“Those do look good,” he admits, eyeing the container.
I sigh, already knowing I’m fighting a losing battle. “Julia, we’re looking for hidden gold that corporate mercenaries might guard.”
“Perfect!” She beams. “I’ve always wanted to be in a heist movie! Do I get a cool code name? Can I be ‘Green Panther’? Or maybe ‘Smooth Move’?”
Richard, who has been quietly watching this exchange, clears his throat. “Actually, having a medical professional might not be the worst idea.”
“See?” Julia points at Richard triumphantly. “The treasure expert agrees!”
“I never said I was a treasure expert—” Richard begins, but Julia is already climbing into the back of Jake’s truck, settling in like she’s preparing for a road trip.
“All aboard!” she calls out cheerfully. “The gold won’t find itself, people!”
Lana catches my eye, clearly trying not to laugh. “She did help us at the mill,” she reminds me quietly.
“Fine,” I concede, knowing when I’m outnumbered. “But you stay with the group at all times,” I tell Julia sternly. “No wandering off.”
“Scout’s honor!” Julia salutes me with the wrong hand, then immediately turns to Hawk. “So, what’s your real name? Or is itactually Hawk? Because that would be so cool. Were you named after a bird, or is it because you have amazing eyesight? Can you see that squirrel over there? What about that tiny bird in the tree? How many fingers am I holding up from here?”
Hawk, possibly the most stoic person I’ve ever met, blinks slowly at her rapid-fire questions. “Three fingers,” he answers flatly.
“Amazing!” Julia gasps. “It’s like you have superpowers!”
I catch Drake stifling a laugh as we load the rest of our gear into the vehicles. This expedition just got a lot more... colorful.
The drive to our starting point takes about twenty minutes, with Julia chattering the entire way. She somehow manages to extract life stories from both Nightingale and Roadrunner, who, until now, I wasn’t sure could actually speak in complete sentences.
“So you have four children?” Julia exclaims to Roadrunner. “That’s wonderful! Do you have pictures? Of course you do, what parent doesn’t? Let me see!”
By the time we park and begin unloading our equipment, Julia has seen photos of everyone’s families, pets, and, in Drake’s case, his prized collection of vintage fishing lures.
“Alright, everyone,” I call out, trying to regain some semblance of control over this operation. “The waterfall is about half a mile through those trees. We move together, stay alert. Nightingale, take point. Hawk, I want you watching our six. Drake, Roadrunner, flanking positions.”
“What about me?” Julia asks brightly. “What’s my tactical position?”
“Your tactical position is directly in front of me, where I can keep an eye on you,” I tell her.
“Ooh, bodyguard detail! Fancy!” She does a little shimmy that makes Lana burst out laughing. I pull Lana aside. “Is Julia on something? Because she wasn’t like that before.”
She smacks my arm playfully and says, “I think she’s the type of person that once she gets to know you, she just lets loose.”
We set off through the trees, moving at a steady pace despite the lingering patches of snow. Julia manages to maintain a constant stream of commentary about everything from the local flora “Did you know that moss always grows on the north side of trees? Except when it doesn’t!” to her theories on where the gold might be hidden “Maybe it’s IN the waterfall, like in National Treasure, and we have to go BEHIND it! OMG that would be so cool!”.
Despite myself, I find her enthusiasm infectious. It lightens the mood of what could otherwise be a tense mission, and even the security team seems more relaxed—while remaining vigilant, I note with approval.
About fifteen minutes into our hike, Julia suddenly stops dead in her tracks, causing me to sidestep to miss running into her.
“What’s wrong?” I ask, instantly on alert, my hand moving toward my gun.
“Shh!” she hisses, pointing dramatically to our right. “Look!”
We all freeze, hands moving to weapons, scanning for threats—only to see a small red fox watching us curiously from behind a fallen log.
“Isn’t it adorable?” Julia whispers loudly. “I’m going to call him Rusty!”
“Julia,” I say through gritted teeth, “we’re not here for wildlife watching.”
“Spoilsport,” she mutters, but continues walking. “Bye, Rusty! Live your best fox life!”
