Buried Treasure

Thalia dropped to her knees and dug away the sand around the turtle’s head.  Its black eyes stared up at her from beyond gently angled eyelids.  She could feel the weight of history in its gaze.  She imagined it’d seen thousands of girls like her over the years and could read her mind as if it were as transparent as sea glass…

Story by Caleb Schulz

Illustration by Erryn Barlow

 

Thalia Cepeda picked up the knife and chopped down hard, cleaving the orange chili pepper in two.  She cut it again, and then once more, before scooping the pieces into a plastic bowl.  The pepper was the last ingredient for the aji, a creamy salsa with various peppers, onion, and spices.

Thalia glanced out through the ordering window into the small dining area.  The tables, made of leveled-off ceibo tree stumps, were empty.  Soon, however, people would begin to trickle in, lured by the aroma of fried potatoes and hamburguesa.  When they did, she had to have everything prepared.

Thalia worked part-time after school, prepping food for Carlos, the owner of the restaurant.  It usually only took a few hours and she was able to get home before dark.  Today, she had a box of potatoes left to peel before she was finished.

She tuned out the cumbia, latin hip-hop, that blasted out of the overhead speakers, and got to work on the potatoes.  She was quick with the knife and soon was halfway through the work when a voice called out from the dining area.

“Hey, Zamba!”

Thalia gritted her teeth.  She immediately knew the speaker – Sophia.  Much as she didn’t want to, Thalia turned toward the dining area.  A few feet away stood Sophia, Dede, and Johana.  All three had straight black hair, light coco skin, and dark eyes.  Like Thalia, they were in 10^th grade.

“We want papas fritas,” said Sophia.

Thalia wasn’t surprised; papas fritas – deep fried potato wedges – were a popular item.  “How many do you want?”

“How many do you think?”

“Three?”

“No, two.”  Sophia smirked.  “And make sure they’re cooked long enough.  No soggy potatoes.”

“Alright.”

Before Thalia could return to the kitchen, Sophia spoke again, “And Zamba – make sure you wash your hands before you touch our food.”

Thalia turned away.  Her cheeks felt hot.  Sophia always called her Zamba, a derogatory word for anyone of African descent.  Unlike most other kids who were lighter skinned with straight hair, her skin was the color of chocolate and her dark hair naturally curly.  Further up the Ecuadorian coast in cities like Esmeraldas, people with her skin color were more common, but when her mom moved south to the village of Canoa, she stuck out.

Thalia gave the food order to Carlos and returned to peeling potatoes.  When the papas fritas were done, Carlos called her over to deliver them.  Thalia drew a deep breath and took the food out to the girls who sat in plastic chairs around one of the tables.

“No aji?” asked Sophia.

“I’ll get you some.”

Thalia fetched a small dish of aji and set it on their table.

“Mayonasa?” asked Dede.

Thalia brought her a squeeze bottle of mayonasa and then returned to the kitchen.  If she hurried, she could finish her work and get out of there without any more problems.  She began peeling potatoes again when something struck her back.  She reached behind her, but felt nothing.  A minute later, she felt something hit her again, followed by a chorus of giggles.  Thalia glanced at the floor and saw several potato wedges.  She wanted to say something to them, but knew they would only make fun of her more.

She peeled even faster and had only a handful of potatoes to go when a wedge hit her head.  Thalia’s cheeks burned with anger, but forced herself to finish her work.  She was hit several more times before she was done, and she quickly said goodbye to Carlos and ran out of the back door.

Her feet splashed through the muddy alley as she ran.  She stopped at the edge of the building and peered around the corner.  The next street was empty.  Relieved, she ventured out onto the street.  From there, just a few blocks away, the Pacific Ocean shone blue-white.  She smiled.

Potato wedges pelted her.  Laughter followed and Thalia turned around.  A dozen feet back, Sophia, Dede, and Johana stepped out from behind a dumpster.  In their hands, they carried containers of potato wedges.

“Please stop,” said Thalia.

“Why should we, Zamba?” asked Sophia.

Thalia didn’t have a good answer, but before she could think of one, they began throwing wedges at her.  Thalia spun and ran.  Around her, wedges pelted the street.  She ran as fast as she could until she could no longer hear the girl’s laughter.  She checked behind her before she slowed to a walk.

As she neared the beach, she wove through the cacharreros, street-vendors, who sold everything from bootleg DVDs to knockoff Nikes.  She passed bamboo huts where people sold hot, cheese-filled empanadas, grilled corn, and spicy chicken kebabs.  She saw her favorite hut which sold patacones, sweet, fried bananas.  On any other day she might have bought some, but today she had no appetite.

