Chapter Twenty-Four #2
“Knew what?” Quint glanced back at where they’d left Pedro and Bronko, but the two must have slinked out of sight into the shadows.
“This is definitely a representation of Camazotz.” She pointed at the carving. “He’s coming out of the mouth of a cave.”
“In other words, this is the door to his crib?”
“Yes.”
“Splendid. Wonderful. You’ve figured out something to give to INAH. How about we head back to camp now and call it a night?”
She turned, looking around, and then frowned at Quint. “Where’s KuTu?”
He pointed the macuahuitl toward the dark entrance. “He went in there.”
“Shit.” She headed after him without hesitation.
“Wait up,” Quint whispered, hurrying after her.
Inside the red-lined passageway, the whistling he’d heard earlier was louder. Was he hearing Fernel blowing that damned bone whistle? Or was this simply a matter of the earth “breathing”?
The cave where the real, normal bats holed up each day could be part of a natural blowhole that was part of an underground fault, similar to the one he’d visited in Wupatki National Monument in Arizona over a decade ago.
As they tiptoed deeper into the earth, Quint bent partway over to avoid hitting his head on several rock edges angling down from the ceiling. Once again, he focused on mental tricks to keep calm, but this time it wasn’t working as well.
The sight of KuTu up ahead in the tunnel should have been a relief, but that damned bright-green death mask made Quint’s heart beat faster. It didn’t help that KuTu had a black-bladed dagger in his hand now.
Jeez, if the guy believed this was real, did that mean at some point he was going to take his own life?
Or worse, jam that blade into Quint to fulfill the sacrifice part?
If so, why had he given Quint a macuahuitl to defend himself?
Although in this narrow part of the tunnel, there wasn’t much room to swing the wooden sword. He’d have to focus on slashing.
Quint shuddered at the idea of bloodshed of any sort.
As they moved along, Angélica silently pointed out the hole lower in the wall where the real bats came and went. He paused, picking up traces of ammonia wafting out.
But the whistling wasn’t coming from there, and the farther back he went, the louder it became. This must have been what Marianne was hearing earlier when she slipped inside of Daisy’s head and came here to shoo them back out to safety.
“Angélica,” he whispered, snagging the back of her shirt. When she paused and looked back, he asked, “Do you hear any whistling?”
She shook her head, her gaze narrowing. “Are you hearing it?”
He nodded.
“Mom mentioned whistling earlier,” she said.
“Yeah, but why am I? I’m not a ghost, right?”
She reached back and pinched his arm.
“Ouch!”
“No ghost, Parker.” She pointed behind him. “Is the sound coming from the hole where the bats live?”
“No.”
KuTu came up behind Angélica and spoke in Mayan. She looked around at him and replied in turn, thumbing toward Quint.
He looked at Quint for a moment, the whites of his eyes seeming to almost glow out from the green paint, and then shook his head. KuTu said something else to Angélica and then waved for them to follow, continuing down the tunnel.
“I asked KuTu about the whistling,” she whispered.
“He said long ago, some Maya believed in a secret power—the use of whistling to move rocks. They’d whistle a tune to a rock, and it would vibrate or ‘sing.’ Then it would glide to wherever the whistler directed it.
In time, the secret got out, and the rocks stopped answering to the sound of whistling. ”
“That story is a little hard to swallow. Seems like I read that whistles were sometimes placed in graves to help the dead with the trials of afterlife.”
Angélica nodded, glancing in the direction KuTu had gone. “I’ve seen several whistles in graves, most shaped like frogs or birds or other animals.”
“Maybe there’s a ghost nearby, blowing on its whistle in boredom after years of twiddling its thumbs, waiting for some poor suckers like us to walk by. It’s probably planning to float out of the dark and scare the hell out of us.”
Angélica looked at him like he was high from sniffing too much bat guano ammonia. “It’s also speculated that whistles were used during sacrifices to put victims into a trance-like state prior to cutting them open. Are you feeling dreamy, Parker?”
He scowled. “No, just a tad freaked out. I’d rather the whistling I’m hearing be the equivalent of whispers of the dead.”
Angélica shrugged. “Whatever keeps you moving forward. Now come on.” She followed after KuTu.
“Yes, boss lady,” he muttered, tapping the end of the wooden sword on the floor a couple of times.
Clunk, clunk, clunk. Gearing up mentally, he wiped off the sweat running down his face with his shoulder before heading after her, careful not to jab himself in the leg with the blades on the macuahuitl.
A short time later, they reached the wall. Only it wasn’t a wall anymore. Half of it was turned ninety degrees, leaving space on either side to pass through.
Before Quint had time to stop and figure out the “how” of turning a block wall like that, KuTu slipped on through and continued into the darkness.
Angélica looked back at him, her eyes wide. He couldn’t tell if she was excited or scared or both.
