I don't own anything from the Uncharted series

srsly pls dont sue me

1

The gathering place. Oahu. And it sure did gather. Surfers from everywhere came to surf these waves, sit on the burning hot sand, and feel like immensely hot sun on their skin. The island itself was beautiful and I was very much enjoying my time on the green island.

I liked the ocean. It was blue and beautiful. And when you were close to the shore, you could see your feet beneath the water as if you were just looking down. It was so clear and...pure.

I loved the ocean and surfing was a rush I could never explain, but there was nothing better than solid ground. Dirt, plants, new hiking boots, a hidden trail, the peak of a mountain.

And that was where I was heading. I was due to get off the island of Oahu within the next couple of days. I was heading for Peru for some anthropological work. Really, it was just an excuse to hike some trails I had only seen in National Geographic.

I wanted to be there. I was done with the ocean - at least for that day.

I walked along the sand, glancing down at the contrast of the white sand to my tan feet. Another thing Oahu was good for was one fantastic tan. I walked with my surfboard under my arm, jogging to avoid my feet from burning up. I eventually made it to the small parking lot, void of any actual lines, even though there weren't very many cars in the lot to begin with.

It took a lot of research and the trust of a handful of locals to find the beach that I did. My mom always told me that people skills were nearly as important as intelligence. One without the other...no good.

I tossed my board in the back of the 1990 jeep wrangler. It was cute. Sure, if you lifted up the hood, the majority of the parts were duct tape, but it got me from point A to point B, and that was all I cared about. It was also convenient, you know - no roof so I could feel the wind and four-wheel drive to get over or through anything I needed to.

It was a good car. Except it wasn't.

"Come on." I turned the key again. I could hear the car trying so hard. It wanted to start, but it just couldn't. Each desperate attempt made my heart sink just a little bit more. I was on attempt #5 when I heard the honking of a horn behind me.

It was clearly a rental car. I saw a bunch of cars advertised like that in the commercial part of Hawaii. There was nothing wrong with the car apart from the fact that it was totally douchey. But I didn't know what I was should've expected from Jared Kay.

Jared Kay. He wore shoes that could only be worn for a certain amount of time. The kind you would not bring to Oahu. He had on a pair of black sunglasses and a suit, no tie. He wasn't a lawyer, but he walked like one. You know what I mean? Like you knew what he wanted and he knew he was going to get it. That was how he was walking towards me at that moment.

"You haven't been returning my calls."

I nodded to his chest, noting the absence of a tie. "Real casual, Kay. Vacation?"

"My calls, Cassandra."

"I know, I know," I said in a soothing tone. I sensed the tension in his voice. His phone never left his hand, so the fact that I couldn't answer mine was baffling to him. "But I was out on the water."

He left his sunglasses on but I knew his eyes were narrowed behind them. "And your excuse for the last two weeks?"

"I've been busy," I said simply.

"Busy gallivanting on some board?"

"Remind me why we're friends?"

"Colleagues," he corrected, taking a step closer. "You do the research, discoveries - the dirty work. I fund, sort out the legalities, get the publicity...It's a win-win. Or it would be if you answered my calls."

I chuckled, unzipping my wetsuit and tugging it down. "You're really hung up on that, aren't you?"

He finally took off those stupid sunglasses and then tucked them over his button up. He watched me as I leaned against the jeep, tugging off the tight, quite wet, wetsuit. "Is this going to take all day?"

"Says the man who looked into his suitcase -" He rolled his eyes, crossing his arms against his chest as I continued. "Knew he was going to Oahu and decided the pack a suit or two. You're ridiculous." I took off the wetsuit and threw it in the back of the jeep. "Don't tell me you also packed your silk undies."

For just a second, the hard and professional exterior of Jared Kay came down. "You have no idea what kind of underwear I wear."

I grabbed the big t-shirt, sliding it over my head. "Unless your style has changed since Portugal -"

"Enough about Portugal," he interrupted. He didn't like to talk about Portugal. "I'm here because you're not going to Peru anymore."

I sighed, one hand finding my face to pinch the bridge of my nose. I was excited for Peru. "Why not?"

"Something better came up." He reached into the pocket of his pants and pulled out a piece of paper, folded into a perfect square.

I took it and unfolded it, merely grazing. I really wanted to go to Peru. It was just coordinates and the name of a province in Canada, which was significantly less exciting. "Nova Scotia, Canada? What about it?"

"Have you ever heard of Oak Island?"

Yes. "Yes." And I didn't want to hear about it. "And I don't care much for it."

Oak Island was a small, tree-covered island in Mahone Bay. For more than a century and a half, there had been countless excavations on the island, due to the big 'mystery' of some kind of treasure that was buried there in an area called the Money Pit. Some believed it was pirate treasure, others Spanish naval treasure, others Marie Antoinette's jewels. The reason's no ones found out is because there are countless obstacles in the way. In 1862, a group started digging and discovered a layer of flagstones two feet below, and then a layer of logs every 10 feet. It was obviously deliberately placed, but why? That only fuelled people's curiosity and more people started digging, but still, obstacles; layers of charcoal, putty, and coconut fibre at 40, 50, and 60 feet; flooding; metal blockades, more flooding; natural caverns; booby traps. All the excavations attempted, were eventually called off and no treasure had ever been discovered.

I tried not to have an opinion. I didn't want to get myself mixed up in a hoax.

"Don't care much? Why not?" He seemed genuinely curious. That, or he was challenging me.

I took a small step closer, eyes narrowing just slightly. "Because I'm convinced Oak Island is just the result of one guy suggesting there's this big, wonderful, rich treasure deep in the ground, who told another guy, who told another guy, who told another. It's all mass hysteria. There's nothing there."

Jared sighed, resting an arm against the back of my jeep. "I thought you were all adventure."

"Promising ones."

"Early 1900's, excavators poured red paint into the flooded pit that revealed three separate flood channels." He seemed pretty impressed with himself - eyebrows raised, chest out.

I smiled. "Am I supposed to be impressed that you can read a Wikipedia page?"

He stood up straight again, his big hands finding his pockets. "Someone is hiding something. Something's going on with this mystery." He said the word as if it tasted bitter in his mouth. "We can talk more back at my hotel."

I walked past him as I let myself feel smug. "Sounds suspiciously like Portugal."

"Enough about Portugal, Cassandra."