When her feet hit the sand, she continued her fast pace until she reached the shoreline.  Tears rimmed her eyes, but she wiped them dry and faced the surf.  Waves pounded the sand.  Their thunder drowned out all other noise.

She walked north, eyes down, thinking about what had happened.  She knew the other girls hated her because she was different.  Their insults varied.  Her skin was too dark.  Her black hair was too curly.  She had no dad.  She picked up junk from the ground.

Angrily, she kicked the sand.  It wasn’t junk.  She bent down and scooped up a handful of shells.  They glittered pink and maroon like pieces of a sunrise.  How could no one else see this?  She placed the shells back on the sand and continued on.

The sky was still cloudy from the thunderstorm that had raged earlier that day.  In Ecuador, so close to the equator, storms came quickly and went away just as fast.  But the storms were powerful and tossed up new treasures from the sea.  This was her favorite time to comb the beach.

She passed the fishermen dragging their blue and white boats out of the water.  She watched the children playing in the surf, enjoying the waning daylight.  She walked until the Canoa was out of sight, around the bend in the coastline.

She didn’t know how much time had passed; she was too immersed in the discovering what she would find on the sand.  A cool breeze startled her.  She looked up and around, and saw that a heavy mist had formed.  The locals called it El Garua, a mist legendary for its abrupt appearance and disappearance.

Unlike fishermen and sunbathers, Thalia didn’t mind El Garua because even when the mist was the thickest, she could still see the sand.  Plus, the mist coated the shoreline with mystery.  It felt like she walked through a dream.

Up ahead, she could just make out rocks that formed a cove.  Thalia sidestepped the orange crabs that scuttled about, constantly digging new homes in the sand.  As she neared the cove, dark objects in the sand caught her eye.

Thalia drew closer and gasped.  The dark objects were flippers attached to a giant sea turtle.  It was upside-down, partially buried by sand.  Its head was almost completely covered.  Thalia had never seen a turtle so big before.  It was as big as a rowboat, maybe bigger.

Panic washed over her.  Something so big wouldn’t be missed for long.  Something would find it as she had – whether dogs or poachers or fishermen.  If not that night, certainly in the morning.

“Help me.”

Thalia’s eyes widened.  The turtle’s mouth opened and it said, “Help me.”

“What?” she asked.

“Help me,” said the creature.  “The sand.  Hard to breathe…”

Thalia dropped to her knees and dug away the sand around its head.  Its black eyes stared up at her from beyond gently angled eyelids.  She could feel the weight of history in its gaze.  She imagined it’d seen thousands of girls like her over the years and could read her mind as if it were as transparent as sea glass.

“Thank you,” it said.

“You’re welcome,” she said.  “How did you learn to talk?  I’ve never met a talking turtle before.”

“If you live as long as I have, you’ll learn a great many things too.”

Thalia tore her eyes away from its gaze.  “What happened?”

“Storm came…”

“Of course.  It must have flipped you over.”  She narrowed her eyes.  “Maybe I can help.”

She grabbed the edge of its shell and heaved, but the giant creature didn’t move an inch.  She tried again, pulling with all her strength, but her feet only sank deeper in the sand.

“It is not possible, child.  Be tranquil.”

Thalia was close to tears.  “But you can’t stay like this.  Once the tide comes in, it’ll push you further up on the beach.  The dogs or fishermen will find you.  And they’ll kill you.”

The turtle closed its eyes.  “Yes they will.”

Thalia kicked the sand.  “It’s not right.”

“It is the way of life.”

Thalia kicked the sand again, digging a small furrow.  She stopped.  “That’s it!”  A smile grew on her face.  “I’ll dig a hole and when the tide comes in, the water will push you into the hole, flipping you over.  Then, when the tide goes out, the water will carry you back out to sea.”

The turtle opened its eyes.  Its stare weighed on Thalia.

“You just wait and see,” said Thalia.

“Yes.”

Thalia dug her hands in the cool, soft sand.  She enjoyed the sensation for a moment before tossing sand behind her.  The white powder flew into the air as if snow-capped Mount Cotopaxi had shaken its shoulders and dusted the wind.  Sand and time flew by.

When Thalia stopped for a break, the sun had fallen beneath the horizon and the moon had risen.  Everything was cast in shades of gray.  Thalia studied the pit she’d dug.  It seemed like a scratch in the sand next to the enormous turtle.

“It’s getting there,” she said.

“Not enough time,” said the turtle.

“Sure there is.”

