The Mask part 3: The Search

     A short while later the trees started thinning. Up ahead, we could see the group moving about, axes and shovels in hand. Finding a well-covered spot, we crouched and watched. A tall man who wore army green pants and a matching tank top pointed to one man. "You start digging over there," and to another, "Start breaking open those water basins, the bloody thing has to be around here somewhere!" Even though I had not gotten a clear view the night before, I knew this was the same man who had silenced his companions last night. There was something about him, the way he held himself and the way others reacted to him. It screamed that he was a powerful man, a man to be respected, and feared. Sending the last man on his way, he looked around, then kicked some dust up in front of him. At the top of his black boots, I could see the hilt of a blade sticking out. A little farther up his leg, the bulge of a small gun came into sight. He wandered around for most of the day, yelling orders and threatening anyone who stopped. Every once in a while, someone would yell out, "I found something!" and the man would come running over, gun in hand.
     "What is it?"
     "I'm not sure, it's all dusty and . . ."
     "Give it to me!" there was always a tone in his voice that let the person know his finger was on the trigger. Every time, he would look at the artifact, and then throw it back at the person who had found it. "That's not it, you idiot! Now back to work." He would spin around. "All of you back to work." The crowd that had gathered in anticipation would disperse, back to their jobs.
     Every time someone yelled out, we tensed up and listened. Was this it? I secretly hoped it was, all the while hoping it wasn't. If it were never found, I really wouldn't care. But if it was found, we could be in a world of hurt. I just wished it were over.
     As the day wore on, it seemed like the mask would never be found. Still, we kept a watchful eye out. One group of men had finished breaking open the stone basins hours ago. Now they were digging in an area about 100 yards to the left. Another small group was digging around the base of a primitive house. By a small table they had set up, the man in charge was looking at a map and drinking from a canteen. Behind him some way were small buildings the men were busy ransacking. As I watched those men, one stuck his head out of a doorway. His long, black hair hung down, covering half of his face. Still, it was not enough to hide his nose. Even from a distance, it looked like he had been hit by a Mack truck. He looked toward his boss as if to yell, but instead, he slipped a bag into his pants. Then his head disappeared back into the house.
     "Did you see that?" I whispered to Brent.
     "See what?"
     "That man just put something in his pants!"
     "What was it?"
     "I'm not sure, it looked like a cloth bag. But it had something in it." This was too much. I could hardly contain myself. If that was the mask, we might be able to get it from him. I just hoped he wouldn't use it.


Here ends part 3 of The Mask. What did the man have hidden in the small sack? Was it the Mask? Find out tomorrow as our story continues. Same Mask time, same Mask channel.