The symbol had to be a Native American drawing, but there hadn't been any tribes here in at least three centuries, since the first group of French-Canadian fur trappers came to found a settlement. No way any Native Americans had designed that false boulder, though. That meant someone else had discovered this place and put the rock there to keep others away. Joseph studied the drawing more carefully and wondered what could be so valuable to go to so much trouble. And if that person or persons found him down here, what would they do to him?
He pressed ahead down the tunnel, finding more drawings of stick figures. Most had a snake either in the hand or wrapped around the head, neck, or waist. A couple also had stick figures with lightning bolts in either hand. One particular image depicted a stick figure with the head of a snake. What did any of it mean? He didn't have any idea. Chemistry and physics were his areas of study, not anthropology.
He paused at a set of drawings that were partially scratched out as if by an animal's claws. The claws were too close together to have come from a bear. A wolf or badger maybe? He couldn't be sure. He should go home and find Pop's hunting rifle. No, he'd gone this far already. He may as well see what was down here.
There were a lot more drawings along the walls as the tunnel leveled off, some splattered with blood. At last he came to a circular chamber at the end of the tunnel. Joseph's glasses fogged up at a surge of sudden warmth.
When his glasses cleared, he jumped back at a gruesome sight. A skeleton lay in the center of the chamber, a knife sticking out of its rib cage. He didn't see any treasure or crystal meth, just a lot of clay pots, some as big as a 55-gallon drum and others no larger than a saltshaker. The smaller jars sat on stone shelves around the room, many of these broken open to stain the walls with dark splotches. Joseph's nose stung and his eyes watered from an indescribably pungent odor.
"What the hell is this place?" he wondered aloud.
He reached up to take one of the little jars off the top shelf. As he stretched, his foot slipped on a shard of pottery. He scrambled to grab onto something to keep from falling onto the body in the center of the room. He thought he grabbed one of the shelves, but it turned out only to be a clay jar.
Joseph fell back onto the corpse, the clay jar coming down after him. The jar spilled over Joseph's face, a rancid taste filling his mouth and a black liquid covering his eyes. He tried to spit out the awful liquid, but couldn't. He passed out wondering if someone would find him years from now decomposed on top of the corpse. At least I'll see Mom again, he thought.