The Labyrinth Key

by Christopher Cartwright

  “Fetch the doctor!” he shouted, and several men called back in a chain of alert. Sam, breathing hard from his swim, saw commotion at the back of the group already moving forward. In the face of approaching help, Armando laughed, uneasily. “Sam, you do get results! You found an entire woman in there! You should’ve brought me along.”

  “Save it, Armando. That’s not funny.” Sam pulled off his mask in anger and cast it aside, glaring at their erstwhile boss. There was little that got his ire up like a man mocking a woman, particularly a defenseless one, no matter what his station. He didn’t care if the man was paying him.

  Armando had the grace to look ashamed. He snapped his fingers at the locals, forcing them forward and glancing back to check the doctor’s process. “Get her some help. She’s been down there for hours.” He turned back to Sam, who was still in the water, half in, half out. “Right. Let me help you,” he said, as Sam, struggling against the exhaustion of hauling the woman’s dead weight and his own, plus their equipment through the narrow tunnels on no air, flailed against the side of the pool, suddenly too weak to pull himself up. He tried without success to grip Tom’s arm, who was trying to haul him out.

  Armando leaned over and grabbed Sam under his armpits and hauled him out onto the bank, suit and tank and all.

  Sam slithered out and sprawled on the ground, feeling the earth under him with unutterable relief, unable even to react as he watched the doctor and the locals carry the woman he’d just rescued, who remained unconscious, further up the embankment where she was at less risk of falling back in the water.

  When he realized Tom and Armando were helping to pull off his equipment, he did his best to aid them. Finally, he pushed himself up to his knees, then his feet. When the ground stayed steady, he kicked off the rest of his gear and jogged to where Tom and the local doctor were crouched over the woman’s body. He had to see that she’d made it. If she hadn’t, not only would some seriously important information go up in smoke, but all of Sam’s efforts would have been for naught.

  Hell, the small, prideful part of his brain interjected, unable to shut up. He had managed to haul himself through that damnable tiny cavern twice to get her out. Didn’t that count for something?!

  Tom’s voice broke his thoughts. “Sam! I think she’s waking up!”

  Sam spun.

  Tom was right. The doctor had turned the woman on her side, and she was now coughing violently, the action wracking her thin shoulders. She was short of stature, he saw now that she was free from the distortion of the dark water and of his own desperation, and slim – like a gymnast or an acrobat. No wonder she hadn’t had that much trouble navigating those damn tunnels. Her wet hair was still plastered to her skull, but it was drying quickly in the hot sun, even though the sun itself was sinking. A distant part of him noted that it would be evening soon, and the wilds of the jungle night would emerge.

  The doctor, locals, and Armando went back and forth in Spanish and Sam only realized the doctor was speaking to him – in English – when the man repeated the question.

  “You found her unconscious? No sign of blood in the water?”

  “I- yes,” he said, startled, struggling to remember. “She was unconscious when I found her. And she wasn’t under the water. She was above it – there was a tunnel at the top –” He cast around, looking for Tom. “There was a tunnel, just at the top, that’s why you missed it- and when I went through, it opened up into something above the waterline. I found her like this- she was still wearing her mask- I think it was-”

  Suddenly, the woman opened her eyes. Her coughs stopped and she stopped shaking. Her whole body went rigid and her eyes locked right on Sam’s. He froze.

  Her eyes were bright, cold. Distant. Though she looked straight at him, Sam got the sense she was seeing something far away. Something that might not even exist.

  Her lips opened and she said something, so faint it was barely audible. Sam leaned closer. Despite the utter silence of the rescue team, he still couldn’t hear her.

  “What?” he said gently, softly. “What did you say?”

  The woman’s gaze circled, taking in the circle of men who surrounded her. Sam wasn’t sure whether she saw them or not. He knelt in front of her as the doctor crouched behind, cradling her head from behind. “Miss,” he said, low and urgent, leaning closer. Behind him, he could feel Tom creeping closer, too. “What’s your name? Is that what you’re saying? Your name?”

  Her gaze wandered, and then it locked on him, straight in his eyes. Her lips formed the word again. Then, faint and almost incomprehensible, a sound slipped out.

