Byrd's Eye View

By Bruce Weiss

Time capsules are created when a number of meaningful treasures are gathered and then buried deep into the earth for posterity. After the burial ceremony concludes, the hope is a future generation will retrieve it so they might look closely at lives once lived.

In Byrds Eye View, four neighborhood children create a time capsule at a pivotal moment when their world unexpectedly becomes a very dangerous place. They vow to return one day when the world is less threatening to retrieve the personal items theyd once buried.

Eve Rostow could not have imagined forty years later that it would ruin her life and reveal a frightening secret. With help from friend Adam Byrd, she begins a painful search to find who discovered their capsule and why someone is using it to destroy her.

A story of intrigue, menace, and even murder, not to mention a fast-paced and compelling novel with many twists and turns. This is a riveting read.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Aug 15, 2016
• ISBN: 9781524616281

Bruce Weiss

Bruce Weiss has published 10 novels, a text book, and short stories. Historical fiction is the genre with surprising and unanticipated twists and turns. Undergraduate degree from BU, graduate degree at Wesleyan, 20 years teaching social studies at the high school level, 3 years after retirement teaching in Cuzco Peru. Married to Ivy, father of daughter Sasha who did not fall far from the tree, and granddaughter Harper, a world class equestrian at Skidmore. My email address is [e-mail]

Book preview

CHAPTER ONE

October 1997

I often recall the events on a warm fall day on October 4, 1957, a milestone in my life. I was eleven years old yet forty years later, I can nearly recall everything that happened that magical day and evening.

The world changed October 4th in ways Adam Ellis Byrd, my full name could never have imagined. An incredible chain of events unfolded very far away and my life and the lives of others were forever changed. I think about that day because it was the beginning of an incredible journey for me, and the beginning of an astonishing journey for a small metallic object called Sputnik.

Years later I can still relive all the events of that indelible day, a Friday, feeling much like part of the endless summer. It was a school day and I was sitting in my sixth grade classroom, the large oversized windows wide open as usual. I’d most likely been staring out, daydreaming about anything but the school work. The clock hardly moved that morning and after gazing at it once too often, my teacher Mr. Hardy caught me. His handy ruler was always ready at his side and I knew all too well he could use it to smack the palm of my hand to get my attention. I remember something he said so clearly, that time passes, but will you? The minute hand never moved fast enough for me.

At precisely ten O clock that morning something quite remarkable was happening halfway around the world. Unbeknownst to any of us including the adults, an event was unfolding that would have a staggering and dramatic impact on all our lives. It was already Saturday morning in the far eastern wastelands of the giant Soviet Union, and something momentous was taking place. It was so distant and remote it would have been impossible to imagine a place like that actually existed.

We knew about the threatening Cold War through evening newscasts filled with ominous scenarios and mass casualty figures. Soviet domination of eastern Europe and their mighty nuclear stockpiles cast an ominous shadow over us. To an eleven year old and the other neighborhood children though, little of that news worried us as much as it did our parents. They had a different outlook, personified by the Miller family furiously building a fallout shelter in their backyard instead of a pool.

One of my earliest memories growing up in Middletown, Connecticut was the parade of Korean War veterans on our Main Street Memorial Day. The soldiers marched smartly with rifles, wearing old uniforms, some riding atop World War Two vehicles. The pageantry made me believe we were invincible, the most powerful nation on the planet.

I still picture many of the special events in my early life in the small town. The great floods of 1955 and 1956 were permanently etched in my mind, as were the blizzards and the August heat waves. I remembered sitting in our new porch watching a small black and white RCA television set broadcasting the Republican Convention with it’s nominee, Dwight Eisenhower. Many other wonderful memories sadly were slowly fading from my mind, lost forever. Of all my childhood memories nothing affected me more than the momentous event happening on October 4th, 1957. Unbeknownst to us, something historic was happening on the other side of the world and it would change us forever.

