Chapter Two #4
“The goop?” He lowered the flashlight. “That sounds like some kind of new funky jungle disease. Will it turn me into a long-lost amphibious missing link with green gills and big red fish lips?”
“All the better for kissing you, Parker, but the Creature from the Black Lagoon was about an swamp monster. You have the wrong jungle.”
“Maybe, but like that lonely green boy, I am very enamored with the beautiful head scientist.”
She rolled her eyes. “Wrong again. The creature falls in lust for the female assistant of the head scientist.”
“How do you know so much about that movie?”
“It’s one of Pedro’s favorites.”
Ah, good ol’ Pedro Montanero. That lucky son of a bitch had managed to get out of this bungle in the jungle by having a paying client that required his helicopter piloting services to ferry supplies to a cluster of somewhat remote dig sites near Mérida for a few days.
Had that job up north not been on Pedro’s calendar, the longtime family friend of the Garcías would be here hacking away at the jungle with the rest of them.
Juan had told Quint this morning before they’d left Calakmul that his first goal on this trip was to clear a spot wide enough for Pedro to land his big whirly bird. Of course, that was if Angélica found anything worth having them stay longer than a few days.
Making a suitable landing pad had moved to the top of Quint’s goals after arriving at the camp and seeing how rough their next few nights would be out here. He’d grown accustomed to having tents tall enough to stand inside at the previous digs, not to mention nightly showers.
He’d also appreciate having a quick way out of here if someone got bit … or shot. That helicopter had helped save his life once. He’d like to have it close enough to offer that service again if any one of them stepped on the wrong snake or came face-to-face with a two-legged killer.
“Come on, heartbreaker.” Angélica held up the jar of goop. “Let me protect you from the big bad bugs.”
“I don’t know. I just killed the last mosquito that was on this side of the zipper.” He tried to adjust his pack so his notebook wasn’t poking him in the shoulder. “Maybe you should wake me up with a morning rubdown,” he added for her ears only, shooting her a wink.
“Trust me, you don’t want to wait until morning.”
“Why not?”
“KuTu just told me there is an aguada nearby.”
He paused, staring at her through the mesh. “What the hell is an aguada? Some kind of freakish mix of an alligator and iguana that lives in a swamp?”
She let out a bark of laughter, which set off an ear-blasting ruckus from the nearby troop of howler monkeys. The uproar practically rattled the top off Quint’s head.
“Shhhh,” she whispered, still giggling.
“You shush. You’re the one who woke up the neighbors.”
“Alligator and iguana,” she repeated, tears of laughter making her eyes shiny.
“Come on, it wasn’t that funny.” He adjusted the backpack, turning it soft-side up. “Okay, giggles, what’s an aguada?”
She coughed out one last chuckle, and then sniffed. “It’s like a small watering hole.”
“But it’s not a cenote?”
“No. Cenotes are underground caves in the limestone shelf that have collected water or are part of an underground river network.”
“I know that, Tour Guide Barbie. I also remember that they are considered portals to the Maya Underworld. Now tell me what the difference is between the two.”
“Aguadas are shallower. They tend to be depressions in the land where soil was removed to make houses or other buildings.”
“You mean removed recently or back during the Maya heyday?”
“Both, but mainly the latter.”
“So, having one of these shallow waterholes nearby means more insects to chew on us?”
“And other creatures. It’s a meeting place for mammals, reptiles, and insects.”
He smirked. “And humans.”
“Well, only if you need to get up in the middle of the night to use the latrine.”
“What latrine?” According to Bronko, they weren’t going to invest time in digging a latrine until Angélica confirmed they were staying more than a few days.
“Exactly.”
She held up the jar of greenish-colored goop. “Okay, my sexy swamp boy, roll onto your side and show me your back. It’s goop time.”
“Swamp man, gorgeous.” He shifted, turning partially away as directed. “Why is this beginning to feel like a visit to a proctologist?”
Her laughter rang out again, inciting another round of jungle uproar.
“Gatita!” Juan stage-whispered above the commotion. “Keep it down. Some of us are trying to get our beauty rest.”
“It’s Parker’s fault,” she told her father.
“Sure,” Quint said, aiming a mock glare at her. “Blame the new guy.”
“You’re not new,” she said, unscrewing the jar lid. “Or temporary.”
“Damned right I’m not temporary, woman.”
Her “temporary” remark was an echo from some of their previous disagreements.