“The whistling seems to be coming from in there,” Quint said, stopping about ten feet short of the wall-door, peering into the shadows beyond.
“Gliding stones and whistling tunes,” Angélica whispered, staring at the opening in the wall. “You think it’s Dr. Fernel blowing through that bone?”
“Maybe.” Quint glanced back the way they came, missing fresh air, even if it was humid and hot.
“Let’s go find out.” She stepped through after KuTu. When Quint stayed put, she held out her hand for him, a small smile on her lips. “I remember helping you through a tight space before.”
He smirked. “That’s right. A temple within a temple.” He’d wanted to be cool and impress her that day, but his claustrophobia was having none of it. “You were having a grand ol’ time torturing me.”
“I was mad that Dad had let you come to my dig site without talking to me first.” She glanced down over him. “And you were too damned attractive for my own good.”
“Now look at us.” Quint tapped the end of the wooden weapon on the floor a couple of times, noticing a higher-pitched clacking than before. “You can’t live without me, and I’m stuck in another stone-lined coffin.”
She chuckled. “You’re right.”
“I’m right that you can’t live without me?”
He tapped the macuahuitl on the floor three times.
Clack, clack, clack.
Maybe the sound was dissimilar from earlier because one part of the tunnel had limestone underfoot and the other had granite. Or it could be something to do with the wall now opened up, causing sound to transmit differently.
He tapped again, four times.
“Yes,” Angélica whispered. “I can’t.”
Two more taps.
Clack, clack.
“In fact, I think I’m in love with you.”
He stopped tapping and stared at her, his heart now clinking and clunking, instead. “You think or you know?” he asked, taking a step forward.
A loud crack echoed around them, followed by a rumble that seemed to be coming from the walls and floor.
Shit! A cave-in!
“Angélica, get back here!” He reached for her outstretched hand. “The ceiling is coming down!”
Before he could grab her, the floor under his feet swayed, seeming to turn soft for a split second.
“Quint!” she cried, starting back through the wall-door.
Then the floor went out from under him.
He fell, tumbling down with dust and grit and pieces of the floor. When he came to a stop, he lay facedown on a hard stone floor. A rock thumped heavily next to him, followed by the crack of wood splintering.
“Quint!” Angélica called down from above him.
He rolled onto his back, surrounded by the musty smell of dirt and rock dust. Light shined across the rubble next to him. His flashlight! It hadn’t broken.
At least there was a bright spot in all of this, literally.
“Quint! Talk to me!” she called again, shining her light down in his face.
“I’m alive.” He shielded the beam. “I think.”
“That’s not funny.”
“I’m not joking. Let me check if all of my pieces and parts are still attached.”
He sat up, reaching for his flashlight. He moved his arms and legs, patted down his torso, and then stood. “Good news, I’m still in one piece.” Not even a bloody scratch. How in the hell had he managed that?
“Thank God,” she said. “You fell through the floor.”
“I noticed.”
He shined his light around the room—a high-ceilinged rock-walled chamber. In the middle sat an altar stone. The long bench was painted blood red. Carvings of creepy-looking bat heads were at each end, ears tall and pointy, same as the teeth in each gaping mouth.
He aimed the beam lower at the floor surrounding the altar. There were bones. Lots of bones. Human-sized bones.
Oh, fuck.
A scratching, scuffing sound came from his left.
He turned, aiming his light at another tunnel leading off into the dark.
More bones littered the opening.
Click, click, click, click.
The sound came from the tunnel. Claws on stone? Not too close. Yet.
Double fuck!
“I have some good news and bad news,” he said in a loud whisper, taking a step back from the tunnel.
“What?” Angélica asked.
He squinted up into her flashlight beam. “The good news is, I think I found the rest of the bones that go with the stack of skulls outside the wall.”
“Oh, God.” The beam from her flashlight danced on the floor all around him. “Is that what those are?”
“Yep. Many are broken. Or chewed on.”
Her light returned to him. “What’s the bad news?”
“You picked a shitty time to profess your love.”
Click, click, click, click.
Louder now.
She scoffed. “Because you broke your mouth in the fall and can’t tell me that you love me back at the moment?”
“No, because I might not be alone down here in what might soon be my own damned tomb.”
He shined his light around the floor, searching through the rubble and dirt for the macuahuitl.
There!
He grabbed the handle sticking out of the rubble and pulled, stumbling backward. The weight of the weapon was wrong.
Unfortunately, only half came out—the handle with just a few inches of blades along one side. The most dangerous half was under a flat, large rock. That explained the sound of splintering wood he’d heard.
Dammit!
A loud screech rang out from the darkness behind him.
“What was that?” Angélica cried from above.
Quint spun around, light aimed at the hole, broken macuahuitl held out in front of him.
“I think I’m about to have company.”