It's in the Code

Blood trickled down his face, sweat dripping off his hair and eyelashes, a deep purple bruise had already begun swelling under his left eye. He kept his head down, panting. He’d been here for what felt like forever. There were no windows in the room. The walls were metallic and he could hear distant groans of the facility. It looked bunker like in nature.

He’d been blindfolded when he was first brought in. Now, he could see but his arms were tied behind the back of his chair, the burn of the cheap rope they had used on him.

“We know more about you than I’m sure you’re comfortable with… Dr.” At this, he looked up and peered in between the wads of matted hair.

That voice had a thick accent. Russian?

His captor was a stout man, hair cropped short, cataracts developing in his left eye. His camo gear made him look military, but the insignias had been replaced with symbols

Mercenaries then.

“Unfortunately, you’re a victim of circumstance. Finding you in the graveyard was a welcomed accident.” The man reached into his back pocket and pulled out a wallet. He opened it and peered inside.

“Dr Christopher Fincher… Hmm… What do you do for a living, Dr?” The tone was almost sarcastic as if he didn’t care about the answer. The guards behind him sniggered. Christopher mumbled something.

“We couldn’t hear you, Dr Speak up now.” He moves over to Christopher, grabs a mass of his hair and violently yanks his head so he is facing the room.

“I’m an archaeologist,” he managed to get out. His voice was strained from the exertion of the beatings. “I work for the British Museum. I research war relics.”

The military man let go of Christopher’s head.

“Tell me where it is. At the cemetery, you knew what you were looking for.” Christopher’s pupils dilated, his eyes widened with a dead expression almost like the words triggered something hiding within him. He felt a tug in his mind, almost like something was beckoning. It was getting stronger. A small whisper escaped his lips. The commander stopped.

“Oscar Wun Wun Six Wun.” The commander looked at him, perplexed by the seemingly random words. He raised his hand and slapped Christopher across the face.

“Now is not the time to lose your mind Dr We haven’t even begun.” There was a zapping sound coming from behind the commander and as he turned a soldier appeared with a rod, the end buzzing with electricity. “Things are about to get a lot worse for you.” The soldier approached.

The bunker door suddenly opened. The commander turned around, snarling. “What!”

A younger soldier stood in the doorway, panting, face pale from disturbing the scene.

“Sorry Commander. But we… found something.” The commander’s expression shifted. He almost seemed pleased. “We found it in the gravesite that he was digging in,” he pointed at Christopher who still hadn’t stopped his verbal trance. The tug was now relentless, the force of it taking over.

“Bring it to me.” The young soldier stepped forward carrying a small bundle. It was wrapped in a coarse material, dirt and dust settled into the fibres. Christopher could hear the sound of the footsteps, the heel of his boot, gently thumping on the concrete floor but it almost sounded far away.

Slowly his consciousness slipped like water in his palms.

The commander stopped in front of the bundle which was held out to him. Slowly he unwrapped it. It crunched under his fingertips from age.

It was a metal tin with the Soviet symbol emblazoned in red on it. The commander sighed and caressed the red icon. His eyes were transfixed it.

“My superiors have been searching for this for a very long time.”

The commander opened it. It was a black notebook. There were no inscriptions on it, no indication of what it may be. Just a plain, black, leather notebook.

“Oscar Wun Wun Six Wun.” Christopher’s chant continued behind them all, the energy in the room building. The commander lifted the book and opened it.

Gibberish. An arbitrary selection of words and numbers, random ones written in red ink, the others in black. He flipped through the pages, all of them sporting the same odd combination of letters and numbers. He turns on Christopher and marches over to him.

“Oscar Wun Wun Six Wun.”

“What we’re after is worth enough to obtain countries, enough to capture the loyalty of any man. It was hidden away after The Great War. Now, my establishment wants to unearth it again.”

The commander brings his face close to Christopher’s. He could smell the tobacco on his breath as he spoke, but barely. Everything still felt so far away, like a dream.

“Oscar Wun Wun Six Wun.”

“Taze him.” The soldier lights up the rod once more and marches over to Christopher, shoving the rod into his arm. He lets out a yelp. “Oscar Wun Wun Six Wun!” Again, the soldier tasers him, this time Christopher screams out.

“Oscar Wun Wun Six Wun.”

“Taze him.” The soldier lights up the rod once more and marches over to Christopher, shoving the rod into his arm. He lets out a yelp. “Oscar Wun Wun Six Wun!” Again, the soldier tasers him, this time Christopher screams out.

“OSCAR WUN WUN SIX!” A concoction of blood and sweat cruised down his face. The commander lifted his hand to swipe at him again when the soldier holding the tin behind him cleared his throat. It was enough to make the room go still.

