The rest of her afternoon had been productive on one level, but a total bust when it came to giving her the answers she needed in order to pull the plug on this dig and return home a success. They’d taken more measurements and pictures, scoured the perimeter in search of caches and tells, plotted out some potential areas to grid and dig, and combed through the rubble on and around the temple, hunting for any stones with a stela or glyph carvings.
While she’d worked, she kept thinking about that block wall inside of the bat-house. Contrary to her father’s opinion, the wall wasn’t the end of the line, of that she was almost certain. The bits of mortar between the blocks had shown signs of age, but she didn’t think the wall was as old as the original surrounding structure.
If she was right, what was on the other side? And had the wall been built to seal someone in or keep someone out? She wasn’t sure which of those would be the better of the two.
Tomorrow, she planned to return to the bat-house and collect a mortar sample from the wall to take back to the forensic scientists at INAH. Her fingers were crossed that they could help her come up with the timeframe when the wall had been built. Whileradiocarbon dating was typically used for determining the age of organic artifacts, such as bones and charcoal, it could also be used for inorganic materials.
She would also scrape off a small sample of the cinnabar paint from the tunnel walls. Information gained from the paint might help date the bat-house. If she had some idea of a timeline for it, she might be able to narrow down what civilization had been in the area at the time it was constructed.
The conch-shell trumpets with their strange glyphs had her wondering if a group of travelers from the east, or maybe even farther down south, had been forced from their homeland and established a defensive settlement here. That might explain the wall and weapons caches. Although some kind of ancient prison was still a possibility.
She sat back and stared up at the moon, searching for answers and coming up short. Other than blasting their way through the interior block wall, which would get her fired as soon as the dust settled, they’d most likely hit another dead end. The purpose of Site 5 was going to remain a mystery, same as it had when her mother was still alive.
Leaning forward, Angélica buried her face in her hands. She had failed. Not only that, she’d put her personal life on hold and risked her future with Quint for nothing.
At least she had a few decent artifacts to take back for additional analysis, as well as a good amount of ancient weapons from the caches. Were those pieces enough to please the powers that be at INAH? She’d have to see.
“What’s a hottie like you doing out here alone in the moonlight?”
Angélica looked up in time to see Quint grab a nearby lawn chair and set it next to her. His hair was wet and glistened in the firelight, and he smelled soapy fresh. He’d opted for pants this evening instead of only briefs. That was too bad. Her mother would be disappointed.
“You’re a ‘hottie,’ get it?” He pointed at the fire. “Because of that.” When she continued to silently stare at him, he shrugged and fell into the chair. “What can I say? I’m too distracted by all of the weird shit happening at this place to be funny tonight.”
“Don’t worry.” She reached over and patted his arm. “You’re still funny looking.”
He made a face at her, which spurred her smile.
“In ancient Maya times,” she said, “you’d have made a handsome, cross-eyed hunk with women lining up at your door, eager to make bunches of good-demon babies.”
“Is there any bloodletting involved in the making of these babies?”
She shrugged. “You may need to offer a blood sacrifice with the help of a stingray spine, so just a poke or two would do.”
“We’re talking about two different kinds of ‘pokes’ here, woman, and I’m not keen on one of them.”
“Sorry, but the maize god has to be pleased.”
“Why the maize god? To feed my numerous offspring?”
“For reincarnation purposes, of course.”
“Yeah,” Quint said, shaking his head. “That makes no sense.”
“It has to do with another myth about wild and crazy times in the Underworld with the hero twins. This particular story includes the great maize deity, who was believed to have created maize people long ago.”
“Corn people?”
“Correct. The Maya are descendants of theirs.”
He rubbed his jaw, his brow lined. “So, the maize god is a creator deity?”
She nodded. “Listen, I’m not doing the best job of telling this story. The gist is that some Maya populations believe the Earth is a living being, and since mankind came from maize, eating corn and having sex allows them to be more in touch with the earth.”
“Like corn on the cob? That’s messy. Lots of butter dripping, making things … slippery.” He grinned. “On second thought—”
“This is why,” she continued with her explanation, “the maize god goes with procreation, which is followed by death, and then reincarnation.”
His grin widened. “What I’m gleaning from this corny story of yours is that eating popcorn during sex is on the table for you and me.”
