“Rick,” Hemslock says. “Think you can drive that thing down the tunnel, see where it leads?”

The little tank wheels around in reply and whirs down the passageway. From within a hidden compartment, a flashlight flickers on, allowing us to see its surroundings more clearly.

“Does it look man-made to you?” IT asks doubtfully. “The tunnel, I mean. Maybe this was part of some mining pit that got filled years ago?”

“The ground was solid when they tested it. Logan was very sure about that.”

“The sinkhole proves him wrong though, right?”

There is little conversation after that. By now, other crew members are watching, curious. I see Chase lingering awkwardly on the edge of the group; our eyes meet.

Wordlessly I incline my head toward the space beside me. A smile lights up his face as he makes his way toward me. “Does that mean we’re cool?” he whispers.

“We’re cool.”

He looks relieved. “What are they doing?”

“Are those pieces of paper?” Hemslock asks. “Go nearer.”

The tank scoots nearer, picks up one with its robotic arm. The handwriting looks familiar to me.

“I’m sorry, forgive us,” Straw Hat reads. “I’m sorry, forgive us. It’s all that, filling the rest of the page over, and over. Damn creepy, man.”

“There’s something else.” Leo Gries points at the screen.

The tank edges closer. One of its small arms reaches out, digs into the soil, and comes away holding something white and metallic in its hand. The camera zooms in on it.

“Doesn’t look like a rock to me,” Hemslock says.

“It’s too small to be—hang on.” IT Guy guides the robot nearer. This time it finds a larger, heavier piece, and drags it out.

“It looks like it’s made of steel,” Leo muses. “Some kind of ancient machinery?”

“Machinery, yes,” Hemslock says. “Ancient, not likely. Rick, go right.”

IT Guy complies. This time, they find something that looks like paper, parts of it burned as if by some fire, but the remainder is otherwise intact.

“Inch it closer. I think I can make out writing.”

The camera zooms in again and refocuses.

“All that’s discernible are these numbers: 245. What does that mean?”

“245?” Leo leans forward, until he’s almost plastered to the screen. “Rick. There’s something beside that large rock over there, on the left.”

The robot dutifully finds it, raises it up for a better view.

It’s an earring. Though covered in grime, there is no mistaking the sparkle of cut diamonds glistening back at us despite the gloom.

“No!” Leo rears back, clutching at his head in disbelief, as if he can’t believe what he’s seeing. “No!”

“Calm down, man,” Hemslock says sharply. “What’s gotten into you?”

“245,” Leo says, nearly hysterical. “That’s the flight my wife was on. RWY245. And those earrings—my wife wore those earrings. I gave them to her as an anniversary gift. What are my wife’s earrings doing on this island?”

“Those are Mom’s?” Chase cries out, horror-stricken.

“A plane ticket,” Hemslock says with sudden understanding. “I see now. And all these metallic bits strewn about—plane wreckage? How did none of the investigators find—why would the wreckage be so far underground? When someone buried Giles Cochrane here, did they also—?”