Chapter Five #3
“And it’s a long way down to the ground on this other side. Easily twice as far.” Quint slipped his camera strap over his head. “Your dad was right when he said the jungle is a master of camouflage.”
Her father held up his hands in surrender when she rounded on him. “I don’t remember saying any such thing.”
Back to Quint, she called, “Can you see any bumps in the terrain?”
“Define bumps.”
“Long, bus-sized lumps under the ground.”
“It’s hard to tell from here.” He focused eastward, taking pictures in silence for a moment before lowering the camera. “I should have brought your map up here with me.”
She thought about trying to throw it up at him like a baton, but if he didn’t catch it, they’d lose it on the other side.
He lifted the camera, spinning one way and then the other.
“What are you taking pictures of?” she asked.
“A bunch of trees,” he called back down.
“I’m going to wring his neck,” she told the vultures overhead.
“Give him a moment, gatita. You are even more impatient than your mother.”
She made a face at her father. Back to Quint, she called, “Does it look like a religious site?”
He lowered his camera and frowned down at her. “How in the world would I tell a Maya religious site from a non-religious one, especially from high up on a wall?”
She planted her hands on her hips.
“Don’t give me that look, boss lady. I’m serious, how would I tell?”
“Is there a temple?”
“I think I see something below nearly abutting the wall, but it’s mostly shrouded by trees. I need to climb down to check for sure.”
“Absolutely not,” Juan hollered, nailing her with a fatherly glare.
“What? I wasn’t going to encourage him.” She meant that, too. She didn’t want anything to happen to Quint. And if the distance to the ground was twice as far as this side, he might not be able to climb back up.
Why was the wall taller on the other side, though? A defensive wall would be taller on this side to keep enemies out, not the other way around.
Quint took off his camera, zipped it in the bag, which he secured in his backpack. Then he eased backward several feet, his arms shooting out for balance for a second as his boot heel caught on a rock and he tilted a little.
“Quint!” Angélica took a step toward the wall, her hand raised as if she could catch him.
“What are you doing, Junior Mint?”
“Don’t worry. I’m not trying to take flight.” He glanced down at them. “I’m giving the welcoming committee some room.”
“What does he mean?” Raul asked her.
Quint must have heard, because he answered, “There’s a snake up here, checking me out with its tongue.”
“What kind?” Bronko pulled his pistol out, wiping something off of it with a cloth. “Remember, if it’s a yellow beard, they can launch quite a distance.”
“Not that kind.”
Angélica licked her suddenly dry lips. Maybe KuTu was wrong about the vultures protecting Quint. “Parker, get your ass down here.”
“Sorry to bid you adieu, Mr. Snake, but the lady has spoken.” Quint lowered to his knees and leaned down toward them, dangling his pack. “Think you can catch this, Raul? I brought my old camera along for backup, but I’d rather not break this one.”
“Sure.”
Quint let the pack fall.
After Raul had set the pack down safely, Quint joked, “Now catch me.” A few grunts later, along with some help from Bronko and Raul, he was back on the ground, checking out a small scratch on his forearm. “Juan, do I get any points for making it back in one piece?”
Her dad grinned. “How about twenty?”
Quint snorted. “Seems like making googly eyes with a snake should be worth more.”
Angélica grabbed his arm, checking out his scratch. “It’s not too bad. No blood, so that’s good. We can clean that up back at the camp to be safe.” Now that he was safe, she returned to the whole point of today’s scouting trip. “Can I see the pictures?”
He extracted his camera from his pack and turned on the display, handing it over.
Trees, trees, and more trees filled the screen. He hadn’t been kidding about that. Nor about the distance to the ground on the other side.
Her father joined her, his reading glasses already in place. “Hmm. We’ve been looking at that view from the underside of the canopy all day.”
“Just hit this button to move back through the shots.” Quint showed her with the first one.
She clicked to another picture. More trees, some standing taller than the rest. “There could be a mound underneath those,” she told her father.
She moved through the next few pictures.
More trees, dammit.
The next picture was different, though.
Her dad sucked air through his teeth. “Look at the broad head on that snake.”
Raul hurried over, taking a look. “?Dios mío! That’s a jumping pit viper.” He shook his head at Quint. “You’re lucky it didn’t mind you trespassing.”
“What can I say? Lady Luck likes me.” Quint frowned at the wall. “At least for now.”
Angélica glanced over at KuTu, whose head was lowered a little as he watched Quint. If the Maya guard was right, luck had nothing to do with Quint’s fortuity on the wall. He needed to thank the vultures overhead.
She returned to the photos Quint had taken of what she had hoped would be a courtyard with a couple of temples, maybe even a ballcourt, partially covered with trees and shrubs.
With each image, the hot flames of optimism that had fired her up and out of her hammock this morning and fueled her machete swings throughout the day shrank and cooled, until the sight of the final photo blew the last one out—more godforsaken trees.
The jungle had covered the ancient site with wall-to-wall green carpeting. She needed to know what was under the tree canopy. Unfortunately, there was only one way to figure out where to start digging, and a helicopter ride wasn’t the answer.
