Puzzle Box

Sicily | 1943

Rosalie swiped the box from The Monsignor’s fragile hands, then bolted towards Garret who was waiting for her just beyond the door of the sacristy. Two bullets nestled their way into the polychrome marble above her head, and the last thing she remembered before Garret slammed the door shut was the Monsignor - smiling back at her as pieces of the sacristy’s irreplaceable ceiling began crumbling around him.

Bullets continued to pound into the marble columns and inlays around her. A few feet away, using one of those columns as cover, Aida was returning fire. Just beyond Aida, positioned behind the next column, was Amastan - firing his machine gun. Rosalie tried to see who they were shooting at, but she saw no human movement, only flashes of fired rounds.

“Move!” Garret screamed, as he yanked Rosalie to cover behind the thick, stone altar. He waited a moment, as more bullets hammered into the opposite side. As soon as they ceased, he popped up, keeping his knees bent and the bulk of his body safely behind the slab of stone, and returned fire.

As he pulled the trigger over and over, he tried to get eyes on the shooters, or at best identify the location of the muzzle shots. He saw no movement, but he was able to pinpoint two separate muzzle flash positions. There were at least two shooters.

His magazine clicked, and he was forced to duck back down behind the altar. He freed the empty clip from the pistol’s grip, then inserted his only other loaded magazine. Aida had only equipped him with two magazines when they fled Canicatti. He was now down to one.

“Where’s my mother?” Rosalie asked, while shielding her face with her hands from the splintering pieces of marble and stone.

Before Garret had the chance to answer, he became fixated on a grenade that was sailing in the air directly towards the altar. He threw himself onto Rosalie, and prayed that the altar was solid throughout.

Rosalie had no time to protest the tackle, because her entire world erupted into a fiery frenzy of chaos.

The M24 stick grenade nearly obliterated the entire altar. Garret and Rosalie were blanketed with rubble, but fortunately sustained minor injuries due to the density of the large, holy slab of rock. Aida and Amastan were not so lucky.

While Garret struggled to dig himself free of the rubble, another grenade shot through the air, and exploded between the two columns Aida and Amastan were positioned behind.

The second explosion struck the church at its core, negatively affecting the foundational structure. Columns cracked apart, and crumbled to the burning floor below, while precious Lapis Lazulis, rubies, and diamonds melted into putty by the raging flames. Cherub statues, and angelic relics broke free from their perches, shattered into thousands of small shards. The largest marble inlay splintered down the center, causing a tremendous crevasse to slither all the way up the east-side wall to the center of the ceiling. The chunks of the ceiling closest to the deep crack began raining down first, followed by the rest as the flesh eating disease consumed the entire church.

Finally free, Garret checked Rosalie for any serious injuries. Save for a few cuts on her forearms, and right cheek, she was good to go. Garret’s ankle and knew were throbbing, and he was pretty sure he had a piece of shrapnel protruding from his hip, but he needed to get them the hell out of the church before it imploded, concealing them inside forever.

“Where’s my mother?” Rosalie asked again, “Is she okay?”

Staying low, Garret peeked around what remained of the altar towards where he last saw Aida and Amastan, yet saw nothing but fire, smoke, and a mountain of rubble.

“Where is she?” Rosalie demanded, angry with Garret for not answering her question.

Luckily for him, another wave of bullets allowed him the opportunity to avoid telling Rosalie the truth.

“We can’t stay here! The entire church is coming down,” he said, trying to motivate Rosalie.

He looked around in a calculated panic, and spotted one of the chapel doors blending in with the shadows beyond the apse. He rose to his feet, and fired four shots in the general direction of their attackers. After the fourth round left the chamber, he once again grabbed Rosalie by the bicep and hauled her towards the chapel.

Finding it locked, and not wanting to waste a bullet, he kicked his boot as hard as he could against the wood, just the handle - shattering the inner workings of the lock. It flowed into a small room with a downward spiraling staircase in the far corner - which Garret urged Rosalie to descend.

“You first, Rosalie. It’s our only way out.”

“I’m not going anywhere without my mother.”

“Rosalie, please. We can’t go back. You have to trust me.”

She pushed Garret’s arms away from her and began to retreat back into the church.

Garret’s firm hand lathed onto Rosalie’s wrist, stopping her cold in her tracks before venturing too far. Another barrage of bullets found them and peppered into the marble floor and wall around her. She stumbled back into Garret’s arms, shielding her face with her arms. He wrapped his arms around her waist, lifted her off her feet and barreled into the chapel.

Tripping over their tangled feet, Rosalie tumbled across the carpeted floor, and Garret used the soles of his boots to hold the door shut, while keeping his pistol aimed forward.

“Go, Rosalie! Get down the stairs now!”

