The rain came down in sheets. Lightning lit up the sky and the thunder echoed through the night for miles. The airport in Chile was nearly dead, with the exception of a few employees and a brown Ford cargo van at the far end of the runway, hidden to any at the main building through the downpour. Next to the van was a cargo plane with the words ‘McAllister’s Express Freight’ painted in red on the side, the paint chipping away with age. The once bright airplane was now off-white and slightly rusting.

Several miles away, an old green Jeep Wrangler sped down a dirt road through the rain, being pursued by a black Suburban. Mud and water were sprayed on the windows as the Jeep splashed through the dark, the road ahead now barely visible. The Suburban slowly gained on the two people in the Jeep as they raced toward the airport. A crash, nearly inaudible through the rain and thunder, occurred as the Suburban tried to force them off the road. The man driving the Jeep swerved into the field over the marshy crops, and flew over a mound as he turned back onto the road.

“We’re never going to outrun them!” screamed the woman in the passenger seat. The hood of her black windbreaker covered her curly blonde hair. Strands of hair covered her smooth, pale cheeks and her blue eyes sparkled as the lightning struck again. She looked over her shoulder at the two headlights directly behind them. Her turned-up nose and round chin lit up in the beams of light. She then glanced at the man driving. His short, light brown hair was covered in dirt and the tanned skin on his high cheekbone was beginning to bruise. Blood from his lip was dripping down his square jaw and onto the collar of his blue jacket.

He didn’t respond to the woman, but looked into the rearview mirror as the Suburban rammed into them again in an attempt to run them off the road. He came within a meter of hitting a tree as the dirt road curved to the left. He swerved to the left, the tires slid through the mud, and the car nearly spun around as the pursuers tried to hit them again. He floored it at a straight stretch of road and the back end of the Suburban slid and hit the tree, but recovered and continued to follow them.

The man driving reached into his pocket and pulled out a phone. He handed it to the woman and said, “Maggie, we’re almost there. Make the call.”

Maggie reached out her left hand and took the phone. Her hand was wrapped in a cloth that was covered in blood. She opened the flip phone and dialed with her uninjured hand. She waited for the person at the other end to answer and said, “It’s me. We’ll be there in a minute.” She paused as the other person spoke. “That’s right, and we have company. Do what you can, okay?” She handed the phone back to the driver and put her hand on his arm. “Chase, I think we’re going to make it.”

A gunshot was fired through the back window, skimmed Maggie’s jacket, and made a hole through the front window. Maggie screamed and ducked down. Chase jerked the steering wheel to the left and back over the fields and through a group of trees. Another gunshot was fired from the side, splintering through the rear windows.

Before he had time to respond, a large dirt hill came upon them and the Jeep went up and jumped over it, landing three meters below onto the runway. The vehicle bounced and swerved from side to side as Chase attempted to regain control. The Jeep skimmed across the wet asphalt and Maggie covered her face with her arms as they crashed against an aluminum hangar.

They didn’t have time to recover as they grabbed their bags and a locked metal briefcase from the back seat. They jumped out of the Jeep and ran out of sight just as the Suburban smashed into it. Men got out and fired more shots into the Jeep as Chase and Maggie sprinted to the end of the runway, under the cover of darkness. They passed several small freestanding hangars before they reached the van. The rain had soaked through their clothing and dripped down their hair and faces. They were greeted by a heavy-set man wearing a yellow Hawaiian shirt and beige Bermuda shorts. He didn’t seem to notice or care that it was raining as he leaned against the side of the airplane, illuminated by the van’s headlights. The water rolled off his red balding head.

He wiped his flat nose with the back of his thick hand and said, “Miss Steifel, Mister Fiore, I’m glad you made it. We were getting worried.” The light from the van revealed he was missing two of his upper teeth as he smiled at them.

Maggie hugged him and said, “Thank you, Bob.”

Chase shook his hand. “Mister McAllister, is everything ready? The men following us will be here soon.”

“Oh don’t worry, everything is loaded. We are well prepared for anyone trying to stop us.” He stopped speaking and looked past them down the runway. “Well speak of the devil.” They turned around and saw the headlights of the Suburban heading toward them from the other end of the runway. “You two had better get on the plane; we’ll handle this.” His grin faded as he called to a man inside the van.

