Remy's horrifically magical journey

    Remy initially went into the cave to escape the blistering heat outside. As an old desert rat, treasure-hunter, gold miner, and seeker of riches, he knew better than to challenge the sun at its apex. At first he only went in a few yards. With the help of his flashlight he found a comfortable spot on a large outcropping of rock to sit on. He located himself on the ground with his back to the granite wall, and pulled his baseball cap (that said Lakers on the front) down. When he woke up an hour later the first thing he noticed was a horrible smell. Standing up carefully, there was only a small clearance between the roof and his head, Remy took a few steps further into the cave and shone his light down into its dark depths.It smelled like death. The fat in their body fueling the flames and causing a greasy smoke that clung to whatever was near. If Remy wasn’t an adventurer at heart, he would have left the cave right then.
    He double checked the contents of his backpack. Extra ammunition for the old Army .45 he brought back from the Nam, and carried on his web belt. Along with the .45, he had a flashlight, two canteens, and a k-bar knife hanging on his web belt.He took his bearings with the compass, mentally noting them before pushing on further. After an hour he stopped when the cave abruptly broke off into three directions. The air was getting thin as he pondered which way to go. His sense of smell wasn’t so acute that he could tell which cave the stench was coming from. Then he heard the voice.“Chests full of old Spanish gold and rare jewels…”. “Where?” he roared, his voice reverberating down all three tunnels.“Down here…down here waiting for you…” the voice promised.Remy knew, on one hand, that he shouldn’t be listening to a voice in his head. After years of PTSD counseling he knew it wasn’t right to respond to a voice in his head.But, he responded to voices (one’s he didn’t tell the psychiatrists about) before and things had worked out. After walking for eight hours he took his backpack off and sat down on the damp ground. He unfolded the poncho and slipped it on. It afforded some protection against the dampness.
    When he woke up the first thing he did was look at his wristwatch and turn on his flashlight. He’d slept eight hours. When he came to the opening for the three tunnels he sat down and pulled out his metal flask. He took his compass out and studied it for a few minutes under the flashlights beam. He decided to camp there. An hour later he woke up, startled by an overpowering smell. He drew the .45 from its canvas holster, before slowly standing up. He felt like vomiting.
   Then he saw the eyes – hundreds of them – glaring at him from all three tunnels! The only option left was a strategic retreat.The things in the tunnel made a low chattering sound in anger. Some grew more bold than others and came closer so that he was able to see their bones. Their faces were disfigured parodies of humans and they were covered in vile-looking boils. Some had three arms One had two heads, and hopped angrily on one leg.Remy backed up and kept the flashlight in front of him. When one of them burst forward and came within a few feet of him he fired his gun three times, then turned and ran as fast as he could! Gun in one hand and flashlight in the other, he stumbled but never stopped running. He was blinded by the sun and held his hand in front of his eyes. As he hiked back to his old jeep he decided this was one adventure he wouldn’t share with anyone. Especially with his friends who warned him to stay away from the Yucca flat region of the Nevada Test Site near Area 51.As It Stands, some of us are born adventurers that will always be looking for treasure, but not necessarily finding it.