The sequence of events were so ingrained it made me wonder how it was possible forty years had since passed. The day had the sounds and smells of summer with the excitement of wondrous days ahead. Halloween was still three weeks away but we’d already talked about the day at school, including our choice of costumes. I was going to be a clown as were my two brothers and sister. The family dog Snoopy would also be dressed in a clown costume.

Just weeks before Halloween some eleven time zones away in a place as seemingly remote as the far side of the moon, a mighty rocket engine was in it’s final countdown. At zero hour it’s powerful engine roared to life, lighting up the gray skies and the entire countryside. After what seemed an eternity to those watching, the Soviet missile slowly left the launch pad, soaring faster and faster toward the heavens and the unknown. The rocket picked up speed, the deafening roar heard nearly fifty miles away.

Atop the rocket sat the very first artificial Earth satellite given the curious name Sputnik. At ten O’clock in the morning our time, the Russian rocket sped higher and higher into the heavens, needing only precious minutes to race through the Earth’s atmosphere into the great black unknown.

Hours later bits and pieces of information about the successful launch spread like wildfire throughout the world. Sputnik it was reported, was a silver satellite capsule loaded with electronics and some very secret devices, soaring faster than any manmade object before. When the evening news came on we were informed the satellite was the size of a beach ball, the Russians claiming even though it was only twenty-three inches in diameter, in a few nights it would appear bigger and brighter than any star in the night sky.

The Soviet Rocket ship we later learned had been launched in a very remote and desolate place called Kazah and once at full speed, the satellite orbited the Earth at the unheard speed of nearly eighteen thousand miles an hour. The number was so astonishing few could truly comprehend what was happening. Soviet news reports boasted it took a mere ninety-six minutes to complete the first orbit of the Earth.

Some twenty seconds after the main engine of the Soviet rocket shut off, Sputnik separated and a tiny transmitter activated. The satellite sent electronic beeping sounds amateur radio operations all over the world tuned into, continuing for twenty-one days until the tiny transmitter in the craft died. Even though the communication had stopped, Sputnik continued its magical journey around the Earth in silence, finally burning up on January 3, 1958 after reentering the Earth’s atmosphere. It traveled more than forty-five million miles.

The beep-beep tones indeed confirmed the satellite’s successful deployment. Ninety minutes after the first orbit of the Earth, Soviet Premiere Nikita Khruschev was notified of the success, as was the world press.

Days after the official Soviet version was broadcast that as a result of intense work by Soviet scientists, institutions and engineering labs, the first artificial Earth satellite had been successfully put into outer space. It was the first man made object to leave the Earth’s atmosphere.

Days later a spokesperson for President Dwight Eisenhower went on the radio to report to the nation. ‘Our movies and television programs in the fifties were filled with the idea of going into outer space. We knew that it would happen before the end of the decade but what came as a great surprise and disappointment to us, was the unmistakable fact it was the Soviet Union that ultimately won the space race.’

Teams at observation stations all over the United States and the world were told when to watch the evening skies to see the satellite on it’s heavenly journey. Americans were told they might see it either just after sunset or just before sunrise from their backyards. Newscasters said if we possessed a short wave radio we could actually hear the sounds of the transmitter inside Sputnik as it hurtled through space. We didn’t own a short wave radio so we listened to recorded tapes played over and over on our portable radio. At the end of the first twenty-four hours Sputnik had already passed over the United States four times.

Stories about Sputnik filled the daily papers, written with an underlying sense of loss. Noted reporters wrote about a tremendous shift in world power that had taken place, literally overnight; advantage the Soviet Union. Many Americans interviewed on the street claimed to have reacted first with a mixture of fear for their future, then joy with the thought humankind had made great leaps forward in their own lifetime. In the days following the spectacular launch the Soviets extolled the great pride they had for their achievement and superior technology, enabling their nation to be first in space. The Russians argued rightfully they’d clearly demonstrated technological superiority over the West and in particular, the United States.