A man emerged from the back of the van wearing a black round hat and black overcoat, carrying a bazooka over his shoulder. He nodded to Maggie and Chase as they walked by to board the airplane. The man swung the launcher onto his other shoulder, got down on one knee, and took aim. He waited until the Suburban was closer and he fired the rocket. It streaked out across the pavement, and hit the back of the vehicle as the pursuers attempted to swerve out of the way. The detonation caused the rear of the Suburban to rise off the ground. It fell onto its side and slid several meters before it came to a halt.

The cargo plane rumbled as McAllister started the engine and the propellers began to spin. The man in black jumped on board and closed the side hatch. The plane rolled down the runway, pulled off the ground, and flew into the air as rain beat against the front windows. Inside the cabin there were six rows of seats with four chairs on each side of the airplane, separated by a narrow walkway. The rows of seats were bolted to the floor one meter away from the open cockpit. Each of the seats was filled with thick foam and upholstered with a faded red and tan argyle cloth. Behind the seating area was an aluminum wall with a large secured door, which led to the rear cargo area.

McAllister turned his head and smiled at the man. “Nice job, Rog.” The man didn’t seem to notice him speaking. “Roger Sinclair, meet Chase Fiore and Maggie Steifel.”

Chase looked at him seriously and said, “Mister Sinclair, you come highly recommended. So far your reputation precedes you.”

Sinclair peered over his hawk-like nose at the metal briefcase Chase was still holding, his stern, narrow face more visible than before. A scar could be seen down his left cheek. He had neatly trimmed brown sideburns that stopped below his earlobes and thick eyebrows. He looked up from the briefcase and stared at Maggie and Chase through his dark brown eyes. He nodded once more to them and made his way to the back row and sat down alone. Maggie and Chase sat in the front next to the center aisle and Chase placed the briefcase on the seat next to him.

The flight south took hours. Outside the plane, the ocean was a quiet and dark abyss. Nothing could be seen the entire flight until that point, as the sun began to rise over the horizon to the left. As the sun rose higher, a white stretch of land could be seen, growing larger and larger as they approached. The airplane dipped and shook worse the closer they got to land.

Chase sat in his chair clutching the briefcase in one hand. If anyone got ahold of the contents inside, it would be devastating. He felt that as long as he did not fall asleep, he could keep it from getting into the wrong hands. It had been over forty-eight hours since he had last slept. His eyelids tried to force themselves shut, but he shook his head and pinched his leg to stay awake. His left eye had become severely swollen over the last couple hours, as had his lower lip. His light brown hair was messed up and his shirt was ripped in several places.

He looked over at Maggie, who fell asleep shortly after the flight began. She had a bruise on her chin and her thick blonde hair completely covered her eyes. Her hand was still injured; it would probably begin bleeding again if the bandage was taken off. This was the first time in over a week that she looked calm and relaxed. No one except McAllister and Sinclair knew where they were going after Chile. But no one was supposed to know they would be in Chile either.

The airplane dipped again, and Chase stood up to stretch his legs. He walked up to McAllister, still holding his briefcase. “Bob, are you sure this plane can handle these weather conditions?”

McAllister jumped in his seat. He had begun to dose off as the sun rose. He turned around and grinned at Chase. “She doesn’t look like much, but she can handle anything Antarctica can throw at her. Don’t mind the turbulence; we’ll get through it soon.” He looked back ahead to the snow covered land that lay before them, “We’ll be landing in a few. After that we’ll have to take the snowmobiles seven miles south. You’ve got the map, right?”

“Of course, I never let go of it.” He patted his briefcase and smiled. McAllister glanced at it, grinned again, and chuckled as he began to make the descent.

Chase turned around and returned to his seat. He looked to the back of the cabin and saw Sinclair watching him from under the rim of his hat. He stared at him for a moment before sitting down. He set his briefcase down on his lap and took out a key from the front pocket of his slacks. He inserted the key near the handle and turned it a quarter turn. He then typed nine-six-seven-three into the keypad before turning the key another quarter. The metal case unlatched and he opened the cover.

