The Box

"I'm telling you, Man: it's real, and it's worth a fortune!"

Duke had that look in his eyes again. Somewhere between a kid on Christmas morning, and a crackhead looking for his next fix. The last time Ronny had seen it, he spent two months in the hospital recovering from a weird, tropical fever nobody still could tell him the name of. The time before that, he'd spent three weeks rotting in a Mexican prison. Which he vowed never to speak of again.

It had been eighteen months since he'd even spoken to Duke. What possessed him to pick up the phone last night when Duke had called, Ronny had no idea whatsoever. To be fair, things had been going well up to this point: sitting in their favorite old dive bar; reconnecting over a few bottles of cheap, warm suds; reminiscing about the not-so-good old days. Now, the conversation had shifted back to treasure... and Ronny's guts were tying themselves up in knots of dread.

"I'm sure it is," Ronny shrugged, tipping back his third (or was it his fourth?) bottle of brew. "Let me know if you find it."

"Ronny, c'mon," Duke inched his chair forward again, whispering so close that Ronny could taste the beer and nachos on his breath. "This is a two-man job, and you're the best graverobber on the Eastern Seaboard... well, except for yours truly. We're talking about a fifty million dollar payday; the easiest we've ever gotten! Half of which would be yours, guaranteed!"

It was probably the booze, but Ronny was actually considering it. Twenty-five mil was a stupid huge pile of cheddar. Now that Rita was working on their second kid, Ronny would be an idiot to turn down that kind of money. On the other hand, he'd sworn to every deity within earshot that he would never work with Duke again. The guy was too reckless; too thirsty for a thrill. He didn't care about his own neck, and was only too eager to risk everyone else's without a second thought.

"I dunno," Ronny admitted, picking at the bottle's label nervously. "If it was another Spanish galleon or ancient Egyptian tomb, maybe. But Pandora's Box? What guarantee do you even have that this isn't another wild goose chase?"

Duke looked over both shoulders before reaching under the table for his worn, brown leather satchel. With a flick of his wrist, he pulled out an object wrapped in a grease-stained cloth, slapping it down onto the table. Ronny knew he was going to regret it, but curiosity led him to unwrap the thing. Underneath was an ornate silver circlet; tarnished, extremely old, and definitely Greek based on its overlapping laurel leaf design. It was so small and delicate-looking, Ronny thought it was a miracle it had survived so many milennia in-tact.

"When the gods created Pandora, they gave her a gossamer silver dress and a crown to match," Duke said, tapping one of the tiara's spindly points, "this crown. She was real, Ron... which means her Box is, too. There are people in this world willing to pay anything to get their hands on it. All we have to do is find it, and the cash is as good as ours for the taking."

"I... th-this is nuts!" Ronny wrapped the crown back up and shoved it across the table again, shaking his head, "Next you're gonna tell me you wanna steal eggs from the Easter Bunny! All those old legends are kids' stories, Duke! Nothing more!"

Duke's hand was on Ronny's arm in a heartbeat, keeping him from running off. That desperate, crazy look in his eyes had softened just a smidgeon, overshadowed by a warm, crooked grin. Reminding Ronny of the good, decent kid he'd once proudly called his best friend.

"One last job," he begged, "Nuts or not, it'll set us both up for the rest of our natural lives. You and Rita could finally get that house you've been talking about forever. You could send those kids of yours to college when they grow up, so they won't be no-good bums like their old man. C'mon, Ronny... please?"

The next thing Ronny knew, he was on a houseboat bobbing around the Agean Sea. Duke seemed to know exactly where he was going, using a handful of crumbling ancient maps to navigate them toward the mainland. They finally beached their vessel on the shores of Larissa, a province of Thessaly. From there, they rented a jeep to head further inland, traveling Northwest toward Macedonia. When they reached a small town near the foot of the mountains, they traded the car for horses. Their final destination - Mt. Olympus, the fabled birthplace of Pandora - came into view at last after nearly two days on horseback.

While Ronny battled saddle sores, flirted with heat exhaustion, and wondered if his wife would ever speak to him again, Duke was beside himself with excitement. He kicked his horse's ribs to make it sprint with no warning whatsoever, then jumped out of his saddle while it was still running. Leaving Ronny to dismount and corral the frightened animal for him. By the time Ronny had both horses tied securely to a nearby tree, Duke had shinnied up to a ledge ninety feet off the ground.

That crazy look was back in his piercing blue eyes as he knelt there running his hands carefully over the mountainside, stroking it like a lover's face. Clearly he was looking at something Ronny couldn't see. Ronny was too tired, hot, and angry to consider the significance of Duke's actions, though.

"How about a head's up next time you do something stupid?!" Ronny snapped.

"It's here," Duke called down, a manic little chuckle punctuating his sentence. "I found it! C'mon, Ron, get your ass up here already!"

"You mind telling me what you're talking about?! How the hell did you even get up there?!"

