Treasure Beneath the Riverwalk

By K.D. Gray

Who knew there was treasure under the streets along the Riverwalk? And about Old Lady Hatch's cat, who knew that it was already dead when the Nick Callaway and his best friend went hunting for Treasure? The mysteries didn't stop there, but solving them got a lot harder when the new nosy neighbor, Willamina Burchette, showed up. The city maintenance crews and Nick's mom's bad mood didn't help much either.
But the boys found it. More surprisingly, they also solved a FAMOUS mystery along the way.

Read it for yourself. Perfect for ALL ages, and especially for anyone who LOVES a great treasure hunt!

• Language: English
• Publisher: K.D. Gray
• Release date: Apr 10, 2012
• ISBN: 9781452444833

K.D. Gray

Kim currently lives in Wilmington, NC where the saltwater is never far away.

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

Nick Callaway

It started out simple really – just a hole in the middle of the street. And it looked pretty much like any other pothole except for one thing; it was right at the end of OUR driveway!

Let’s just say that this was the first surprising part of it.

Holy sweet mother of, Mom screamed, stomping on the brakes. Where’d THAT come from?

The Jeep lunged forward and then rocked back a little, but Mom had missed the pothole, and that’s pretty much all that mattered to her.

Then she sat up straight and leaned over the steering wheel. What in the world happened here?

I never answer any of Mom’s questions, and it’s not because I don’t know the answers either. It’s just that I’d learned a long, long time ago that it’s better not to. Besides, she never waits for me to answer anyway.

Today was no different. Was that here this morning? she asked, staring at the brand-new hole. How come I didn’t see it this morning?

Like I knew? Besides, wasn’t she the one who was driving? And didn’t that mean that SHE was the one who was supposed to be watching the road? I decided it’d be better not to ask THESE questions and unbuckled my seatbelt instead.

And just where do you think you’re going? she asked.

That was another question I decided not to answer. Besides, wasn’t it obvious? We were home, weren’t we? Or close enough anyway.

One of Mom’s eyebrows shot up.

That’s another thing she does. An eyebrow signal usually means, Have you lost your mind?

I’d have to be CRAZY to answer a question like that. Besides, the one-eyebrow arch is only one of Mom’s many world-famous eyebrow tricks. She says it’s a talent that every mother has, but I don’t believe her because I’ve never seen anyone who could wiggle and arch their way through three whole verses of Jingle Bells.

Mom usually saves her best eyebrow moves for when she’s hollering at me. Here’s how it works: she’ll start with one raised eyebrow. This is a warning. It means that she doesn’t believe the story I just told her, and she thinks that I might’ve forgotten something – like maybe the truth. She’s usually right about that, but one eyebrow isn’t enough for me to remember anything that might get me in trouble.

But two eyebrows? Now, that’s a whole ‘nother story. It means that I’d better dig around in my memory and come up with something good.

Mom was still staring when I opened the door. I pretended not to notice and pulled my bookbag into my lap.

Nick! she yelled.

What? I’m just gonna look at it, I yelled right back. I mean, it could’ve been caused by an earthquake!

She was rolling her eyes when I got out of the Jeep. But then, I saw the hole for myself. Oh, sure, it didn’t look like much, not at first anyway, but it was new, brand-new, sorta like it appeared outta nowhere.

That’s when I saw something else new – Mom’s driving. She backed up a little, swerved around the pothole, bounced over the curb, hit the trashcan, spun a tire on the sidewalk, and then parked like nothing had happened.

It’s a good thing the trashcan was empty, is all I can say.

Then, she got out of the car, slammed the door, and headed for the house, just like she did every other day. She even shouted over her shoulder, Nick, bring in the trashcan on your way in, okay?

I didn’t answer that question either. Besides, it wasn’t really a question anyway. It was an order, and she didn’t wait for an answer either. As usual.

I didn’t even try to bring in the trashcan, and that’s because I was staring down deep inside the brand-new crater. The sides were crumbling, and several big hunks of the street had already fallen in, so I tapped my foot along the edge to see if any more of the street would cave in. Nothing did. Still, there was a deep muddy hole where there hadn’t been this morning.

Mom didn’t notice I forgot the trashcan because she was on the porch and fiddling with her keys.

Hey Mom, don’t you wanna see it? I yelled. Don’t you wanna know if an earthquake ripped a hole in our street?

She slid her key into the lock. Nope, it wasn’t an earthquake, she said, flatly. It’s just a pothole. Okay, so maybe it’s NOT the best place for a pothole, but it’s a pothole all the same. Now, go on and get the trashcan.

