The Secrets of Wells

"Hello?" Lisa’s voice was clipped, sharp with annoyance as the cordless phone’s antenna crackled. "Whoever this is, make it quick. Mom’s on standby waiting for a call, and she’ll kill me if I tie up the line."

"Lisa! It’s Kurt! Don’t hang up!"

There was a pause. "Kurt? Why are you calling me at… 9:42 on a Saturday? Wait, are you at home?"

"No, I’m… uh, at the payphone outside the old Wells hotel."

"The one they closed down last year? Why are you there?" Lisa’s voice dropped into an incredulous whisper. "Please don’t tell me you’re out exploring again."

"Lisa, you have to hear this. Something crazy just happened."

"Oh, this I’ve gotta hear," she replied, a hint of exasperation in her tone. "What did you do this time?"

"Okay, so, you know how Wells has all those old abandoned buildings around town? Like the ones up on West Hill, near the old tannery?"

"Yeah, and everyone says they’re haunted. What about them?"

"Well, I was up there earlier, just poking around. You know, looking for cool stuff, maybe old tools or something."

"Kurt, you’re unbelievable. You’re gonna get tetanus one of these days."

"Listen! I found this trap door under some old boards. It looked like it hadn’t been touched in decades. So, I… I opened it."

"Of course you did," Lisa groaned. "What was under it?"

"A tunnel," Kurt said, his voice dropping for dramatic effect. "It led to some kind of hidden basement room. And you’ll never believe what I found down there."

"A raccoon nest?"

"No! A box. A big wooden box, like a crate, with 'Wells Historical Society' stamped on the side."

"The Historical Society? Why would they leave something hidden up there?" Lisa’s interest was piqued now.

"That’s what I thought! So, I cracked it open, and inside were these old documents and maps. One of the maps was of Wells, but it looked different. Like, way older."

"Older how? Like Revolutionary War times?"

"Exactly! And there was a letter with it, talking about some kind of treasure buried near Sacandaga River, just outside of town."

"Treasure? Kurt, that’s ridiculous. Wells isn’t some pirate cove. It’s just a little town that barely even has a diner anymore."

"I know! But the letter mentioned something about it being hidden during the French and Indian War, to keep it out of British hands. It even had a symbol—a pine tree with a star."

"Okay, so what did you do?"

"I took the map and the letter. I was gonna go check it out tomorrow, but then…" Kurt hesitated.

"Then what?"

"Then I heard voices. Coming from the tunnel entrance."

"Voices? Kurt, if this is another one of your ghost stories, I—"

"It wasn’t ghosts! It was real people! I could hear them talking about the crate, saying something about 'it being gone.' So, I grabbed the stuff and booked it out of there."

"And now you’re calling me from a payphone instead of going home?"

"Yeah, because I think they’re looking for me, Lisa. When I came out of the woods, there was a black truck parked near Main Street. It followed me halfway through town before I ducked into the store’s parking lot."

"Kurt, you’re seriously telling me that someone’s after you because you found an old map?"

"Yes! I think they want the treasure. And if they know I have the map…"

"Okay, calm down. Let’s think about this. Did you leave anything behind in the tunnel that could lead them to you?"

"No. I grabbed everything. But Lisa, what if they saw me?"

"Then you need to get somewhere safe. Go to the diner and wait there. Lots of people around, bright lights."

"Country Kitchen?"

"Yeah, it’s open late on Saturdays. Besides, it’s always busy. Even people from Northville drive up for the burgers."

"Okay, good idea. I’ll head there now."

"But Kurt, if you see that truck again, don’t lead them there."

"Right, right. I’ll take the back way."

Kurt hung up and stuffed the map into his jacket. His breath fogged in the cold night air as he jogged through the back streets, skirting around shadows and glancing over his shoulder. The lights of Country Kitchen glowed warmly up ahead, the neon sign buzzing faintly in the quiet. The smell of frying bacon and fresh coffee hit him as he stepped inside.

"Kurt!" a voice called from behind the counter. It was Diana, the owner’s daughter, wearing her signature blue apron. "What are you doing here so late?"

