Chapter 11
Chapter 11
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Translator: Ace
Chapter: 11
Chapter Title: Warehouse Auction (2)
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"60 dollars!"
Cindy countered.
"75 dollars!"
"100 dollars!"
The bidding climbed rapidly.
Then it stalled at 200 dollars.
"200 dollars, going once... twice... sold!"
Big Mike had won.
Bill whispered,
"That sofa looked pretty solid. We could flip it used for at least 150 bucks."
They moved on to the second unit.
This one was a smaller 5x5.
The shutter rolled up, revealing stacks of boxes. Mostly plastic storage bins.
Labels like 'Christmas decorations' and 'Baby clothes' were stuck on the outsides.
"Pass on this one."
Bill shook his head.
"Why?"
"Baby clothes and toys are tough to resell. Even if they look usable, they're basically worthless."
Just as Bill said, no one showed much interest in this unit.
It went cheap at 40 dollars without any competition.
To a young Hispanic woman.
The third and fourth units that followed weren't much better either.
By the time they reached the fifth unit, Bill's eyes lit up.
"This is it!"
It was a big 15x15 warehouse.
Filled with office furniture.
Desks, chairs, file cabinets, and computer monitors...
"Looks like someone cleared out an office."
Bill was excited.
"Office stuff like this has steady demand. Especially those file cabinets—one could fetch 100 dollars easy."
"Really? How high should we go?"
"Up to 500 sounds good..."
The auction kicked off.
Starting at 100 dollars, it rose fast.
"150 dollars."
"200 dollars!"
Bill called 150, and someone raised a hand right away.
It was Big Mike, of course.
"250 dollars!"
"300 dollars!"
Tension crackled between the two.
After a moment's hesitation, Bill bid big.
"Alright, 450 dollars!"
The price jumped higher than expected.
Big Mike clicked his tongue and slowly backed off.
"450 dollars, sold!"
Bill clenched his fist.
"Yes! This'll be profitable."
They checked the next units too, but nothing special.
Finally, they reached the tenth and last one.
"Alright, last one! C-23!"
The shutter went up.
A large 10x20 unit...
"Whoa..."
Paintings lined one wall.
Some framed, some on canvas.
Across from them, old furniture. And stacks of boxes.
Shining a flashlight closer, one abstract painting caught the eye. It looked special somehow.
The furniture had an antique vibe too.
"Jake, check that out."
Bill grabbed my arm then.
Where he pointed, a small statue gleamed. Bronze, maybe.
"That one's..."
"What do you think? Looks pretty good, right?"
The five-minute viewing ended, and the auction began.
As expected, this unit drew a crowd.
Hands shot up right from the start.
"100 dollars."
"200 dollars!"
"300 dollars!"
"500 dollars!"
The price skyrocketed.
It hit 500 in a flash, paused for a breath...
"...700 dollars!"
Cindy jacked it up big.
But another bidder countered immediately.
"800 dollars here!"
A new face this time.
Middle-aged guy in a suit.
"1,000 dollars!"
Murmurs rippled through the crowd.
Bill leaned in, explaining with a surprised look.
Warehouse auctions rarely topped 1,000 dollars.
"Hey, Jake. What do you think? Should we jump in?"
"...But the competition's fierce."
"I can go up to 1,500."
"For real?"
"And those paintings... they feel like something's there."
Bill whispered to me.
Meanwhile, the bidding kept climbing.
"1,100 dollars!"
The suit bid again.
That's when Bill subtly raised his hand.
"1,200 dollars."
All eyes turned to us.
The suit fired back.
"Hm, 1,300 dollars!"
"...1,400 dollars."
Bill's voice shook a little.
The suit stared into the unit, pondering.
"1,400 dollars, going once..."
"1,500 dollars!"
1,500—Bill's limit, as he'd told me.
The problem was, the other guy showed no signs of quitting.
In the end, at the last second, the suit raised his hand again.
"I'm out. Can't go higher."
Bill sighed and shook out his hand.
"Sold for 1,550 dollars!"
The suit won the auction.
He paid the auctioneer in cash, looking pleased.
"Too bad."
Bill couldn't hide his regret.
I got it—even to me, the stuff inside looked prime.
"It's fine. We snagged one ourselves."
"Yeah. Let's go sort our haul."
We headed to the unit we'd won.
Now we could go inside and inspect.
"Start with this desk."
As I reached for the heavy office desk—
A flash of a scene streaked by, short and sharp.
*
A man sat at this desk, sorting papers.
Fine suit, checking his watch as he wrote something.
A calendar came into view.
1923.
Then he reached under the desk.
Fumbling awkwardly with something.
And...
*
"Jake?"
Bill's voice snapped me back.
"...Yeah. Just heavy, that's all."
But my eyes dropped to the desk's underside.
Something was definitely there.
After hauling the desk to the van, I snuck a peek underneath.
It looked normal at first, but the wood grain differed slightly in one spot.
"Bill, take a look at this."
"What's up?"
"Something's off here."
Bill shone his flashlight and inspected closely.
"You're right. This part..."
Pressing with his finger produced a faint click.
A hidden drawer popped open like magic.
"Jake, a secret drawer!"
Inside sat a worn leather pouch.
I pulled it out carefully and opened it...
"A watch?"
An old pocket watch.