And that was that, according to Mom. She stepped inside and left me all alone to explore our brand-new pothole.

That’s the way it is sometimes. Once Mom thinks she knows all there is to know about something, she’s DONE talking about it. But I wasn’t. I bent down to get a closer look, and then it hit me. It wasn’t an earthquake after all. It was a meteorite. It had to be. The hole was even round like one had come whizzing from outer space while I was at school, and it had crashed right into our street.

Okay, so there weren’t any broken rocks wedged into the bottom but maybe it had burned up on impact! They say meteors will do that, ya know. Still, if it burned up, wouldn’t there be scorch marks on the street?

There weren’t. I checked. Twice.

It had to be something else, and it was long past time that my best friend, Jeff, heard all about it.

CHAPTER 2

Turns out, I didn’t have to tell Jeff about the pothole. He already knew. He saw me standing over it and came running down the street to see it for himself.

Jeff’s my best friend and we do EVERYTHING together. Mom said we even think alike. A lot she knows.

Holy smokes! he said, stopping at the crumbling edge. What happened to the street?

Like I knew? Sometimes he can be as bad as Mom is when it comes to asking stupid questions. I dunno, I said, crouching down. It was like this when we got home a little while ago.

Jeff was still trying to catch his breath when I noticed a tiny crack in the bottom. It was just a small one at first, but it was big enough to let some water seep in.

Hey look, I said, pointing it out.

Jeff leaned down, and then all at once, a damp area began to grow. The tiny crack started getting larger too, and soon, a small trickle appeared. Dirt began to loosen up and before long, a small stream was at the bottom of the pothole.

Then, the little stream grew into a gush! Big hunks of the street crumbled and splashed down into the hole. I couldn’t believe it was happening! I don’t think Jeff could either. Jeez! he said, stepping back. Where’s all the water coming from?

Then it happened. Hey look, he said, pulling me away. It’s bubbling!

I looked at the water swirling around inside the hole, and sure enough, it was bubbling!

Then more water rushed in, and that’s when I noticed the nearby gutters were dry. Well, it can’t be coming from there, I said, pointing to the side of the street. It hasn’t rained in weeks!

Bubbles clustered on the surface.

Jeff stepped back a little further. I’ll tell you what, he said, looking a little worried. This doesn’t look too good to me.

A large bubble popped on the surface, so I leaned down to get a better look. Where do you think they’re coming from? I asked.

Jeff took another step back. There’s prolly a broken pipe down there, he said, nodding like he knew what he was talking about. You know, the kind that’s got poisonous gas or something inside. It’s prolly leaking, and it might even kill us right here, and we wouldn’t even know it!

Only Jeff would say something like that. After all, he was always making up stuff about somebody getting killed, and usually that somebody was me. Fortunately, none of his stories have come true. Not so far, at least.

Another bubble came floating up.

Poisonous gas, huh? I asked, watching the muddy bubbles grow larger.

He nodded, but then he got a strange kinda look on his face and that’s when I backed up too. So, if there’s a poisonous gas leak down there, I said, keeping an eye on a group of bubbles. Then where’s all the water coming from?

Jeff studied the situation carefully, and then he got another kind of look on his face – the one he gets when he thinks he knows EVERYTHING. From the broken pipe, of course! he said.

A couple of large bubbles slid together.

I don’t think they let water and poisonous gas come through the same pipes, I told him, hoping to stop his story before it went too far.

It already had. Well, maybe it’s a whole BUNCH of pipes, he said, looking pretty sure of himself. Yeah, that’s it. They prolly broke all at once.

I hate it when he does that. He’ll wiggle parts of a story around until the pieces fit, more or less.

A big chunk of the street cracked off and slid into the pothole. Why would a whole bunch of pipes break all at once? I asked him, playing along.

Jeff walked around the pothole and acted like he was inspecting it from all sides – at a distance, of course. From the earthquake, he nodded, like he was an expert on earthquakes all of a sudden. Yep, that’s what happened, he said, acting sure of it. Underground pipes ALWAYS break during an earthquake, ya know.

Always? I asked.

Jeff nodded again. Yep, always, he insisted.

I watched the bubbles move around. Yeah, I told Mom it was an earthquake, I told him. But she didn’t believe me.

Jeff shook his head. When has your mom EVER believed you? he asked.

He had a point. Still, sometimes THAT works out for the best – like the time I told her I just LOVED her Beef Stroganoff. She didn’t believe me and NEVER made it again.

Jeff began searching the houses along the street. I don’t know though, he added quietly.