"Uh, just grabbing a burger," he said quickly, sliding into a booth near the back. "And maybe some coffee."

Diana raised an eyebrow but didn’t press. "Okay, one burger coming up."

The diner was half full, locals chatting over late-night breakfasts. A couple of truckers sat at the counter, and the jukebox in the corner was playing an old Elvis song. Kurt felt a bit safer here, surrounded by familiar faces.

He pulled the map from his jacket and spread it on the table. The details were intricate—hand-drawn lines marking trails, landmarks labeled with old names. One spot near the river was circled with the same pine tree and star symbol. The letter mentioned something about an "old boundary marker" being the key.

"What’s that?" Diana asked, setting down his burger and coffee.

Kurt quickly folded the map. "Nothing, just some old history project."

"Uh-huh. Well, you look like you’ve seen a ghost. Want me to keep your coffee topped off?"

"Yeah, thanks," he muttered. As Diana walked away, he noticed headlights sweep across the diner’s windows. A black truck slowed as it passed, its engine rumbling low before disappearing around the corner.

Kurt’s stomach tightened. They were still looking for him.

The door jingled as two men walked in, dressed in dark coats. They didn’t look like locals. Kurt ducked his head, pretending to study the menu as they scanned the room. They took a seat near the door, their eyes sweeping the diner.

Kurt’s heart pounded. He needed a plan. He pulled out a napkin and scribbled a note: "Meet me at Tort’s Twist. Bring a flashlight."

When Diana walked by, he handed her the note. "Can you give this to Lisa if she shows up?"

"Lisa? Sure," Diana said, tucking the napkin into her pocket.

Kurt slipped out the back door, the cool air biting his face as he headed for Tort’s Twist. The ice cream parlor had closed for the season, but its colorful sign and quirky cone-shaped building stood as a beacon in the dark. He crouched behind a stack of patio chairs, waiting. The minutes dragged on, every rustle of leaves or crunch of gravel setting his nerves on edge.

Finally, a flashlight beam cut through the night. "Kurt?"

"Lisa! Over here," he hissed.

She jogged over, her breath puffing in the cold. "What’s going on? I saw those guys at the diner."

"They’re looking for this," Kurt said, showing her the map. "We need to figure out what’s at this marker before they do."

"Kurt, this is nuts. You really think there’s treasure out there?"

"Only one way to find out." He pointed to the map. "The marker’s near the old boundary stones by the river."

Lisa sighed. "Fine. But if we get caught, I’m blaming you."

Together, they set off, the flashlight guiding their way through the woods. The river’s rush grew louder as they neared the boundary stones, moss-covered and ancient. Kurt knelt by the largest one, running his hands over its surface. There—a faint carving of a pine tree and star.

"Here," he whispered, pulling a small spade from his jacket. They dug quickly, the earth cold and hard. Minutes later, their spade hit something solid.

"Is that… a chest?" Lisa asked, her voice shaking.

Kurt pried it open, revealing old coins, documents, and a tarnished medal. "This must be it."

Before they could celebrate, the crunch of boots on gravel froze them in place. The men from the diner stood at the edge of the clearing, flashlights glaring.

"Hand it over," one growled.

Kurt clutched the chest. "Run!" he shouted, grabbing Lisa’s arm.

They bolted through the trees, the men shouting behind them. The lights of Wells appeared ahead, and they sprinted towards the sheriff’s office, bursting through the door.

"Sheriff! We need help!"

The sheriff looked up from his desk, startled. "What in the world…?"

Kurt thrust the chest onto the desk. "This is part of Wells’ history. And those guys out there want to steal it."

The sheriff’s eyes widened as he took in the chest and the map. "Stay here," he said, grabbing his radio. Moments later, the sound of sirens filled the night.

Hours later, as dawn broke over Wells, Kurt and Lisa sat on the steps of the sheriff’s office. The chest was safe, and the men had been arrested.

"Well," Lisa said, "that was more excitement than I wanted this weekend."

Kurt grinned. "Told you it was crazy."

She rolled her eyes but smiled. "Next time, let’s just stick to burgers at Country Kitchen."

"Deal," Kurt said, glancing at the map. "But I wonder what else is out there…"