Duke completely ignored the question. He was clawing at the rock now, plucking and scratching away bits of moss, dirt, and God knew what else from its surface. Ronny rolled his eyes and dusted off his free climbing skills, quickly spotting a few hand and footholds within reach. Twenty minutes later, he was back by Duke's side. Duke's hands and fingers were coated in dirt, but now Ronny could see what he'd been feverishly clearing away. Grecian characters, etched deeply into the stone, forming the gentle shape of an arc roughly chest-high. Ronny's Greek was a little rusty, but Duke filled in the gaps for him.

"Mortals be warned," Duke murmured, tracing the letters slowly as he read them aloud, "Beyond lies... the realm... of the gods. The Gift of Prometheus... will show the path... for those foolish enough... to walk it."

A gust of wind shot right up Ronny's back, much colder than the warm summer breezes he'd been feeling the last few days. Instinctively, he took a step back, unable to stop his skin from crawling as he read the engraving over again.

"I don't like this, Man," he admitted.

"Shut up," Duke muttered, scratching his sweaty black stubble and smearing dirt all over his sunburnt chin, "I'm trying to think! Prometheus' gift... What was it again?!"

"Fire," Ronny said, the word jumping to his lips voluntarily. "He stole it from the gods, and gave it to mankind. Don't see how that helps us now."

"Of course! Ron, you're a genius!"

After a few seconds of rummaging in his satchel, Duke had a small, chrome square clutched tight in his fist. His lucky lighter, which he never went anywhere without. In a swift click-click, it produced a tiny, flickering orange flame. Not very useful in Ronny's opinion, considering they were in broad daylight. He started to tell Duke to put the damn thing away, preparing to drag him back to Terra Firma. Before he could move an inch or utter one syllable, though, a sparkle close to the ground between Duke's knees caught his eye.

Ronny plucked the lighter from Duke without thinking, bringing it closer to the strange, sparkly thing. A garnet as big as a grape flashed back at him, reflecting the lighter's flame. He popped a squat automatically, rubbing the perfectly polished stone with a wet thumb to clean it. To his shock, it sank deeper into the rock with a soft, dull clunk the instant he applied pressure to it. Deep beneath his hiking boots, a rumble echoed through the earth. And before he could take his next breath, the rock slab in front of his nose cracked right down the middle.

Duke shook Ronny's shoulders roughly with a war whoop, slapping the shorter man's back in elation. "We're in!" he grinned, then wrapped an arm playfully around Ronny's neck, "I knew I could count on that big, beautiful brain of yours!"

He actually kissed Ronny on the forehead before letting go, blazing ahead while Ronny was still scrubbing the spit off his brow.

"C'mon, Man! Not cool!" Ronny shouted, grimacing at the slobber on his fist. "Hey! You listening to me, or what?! Duke?!"

In his fit to remove the unwanted, sloppy smooch, Ronny had totally missed the fact that he was no longer staring at a wall of rock. Duke had pushed the cracked slab aside, revealing a long, dark tunnel behind it. The end was nowhere in sight; all Ronny could really see was a sandy floor a few feet in front of him with a slight upward tilt, and a ceiling way too low to stand up under. Beyond that, every speck of light was swallowed by the cold blackness beyond. Every speck, that is, except the soft glow from Duke's lucky lighter.

"Duke...? Duke, wait!" Ronny called, crawling into the tunnel on all fours. "Wait up! Duke!!"

As claustrophobic as the tunnel was to begin with, it slowly widened and deepened further in. Within two dozen yards, Ronny could walk upright again, dipping his head a little to keep it from scraping the ceiling. By the time he caught up with Duke, the subterranean path was wide enough for them to walk side by side.

"This is incredible!" Duke grinned, holding his lighter a little higher. "I'll bet nobody's been in here in the last two thousand years... and look at all those stones!"

Ronny followed Duke's line of sight to the ground, kneeling to get a better look. "Garnets," he murmured, "...just like the one outside. I get it now."

Duke's eyebrow raised curiously, "You do?"

"Sure," Ronny nodded, "the ancient Greeks called them nuktalopos; 'lamp stones'. Supposedly, they helped you see in the dark."

Duke looked down at the smattering of stones embedded in the rock at his feet, a strange, calculating look in his eyes. A sharp click later, both men were suddenly plunged into darkness.

"What the hell, Man?!" Ronny yelped, grabbing for his cohort in the dark. "Turn it back on! Turn-!"

The command died in his throat, reincarnated as a gasp a second later. The tiny, jagged stones beneath him suddenly produced a soft, purplish-red light of their own, pulsing like a slow, weary heartbeat. In all his twenty-nine years, Ronny had never seen gemstones do that. It was beautiful... impossible... and more terrifying than he'd ever admit.

"Lamp stones... huh," Duke mused, tossing and catching his lighter with a rakish wink, "C'mon: we've gotta be getting close now!"

Ronny froze on the spot as Duke strutted past him, looking back the way they'd come. He couldn't see the light from the entrance anymore, but every instinct screamed at him to go back. As the darkness slowly closed in around him, he realized that the garnets under his boots weren't glowing anymore. The second Duke stepped forward, the stones behind him went out. Ronny was too scared to keep going... but he was even more terrified of being left behind, with nothing but the shadows to keep him company. Against his better judgement, he jogged after Duke. Vowing to give his comrade a fresh, hot knuckle sandwich if they ever made it out alive.

