Relic (21 page)

“Then…what?” Sok asked. His eyes widened. “The head was destroyed…wasn't it? Didn't Overton say that? My grandfather is still at the museum hoping they'll at least get the fragments.”

I felt a smile spread across my face and glanced at Lisa and Colin, both of whom had grins at least as wide as I imagined mine was.

Sok blinked and the old man beside him asked a question in a language that must've been Khmer because it sounded nothing like French.

“I'd like to show you something cool,” Colin said. He led the way to the edge of a small creek that cut through the park, to a section near a huge oak tree. Then he nodded into the water, at a pile of large stones.

“I hope this wasn't disrespectful, but I was sure the cops were going to search our place. I had to stash it somewhere.”

Sok stepped up and glanced into the water. I stepped up beside him and looked as well. At first I didn't see it. Then a fish swam by and paused right beside the submerged Buddha head, as if it were pointing it out.

Sok gasped. The old monk stepped up beside him and Sok said something in Khmer. The monk closed his eyes and said something and a tear rolled down his cheek.

He turned to Colin and said in English, “Thank you.”

“I can't believe you guys did that,” Sok said. “I mean, I just can't believe it.”

Archer put his hand on the monk's shoulder and said, “I have some connections. It's going to take a few days, but I can get the relic back to Cambodia. It'll be safer if I do it. The police are going to be watching you guys.”

Sok translated and the monk nodded and then said, “Thank you,” again.

“I just can't believe you guys helped me with this,” Sok said, shaking his head. “I don't know how to thank you for this.”

“All in a day's work,” Colin said, smirking.

Sok smiled. “If you're ever in London,” he said, handing me a card with his email address, “I'd be happy to show you around.”

When Sok and the older monk left, Archer turned to the three of us. “Very impressed, guys. Very impressed. I can't wait for you all to meet the members of our district.”

Colin held out his fist and Archer smiled and bumped it with his.

“You did good, Colin,” he said. “Very nice touch putting it in the creek. Very fitting.”

“I'm nothing if not a showman,” Colin said. He turned and glanced at me and Lisa. “Tell me this hasn't been the best summer we've ever had.”

“In hindsight,” Lisa said, “it's been pretty amazing.”

“I'd agree with that,” I said.

Archer gave us another nod and then unzipped his backpack, stepped into the creek and plucked the relic out and placed it into his bag. He zipped it closed and swung it onto his shoulder in a single movement. Then he turned and walked away casually, as if had a sandwich in his bag and not a priceless—stolen—artifact.

“That guy is so cool,” Colin said as he watched him leave.

 

***

 

On Friday morning, I told my dad I wanted to go to therapy again. His eyes widened and he smiled. “I'm proud of you, son. I think you've come a really long way these last few weeks.” We picked up Colin on the way. I had already explained Lisa's situation to him, so we stopped at her house, and the two of us knocked on the door.

“Hurry up, Lisa,” Colin said, when she answered the door. “We have crazy-time with Dr. Mickelsen. Chop chop.”

“You guys are going too?” Lisa asked.

“Of course we are,” I said. “We gave it a lot of thought, actually, and if
you
need a bit more therapy, you can be sure that we need more too.”

She hugged us both at the same time and looked like she was about to cry before she called back into her house that she had a ride.

My dad nattered on and on while we drove about how good it is for kids to get their feelings out, but then he slammed on his brakes when a man wearing torn clothes and sporting shaggy hair rode out into the street. I recognized him right away as the homeless man from the park. I gaped as he shook his fist at my dad and shouted incoherent curses at him for his careless driving. When he moved along, my dad blinked.

“Dean,” he said carefully, “was that man riding your bike?”

 

 

The End

 

Steven Whibley has lived in British Columbia, Alberta, and Japan; volunteered in Thailand, Myanmar, and Columbia; explored the ruins of Tikal, Angkor Wat, and Cappadocia; and swum with sharks in Belize. The only thing he loves more than traveling the globe and exploring new cultures is writing books (and spending time with his wife and two year old son, Isaiah, of course). Whibley is the seventh of nine children, and uncle to 30 nieces and nephews (and counting).

 

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