Where the large slabs of stone had been originally mined was a question that Angélica had asked him to write down for her to research later.
“Can we come in yet?” Daisy whispered loudly from behind them.
She, Bronko, and Raul were waiting at the entrance for the green light to join them inside—or a cry for help, whichever came first. Esteban, on the other hand, had volunteered to play it safe. He was going to wait out the exploration from his seat on the log where Angélica had told Quint the stories ofCamazotz.
“Not yet,” Juan said in a low voice before limping several steps further in the warm, musty darkness.
“Dad, wait,” Angélica said, tiptoeing after him.
“What did he say?” Raul whispered, his flashlight aimed at Quint.
“He’s not ready for you guys yet,” Quint answered, shielding his eyes from the mini-spotlight.
Taking the opportunity at hand, he held his camera up in the light and changed the settings. A larger aperture might help for when Juan wanted him to take pictures in the dark, allowing Quint to skip using the flash if both Garcías aimed their flashlights at the subject.
“Parker.” Angélica hit him from the other direction with her beam. “Come on. Dad says he found something.”
“What did he find?” Daisy whisper-called.
“Is it an animal using this place as its den?” Raul asked.
“Are there any snakes in there?” A third beam of light bounced around the walls and ceiling near Quint. Bronko stood just inside the entrance. “Check for skins. I read that snakes will wait to shed until they’re back in their burrows.”
“Quint!” Angélica whispered. “Now.”
“I’m coming, boss lady.” He waved at the others while shielding his eyes from their spotlights. “Stay tuned. If you hear me screaming, run the other way.”
“That’s not funny, Quint,” Daisy said.
“Remember, snakes can climb walls,” Raul added.
Bronko cursed and stepped back outside.
Had Angélica and her father not been heading the other way, Quint would have followed in the sicario’s footsteps. Spelunking through a cave-like tunnel inside an ancient, decaying building required a titanium spine, and right now his was a wet noodle.
Hunching to avoid scraping his head on the low ceiling, Quint caught up with Angélica. “After you, siren.”
They walked single file. The walls near the entrance had started out relatively smooth with stacked and mortared blocks and plenty of spread between each side. But a little farther back, they narrowed and grew rocky, more like a natural cave with jagged edges sticking out. It was at that transition point that the floor began to slope steadily downward, along with the ceiling.
Quint tried to focus on slowing his breathing while keeping an eye out for bats in the overhead nooks and crannies. Panic was squeezing his lungs like an extra-friendly boa constrictor. The urge to turn tail and run hell-bent for leather back to the fresh oxygen under the trees had him panting.
The red paint coating portions of the walls was not helping matters. Sure, he knew from past discussions with Angélica and Juan that the Maya liked to paint stuff red, made with the mineral cinnabar or other mercury-containing paints. Who could blame them? Redwas the color of passion and love. The Egyptians and Maya both linked it with power and status. The Romans tied it to courage and war. In ancient China, it was all about good luck and happy times. But while slinking along inside what felt like a blood-coated throat, Quint would have preferred sunny yellow with rainbows.
Wait. Angélica had said rainbows could mean bad luck and something about demons off-gassing. He shuddered. Screw it, just plain white.
Two bends later along the sloping, tightening tunnel, they came upon Juan, who stood with his back to them. On the other side of him was a solid wall—the end of the road.
But what about …
Quint shined his flashlight at the ceiling, making sure they were still bat-free. So far, so good. Except for the fact that he could still smell a hint of ammonia from the bat guano but had yet to walk through any.
Where had the bats come from if not back here?
“Your ankle okay, Dad?” Angélica asked, slowing to a stop behind her father.
“Like I’ve told you three times already since entering this place, my ankle is fine. Please stop mollycoddling me.”
“Okay, but if you trip and break something, I’m leaving you in here for the bats to bite.”