The path deeper into the mountain twisted and turned for miles without end. Ronny was sure it had to have been dug out by a prehistoric earthworm the size of a subway train; one with a lousy sense of direction. Every few minutes they seemed to double back the way they came, walking in so many circles it made him dizzy. Ronny tried to mark the path, gouging the rock walls with his pocket knife every ten feet, so they'd be able to find their way back. After walking for literal hours, however, he began to see multiple, overlapping knife marks on the walls he passed. His only hope was that there would be another exit at the end of the tunnel... if they ever made it that far, anyway.

When he was on the verge of strangling Duke for getting him into this mess, the path suddenly widened again. A light - shockingly bright after being underground for so long - appeared in front of them a moment later. Thinking it was daylight, Ronny barreled past Duke instinctively, running as fast as he could toward salvation and fresh air. To his disappointment and confusion, it led not to freedom but a wide, round chamber. A cavern, big enough for the Empire State Building to fit inside of comfortably. At the top was a hole, allowing the deceptive sunlight to stream into the cave. Directly onto a gold and marble pedestal in the middle of the room.

For a moment, Ronny had allowed himself to forget why they were there. The moment he saw that gleaming white pedestal and the object upon it, though, all his anger and frustration toward Duke went up in smoke. A basketball-sized, round clay jar with short, curved handles sat perched prettily atop the pedestal; a pithos, to be more accurate. Its pristine surface was covered in the finest gold leaf, inlaid with colorful precious stones worth two kings' ransoms. Painted between the stones were dozens of glyphs, telling the story of how the Greek pantheon came to be. Ronny's eye was immediately drawn to the top of the jar, however... to its sturdy lid, still covered in crumbling bits of beeswax.

Duke was right: Pandora's Box was real.

A loud whoop behind Ronny made him leap right out of his skin, right before a tall, khaki and sunburnt blur sped past him. By the time he wrangled his heart back into his chest, Duke had the Box in his hands.

"We did it," he laughed, grinning like a madman, "we actually did it!! Fifty mil: right here in our hands!!"

"Great," Ronny snarled, "let's get the hell outta here then!"

Duke nodded, but he just stood there. Staring at the jar in his sweaty, dirty mitts. Without warning, he tilted the top toward his chest, squinting at the lid. Ronny didn't have the chance to ask what he was thinking, because that crazy look was suddenly back on his face.

"Dude, no," Ronny said, "don't even think about it!"

"It's already been opened once, right?" Duke shrugged, "How bad can it be? Aren't you at least a little curious?"

"No!" Ronny lied, "I just wanna go home! We've got the damn thing, so-"

Again, Duke had stopped listening. His grubby fingers were already working around the lid, prying at the congealed wax keeping it sealed. Ronny didn't have time to think or move a fraction of an inch before a loud, sharp pop echoed throughout the chamber. To his horror, Duke held the lid up to him, beaming in triumph... but the smile fled from his face as a deep sigh guttered out from the depths of the Box.

"Thank you..."

Ronny hardly had time to process the disembodied voice when a set of smoky claws erupted from the mouth of the jar, clamping around Duke's throat. Duke dropped Pandora's Box instinctively - which should've shattered, but didn't - prying desperately at the translucent fingers strangling the life out of him. Within a minute, an arm, shoulder, head and neck emerged from the Box. Within two, the shadowy figure of a man stood in front of Duke, holding him several feet of the ground by the neck.

Ronny couldn't see his face; it was hidden under a thick, heavy cloak with a hood. The cloak covered most of his impossibly tall, gangly body, too, hanging past his bony feet like a curtain. Enough of him was visible, though, for Ronny to notice the dirty grey, knee-length chiton and leather sandals strapped up over his skinny calves. The garb of a Grecian man from ancient times. What made less sense were the large, feathery black wings upon his back, and the bloodstained shortsword hanging by his hip.

"For ages I slept within that accursed Jar," the figure said, its voice rasping like nails on a chalkboard, "...waiting to be released. I thank thee for freeing me. Now... receive thy proper reward."

Ronny watched, frozen in horror, as Duke's wide, terror-filled eyes suddenly turned completely white. Within seconds, the healthy thirty-seven-year-old aged a hundred years, withering like a mummified corpse. In three panicked beats of his heart, Ronny saw Duke's body crumble away until there was only bones left. Then, there was nothing left of him at all, except a pile of dust.

"No," Ronny wheezed, shaking his head as grief, terror, and confusion overwhelmed him, "Th-This is all wrong! The only thing left in Pandora's Box is Hope! H-Hope is good! Why would Hope kill-?!"

Those ice cold, smoky claws were around Ronny's neck in a blink, lifting him into the air next. He choked and tore at them, struggling to breathe with all his might. The strange figure, however, only laughed.

"Fool," it spat, "...'Twas Hope who trapped me so, with the help of that witch, Pandora. I am Despair... and I thank thee, too."