[100 Challenge] Ocean_84

The Feeling of Words in our Mouth

I could sense where gold lay hidden in the ground. Not the natural deposits, mind you. Not the veins and ore lodes. The caches buried by robber barons, the mason jars rusted shut and tucked beneath the cedars, the single coins sunk in sediment beneath the sea. I saw them, all over the world. When i closed my eyes they glowed, and when i came near i could feel them ring out inside my body. I could also sense the hordes at fort Knox and the Kennedy properties, in Assyria in the private bunkers and in Swiss vaults. But these did not call to me, did not sing out in my skin the way the unclaimed sums did. But i could not get them, most of them. I am paralyzed, you see. Not severely, but to the point of being unable to wield a shovel. I needed an accomplice. My beloved Cadence. Road trips to Tennessee to pry up floorboards in an abandoned farmhouse, a whirlwind to Mexico for the cartel hideout. We purchased plane tickets, we always went together. We flew to Portugal, to — and —. Our luggage grew burdensome. We hired divers sometimes, paying them in the brilliant coin they produced from beneath the coral. But soon the stores that were readily accessible had been depleted. We were filthy rich and we’d barely cashed in a fraction of the specie we’d hoarded. But it wasn’t about the wealth. We gave it away. I was ready to give it up but she became hungry for more daring adventure. I could sense the timing on the armored trucks. I sensed apertures and ductways that opened onto concealed bureaus. I knew when a door remained unsealed. I would create a distraction, have a little epileptic fit, throw myself out of my wheelchair. She would nip in and grab the booty. Those nights the hobos drank the finest rye.