“It’s drool.” Bronko pulled his gun from the holster.
“Good. Then maybe Quint is still okay.”
“Yeah, but we might not be if these bighombresare as mean as they look,” Pedro whispered.
“Just tell me when and I’ll start shooting.” Bronko had his gun raised and ready.
One of the bats lifted its snout and began to chitter, turning its head back and forth.
Pedro cursed under his breath. “That sound on a dark night will scare your pants clear off.”
“It’s a good thing I’m wearing a belt,” Bronko deadpanned.
The bat closest to them hopped the rest of the way down the steps, stalking into the middle of the clearing on all fours. The hooked claw—or thumb—at the wing’s top joint must have been four inches long.
“Don’t move a muscle,” Angélica whispered, her machete raised and ready to swing away if it came their way.
The other three bats fell in line after the first, joining it in the center of the circle of moonlight. One leaned down to sniff at a papaya rotting at its feet, and then chomped it up with a vicious growl.
The first bat made the chittering sound again, turning its head in Angélica’s direction. Then it stopped chittering and started hissing.
The other three turned toward her, too.
“They see us,” Bronko said.
Pedro grunted. “I changed my mind, Angélica. I want to go back to camp.”
Quint pointed his flashlight at the two men staring down at him. “I need your help getting back up there.”
Fernel’s face was smeared with dirt and blood, and still partly swollen from the bug bites. Where in the hell had he been?
Actually, that didn’t matter right now. Quint just wanted to make it back topside before something else sauntered out from the dark tunnel and decided to chew on his bones.
“Is that a stone altar with carvings of the death-bat god at each end?” Fernel asked, his light directed behind Quint.
“Can we focus on me getting out of here right now?”
KuTu held out his hand.“¡Salte!”
Quint eyed the guard’s hand. “I’m too big.Soy grande.If I jump and take your hand, I’ll pull you down here with me.”
“No.” KuTu held out his hand a little farther.“¡Salte!”
“Fine.” Quint started to climb the pile, taking it slow so as not to knock any stones down.
“Are those bones around the altar stone?” Fernel asked, still distracted.
“Yes. Here, take these.” He stretched up onto his toes, reaching far enough to hand KuTu both halves of themacuahuitl, one at a time. Then he tossed his flashlight to Fernel, who fumbled it before dropping it on the floor. At least it stayed topside.
He frowned at Fernel. “You ready to help KuTu catch me?”
“Hold on.” Fernel removed his glasses and set them to the side. “Okay, ready,” he said, back near the hole.
“I’m going to jump up on the count of three—in Spanish for KuTu’s sake. I’ll try to catch the edge. You two grab my arms and pull me up.”
“You think this floor here will hold us all?” Fernel asked, sounding doubtful.
“I sure hope,” Quint said. “Ready?” he asked Fernel. At his nod, Quint turned to KuTu.“¿Listo?”
