Page 14 of The Curse Breaker

“Stop whining, Kimble.” Zara spoke up as she slung an arm around Gil. “Now that we have Gil here to help us, maybe the search will go faster. I’ll take him back to my grandma’s house with me. My dad’s clothes should fit him for now. My parents are in the Caribbean researching pirates,” she explained to Gil.

“Greenport has pirates again?” Gil asked.

Kimble laughed out loud then. “Kid, all you need to know is this: there’s a lot of good you’ll find in the modern world—vaccines, for one. But avoid fast food. It will kill you. Taco Bell is a beast.”

“What’s a tacobell?” Gil was worried. It was as if they were speaking a foreign tongue.

“Save the world lessons for me, Kimble,” Zara said, tugging Gil’s arm and pulling him toward the door. “Benny, I’ll bring Gil to you after we change.”

“Wait, how do we explain who he is?” Benny asked.

Zara thought for a minute. “We can say he’s a friend from camp stranded in the storm.”

“Keep your story simple. We don’t need people asking questions. Like your parents, who I’m sure are as irritating as you kids are,” Kimble told Benny.

“It’s just my mom and me,” Benny replied tartly. “And if we’re discussing who is irritating…” She sighed. “Look. We are all stressed and tired. Let’s do this: we’ll meet back here at four p.m. so we can give each other an update.”

He huffed. “Fine. Sixteen hundred hours.”

“Deal.” Benny and Zara led Gil to the door.

Gil took a deep breath and stepped outside.

Outside the air was warm and sticky, the clouds heavy and the ground wet from the storm. Looking down the street, Gil saw tree branches and leaves littering the way. A large oak tree had snapped in half and come down across the road. Near it stood a pole with a flashing yellow…lantern of some kind. How?

For a moment, he couldn’t tell what he was looking at. Was this…town? In 1825, there had only been a few structures, but now the street and the buildings seemed to go on forever. Turning left, he found the waterfront and tried to orient himself from there. Where would his aunt and uncle’s mercantile be? Across from the water, near the docks. Was this the same dock he used to walk on? It was in the same location. Instead this establishment, Hooked, was next to something called Preston’s. Nothing looked or felt the same.

His unease returned. Did Sparrow really know how to find the remaining treasure? Why had she written Benny letters but none to him? Gil felt like he was adrift, floating at sea. He looked to the waterfront again to anchor himself.

A vessel came flying by them that looked like a low-slung wagon without horses. Gil jumped back, alarmed. People were inside it. He turned incredulously to Zara.

“Cars,” she explained. “Another great invention.”

“If it’s alright with you, I shall walk,” Gil said, and both girls laughed.

“Fair,” Zara agreed. “As my dad likes to say, Tackle one thing at a time. Speaking of which, after I give Gil a makeover and I grovel for forgiveness to Grams for disappearing, I should leave my parents a message. Maybe they know something about our cranky new friend Kimble that can help us. They might even know something about this treasure.”

“Tesouro Eterno,” Benny told her. “That’s what Kimble said it’s actually called.”

“Tesouro Eterno,” Zara repeated. “Fancy.”

“Tricky,” Gil told her. “That’s what that treasure is. The moment we gave our coins to Aggy for safekeeping, I never saw the treasure again. Aggy said Sparrow and Kimble were the only two who could find the treasure chest.”

Benny seemed to mull this news over. “There has to be a reason, though we haven’t found one yet. I’m just glad we have Kimble on our side. He wants to find the missing treasure more than anyone so he can break this curse of immortality.”

“I want that too. I think we all do, now that we know what happened.” Gil said, looking around at a world he no longer knew.

The sound of whistling made them look up.

A figure was shuffling down the street carrying a metal box that clanged against his side with each step. Out of the fog, Gil saw an older man emerge.

Benny recognized him. “Earl?”

“Morning!” Earl said cheerily. “I’m off to work.” He pointed to a white button that said GREENPORT HISTORICAL SOCIETY. On his white shirt, which had short sleeves, were words: SAVE THE LIGHTHOUSE. Strange dress for a man.

“Ugh, Earl, I don’t think Grams is going to let anyone go to the lighthouse today,” Zara said, eying Benny worriedly. “After last night’s storm, I don’t think any boats are going out. Didn’t you see the news?”

“I don’t need a boat,” Earl said testily. “I can walk to the lighthouse. There’s a sandbar now that the island is back.”