Behind him, Sinclair shifted in his seat. Inside, there were many old papers and maps. On the bottom was a small package wrapped in brown paper and twine. He pulled out a map that was laminated in plastic in order to withstand the snow and other harsh elements. The writing on the map looked like ancient Greek, but it was another language unseen by the world for over three thousand years. The map looked similar to Antarctica, except it was smaller, had a slightly different shape, and there were more rivers and breaks in the land. There were many words written on the map that appeared to be names of cities. One near the edge had been circled in red, and ‘Trileon’ was written next to it. He took out a current map of the continent and compared the two. He then removed a thermal image of Antarctica underneath the snow and ice cover, which looked almost exactly like the ancient map he was holding.

Chase suddenly felt as though he was being watched. He put the maps down and looked behind him. Sinclair had changed seats and was staring intently at the case. He noticed Chase looking and he immediately turned around to peer out the window. Chase put the ancient map into the pocket of the blue jacket that was lying on top of the seat in front of him. He then placed everything back in the briefcase and locked it.

McAllister turned around and yelled back to Chase, “Mister Fiore, you and Miss Steifel had better get ready. We’re almost there.”

Chase raised his eyes in acknowledgment and shook Maggie lightly to wake her. She slowly opened her eyes and brushed the hair out of her face. She smiled at Chase and softly asked, “Is it time?”

He nodded. “You looked so peaceful. I didn’t want to wake you.” He glanced down and asked, “How is your hand?”

“It will be alright once we find Trileon. Everything we’ve gone through will have been worth it.”

They quickly put on their snow clothing and proceeded to the back of the plane to check the equipment. The bags were already packed with anything they might need, along with some electrical equipment. There were also four snowmobiles equipped with GPS and infrared thermometers tied down next to the rear hatch. The plane landed roughly on a small stretch of land, bouncing several times as it slowed to a stop. Chase and Maggie nearly fell over while standing in the cargo bay.

McAllister walked in from the cabin several minutes later, followed by Sinclair. They had both changed their clothes and were now prepared for the weather outside. Sinclair’s clothes were completely white, while Chase, Maggie, and McAllister wore dark blue and white striped clothing. Chase and Maggie put on their goggles and covered their faces as McAllister lowered the hatch. The cold wind cut like a knife as the motor of the hatch whined and the ramp slowly touched the ground. They pushed the snowmobiles down the ramp and boarded them.

“Are you sure you are up for this?” said a dark, raspy voice.

Maggie spun around and saw that Sinclair was speaking. She was clearly taken aback having never heard him speak, but she promptly replied, “Are you?” She started the engine and set off across the snow and ice without looking back.

The rest of the group caught up and Chase led the way, now and then looking at his map and then back to the GPS. After several miles, Chase held up his arm to signal everyone to stop at a ridge to determine the best route. Maggie stopped her snowmobile next to Chase. “I don’t trust him,” she said. Her head nodded inconspicuously toward Sinclair, who was standing seven meters away scanning the surrounding areas with his binoculars.

“He is a bit peculiar, but he has knowledge of the terrain and combat skills we need. If anything goes wrong he may be the only one who can get us out.”

“Yeah, unless he’s the one who causes things to go wrong.”

Chase smiled reassuringly and looked at his infrared scanner to see any changes. If he was reading the map correctly, they still had two miles left to go. He looked at Maggie through his goggles and said, “Remember, Jenna and Kyoki hired him for that expedition in Bosnia.”

Maggie sighed and said, “A lot of good that did them.”

Sinclair walked closer to them and pointed to a steep decline at the northern edge of the ridge that they could utilize to travel through the ravine and onto an open plain to the south. They unanimously determined that this was the best available route and drove slowly down the hill and into the ravine.

Chase’s snowmobile slid back and forth toward the bottom of the hill and he sped up as he made his way through the ominous ravine. Both sides of the cliff were twenty meters tall and looked as though they would collapse at any moment. He could see the land ahead of them and punched forward through the ice as he looked down at his map. He continued to look down as something slammed into him from the side. He was forced to the left and fell off the snowmobile, which rolled over and crashed into the side of the cliff looming above them.