America’s perception of it’s position in the world before the launch was, we were the technological superpower and the Soviet Union merely a backward nation. In the days and hours after the Sputnik launch, many Americans resigned themselves to the depressing idea that our perceptions and beliefs were wrong. Beside the overwhelming awe at the Soviet achievement, a new fear crept slowly into American’s lives. If another war happened sooner rather then later, would Soviet missiles manage to turn our country into a vast nuclear wasteland?

CHAPTER TWO

Most of what I learned about Sputnik in the days following the launch came from my parents and from our teacher, Mr. Hardy. He gave us the latest news about Sputnik each morning, teaching us new words like propulsion and apogee and orbit.

The subject was on everyone’s mind and in the days following the launch it seemed as if everyone was keeping an eye pointed toward the night skies. My parents informed me Monday night was going to be a very special evening because I’d be allowed to stay up late in order to catch sight of Sputnik soaring over our heads. At first I thought it might be a bit scary, but secretly hoping it would be the most dazzling thing I’d ever seen. Sometime late Monday night near midnight the satellite would be on an orbit carrying it almost directly over our heads.

My closest childhood friends were neighborhood kids and whenever we were together, we referred to our little group as the A-Team because all our first names began with the letter A. There was me, Arnie, Arthur, and Allan. We went to the same school and got along fabulously well. The weekend Sputnik entered our lives we spent hours talking about how it worked, sharing information we’d heard from our parents and from radio and television reports. At times our discussions turned into arguments, a few terribly heated over certain facts. As marvelous as rocketry sounded though we were able to agreed on one thing. There was a very real possibility Sputnik might have a darker and more sinister side. Rumors were swirling that something very evil could come from the Russians.

Menacing comments and creepy scenarios portended grave consequences for America and even though most people were awed by the scientific achievement, many adults spoke about disastrous things Sputnik could create. I sensed my parents were beginning to grow a bit anxious as Monday night neared, whispering what a Russian satellite flying over America might do. For all the grandeur and majesty of the Soviet achievement there was a growing sense the Russian venture into space made us very vulnerable in our daily existence. I didn’t know it then but I believed years later, the launch of Sputnik was the day my friends and I began to lose our childhood innocence, sensing something bad could actually happen.

My best friend was Arthur Sullivan and his twin brother Arnie was a close second. The two brothers were identical in appearance, although once you got to know them there were great differences. Arthur learned things quickly, easily the smartest student in our class. It didn’t take me long to figure out there were a number of advantages to sitting near him. He was a fountain of knowledge, the teacher’s pet, and always prepared with the right answers. He was the quieter twin, actually a bit meek and mild until you got to know him. You’d definitely want to sit near him during a test but you really didn’t want him playing on your team during recess. He was always the last chosen because he was athletically untalented, with many referring to him as Pinocchio because his spindly arms and legs moved when he ran, as if he were being pulled by a puppeteer’s strings. Still, if you wanted to know something, he was the one to ask.

His brother Arnie was just a good guy, always upbeat and fun and also the most dependable. He was honest and if you were in trouble with your parents, you’d seek Arnie’s advice. He also had the uncanny ability to mediate disputes. Often our neighborhood games got a little too rough and heated and it was not unusual to have someone end up hurt or crying. He knew the right ways to calm bad situations, un-ruffling feathers with just the right words. Arnie insisted we were far too competitive and he was probably right. He also had a wondrous imagination and when the old games became to tame he thought up new and exciting ones. The only time I ever saw him angry was when I would jokingly tell him his brother was ugly.

A year earlier a boy our age moved into the neighborhood but none of us were able to get very close to him. We’d always ask if he wanted to join us but more often then not he declined. The problem was, Allan was always very sickly and one day he would be well and the next, he might be home in bed for days.

The last member to join our little street gang was a girl our age by the name of Eve Rostow, the only non A and the only female, moving into the home across from mine a few weeks before the start of the new school year. At first she kept very much to herself but in time she began to venture outside, especially when we were playing games in the street. She eventually joined us and in short order she actually became our unofficial ring leader.

