood and stared at Adam’s lifeless, colourful body but all the bird did was stare back silently, vacantly.

  ‘You boys finished back there?’ The man’s booming voice made them jump.

  ‘We have to go,’ Jerome said.

  James looked at him incredulously. ‘You not go’n tell him the bird dead?’

  Jerome steeled his face. ‘We don’t know if it dead. It probably just sleeping. Let’s just act like nothing happened.’

  ‘OK, OK,’ James followed his brother out. The man barely looked up from his screen when they said a quick good-bye.

  They broke into a run once they were far enough away from the office. ‘If he catch us, we’ll just say it was alive the last time we see it. OK?’

  James nodded as he ran in step with his brother toward their school. Jerome felt a thrill coursing through his body. He felt like he’d just got away with, well, murder. How could he concentrate in class now after such a crazy morning? Was Adam dead or sleeping? And what or where was the high place where everybody got together? Was that the place the treasure would be found? Or were they still at point A?

  ‘Jerome, you find that bird talk like an Australian?’ James asked as they ran to school. ‘Like Father Mackey.’

  Jerome slowed. ‘A little bit,’ he said.

  Chapter 6

  The first class of the day was English literature. Jerome tried to care but his mind was consumed by thoughts of Adam the talking – now dead – parrot. On one hand, Jerome was worried. Would the man come looking for them once he realised Adam was dead? But it wasn’t their fault! The bird had talked itself to death. On the other hand, maybe the bird was just sleeping. Maybe it was sick. Maybe it didn’t matter. They had the second clue! Forget the stupid, sick, hopefully still-living bird.

  The place where everybody gets together. A busy place. A high place.

  The bell rang at noon and James ran like a lightning bolt to the front of the school where Jerome was waiting. ‘You figure it out?’ His brother hadn’t but he had an idea. Summer school was only a half-day and they didn’t have to be home until three, which gave them two hours of fun and freedom. Dutchy and Sticky, the Warner brothers, whom they were not allowed to talk to, slowed their bikes as Jerome and James walked out of the school gate. ‘Church boys,’ Sticky laughed as he and his brother circled Jerome and James on their creaky bicycles. ‘You goin’ church, bwoy?’

  ‘Leave us alone,’ Jerome said. Dutchy and Sticky were posers he knew. All they ever did was talk. He’d seen Petra send both of them running by just lifting a hand.

  ‘Leave you alone? Leave you alone, church bwoy? What? You goin’ to pray for Jesus to kill me or you gonna try to do something yourself?’

  ‘Get out my way!’ James approached Dutchy’s bicycle. ‘Just move!’

  Dutchy laughed and leaned into James’s face as if he were about to do something but just then Sticky pulled on his brother’s arm. ‘Let’s go.’

  ‘Cowards,’ James said as Dutchy and Sticky pedalled down the street. ‘I could take that Dutchy down.’ Sticky was big, bigger than James, and even though Petra did knock him out that one time she’d probably just been having a good day.

  A tall figure interrupted their encounter. ‘What you guys up to?’ Charlie Westminster asked in his American accent, which still sounded strange to the boys even though they had known Charlie for almost six months. He’d taken to wearing his blond hair in cornrows on some days even though the nuns always forced him to undo them in front of the whole school during morning assembly. This morning they had missed the ‘Charlie hair show’ as he described it because they’d been late.

  ‘She make you take your braids out again?’ James asked.

  ‘Yeah,’ Charlie shrugged. ‘I just paid Petra fifty bucks to do them for me. What a waste, man.’

  ‘You pay Petra fifty dollars to do your cornrows?!’ Jerome asked incredulously.

  ‘She did a good job,’ Charlie said defensively.

  ‘You crazy, man,’ James said. ‘Fifty dollars?’

  Charlie shrugged again as he slowly began to realise that maybe Petra had taken him in. Jerome changed the subject. ‘We need to go by the church. To ask Father Mackey some questions.’

  ‘The church?’ Charlie echoed warily. ‘I’ll see you guys later then.’

  James laughed and shook his head. ‘Nothing go’n happen to you if you go to a church, man.’

  ‘I know,’ Charlie said. ‘I just like to preserve the purity of my atheism as much as possible. It’s bad enough I have to go this indoctrination camp that you guys call a school.’ Charl
ie waited for a reaction to his witticism but received only groans. He waved and jumped on his bicycle.

  As the boys turned the corner away from the school, a group of eight boys approached. Jerome stopped immediately. James grit his teeth and grunted. ‘Don’t stop like that! They can see you anyway.’

  It was the Machete Boys, the most dangerous gang in Roseau, known for stealing cars, clothes, money from everyone – especially tourists. James and Jerome knew every single one of those boys; they had all grown up close together, had breathed the same air and walked the same streets their whole short lives.

  ‘Little cousins!’ Eustace, the leader called out to James and Jerome. Eustace was Uncle Peter’s son but Uncle Peter had long disowned him. Jerome waved weakly as Eustace and the Machetes approached. If Granny saw them talking to Eustace…

  ‘What’s up, man?’ Jerome couldn’t explain why but he liked Eustace. Something about him said strength, bravado and self-assurance, qualities Jerome wished he had. James on the other hand could do without his cousin.

  ‘We busy, Eustace. We gotta go,’ James said.

  Eustace laughed, causing the rest of the gang to laugh reflexively. ‘Busy? Busy doing what? Is summertime. You walkin’ around looking like a fool with a tie and a shirt and that big bag of books. What you talkin’ about busy, bwoy?’

  James set his teeth again but said nothing. Jerome took the opportunity to try to impress Eustace. ‘How much you buy your sneakers, Eustace? I ask my father to send me a pair like that.’

  Eustace kicked the air with his red and black sneakers. ‘Man, you can never have that kind of money. If your father buy that for you then make sure these ninjas don’t take them from you.’ The group of eight boys laughed derisively and Jerome felt stupid. Eustace believed it made him seem more intimidating if he talked American ghetto slang. ‘See you later, man,’ Eustace said. He walked away with his boys, their shorts baggy enough to hide the machetes they always carried.