Part 2
No one spoke.
Not the lifeguard.
Not the tourists with their phones still raised.
Not even Danielle.
The only sounds were the Atlantic surf crashing against the shore and twenty-eight Harley engines rumbling in perfect rhythm behind Grave Mercer.
Emma kept staring at the silver dragon.
Her small fingers trembled as she traced the tiny military tag hanging from its neck.
Grave’s breathing became noticeably heavier.
Very slowly, he reached beneath his leather vest and pulled a chain over his head.
Hanging from it was an old military identification tag.
Broken cleanly down the middle.
Gasps spread across the beach.
The tag around the dragon’s neck had been drawn with every scratch and dent in exactly the right place.
Even the missing corner.
Danielle stared between the drawing and the real tag.
“That’s impossible.”
Grave swallowed hard.
“Where did she see this?”
Danielle looked equally confused.
“She… she couldn’t have.”
Emma smiled faintly.
“I dreamed it.”
Grave knelt until he was eye level with her.
“What did the man in your dream look like?”
Emma didn’t answer immediately.
She seemed to search through dozens of memories.
“He wore green clothes.”
“A soldier?”
She nodded.
“He smiled all the time.”
Grave’s hands tightened around the dog tag.
“What else?”
“He said you were lonely.”
The words hit him harder than any punch.
One of the older bikers quietly turned away.
Another removed his sunglasses.
Grave whispered,
“What was his name?”
Emma looked at the ocean.
“He never told me.”
“He only called himself…”
“…Uncle Ben.”
The nickname stole the color from Grave’s face.
Only seven people in the world had ever called Benjamin Mercer “Uncle Ben.”
One of them was Grave.
The other six had died during a humanitarian mission overseas eighteen years earlier.
Benjamin had been Grave’s younger brother.
Officially listed as killed in action.
His body was never recovered.
“You never told her that name?”
Grave asked.
Danielle shook her head repeatedly.
“I’ve never heard it before today.”
The club members exchanged uneasy looks.
None of them believed in ghosts.
But every one of them knew Benjamin’s story.
Emma carefully unfolded another page from her sketchbook.
“I made this yesterday.”
This drawing was different.
Instead of dragons…
It showed an old white lighthouse standing beside the ocean.
A narrow wooden dock stretched toward the water.
Near the entrance sat a weathered bench.
On the back of the bench were carved three letters.
B.M.M.
Grave nearly dropped the sketchbook.
He recognized it instantly.
Blackwater Point Lighthouse.
The initials had been carved by Benjamin Mercer and three fellow Marines when they were teenagers.
The lighthouse had been abandoned for more than twenty years.
Very few people even knew it existed.
One of the bikers stepped closer.
“President…”
Grave raised a hand.
Not now.
He couldn’t stop staring at the drawing.
Emma pointed toward the lighthouse.
“He wants you to go back.”
“Who does?”
“The man.”
“What man?”
“The one who talks to the dragons.”
Danielle wrapped her arms around herself.
“Emma…”
Her daughter looked genuinely surprised.
“You can’t hear him?”
The little girl suddenly became very quiet.
She leaned closer to Grave.
“He says…”
She paused.
“…you’re almost out of time.”
A cold silence settled over everyone.
“What does that mean?”
Emma closed her eyes.
“He says if you don’t open the box before tomorrow night…”
“…someone else will.”
Grave stood so quickly the sand shifted beneath his boots.
There was only one box.
A steel military case hidden beneath the floorboards of the abandoned lighthouse.
Benjamin had buried it the week before deployment.
The brothers had promised never to open it unless only one of them came home.
Grave never returned.
Not because he forgot.
Because he couldn’t bear the thought.
For eighteen years he had left the box untouched.
“How does she know?” whispered one biker.
“No idea.”
“But she’s describing the place perfectly.”
Grave looked toward the motorcycles.
“Pack up.”
One rider frowned.
“We’re leaving?”
“We’re going to Blackwater Point.”
Danielle stepped between him and the motorcycles.
“My daughter isn’t going anywhere.”
Grave nodded respectfully.
“Then don’t.”
“But I am.”
Emma tugged gently on her mother’s sleeve.
“I have to go.”
“No.”
“Mom…”
“No.”
Tears filled Emma’s eyes.
“If we don’t go…”
“…the man says the bad people will get there first.”
Danielle knelt beside her daughter.
“What bad people?”
Emma answered with complete innocence.
“The ones wearing suits.”
“What suits?”
“They’ve already opened the first lock.”
Grave’s phone vibrated inside his vest.
He almost ignored it.
Almost.
The caller ID displayed a name he hadn’t seen in nearly a decade.
Sheriff Owen Briggs.
He answered.
“Owen?”
The sheriff didn’t bother greeting him.
“Grave.”
His voice was tense.
“Where are you?”
“Ocean County.”
“Listen carefully.”
“What happened?”
“Someone just broke into Blackwater Point Lighthouse.”
Grave’s heart stopped.
“There were three of them.”
“They’re using ground-penetrating radar.”
The sheriff took a shaky breath.
“And Grave…”
“What?”
“They’re digging exactly where your brother buried the military case.”