“Not enough time…”

Thalia drew a deep breath and began digging again.  This time she didn’t let up until her pit was as long as the creature and as deep as she was tall.  She sat down next to the turtle’s head.

“The hole’s not deep enough yet, but it will be soon,” said Thalia.

“Thank you, child.  But don’t you have a home?  Won’t someone be worried?”

Thalia shrugged.  “I’m on my own most nights.  Mom works at a bar.  By the time she gets home, she’ll think I’m asleep in my room.  Don’t worry, I can take care of myself.”

“You’re very brave.”

“And strong.”  Thalia grinned and flexed her skinny arm.  “So how come you’re so big?  I’ve never seen a turtle as big as you before.”

“Few of us remain.  So few.”

“Well, I’d suggest staying away from beaches,” said Thalia.

“Had to come.”

“Well, next time, don’t.”  Thalia smiled and got back to work.

She dug deeper and deeper until salt water splashed her face.  She looked up.  The tide had reached her pit and had begun pouring in.  Thalia climbed out.  She knelt close to the turtle and stroked its face.  Its skin felt like paper-thin leather.

“The tide’s coming in,” she said.  “Soon you’ll be free.”

“Not enough time.  A storm came at the wrong time.”

“Yea, that storm was huge. Is that what flipped you?  Don’t worry, I’ll get you out.”

The turtle closed its eyes.

Waves crashed in, knocking Thalia head over heels.  She righted herself, fighting against the push and pull of the water.  A mighty wave crashed against the turtle, shifting it.  Thalia crossed her fingers and prayed.  Another wave thundered against the turtle’s side and the turtle fell into the pit.

The splash blinded Thalia.  She wiped her eyes and saw that the turtle was right-side-up.  In the moonlight, the turtle’s shell glistened like a mirror.  She rushed to the creature’s head.

“You see?  You’re safe!”  Thalia cried.  “You can go back to the sea.”

The turtle tilted its head and looked up at Thalia.  “You have righted me.”

Thalia’s heart swelled.  A spray of sea foam blasted her in the face.  Thalia looked to the horizon.  A hint of deep blue had crept onto the black sky.

“It’s nearly dawn.  The tide will carry you out to sea.”

A flicker of worry passed across the turtle’s eyes.

“Can’t move.  Stuck.”

Thalia stepped back and saw that both seawater and sand had filled the pit, gluing the turtle to the spot.

“But…” said Thalia.

“Not enough time.”

Seawater dashed in, swallowing the creature’s words.  Despair rushed through Thalia like an icy torrent.  Had she just dug the turtle’s grave?  Had she doomed it to a watery death?

She flung herself in the hole.  Water sloshed around her and up to her chin.  The turtle stretched its neck to its limits and breached the waterline.  Its eyes were open wide.

“Child, you’ll die here.  Climb out.”

“No.  This is my fault.  I can help.”

“Foolish…”

“Just hold your breath as long as you can!”

A wave poured over them.  Thalia fought for air, took a deep breath, and slipped underwater.  The blackness scared her, but she kept her hands on the great turtle, feeling along until she was under its belly, and then pushed up.  Her feet sank into the sand.  She pushed up once more, but sank further.  Stars formed in her eyes and she clawed her way to the surface.

Waves raged around her.  She dove again and pushed up on the creature’s underside, but had to quit when the stars formed.  She lost count of how many times she dove.

The change in the tide took her by surprise.  She fought to stay with the turtle, but now the tide was pulling her out to sea.  She swam hard and dove.  Her hands searched blindly for the  turtle, but found nothing but cold water.  Then her fingers found the hard surface of the turtle shell.  She could no longer get beneath the turtle, so she dug at the sand.  Her fingers found the shell’s edge.

The sea pulled at her, but she hung onto the turtle with everything she had.  She felt like she was being stretched like a rubberband.  Stars danced in her eyes and still she hung on.

And then, like a giant balloon set free, the turtle rose.  Thalia’s hands slipped and the tide dragged her against the sand.  Shells tore at her skin like sandpaper.  Water filled her lungs.  She clawed out and found a pebbly flipper.  It pulled her upward.

She gasped for air.  Wind tossed her hair.  Her eyes opened.  She floated next to the turtle some distance from shore.  Her arms wrapped around its neck.  Far away, the soft pinks and purples of a new dawn painted the sky.

Thalia coughed. “You see – there was enough time.”

“Perhaps there was,” said the turtle.  “Now, child, you must return.”

Thalia looked to shore and back.  “But I don’t want to go.”

“Child, treasure awaits you there.  You must go.”