“What about you?” She said, in a complete panic.

“I’ll be right behind you!”

“I…I can’t,” she said, convulsing in a hunched over position as bullets ripped through the old wood of the chapel’s door.

“Rosalie, look at me! You can do this. I believe in you. Now, please, go!”

Garret fired three shots through the door to deter any approaching shooters to take momentary cover while Rosalie made her escape.

Gripping the cold steel railing, Rosalie descended the staircase while tears spilled down her cheeks. Gunshots continued to echo from the chapel above, but the deeper she descended, the fainter they became, making it impossible to differentiate who was shooting.

She begged God to spare his life, but her gut was a hard believer in probability, and her brain was an expert fabricator of worst case scenarios.

At the bottom of the staircase, a short corridor stretched out in front of her. At the opposite end, there was another door. She twisted the archaic, iron handle, then once again pushed herself out into the morning sunlight.

Enclosed in a small, high-walled courtyard decorated with palms, she collapsed beneath one of the trees, and used the shade as a comforting blanket to cry on.

As she wept, and convulsed, the oddly shaped box The Monsignor had given to her just before the sacristy collapsed atop of him, jostled free from her pocket.

Picking it up from the tear stained stone between her ankles, she examined the smooth, wooden relic with extreme care.

The wood finish was a rich burgundy with sharp streaks of black and gray running throughout it.

She turned it over in her hands, running her fingers along the angled edges. The grooves were deep, and precise, showcasing the intricate craftsmanship of being hand-carved. The entire object was seven inches long, four inches wide and three inches tall, but there was an odd indention in the face of the box. Carved into the wood, the depression was about a half-inch deep, and was awkwardly shaped to fit something very specific.

The more she studied the carved out empty-space, the more familiar it became in her mind’s eye. Then it hit her. It was nearly instantaneous, and it made no sense, but she knew it to be true. She placed the puzzle box down between her feet, and pulled her long, dangling necklace out from behind her shirt. Fingering the Lapis Lazuli stone between her fingers, the sunlight illuminated the familiar, yet very specific shape.

Removing the necklace from her neck - keeping the stone clutched tight between her right index finger - she lifted the puzzle box with her free hand, and gently inserted the stone into the depression.

A perfect fit.

Heavy footfalls from beyond the church door she just escaped through set the drums of her heart ablaze. She was unarmed, and had no way of protecting herself. She wasn’t ready to die, but she accepted it as her fate. She had lost everyone she had ever cared about, and she had failed at completing the mission her parents had entrusted her with.

Prepared to die, she knew she couldn’t not allow her hunters to get their hands on the puzzle box. She had no idea what was inside, but she knew it was of grave importance. Quickly searching her surroundings, she found a decent sized rock that had formidable weight to it. She placed the box down on the ground, with the stone still inserted, then lifted the heavy rock high over her head. The only way she could protect the secret of Mount Etna from falling into the hands of the fascist communists, was to destroy it.

The door suddenly creaked open, and a single figure emerged from the darkness.

“Rosalie?” A familiar voice said, with great relief.

“Garret? I thought you got..I thought you were…,” Rosalie said, stuttering to get the words out.

“I’m alive,” he said, smiling and covered in black sweat from the debris.

“Did you see my mother…is she dead?”

“Not yet,” Aida said as she popped out from behind Garret, who slowly side-stepped to help enhance the dramatic moment.

“Mom!” Rosalie exclaimed.

Aida bolted forward, and dropped to her knees beside her daughter, vigorously checking her for any injuries.

“Are you okay? Are you hurt?”

“I’m alright. Garrett…he saved me. He stayed behind to allow me the chance to escape.”

“I know. He also saved me. He shot the two gunmen just before they were about to flank my position. I owe him my life.

Rosalie peered at the young man, who was wiping his soot-covered face with the sleeves of his shirt. His dark brown eyes glistened behind the layers of dark sweat, filling her soul with warmth.

“Thank you,” she said, softly.

Too nervous to vocalize the appropriate response, he simply smiled back, and continued to clean his face - an act that made Rosalie giggle.

“What’s this?” Aida asked, as she picked up the puzzle box with Rosalie’s precious blue stone inserted into the face of it.

“The Monsignor gave it to me right before he…”

“It’s alright my child. His death is not your fault, nor responsibility. His sacrifice was given so he could pass this onto you.”

“What does it do?” Garret asked.

Rosalie remained quiet, then took the puzzle box from her mother's hands. She examined it one more time, then realized that the stone wasn’t fully inserted into the depression. It was slightly raised.

Delicately, she used both of her thumbs to press the stone down. A faint click perked all of their ears, and the three of them watched as the wooden box cleanly split open down the center.