Her lack of trust due to his traveling had caused her to build some walls between them in the past, requiring time and patience on his part to knock each one down.
At least he’d made some headway on that part of their relationship.
Now if he could just figure out a way to convince her to trust him enough to admit her part in cancelling their vacation and explain why she lied.
She stuffed the jar in the crook of her arm. “Stop making me laugh, Prince Charming, or we’re going to get kicked out of this joint.”
Quint held up his right hand. “I solemnly swear to be grim and excessively dour while you give me a quick rubdown.”
He heard her unzip his tent, glancing back to watch her scoop some goop from the jar.
“I’ll spread this on your back, and then I’ll zip you closed with the jar inside and you can finish the rest on your own. Remember, try not to touch your eyes or mouth afterward. You have hand sanitizer wipes in your backpack, right?”
“Yeah, but this is nothing at all like what you promised over by the fire. When we get back to Cancun, I’m going to sue you for false advertisement.”
“Do that and I’ll hang those flower pictures you think are too girly back on our bedroom walls.” Her fingers felt cool. And slimy. Not the least bit sexy.
“You fight dirty, woman.” He glanced over his shoulder. “Who gooped you up?”
“I did. I’m pretty flexible, you know.” She spoke that last part just loud enough for his ears only.
“Yeah, I know.” He closed his eyes, picturing her the last time he’d enjoyed her flexibility as she rubbed the greasy gel-like substance up his spine.
Damn. He forced that image from his mind for the time being, and returned to the task at hand.
“So, was the alli-guano the only thing KuTu had to tell you just now?”
“Aguada,” she corrected.
“Close enough.” Her hand moved to his shoulder, warm and slick with grease.
“No. He also wanted to let me know that they found a raised trail in the trees a little ways east of us.”
“You mean a sacbe?”
These raised Maya roads left over from long, long ago crisscrossed the jungle, but were hard to see from the air. Hell, they were hard to see from the ground, too, thanks to the plants camouflaging the forest floor.
“Maybe.” She didn’t sound happy about it, which was odd. Usually any signs of the ancient people who civilized this jungle long ago made her voice pitch higher with excitement.
“What’s wrong?”
She sighed. “Nothing.”
“Don’t shut me out, Angélica.” At least not on this.
“I’m not. It’s just that this site seems even rougher than I thought it would be.”
“What did you expect? A yellow brick road along with the flying monkeys in the trees?”
“Less undergrowth and fewer thorns, for starters.”
He rolled onto his back, and caught her hand, holding it when she tried to pull away. “Don’t you worry that lovely big brain of yours. We’ll machete this place into submission before it’s all said and done.”
She smiled at their entwined hands for a moment before meeting his gaze. “Can you use ‘machete’ as a verb?”
“I’m a writer. I can do whatever I want.” He sobered. “What are you hoping to find here, sweetheart?”
She shrugged slightly. “Something incredible.”
He grinned. “You’re in luck then. You already found it. I’m right here.”
That earned him another eye roll. “Something incredible and old that will make my mom’s name fill more tomes in big university libraries.”
“Well, something tells me we’re in the right place.”
“You’re just saying that to make me feel better.”
Maybe he was, or maybe not. He hoped they’d know for certain tomorrow, because he wasn’t looking forward to several days of digging without the rest of Angélica’s regular crew there to help.
“Did it work?” he asked.
She squeezed his hand. “Yes.”
“Good.” He blew her a kiss and then pushed her hand out through the mesh flap. “Now, give me that jar of goop and leave me be, woman. You’ve already let more mosquitoes in here.”
“Yeah, yeah, you big baby.” She slid the jar inside and zipped his tent closed, moving toward her hammock tent.
In the darkness beyond his flashlight’s range, he heard the rustling sound of clothes being removed and then the zip of her tent flap.
Minutes later, after he’d coated himself thoroughly with Teodoro’s insect repellent, he killed his flashlight.
He lay still in the dark, smelling a hint of peppers as his skin grew warmer.
Christ, at this rate, he’d sweat right through the goop before the night was even half over.
“Quint,” Angélica called out.
Something barked over their head and shook one of the trees holding up his tent hammock. Holy freakin’ monkeys! Didn’t those loudmouths ever sleep?
“Yeah?” he whispered when the tree-shaker moved on.
“What if we don’t find anything tomor—”
“Whoa, boss lady,” he interrupted before she could finish that question. “Let’s see how good the jungle is at playing hide and seek with the past before we head down that path.”