“What is it,” said the commander through gritted teeth.

“I believe it’s a code… sir.” The young man was shaking, it was evident in his voice. His youthful eyes were wide with anxiety. The commander slowly turned towards the soldier and stared at him. He snatched the book away and scanned the pages.

“Dimitri, have a look at this.” The soldier with the taser walks over to the commander, sheathing his rod. His eyes roam over the text then looks up at the commander.

“It could be coordinates. The writing in red.” He turns to the youthful soldier. “Get me a map.” The commander nods, giving permission. The young soldier immediately leaves.

There is a thick silence in the room. Only the whispers of Christopher can be heard. Moments later, the soldier returns, carrying with him a map. It’s been weathered with age. He smooths it out on the floor and all four men squat over it.

“There,” Dimitri points to a section on the Belarus border to Poland. “It wouldn’t be a surprise if there was something. That forest has many stories.” The commander nods.

“Get us out there. Bring him with us,” he points to the crazed Christopher who is slouched in his chair, his breath ragged.

* * *

The forest was cold. Sheets of ice lay on the dirt road. The pine trees sat ominously along the road, shadows dancing like evil spirits.

Dimitri was driving one of the jeeps as the commander sat, silently in the passenger seat. Christopher was slumped in the back, the book tossed onto his lap. The GPS was beeping at them and Dimitri immediately stopped.

“Sir, we will need to walk the rest of the way.” The commander nodded. As they stopped, men also dressed in camo followed them, guns strapped to their backs.

A marsh full of dead reeds laid before them. Their boots squelched in the icy mud. Birds, disturbed by their presence, took flight. It wasn’t long before they reached their destination.

A boarded-up bunker sat forgotten in the marsh, trees growing out of the roof. The commander turned to the other men with guns.

“Dig.” They did not question their order.

Hours passed. The commander and Dimitri stood above a great hole as the other men laboured through the mud and compact earth. Snow began falling as the sun was close to setting.

Finally, shovel hit something other than soil.

“We found something!” one called. Eagerly, the pair peered over the edge of the hole into the depths as the two men cleared whatever leftover earth remained to reveal a massive wooden crate.

“Open it,” the commander instructed. Loud cracks echoed through the space around them as the tips of the shovels splintered the wood. After an age, the top of the crate came loose. They pulled the remaining wood away and the commander glared at the contents.

It was not at all what he was looking for.

The commander turned on Christopher as Dimitri threw him into the mud.

“This is no coincidence. Finding you at the cemetery. The book,” the commander looked up at the bunker and noticed what he had missed upon his arrival.

A sign. Object 1161 etched onto the entryway of the boarded-up bunker.

“Oscar Wun Wun Six Wun,” he whispered to himself. His expression turned from perplexed to enraged in a matter of seconds.

“Adrian!” He turned to the men in the hole who were slowly making their way back to the top. One of them over two small packages. The commander caught them and stomped towards Christopher, who was laying on the ground.

“Ah, so now you’ve stopped muttering! Good. You can give me answers.” He squats down, slamming a package in each hand to either side of Christopher’s head. His ears rang with the force of the blow as a crazed commander started screaming.

“What have you done with it?! What is this garbage!?” When Christopher didn’t answer, he slowly stands and nods at Dimitri. Dimitri responds in kind and turns, picking up one of the guns that the diggers had left near the bunker.

“Please. Please don’t do this. I swear, I was told it was just a legend. The treasure wasn’t supposed to exist! Please!” Christopher was begging, knowing his life was coming to an end.

“Treasure?! This isn’t treasure! This is power! This was supposed to be something worth more than any treasure! Instead, we get this,” he wags one of the packages in front of Christopher’s face. It was a wad of US dollars, but the print was old.

“The US must have found it just after the War,” said Dimitri, his disappointment evident even in his monotone voice. “Yes, and replaced it with this garbage!” finished the commander, throwing the wad into the mud. “How much do they say it is?” he asked Dimitri.

“$20,000,” he replied bluntly.

“I want this over,” he nods to Dimitri again moving over to Christopher and picks him up by the shoulder. He starts begging for them to let him go.

They stand him on the edge of the hole. Christopher puts his hands up in front of his face as the two other soldiers raise their weapons and open clear fire. Bullets rain on him, blood splattering over the winter frost.

The sounds rebound off the forest around them. His body falls back into the hole and lands misshapen on top of the mound of money below him. The green carpet of currency now speckled with red.

Instantly, the two men drop their guns and begin burying the evidence.

The money that the commander had dropped lay in the mud, flickering through the bound pages as the wind brushed against them, the secret remaining.