Gold plating flaked off in spots, but still beautiful.
"This... late 19th or early 20th century, I'd say."
Bill marveled.
"Definitely well-crafted. Gold-plated case... wait, engraving here."
Tiny letters etched in.
'J.H. Morrison'
"Morrison?"
A familiar name.
Then it hit me—same last name as James Morrison from the Alamo.
"This might have real historical value."
"Bill, can I take a closer look?"
"Of course."
The moment I took the watch—
A clearer vision unfolded.
*
Civil War era, or just after.
A man in what looked like Union officer blues received the watch.
He opened the back.
An old photo of a woman and young boy inside.
Scene shifted. Vast Texas ranch.
Now an old man showed the watch to his grandson.
The boy's eyes sparkled as he touched it.
Darkness fell, time raced.
The grandson, now a young man in a suit, sat at an office desk.
Right—that was the guy from the first vision.
He pulled the watch from his pocket, gazing wistfully.
Then opened the desk's secret drawer with practiced ease.
And right after...
*
"You okay?"
I blinked; Bill looked worried.
My head felt like a sponge soaked in water—heavy.
I nodded and refocused on the watch.
The vision hadn't ended there, for sure.
Something more was coming.
*
The man opened the secret drawer and lifted the false bottom.
Another hidden compartment inside!
The vision kept going.
Time passed; the young man aged into an old one.
Last scene: him opening the drawer one final time.
Watch, stack of papers, letters from someone inside.
Drawer closed, darkness...
*
The vision faded.
I set the watch down, gasping like I'd held my breath.
"Jake, you sure you're alright?"
Bill still eyed me with concern.
"...Yeah. But check the drawer closer. Feels like there's more space."
"What?"
He inspected the drawer again at my words.
Sure enough, double bottom, just like the vision.
Lifted carefully...
"My God!"
The stack of papers from the vision emerged.
Dated from the 1920s to the 1950s.
And below, yellowed letters.
Bill unfolded one gingerly.
"This... ancient letter. Colonel Morrison..."
A thank-you note signed by President Lincoln.
Recognizing service at Gettysburg.
"Museum-worthy relic!"
Bill explained excitedly.
We sifted through the drawer's papers.
Mostly ledgers, but opening a leather binder revealed old stock certificates.
"These stocks... 200 shares of 1950s AT&T? Damn, jackpot."
Bill examined them carefully, tapping his calculator.
His hands trembled visibly.
"Factoring in splits and dividend reinvestments..."
I swallowed hard without thinking.
Held my breath for his next words.
"Ha, Jake... if these are legit... at least 50,000 dollars."
"50,000 dollars..."
Unbelievable.
Treasure worth 50 grand from a 450-dollar warehouse.
"Hold on, Colonel's diary too."
Morrison's wartime journal. Handwritten.
Bill turned pages delicately.
"July 2, 1863, Gettysburg. Major battle tomorrow. Thinking of wife and son..."
Raw, personal accounts absent from history books.
True priceless history.
While Bill pored over the diary,
I gripped the watch again, focusing deeper, longer on purpose.
*
New scenes unfolded.
Colonel Morrison as a young officer.
Receiving the watch from his father for the first time.
Further back... Revolutionary War battlefield.
Another Morrison checking the watch while commanding.
More and more visions.
Like my ability resonated with the watch—clearer, deeper into the past.
*
'This family... fought in every American war.'
Back to reality, Bill watched me worriedly.
"You zoned out for five minutes."
"Five whole minutes?"
Felt like an hour.
"...So, what do you think?"
Bill asked carefully, skipping the subject.
He'd vaguely caught on that I was doing something with the watch.
Not the exact power, though.
"Hm... just feels like an old family. Long history."
I shrugged vaguely.
Bill nodded anyway.
"Long history matters. But spotting it? That's the real skill."
"...Not gonna ask more?"
"Jake, life's full of unexplainable stuff. At my age, no interest in digging. Got a talented partner? That's enough."
Bill was wise.
Instead of pressing, he pulled out his smartphone.
"J.H. Morrison, 1865... let's search."
After digging, Bill shouted.
"Got him! James Henry Morrison. Union colonel. Gettysburg vet. Moved to Texas post-war, struck it rich in ranching."
"Famous guy?"
"One of Texas cattle industry's pioneers. Helped found Fort Worth Stockyards."
Matched the vision perfectly.
"If this watch is really his..."
"Museum quality. Civil War and Texas history relic."
"Awesome! What's it worth?"
"Auction? At least 5 grand. Maybe 10 with luck."
Bill grabbed his phone.
"And I'll check if these stocks are real. Got a securities expert buddy."
While he talked, I sorted other items.
Found an old photo album in the paper pile.
Black-and-whites inside. Family shots.
Flipping through...
"Huh?"
Familiar face. The man from the vision.
1920s suit, watch on.
Handwriting on the back.
'James Morrison Jr. - 1923, Fort Worth Stock Exchange'
James Morrison Junior.
The colonel's grandson.
Checked the monitors too.
Most outdated junk. But one stood out.
"Apple monitor?"
1980s Apple computer model.
Hot with vintage collectors these days.
"Jake!"
Bill hung up and rushed over.
"Good news! Stocks are legit! Appraisal higher than expected!"
"...For real?"