He looked up and Sinclair pulled up next to him. Sinclair lifted his goggles and said, “You damn fool! Are you trying to get yourself killed?” Before Chase could respond he continued to speak, “You nearly went headfirst into that cliff. As important as that map seems to be, you don’t much seem to care about living to see what you’re looking for.” He inspected Chase’s wrecked snowmobile and said, “You ride with Steifel. And let her do the driving, she doesn’t seem to be as careless as you.”

He drove away and waited for them to go again. Chase got up, stretched his shoulders, and cracked his knee. He picked up the map and briefcase he had dropped and brushed off the ice shavings and snow. He then limped over to Maggie and sat on the back of her snowmobile. It was only then that he saw a four meter wall of ice in front of him that blended with the surroundings. They all started off again, now around the cliff and slightly southeast.

After a short time, they reached a flat expanse of land and Chase tapped Maggie’s shoulder. “Trileon should be just over that hill. Look at the infrared scanner for any temperature changes in the ground; it may only be two or three degrees different than the surrounding area.”

Maggie nodded and began scanning the area for any differences in temperature. After they climbed the hill, she scanned the entire area and could not find any variances. She was disheartened and hoped that everything they had done hadn’t been in vain. She drove up to another hill and scanned the area again. This time she found a small area a meter wide that was five degrees warmer than the rest of the region.

“Here it is. I found it!” Maggie screamed in delight. “Latitude is eighty-nine degrees, nineteen minutes, forty-three point thirty-two seconds south, longitude eighty-six degrees, ten minutes, fifty-seven point thirty-six seconds west. We did it, Chase!” She knew what this meant and nothing else in the world mattered more at that moment.

“Not yet, but we’re almost there.” He could barely contain his excitement but tried not to give his hopes up.

McAllister and Sinclair pulled up next to them and saw the temperature variance as well. They drove quickly to the coordinates that Maggie had identified. McAllister rubbed his gloved hands together and asked, “So what now?”

Chase kneeled down in the snow over his briefcase and opened it. He put the map back inside the case and pulled out a package from within. He untied the twine and ripped off the brown paper. He pulled out a small, black leather pouch and flipped open the flap. He then took out a silver metallic disk with a hollow circle in the middle. In the center of the circle was a glowing sapphire blue crystal. Around the top of the disk were inscriptions in the same writing as the map. On the opposite side were additional inscriptions. There was a seam along the side of the disk, separating it into two sides. Small lines one centimeter apart were etched along both sides of the seam.

Chase looked up and said, “It’s called The Eye of Trileon.” He paused and examined the crystal with a perplexed look in his eyes. “But the crystal has never glowed like this.”

Before he could explain, McAllister fell to the ground. The pure white snow slowly dyed red around where he lay bleeding. Chase and Maggie looked down in terror and Sinclair spun around and yelled, “Sniper! Get down behind the snowmobiles!” He dove to the ground behind his and pulled a rifle out of his bag.

Another shot ricocheted off of his snowmobile as the sniper shot again. Sinclair looked around from the ground but could not see anyone. He then saw a reflection of the sun glistening off of a scope from the sniper as they shot his snowmobile again. He fired twice in that direction and lay back down on the ground.

“Fiore!” he paused as he shot once more. “Steifel! You two get out of here, I’ll hold them off.”

Maggie screamed, “But they’ll kill you! We don’t know how many there are.”

“Just go.”

They had no choice. Maggie and Chase crawled to the spot in the ground they were before and laid flat on their backs. Maggie grabbed hold of Chase’s arm as he twisted the top part of the disk, which turned easily around the seam. He matched two of the longest lines between the two sides and spun the top disk of The Eye clockwise five times, then back twice. Another shot was fired in their direction, and the snow flew up at the point of impact less than a meter away from where they were. Chase looked back at the disk and turned it clockwise three more times. At that moment, the crystal became increasingly brighter until a blinding blue light engulfed them both. Two more shots could be heard from Sinclair and they and The Eye vanished without a trace.

Purchase The Eye of Trileon to read more and discover what happened to Maggie and Chase. Follow Maggie's brother, Sean, on an epic adventure to a mythological island in the past.