Eve was a true mystery girl, always tight lipped about everything, particularly when it came to her parents and home life. I didn’t befriend many girls my age when I was young, feeling rather awkward and uncomfortable around the opposite sex. Eve was different.

Every time we’d ride our bikes or bring a ball out into the street to play she’d appear, as if all she ever did was stare out her bedroom window waiting for us. We all grew to like her and thought of her as one of the boys. Still, there was so much secretiveness about her I don’t think any of us really ever knew her. We joked her parents were hermits or maybe even vampires because no one ever saw them coming or going from their home, and Eve never talked about them

She was taller than any other girl I knew and it became obvious she could effortlessly outplay us or outdo us in any of our street games. Someone in school referred to her as a tom boy but I had no idea what that meant until I asked the wise Arthur.

Her eyes were her most remarkable feature and I couldn’t help staring at them. They were large and light and oval shaped, like a wolf. When I got to know her a little better I began to believe she could use those remarkable eyes to read my thoughts. After that, I was very careful not to think bad thoughts around her. Eve was not the prettiest girl I knew but she was the easiest to talk to. I was actually taken by a girl in school by the name of Lisa Lawson, but I dared not talk to her. As Eve grew more popular in our class everyone wanted her on their team because she was the fastest and strongest among us and for eleven year olds, physical prowess was far more important than looks or brains.

Saturday mornings were always a very special time because I’d sneak into my parents bedroom while they slept, adjusting the rabbit ears on their television to pick up broadcasts from New York City eighty miles away. It was also a day reserved for the A gang to explore. We’d imagine we were soldiers or spies always ready to ride off to find the bad guys. That autumn Arnie and I went into the worm business, putting signs up in some of the local stores announcing night crawlers for sale. We sold them for twenty-cents a dozen and were very successful.

We’d search at night for the biggest worms but never found enough to meet the great demand. Arthur the smart one invented an ingenious device, taking a tubular section of copper and bending the top to create a handle. He then attached a long electrical cord from an old lamp, winding it with heavy black tape. Arthur told us to stick the sharpened point of the copper tube into the ground and plug the cord into an outlet. Miraculously within minutes, large night crawlers wiggled to the surface to escape the electric shock. We’d pluck them out of their holes and put them in cardboard boxes, trying not to get an electric shock ourselves.

When Eve initially joined our group it took a long time to really feel comfortable around her but as September turned into October, we knew she was one of us.

As the days passed that fall we never learned anything about her parents. When one of us asked why they weren’t around or why we’d never seen them, she’d ignore the question. My parents once asked me to find out what her father did for a living or why they never left their home. I’d ask but I never got an answer.

Poor sickly Allan was a nice guy but his medical problems were getting worse. Besides asthma, he’d lost his hair and after that he seldom came out of his house. Sometimes he’d sit on the porch with a blanket wrapped around him, seemingly content to watch us play. When we’d ask him if he wanted to join us he’d shake his head no. Four years later I’d learned he’d died in a hospital in Boston, the first time I’d ever known someone to die so young.

Arnie, Arthur, Eve and I enjoyed the outdoor fall days of 1957 but as the days grew a bit colder and darker we saw less of each other. In junior high Arthur, Arnie and I went our separate ways, making new friends and engaging in new activities including homework, scouting, sports, and school clubs. By the time we were in high school we’d drifted even further apart and in later years, birthdays and Christmas’ came and went without cards. There were no regrets but as the years wore on, I thought back to those three remarkable months in the fall of 1957 because for that short time, we were as close as family.

I joyfully remembered running home from school each day and meeting the gang in the woods behind Eve’s house. We’d built ourselves a little wooden fort, a refuge far from the eyes and ears of our parents. Each day we enhanced some part of our little complex, our clubhouse away from home. It was so well hidden no one ever knew we were there and each afternoon we’d make the fort a bit larger or more formidable, and at times more comfortable.

