That was her experience, too. “What do you see?” she asked, doing quick work with her piece of charcoal.
She’d have Esteban join them here tomorrow and instruct him to take his time with the task so they could have more detailed rubbings. She cursed herself again for not having Quint take some pictures of the entrance, but she’d been too distracted by Dr. Fernel and all of the insects attacking him.
Why had they attacked him?
That was so bizarre.
And why weren’t the bugs coming en masse after her dad and her now? Besides a curious fly now and then, the rotting fruit seemed to have them preoccupied.
Speaking of the fruit, why weren’t there any monkeys here? This would be a smorgasbord for them. Surely they could smell the rotting fruit in the breeze, even from outside the wall. They had extremely sensitive noses. She’d read once that they could smell ripe fruit over a mile away, especially if there was a breeze and they were downwind.
It made no sense. The wall was high, but notthathigh.
“You hear that?” her father said quietly as she finished up with the first stone rubbing.
“Hear what?” She squatted, sliding the rice paper carefully into her pack so as not to smear the charcoal.
“Something is moving in here.”
“You mean like rats or mice?”
“No. It’s not a rustling sound, more like a wave of applause in the distance rising toward a crescendo.”
She paused in the midst of grabbing a clean piece of rice paper and frowned up at him. A wave of applause?
He took a step into the ruin, his body half in shadow.
“Dad, do not go inside.”
“I need to check this sound out.” He took another step.
“Let me rephrase that.” She stood. “We are not going inside. Like I said before, I made a promise to Quint.” And she didn’t want to break it after the mess she made with her lie. “If you go in, I’m going to have to follow you.”
“I didn’t make any promises, though.” He stepped farther inside, almost totally in shadow now. “It’s hard to see in here.” He coughed. “There’s a lot of dust in the air. I’m just going to go a little—”
“Damn it, Dad.” She grabbed a handful of his shirt, hauling him back toward the light.
He tried to struggle free of her grip, but she held tight and pulled harder, putting her weight behind it.
“Angélica, let go!” He used his fatherly tone again on her, but she wasn’t going to bend to it this time.
“No! Get your ass back out here.” She yanked on his shirt, dragging him fully into the light, and almost fell backward down the steps in the process.
His cane clattered down the stone steps. “Gatita, let go of me right …”
A blast of air whooshed out through the entrance. It reeked of ammonia and something else. Something fetid, decaying maybe. So thick she could taste it.
She wiped her mouth with the collar of her shirt.
The applause sound coming from inside the entrance grew louder, rising in volume rapidly, reminding her of an incoming wave in a rocky surf.
She knew that sound.
Oh, fuck!
“Dad!” she called over the growing roar. “Get back!”
She rushed him down the steps, practically dragging him to the side of the entrance. He stumbled into her in their haste, and her boot heel connected with a root. Together, they hit the ground, her body cushioning her dad’s fall, lucky for him. It was not so fortunate for her left butt cheek, though, which had met up with a stone and undoubtedly would be sporting a helluva bruise for show-and-tell later tonight.
