Chasing the Sky

Chapter 5- Theresa

The sun became tired and sank lower in the sky, casting shadows behind the camps, the wind sending kisses to the homeless. They thanked the wind, for it had been a hot day, their heads dripping with sweat. Humphrey had borrowed some extra sheets and clothesline from a neighboring widow. She had deep creases between her eyebrows and under her eyes, yet Humphrey could tell that she couldn't have been more than thirty. She had a newborn daughter that stayed within the safety of their sheets.

"Theresa," she had said briskly in a soft, raspy voice, "Just call me Theresa."

The mysterious woman immediately turned away, as if to hide her face, and returned to her home.

Emily had wandered off to explore the streets, so Humphrey stayed to build the 'fort' as he called it. He was actually quite good at it, as he often times built forts with Mrs. Carter's clothesline and old sheets, as well as forts made out of sticks and ropes in the wilderness. By the time the shadows had swallowed up the street, Emily had returned and was amazed by what Humphrey had accomplished.

The fort stood taller than the others, and was surrounded by four walls rather than the teepee method. She parted the slit in the entryway, and was met by Humphrey sitting smugly atop of a pallet of newspapers that covered the entire floor, except for a gap in the center. In the gap was their inventory of food and items.

"Luxury, huh?" Humphrey asked.
Emily nodded and smiled back at him.
The murmur of 'Hooverville', as people were calling it, eventually died down into whispers that cried out into the torn night skies. Humphrey distracted himself from sleeping by staring straight up into the stars. He wondered how much longer they would have to follow the path that the stars guided them on until they reached their destinations.

His eyelids becoming hard to resist, he became desperate for a reason to stay awake. Humphrey crawled on his hands and knees, feeling for the opening of their fort, and emerging into the crisp night air. Night monsters screeched into the endless void, echoing back, ringing in Humphrey's ears. He was not afraid. The night cleared his mind of everything. He just focused on inhaling, then exhaling.

A shuffling noise interrupted his meditation, and in a sharp turn of the neck, he got whiplashed. Rubbing his neck and groaning in pain, his eyes finally focused on what was making the shuffling noise, and was surprised to see Theresa awake at such a late hour.

"Sweetheart," She spoke in a soothing, motherly voice, "perhaps you could help me." Her tone was strained with desperation and pleading.

Humphrey didn't know how to respond. He only nodded his head as if to say yes.

Theresa scooted over to where Humphrey was sitting, and gazed up into the stars with him, her arms hugging her knees to her chest, like a ball.

After quite a while of nothing but silence and the screeching of the night monsters, Theresa spoke up.

"My husband passed away a few months ago. Injured while working the factories. Nasty machines, they are. We couldn't afford to stay in our home without his income, so we packed up our bags and came over here. Just yesterday, I was going through the stuff we managed to bring along, and came across my husband's favorite old coat."

Humphrey was actively listening, although he was unsure of why she was telling him this.

"And in the pocket," Theresa had to pause to wipe her eyes, "was a note."

Humphrey cocked his head, curious about what she were to say next.

Her voice was now so shaky that she could barely speak. "He wrote - the letter - it said - you can read, can't you sweetheart?"

Humphrey nodded once again, and managed to croak, "Yes."

Theresa fumbled in her pockets for the note, before finally pulling out a stained, creased, crumpled up piece of paper scribbled with blue ink and smeared with occasional tears. It read:

Dear Theresa,
In case I don't make it one day, I don't want to leave you alone here. There is something that I have always wanted to tell you, but I wanted to wait for the right time, and the right time will be whenever you find this. My great uncle, Charles Walters, was a very rich man who died unexpectedly of disease. On his deathbed, he gave me a ring box, and inside of it was a folded up map. I never understood as a boy, but I do now. Be his riches or his dead body, whatever that map leads to could be of value to us.
Love, James

Humphrey looked up at Theresa, her eyes puffy and streaked with tears. She handed a small box to Humphrey, and he understood. She needed him to retrieve the treasure.

"If you do this for me, you can take half the findings," she said with a hopeful smile.

Humphrey's veins filled with excitement, he felt more awake than he had ever been before. He smelled opportunity. He knew how he was going to get his family money; by going on a real live treasure hunt.