It was a magical place where we experienced many firsts. We smoked our first cigarettes there, courtesy of the ones I stole from my parents. We told our innermost secrets and talked about the strange things adults did. I saw my first Playboy magazine in our fort, courtesy of Arnie who swore if we got dirt on it and his father found out, it would be the end of our being allowed to play together. When Eve walked over to see what magazine we were looking at I remembered we’d all turned as red as beets.

On the Friday Sputnik was launched we met in our usual place at the usual time. Seemingly everyone in town was talking only about one thing; the Russian space achievement, something so unbelievable it was hard to truly accept it actually happened. As usual the A Team believed we were experts and as always, Arthur seemed to know the most, sharing facts and figures and scientific words, including particulars about speed, altitude, and even the concept of weightlessness. Arnie on the other hand used curse words, describing the Russians as damn Commie bastards and tossing the F word around, another reason to turn red around Eve. Our hidden little world always insulated us from the adult world but that day we all felt a growing apprehension creeping into our lives. It was hard to put a finger on it at the time, but it felt as if something wicked had somehow slipped into our lives.

Our talks gradually took on suspicious tones, our little fort feeling a bit less safe. Outside the woods the world suddenly seemed like a more dangerous place.

Eve was curiously quiet that Friday afternoon, often changing the subject to stop us from talking about Sputnik. She’d always had the ability to steer us a certain way, as if we were subjects in her realm but the day was different because that afternoon, she’d hardly said a word. Watching her, I sensed she was troubled and I wondered if Sputnik was upsetting her, or was it something else? She was usually the final authority on everything but not that day.

On Sunday, two days after the launch we met in the afternoon in our fort in the woods. Monday weighed heavily on our minds because weather permitting we’d finally get the chance to see the tiny silver object everyone was talking about. We were rather quiet because there was little left to say about Sputnik or the Russians. There were long periods of silence until Arthur began to relate a long chilling tale.

The rocket that put Sputnik into space was just the first of many the Russians are probably building and launching. I wouldn’t be surprised if the Russians were building hundreds, perhaps thousands of missiles. As usual we knew if Arthur said it, it was the Gospel. He never failed to get my attention because he was an encyclopedia of knowledge and I don’t think he’d ever been wrong about anything.

One missile with a satellite launched from somewhere in Russia is quite remarkable but that could just be the beginning of something that ends badly for us. Launching hundreds or even thousands of those kinds of rockets one day, well, they could be over us in thirty minutes. Imagine if all those rockets were not carrying satellites but atomic bombs?

I can still remember the cold, dead feeling I got in my stomach and at the time I was probably as frightened as I’d even been. My first scary ghost story paled in comparison to that thought and since Arthur was always right, I suspected his words about Russian rockets were probably very true. He spoke with a great air of certainty, telling us in the near future and definitely in our life time, the Russians would have enough missiles to reach every city and town in America, even our own.

Arthur said trying to stop those missiles would be like trying to stop the rain from falling. I thought I might cry. For the first time in my life I felt the joyful and carefree spirit slipping away and in it’s place, a creeping apprehension, feeling vulnerable because of something I had no control over. When I looked at Arnie there was a blank look on his face, as if someone just told him about a death in the family. When I looked over at Eve, she seemed to be in another world, thinking about other things, her face showing no emotion.

After another long painful silence we talked about what we knew about atomic bombs. When the new school year started a month earlier we’d been instructed what to do if there was an atomic attack on our country. Although a lot of jokes were made when our teacher read the instructions about what to do when the air raid sirens went off, I knew it was not a joking matter. Godless Russians, invisible rays, glowing in the dark, a blinding flash; Arnie wouldn’t shut up, frightening me terribly. As if on cue when our teacher finished his instructions, a loud siren howled somewhere in the distance. I remembered thinking it was an honest to goodness atomic attack.