What don’t you know? I asked, surprised to hear those words coming out of him mouth.

There oughta be other signs of an earthquake, ya know, he said, pointing down the street. There oughta be cracks or other holes in the street somewhere, and maybe on the houses too. He was rubbing his chin when he finally admitted it. But there’s not.

Another big chunk of the street crumbled away, and that’s when he started a brand-new story. Well, maybe there was a kink in the pipes somewhere, sorta like you get in a garden hose. Yeah, and maybe the pressure’s been building up for a long time, and maybe it just finally blew up. Or maybe, the pipes were really old, and maybe they just finally rusted through. My dad’s car’s like that. Mom said there’s not gonna be anything left but a trail of orange flakes in another year or so.

Jeff began working on his new story, but the problem was, there weren’t any pipes, there weren’t any signs of an explosion, there weren’t any rocks tossed around, and there weren’t any burn marks on the side of the hole either. It was just a plain ‘ole pothole, except for one thing – it was filling up with bubbling water and getting bigger by the minute.

.

CHAPTER 3

You just HAVE to be right about this, don’t you? I asked him, heading up the driveway.

Jeff was right behind me. No, I don’t HAVE to be right, but I’m kinda worried about the poisonous gas! I mean, it could KILL us, ya know.

Well, you were wrong about Josh Barclay, weren’t you? I asked, stopping on the porch steps.

That shut him up. After all, what could he say about that? His story about a neighbor wanting to kill me had scared me so bad that I hadn’t slept for WEEKS! So, now it’s poisonous gas, huh? I asked, giving him a hard look.

Jeff shrugged a little.

I started to say something else about Jeff’s stories, but then I remembered what Mom always says about stuff like this. She says it’s always best to leave stuff in the past because things just work out better that way. But what she really meant to say was, it’s always best to leave stuff in the past EXCEPT for the things that SHE needs to remember FOREVER.

I decided to drop it for now.

But it didn’t last for very long. Jeff started again as soon as I opened the screen door. You prolly need to tell your mom, he said, nodding. Just in case!

I whipped around. And tell her what? I asked.

Well, you’ve gotta tell her about the poisonous gas, of course, he said. She’ll need to call the police or maybe even the Fire Department. She’ll need to call somebody before people start falling over dead!

Now, his story had gone too far. Call the police? I repeated. For what? I was just out there, and so were you. Did your skin burn off? Are you falling over dead?

Jeff looked at his arm. Well, it could take a little while, ya know. You just never know how this stuff really works. It could be a special kind of gas that’s time released. Yeah, that’s it, and that’s why it took a while to burn through the pipes.

Couldn’t he tell how stupid this sounded?

Obviously, he couldn’t. Then he made it worse. Yeah, it’s hard to know just how dangerous this stuff is, he added, narrowing his eyes a little.

I’ll tell you what’s hard to know, I said, interrupting him. It’s hard to know how you come up with this stuff. Look, it’s probably just an ordinary pothole, filled with ordinary water that came from under the street somewhere. The bubbles are probably just like the ones on the pond over at the park. Those bubbles aren’t poisonous gas; they’re just bubbles. And about the water? Mom says this whole town’s so low that most of it’s below sea level. She said that if a really big storm comes along, we’re all gonna go for a swim.

Jeff tried to look like he was listening, but I’m not sure he really was. Well, water don’t bubble all by itself, you know, he said, looking at me. And those bubbles on the pond are made by fish or turtles or maybe even snakes!

So, now you’re a bubble expert too? I asked.

I think Jeff could tell he was getting on my nerves, but he didn’t let that stop him. He even tried to give his story a whole new twist. Okay, so maybe it’s NOT poisonous gas, he said, glancing back. Maybe it’s a turtle down there. Yeah, that’s it; they sorta look like turtle bubbles to me.

I dropped my bookbag and waited for another story to begin, but then, I changed my mind and tried to stop it. You know what? I asked, looking annoyed. That hole ain’t big enough for no daggum turtle, and besides, how would a turtle get into a pothole in the first place?

I shouldn’t have asked.

Jeff stalled, but only for a second. Why, that’s easy! he said, smiling. It just crawled up here from the river!

I moaned a little. Okay, so why would a turtle go and do a stupid thing like that? I asked.

Jeff climbed up the porch steps and looked at me like I was the one who was making up stuff. How do I know what turtles think?

I had to do it. I just had to show him how stupid he was being. So, what you’re saying is this; you think that a turtle crawled out of the river, trotted up the street, dodged half-a-dozen or more cars, probably almost got run over by the school bus, just so it could live in a muddy pothole and blow poisonous gas bubbles? Really? Is that what you’re saying?