“Damn it.” She handed the camera back to Quint, turning to the others. “Parker wasn’t kidding. There’s nothing but fucking jungle.”
“Language, gatita.”
She ignored her dad, focusing on KuTu. “We need to go in there.”
“Not without a better map,” her father insisted.
She really hated it when her dad was right.
As much as she would have liked to come back tomorrow and either use ropes to get down the other side of the wall or try to clear away more jungle in hopes of finding another way inside, the most sensible way to go about this was to get a better map—one that could see underneath the jungle’s thick, shag carpet.
“And a rope ladder,” Raul added, staring up at the wall.
“More guns.” Bronko holstered his weapon. “I do not like pit vipers.”
“A few more machetes wouldn’t hurt either,” her dad said. “And some real food, fresh and hot off the grill.”
“I agree with your pop,” Quint said, aiming his camera lens at an orange-winged butterfly perched on a skull near the top of the stack. “A helicopter waiting to take us in and out of the jungle would also be nice.” Click. Click. Click.
As she watched Quint play with the buttons on his camera and then lean in for more shots, KuTu joined her. “An ancestor has returned,” he said in Mayan, pointing at the butterfly. “I wonder which head was his.”
“What did he say?” Quint lowered the camera.
She watched the orange butterfly flex its wings gracefully.
“The ancient Maya people believed that butterflies were their ancestors. Some thought it was a way for their dead relatives to assure the living that all was well. Others believed the ancestors came to try to bring back wisdom and a return of natural harmony.”
As she spoke a second butterfly flew in—this one larger, with black wings dotted in red. It landed on the next skull over from the first.
KuTu inhaled sharply, grabbing her arm and pulling her several steps back. “Esto es muy malo, Dr. García.”
“Now what’s wrong with him?” Bronko asked, squinting at the Maya with one eye while puffing on the cigar.
“Black butterflies are bad juju in the Maya world,” her father explained, leaning closer to breathe in the cigar smoke.
“They are believed to bring pain and tragedy,” Angélica explained. “If one enters your house or tent, you need to catch and burn it to rid your place of bad luck.”
“Poor butterfly.” Quint lowered his camera. “So, we have an ancestor who has returned, along with a sign of pain and tragedy. Being that we’re staring at a pile of skulls, I can swallow that.”
Right as he finished speaking, the black butterfly rose up and disappeared over the wall.
“Good news, KuTu,” her father said. “Our bad luck just flew away.”
A cloud covered the sun, leaving them in heavy shadows.
“Or maybe not,” Bronko said, puffing upward.
Thunder rumbled off in the distance.
“I didn’t think it was supposed to rain today,” Angélica said to Raul, who’d brought along weather reports for the week.
“It’s not.”
A loud fluttering from overhead made her and Raul both cringe.
“Holy shit,” Quint said, raising his camera. “Would you look at that?”
She followed his line of sight to the top of the wall.
A king vulture sat perched there, its head tucked.
The white upper part of its wings were pulled in tight, giving the big bird a hunched look while it stared down at them with round red- and white-rimmed eyes.
The colorful reddish-orange and blue bald head twisted jerkily back and forth, making the floppy yellow caruncle on its curved beak wobble.
Click. Click. Quint wasted no time snapping photos.
Angélica checked on KuTu, half expecting the superstitious guard to have raced off, leaving a billow of dust in his wake. But he stood watching the vulture, eyes wide.
His awe was contagious, even more so when the bird stretched out its wings, which were almost as wide as Quint was tall. So regal, she thought. How could this creature be associated with a god so foul as the Lord of Death?
“Es tan hermoso,” Raul whispered.
“Yes, quite beautiful,” her father agreed. “What a gift to us today from Itzamná.”
“Who’s that?” Quint asked.
“The Maya god of the sky,” Angélica answered.
“El rey de los Muertos,” KuTu whispered, bowing his head.
“The king of the dead,” Raul translated for Quint, as well as the Maya’s next remark. “KuTu says the vulture has brought a message from the gods.”
“What message?” Quint asked, still taking pictures.
Raul repeated Parker’s question to KuTu in Spanish.
Another rumble of thunder sounded, this time closer.
KuTu looked at Angélica. “Only the Lord of Death knows,” he answered in Mayan.
Rather than repeat KuTu’s answer, she said, “Rain is coming.”
The vulture made a snorting sound and then turned its back to them. In a noisy flutter, it took to the air, heading out of sight beyond the wall.
“That was impressive.” Quint was all smiles as he packed away his camera.
KuTu would probably agree after his earlier prediction about Quint’s hidden identity. Thankfully, the Maya guard was keeping his reverence about the whole scene to himself at the moment.
“Let’s head back to camp,” she said, motioning to her father. “I need to call in reinforcements.”
She could also use a moment to wrap her mind around what KuTu had claimed about Quint.
“What kind of reinforcements, gatita?”
“The worst kind, Dad.” Angélica started back the way they’d come, keeping an eye out for snakes along the way.
The jungle might have won this round, but she was only down, not out.