Mr. Hardy told us to crawl under our desks and hold our hands over our heads, ordering us to remain frozen until the siren stopped and the all clear given. The siren grew menacing louder, an upsetting noise suggesting something terrible was happening.

I thought about my parents and wondered if they were safe while we sat in our crouched positions. Mercifully the siren eventually wound down, sounding very much like a crying ghost. When all was so quiet we could hear the ticking of the wall clock. Mr. Hardy told us the exercise was over and we’d done well. Still I wondered, had something bad happened? I don’t believe I was ever the same after that.

Two weeks later we had an unannounced test and marched down into the dark and dank basement, a dimly lit place without windows we dreaded. We were told to crouch down by the cement walls, our hands again resting on our heads, warned not to joke or we’d be off to the principal’s office. Not a sound could be heard.

That day I’d learned we weren’t the only ones preparing for a possible doomsday because the entire city and state were involved in the same test. Everyone had been ordered to take shelter in store basements, town buildings or in the basements of their own homes. I wondered what people like my Uncle Ernie, living in a second floor apartment had to do. All life during the drill came to a complete standstill and I wondered, why did the Russians have to launch Sputnik?

After all the years, nearly forty years later I can still remember the terrible dream I had the night of our second drill. I dreamed I was staring out the front picture window in our home, peering toward the distant valley and beyond to the sky scrapers of our capital city. In an instant a column of smoke slowly rose from the city center, climbing up and up toward the heavens and I knew what was happening. It was an atomic bomb blast and I knew I had to run as far away as I possibly could. When I tried to run toward the rear door and the safety of our fort my feet would not move, as if they were mired in thick mud. The harder I tried to run, the more I felt glued to the floor. When I turned back to look out the window again I saw a wave of fire and smoke rushing toward me and then mercifully, I awoke. Arthur and I talked about that dream and the likely scenarios and the more he talked, the more helpless I felt, as if an atomic war was inevitable and just a matter of time.

I asked Arthur what would happen when Sputnik passed over our heads Monday night and with assurance he said, Sputnik was far too small to carry anything dangerous The short respite from terror was soon eclipsed when he added one day in the future, definitely in our lifetime, the Russians would have bigger rockets capable of carrying large nuclear weapons to every city and town in America in seconds.

The gloom and misery only ended when we heard our parents calling us to come home. I glanced once up at the heavens, wondering if something bad might happen even before I got to my front door. When we got up to leave the fort Arnie told us to wait a minute, saying he’d been kicking an idea around about a way to protect our special personal belongings no matter what the Russians did. When I heard his idea I thought it was genius.

Listen carefully because we haven’t got much time. Suppose one day the missiles do fly and we find ourselves under attack? We’re only fifteen miles from Hartford and everyone knows airplane engines are manufactured in the big plant there. The city would be a perfect target for the Russians and since we’re so close well, it would probably injure or kill a lot of the people who live here.

As if the conversation could not get any more upsetting, I began to obsess with the thought we might not survive the night. When I looked over at Eve for her take I was quite taken aback. There was a look on her face telling me she was very far away, probably thinking about things none of us knew about. She seemed to be in a trance and it upset me to see her like that.

So this is what I’m suggesting for us, Arnie continued. "When we go home tonight, why don’t we look about for some things that are really important to us? I’m thinking stuff like valuable stamps from my album, baseball cards from my shoebox collection, a couple of old letters from my grandparents, post cards and even some old family photos. Everyone ought to look around their home and gather up things that are important to you, and this is what we’ll do.

My dad gave Arthur and me his old World War Two ammunition chest and we keep special things inside. I put one of my father’s World War Two medals in that chest and my autographed picture of Ted Williams. Why don’t we each gather some of our important things and put them into envelopes with our names on them. We’ll put those envelopes inside the metal chest where they’ll always be safe and sound until the day we decide to retrieve our things. I swear, nothing, not even an atomic bomb could damage that heavy metal chest.

