Scavenger Read Free Page B

Virginia, six graduating students helped prepare a time capsule and buried it somewhere on campus. That was in 1965. The school has now been torn down, and those six former students have a total memory gap about what they put in the capsule and where they buried it. It’s as if the event never happened to them. These communities are now engaged in what amounts to a hide-and-hunt scavenger game.”
    Balenger tensed as two more people left the room. What’s going on? he wondered.
    “Of the thousands of time capsules that have been misplaced,” Professor Murdock said, “five are considered the most wanted. The first is the Bicentennial Wagon Train Capsule.”
    The professor’s voice seemed to lessen in volume. Balenger leaned forward to listen.
    “On Independence Day, 1976 . . . ”
    The shadows seemed to thicken.
    “. . . a capsule containing twenty-two million signatures was driven to Valley Forge, Pennsylvania, in a caravan of vehicles known as the ‘bicentennial wagon train.’ President Gerald Ford was to officiate in a ceremony commemorating the U.S. War of Independence.”
    The professor’s voice became fainter.
    “But before the ceremony occurred, someone stole the capsule from an unattended van.”
    Balenger’s eyelids felt heavy.
    “The second most-wanted time capsule is at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology. In 1939, MIT engineers sealed various objects in a container and deposited it under a huge cyclotron they were building. The cyclotron was . . . ”
    9
    Clang.
    Balenger drifted toward consciousness. The harsh, persistent tolling seemed to come from a fractured bell.
    Clang.
    It matched the agonized throbbing in his head.
    Clang.
    He managed to open his eyes, but darkness surrounded him. A chill breeze made him shiver. He heard waves crash. The breeze carried a hint of burnt wood and ashes.
    A light suddenly blazed. Groaning, he raised a hand to shield his eyes. His forearm ached.
    “Buddy, you’re not supposed to be here,” a gruff voice said. “On your feet.”
    All Balenger could do was groan.
    “You heard me. Get moving.”
    “Where ...” Balenger’s throat felt raw. He could barely get the word out.
    “I won’t tell you again. Move!”
    “Where am I?” Balenger squinted toward the glare. He suddenly realized that he lay on sand.
    “For God’s sake, you screwed yourself up so bad, you don’t even know where the hell you are?” a second gruff voice demanded. “Asbury Park, buddy. The same place you passed out.”
    Clang.
    Balenger struggled to stand. The stark flashlight beam illuminated the jumbled wreckage of a building. The smell of burnt wood was stronger. “Asbury Park?”
    Clang.
    Balanger’s mind cleared enough for him to recognize the sound from his nightmares: a flap of sheet metal banging against the side of an abandoned building. A cold shock of fear seized him.
    Clang.
    “The city’s working to rebuild the area. Guys like you aren’t welcome here.”
    “No,” Balenger said. “Is that . . .” Frantic, he pointed toward the chaotic stretch of debris. “Don’t tell me that’s ... ”
    Clang.
    “The Paragon Hotel,” the voice explained. “What’s left of it. When all those killings happened and it burned down, we said, ‘Enough!’ We’re gonna bring this beach back to life. So scram before we put you in jail!”
    Emotion made Balenger shake. The Paragon Hotel? he thought in a panic. How did I get here?
    “Hold it a second. Eddie, this guy looks familiar. Hey, aren’t you—”
    “Balenger,” the other man said. “Frank Balenger. Yeah, that’s who he is. Jesus, man, what’re you doing back here? I’d expect this was the last place you’d ever want to see again.”
    “Amanda,” Balenger whispered.
    “I can barely hear you.”
    “Amanda.” Balenger’s voice was hoarse.
    “Who’s Amanda? Somebody’s with you?”
    “Wait, Eddie. I think I . . . Amanda . . . Last fall when the hotel burned down. What was her last name? Evert. Amanda