I was snickering by then.

Jeff hates it when I do that. He even huffed a little, but then he glanced back at the pothole and got a serious kind of look on his face. Well, maybe that’s not it, he mumbled.

Then, his eyes got great big. Maybe it’s something bigger! he said, holding his eyes open wide. Yeah, and you know what else? That hole ain’t but a half a block from the river, so maybe something’s been burrowing in from the riverbank! Yeah, and maybe it’s been working on it for YEARS! Yeah, and maybe that’s how the pipes got broken. And you know what else? he asked, getting that excited squeak in his voice. Maybe it’s building a nest right under the street, and the whole thing’s gonna collapse!

Jeff was getting pretty worked up by then. Yeah, he added, nodding like there was more to tell. And maybe there’s even a Loch Ness monster living down there, and maybe it’ll pop it’s head up any minute!

And do what? I asked, sarcastically. Eat every- one the poisonous gas didn’t kill?

Jeff got my meaning. His story had gone TOO far.

Well, one thing’s for certain, he mumbled.

I waited for the story to take another twist, but somehow, I managed, What’s that?

If that hole gets any bigger, your mom’s gonna have a fit.

He was looking at my mom’s car, but I’d already seen her manage the hole once, and I’d seen plenty of her fits too. How could one more be any worse? Mom has lots of fits, I told Mr. Loch Ness Monster Expert. Besides, she’s already seen the pothole. She’s driven around it too.

Jeff looked down the driveway and saw the trashcan. Yeah, but does she know how fast it’s growing? he asked. Heck, by tomorrow morning half the street could be gone!

I picked up my bookbag and pulled the screen door open again. It won’t matter, I said, stepping inside. Mom’d drive right over a Loch Ness monster’s head if it got in her way. You know how my mom is.

Jeff didn’t look convinced. Still, you’d better tell her because you just never know what’ll happen next.

CHAPTER 4

I decided to tell Mom, just in case.

But I also decided NOT to tell her about the poisonous gas or the Loch Ness monster. It sounded too dumb, even to me.

Mom, where are you? I yelled, letting the screen door slam behind me.

I’m on the phone, she yelled from somewhere deep inside the house.

I found her in the kitchen, holding the phone and tapping on the table with a pencil. But she wasn’t talking to anyone. Still, I knew better than to interrupt her because Mom HATES to be interrupted! One time she said I’d better be bleeding to death if I ever interrupted a phone conversation again. I’ve never tried to because she started keeping band-aides in the kitchen drawers.

I searched the refrigerator for a snack, but honestly, I was eavesdropping. Mom also hates that, but THAT’s the ONLY way I find out what’s really going on. It’s because Mom never explains stuff to me. She always says that she doesn’t have time to, but when it comes to her friends, she’ll find the time. She’ll explain what everybody said, what they did, and even what they meant to say, and then she’ll toss in what she thought about it too! But today, she was silent. She tapped the pencil a few more times and then suddenly grumbled, Yes, I’ll hold.

The bright refrigerator light made a large bowl of celery look pale, so I pushed it to the side. Behind it was a loaf of strange-looking bread, a few old carrots, the jars of pickles that nobody eats, and little else. Mom, where’d you put all the food? I asked.

She tapped the pencil a few more times. That is food, she told me, tapping a little bit harder. It’s called diet food. Trish and I’ve started a new diet this week.

A new diet, I wondered. Well, that explained how Mom planned to survive, but what about me? But there’s nothing in here for ME to eat, I whined.

She used the pencil to point to an apple on the counter. I wrinkled my nose up and tried to ignore it.

Yes, I need to report a pothole in the street, she said, speaking crisply.

I opened a cabinet and started looking for the cookies.

Yes, I’ll hold, she said again, tapping the pencil even harder. Her eyes followed me around the kitchen, watching me open and close one cabinet after another. Nick, there aren’t any cookies, if that’s what you’re looking for, she said, sounding irritated. Just eat the apple, and I’ll cook dinner in a while.

She tapped the pencil a few more times.

But I’m starving now, I told her, pulling another cabinet door open. And who said I wanted a stupid apple anyhow?

Mom tried to ignore me. Yes, I’d like to report a pothole, she said into her phone again.

Suddenly the pencil bounced off the table, and Mom’s voice got loud. No, I won’t HOLD again, she barked. I’ve already done that, several times too, and I just want to know who I have to talk to about getting a pothole fixed, for goodness sakes!

Mom was getting close to the end of her rope, and although I’ve never actually