I wasn’t certain what to think at first but something bothered me so I spoke up. If the big one did hit Arnie, your metal case won’t protect anything.

He gave me a look saying I was not getting the big picture.

Adam, you know that empty lot next to your home? I nodded. The one we play in sometimes? Again I nodded. "Start collecting a few of your important photos and belongings and tomorrow night just as it gets dark, put those things into an envelope with your name and grab that shovel from your garage. We’ll all meet up in the large open field next to your house, each of us with an envelope of things we’ve taken from our homes.

We’ll all be staying up late anyhow because of Sputnik so the timing is perfect. We’ll dig a nice deep hole in the field and then we’ll bury the chest so if something bad happens, those things will always be safe. We’ll mark where it’s buried and each of us can rest assured the case will protect our most valuable treasures. Listen guys, I’m certain the chest could survive anything so don’t let this idea on to anyone else, especially your parents. Let’s keep this between us and if nothing bad ever really happens, we can all come back to that spot in ten years or twenty and laugh about what we did. Think of it as a kind of buried time chamber like the one buried under the front lawn of our town hall.

When Arnie was through explaining his plan I began to think it sounded wonderful and was already beginning to feel somewhat less nervous. We’d be allowed to stay up late even though it was a school night so we’d have plenty of time to carry out the plan. Sputnik would pass over our heads hours later and our secret would be safe forever, or until we came back for our things. The unthinkable might happen one day but a part of our lives would be spared and that thought soothed me.

Walking home I wondered if I could find my Baptism papers and birth certificate but the more I thought about them, the more I realized if they went missing I’d be in big trouble. I’d have to be very careful about what I chose, things my parents would never miss. We’d all agreed to Arnie’s plan but I started to think about Eve because she hadn’t said a word. Arthur asked if she was alright but I don’t think she heard that question or anything else. When we got up to go she put a weak smile on her face and nodded, but that was all.

When I walked into my home I felt much calmer and a bit less fearful, knowing we had something rather exciting and ingenious to look forward to. Beyond looking for just the right treasures for our time capsule, there was still the glorious thought what Sputnik night look like when it passed through the heavens near midnight.

CHAPTER THREE

When the sun began to set I left home with my envelope and walked into the wooded field. Arnie and Arthur were already there but there was no sign of Eve, so we waited. We’d asked Allan to join us but his parents told us he was not up to going out. Nobody had seen him for days and sadly, I would never see him again.

The metal chest was so heavy the Sullivan boys pushed and dragged it down the street and into the field. While we waited for Eve we searched for the perfect burial place, looking in the areas where the brush and scrub were the thickest, suspecting we were about to experience the ultimate secret mission of our lives. We joked in our own small way we were thumbing our noses at the terrible Russians.

When the sky grew even darker and the first stars appeared there was still no sign of Eve and I began to doubt she would show. Arnie was fidgety, opening and closing the latch on the chest while Arthur and I argued that one of us ought to go to her home and see why she hadn’t appeared. We’d give Eve five more minutes I whispered, and if she was still a no show we’d simply go ahead with our plan without her.

We each grabbed a hold of the trunk and with a mighty effort dragged it to what we figured was the exact center of the field. I’d just about given up on Eve when she suddenly appeared, not a word about why she was so late. She held a very thick envelope in her hands, much larger then ours, suggesting she’d probably needed extra time to gather just the right things.

I struck my shovel into the soft earth marking the spot and we began to dig. Eve stood some distance away, seemingly oblivious to our work while staring off into the dark woods. I glanced at her between shovels, wondering why she was so detached at such a wondrous time. I didn’t like asking her personal questions but I thought I might if she didn’t snap out of it.

When we suspected the hole was deep enough it was time to drop our envelopes into the chest. Arnie pried the lid open and each of us handed him our envelopes to place inside. When we’d finished the only thing left was for Eve to come forward with her envelope, yet when she didn’t move I realized something was terribly