Tears welled in Thalia’s eyes.  She hugged the turtle’s neck.

“Be careful of storms,” said Thalia.

“Be careful with your treasure,” said the turtle.  “And thank you.”

Thalia reluctantly let go of the turtle’s neck and swam back to shore.  She climbed out of the water and looked back.  The turtle glided out to sea like a floating island.  The sun burst over the horizon and Thalia’s eyes widened.  The turtle’s shell, now washed clean of sand, was golden.

The turtle slowly sank beneath the waves, leaving Thalia standing on the early morning shore.  She started to brush herself off, but stopped when she realized it was hopeless.  She turned away from the sea and walked back to where the turtle had lain.  Despite the waves, there were still impressions in the sand of the ridges of its shell.  She crouched down and ran a finger along one of the lines.  They were so elegant and perfect.

Her hand struck something hard.  She peered closer and brushed away the sand.  Her breath quickened.  It was a golden egg the size of a bowling ball.  She picked it up and finally understood what the turtle had been saying.  It hadn’t had enough time – to bury its egg.

Thalia hefted the heavy egg, seeming to draw strength from it, and knew she had one more task to accomplish.  One more treasure to protect.

 

*

 

Two months later, Thalia sat on the stoop of her back porch and watched the pile of sand.  Several grains moved.  Thalia tensed.  More sand shifted.  A blue-green flipper broke free and wagged awkwardly.  Thalia grinned, remembering how she had first seen the baby turtle’s mom.  Another flipper appeared.  The sand fell away as the turtle emerged.  It looked confused and frightened.  A piece of eggshell was stuck to its hind flipper.

Thalia picked off the shell.  The turtle shrank back from her.  It looked exactly like its mom, complete with a miniature golden shell.

“It’s time to go,” said Thalia.

She lifted the heavy turtle, draped a towel over it, and carried it out into the street.  She wove her way toward the beach.  It was a Sunday and the streets were quiet.  The sun was overhead and the sky an intense blue.

“Zamba!”

Thalia froze.  Her heart thudded in her chest.  She turned and saw Sophia, Dede, and Johana behind her.

“What do you got for us today?” asked Sophia.

Thalia stuck her chin out.  “Nothing.”

“What’s that in your arms?  What’ve you got under that towel?”

“Nothing for you.”

Sophia smirked.  “So, you’re going to make us take it from you?”

Thalia took a step toward them.  “You’re not taking anything from me.”

Sophia narrowed her eyes.  “We’ll see about that.”

Thalia took another step.  “You’ll never take anything from me again.”

Dede and Johana looked nervously at Sophia.

“I’ll take what I want, Zamba,” said Sophia.

“No!” Thalia screamed at the top of her lungs and charged Sophia.  Sophia’s eyes went wide before she turned and ran.  Dede and Johana ran after her.  Thalia chased them for several blocks before stopping.

“My name is Thalia!”

She watched them run away.  Her heart pounded, but she felt ecstatic.  She turned and headed back toward the ocean.  The tide was high.  Waves crashed in, racing up the beach.  Thalia walked across the soft sand and unwrapped the towel.  She set the turtle on the sand.  It poked its head out and looked around.

“It’s time to go home,” said Thalia.

The turtle stared at her, eyes seeming wise beyond their time.  It looked out to sea.

“I can’t take care of you anymore.  You have to do this on your own.  It’s time to grow up.”

She took a deep breath, touched the turtle’s shell once, and stepped back.

“Be safe.  Be strong.”

The turtle sunk its flippers into the sand and pulled itself forward.  One flipper in front of the other, it inched on.  It moved faster, developing a rhythm.  Soon, it was sliding atop the sand, racing for the surf.  It hit the water just as a wave broke.  It went end over end, tossed back up onto the sand.  It righted itself, shook its head, and raced toward the water again.

It hit just before a wave broke, was sent careening, but this time stayed with the undertow and paddled out to sea.

Thalia watched its tiny golden shell disappear beneath the waves.  She smiled, picked up the towel, and walked toward the village.  She kept her eyes on the ground, but not because she was frightened.

She looked for buried treasure.

 

Caleb Jordan Schulz has nomadic blood.  He’s trekked in the Andes, dived in the Yucatan, and camped in the Amazon jungle.  Many of his adventures have made their way into his writing, which have appeared in Innsmouth Free Press, Crossed Genres Year Two, Ray Gun Revival, and will appear in Subversion and Zombies Without Borders.  When not traveling or writing, he works as a freelance editor and illustrator, and reads slush for Lightspeed Magazine.