“What’s going on?” Pedro asked warily.
“Like I told Parker, I’ll explain on the way, because we’re short on time. If either of you decide you want to opt out, all I ask is that you give me the walk to the wall to finish with my explanation before you leave.”
Behind her, from the thick shadows under the trees, KuTu said something in Mayan.
She turned, replying in kind.
Back to Quint and the others, she said, “We have to go. KuTu is concerned that we’ve taken too long already. Come with me.” She headed off into the dark jungle.
“Well, that certainly gives me the herpie-jerpies,” Pedro muttered and followed after her.
“And some heebie-jeebies, too.” Quint fell in line behind him.
Bronko stepped lightly through the jungle, bringing up the rear, so quiet that Quint looked back several times to make sure the sicario was still there.
As soon as they reached thesacbeand could walk along side by side, Angélica said something to KuTu in Mayan, earning a single nod in response. She slowed and settled in between Quint and Pedro. Bronko walked slightly in front and off to the side, but within hearing range.
“I’m going to tell you guys a story,” she said, “and it’s going to be a little hard to believe, but KuTu swears on his life that it’s the truth. So, keep an open mind.”
“I don’t think I’m going to like this story,” Pedro said.
“No, you’re not,mi hermano.” She shined her light in his direction. “But remember, when I’m done, you can go back to camp if you want.”
Quint doubted Pedro would leave. He’d been in her family for way too long, and in spite of his grumbling, Pedro was a rock when shit went sideways. Bronko, on the other hand, was a wild card.
“A long, long time ago,” Angélica started in a voice just barely audible above the general clamor of the jungle, “there was a king from a land far from here who wanted to live forever. He had riches and power, a beautiful queen at his side, and several smiling children—two sons and three daughters, to be precise. He loved his life so much that he wanted it to go on forever.
“One day, a traveler came to town with news of a place where immortality could be attained. A sacrificial offering was required, of course, but in exchange, immortality would be granted. The king was willing to give whatever jade and riches he had to the gods, and the traveler agreed to take him to the sacred place with one caveat—the king could only bring one other person with them. This caused a quandary, since the king loved his wife and children alike, but the desire to live forever was strong. After one moon cycle, he set out with the traveler, bringing along the one with whom he chose to spend eternity—his oldest son, as his beloved wife had declined, not interested in outliving her children. But his son, well, he was excited at the prospect of living forever alongside his father. The two of them had dreams of conquering their many rival tribes throughout the land and building an empire.”
Something crashed through the bushes to their right, nearly scaring Quint out of his skin. He raised his machete, waiting, ready to swing.
Bronko swept the trees with his flashlight beam, his gun out and aimed.
Several squeaky barks followed, and then a pair of young javelina scuttled across the road behind them, their hooves clattering on the hardenedlimestone.
Pedro swore under his breath in a creative mixture of Spanish and English.
Quint’s heart coasted back down to a cruising beat as Angélica motioned for them to continue.
“And so,” she started up again, “the traveler led the king and his son on a long journey through many strange jungles. After the passing of more than forty suns, they came to a place with a wall that was as tall as many of the surrounding trees. There were no roads leading to this wall, but there was a small structure built of stone nearby. When the king and his son asked the traveler why there was no gate in the wall, the traveler said he didn’t know, but he claimed the wall had been in place for a very, very long time.”
Quint started to sweat, and not just because of the damned heat and humidity. He had a feeling this wall story was going to end similarly to how many of Angélica’s tales of the Maya wrapped up—with death and pain and blood and gore and more death. Hell’s bells. Why couldn’t this jungle be filled with happy elves who lived in trees and made cookies when they weren’t busy cobbling shoes?
“The traveler made them wait for two more days, until the moon was full, and then he led the king and his son to a tunnel that had been dug under the wall. On the other side were more stone structures, but all were empty—except for a collection of obsidian-tipped spears, blowguns,macuahuitl, and flint knives. The traveler advised the king and his son to arm themselves, but he carried only one weapon, an obsidian-blade dagger with a jade handle.”
“Like the one KuTu found,” Pedro said.
She nodded. “The traveler waited for the sun to reach the highest point in the sky, and then led the king and his son through the jungle. There was no path, but the traveler seemed to have an idea of the direction. Along the way, the king heard whispers coming from the shadows under the trees as they slashed their way through the thorn-laden forest, but he saw no people, only snakes and butterflies.”
Chills peppered Quint’s arms in spite of the heat. He’d heard those whispers, too. Seen the butterflies and snakes.
Shit.Part of him didn’t want to know how this tale ended, and the other part … Nope, it didn’t want to know either.
But Angélica kept talking anyway. “Night had fallen and the fullmoon had risen by the time the three of them reached a temple as tall as the surrounding canopies. Next to it sat a smaller structure with an angry sun god carved into the head stone over the door.”
“Please let this have a happy ending,” Pedro said.
Bronko glanced back at him. “I expect bloodshed.”