  Sam jerked back. Had she just said what he thought she said? “What?” he said, totally blank.

  Her gaze held the intensity of madness as she whispered the word again. “Xibalba.”

  It was the only word she spoke, before her eyelids flickered and she drifted into an unconscious coma. Her face went blank and she sagged against the doctor’s grip, unmoving.

  The doctor said, “Quick! We need to get her into the hyperbaric chamber.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Sam’s eyes locked on the young woman’s face.

  She was young, much too young to die. Her pale skin already had some color. She had shoulder length brown hair tied back. She had the slim and wiry figure of an athlete. At a glance he doubted she was any older than twenty, if that. She looked like she was close to death, but she was breathing on her own at least.

  He frowned.

  What the hell were you doing in there?

  Recreational SCUBA diving had become a popular pastime. Plenty of young people SCUBA dive, some even enjoyed the dangerous specialty of wreck dives or cave dives. But she wasn’t just cave diving. Where she had reached, she might as well have been on the moon. There were less than a handful of expert cave divers who had a chance in hell of getting that far, and that included Tom and he both. It was world class, right there.

  Yet, some sort of kid had done it.

  Was it stupidity, bravado, or something entirely different?

  Well, he reflected, there was always the gold. But looking at her now, she seemed an unlikely ruthless treasure hunter. The girl was lanky and thin, which might have been ideal for getting in the nooks and crannies of the underwater caves if she had the stamina. Or maybe it was just her manner, desperate to find a legendary treasure and take the riches.

  Sam recalled what Armando had said earlier about bringing him and Tom in on the project.

  We tried to go on our own, but none of us were capable of reaching Xibalba – already, we’ve lost three world-class cave divers.

  Sam turned his gaze to Armando. “Do you have something to tell me?”

  Armando shrugged; his face blank. “About what?”

  His eyes narrowed. “About why I found a woman – barely more than a kid – deep inside the cave system?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’ve never laid eyes on her until today.”

  Sam met his eye. Armando wore a mulish expression of obstinacy. If he knew something, he certainly wasn’t going to tell him about it. “This woman wasn’t working for you?”

  “No, of course not.” Armando made a mock frown for dramatic effect. “What sort of person do you think I’d have to be to bring in a mere child to do my deadly work?”

  “You didn’t seem to have a problem asking Tom and I to do it for you.”

  Armando grinned. “Come now, we both know I’m not twisting either of your’ arms to give you the chance to be the first in more than four centuries to lay eyes on Xibalba. We both know you and Tom would have done anything to get on my team.”

  Sam nodded. Armando was either lying or he wasn’t. Either way, he wasn’t about to find out – and one thing the man was definitely telling the truth about was that he and Tom would have done anything short of kill, to be the first to reach Xibalba. “Okay. So how does a girl like her come to know about the entrance to Xibalba?”

  Armando made a half-gr
in. “The Mayan legend is common knowledge in the region.”

  Sam didn’t buy that explanation for a second. “Sure, but how did she know that this particular cenote led to it?”

  “Beats me,” Armando admitted, turning to head back down to the main campsite, clearly finished with the direction of Sam’s discussion.

  Tom completed the routine maintenance on his rebreather system, setting it up so that it would be ready for his next dive. He stepped up next to the hyperbaric chamber, his eyes running across the chamber’s sole occupant.

  Turning to Sam, he asked, “What the hell was she doing in that cave?”

  “I have no idea,” Sam replied, shaking his head. “But she knew about Xibalba.”

  Tom said, “And if she knows about it, I think there’s more to this than Armando has led us to believe.”

  Sam nodded. “I agree. That’s why you and are going to have to make another dive – this time together.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Armando knew that Xibalba wore many faces and survived many myths.

  Despite the plethora of stories which portrayed Xibalba as one big death hall, the truth was that Xibalba was actually a number of individual structures. The most important site among all of them was the House of the Lords, placed at the entrance – the only way in. Each successive structure served as a test so only the worthy, or the quick of feet, would make it through.

  If, by some miracle, you were worthy and quick of feet and passed all the way through the maze, the final test was the Xibalban ballcourt. Here, the ancient Mesoamerican Game of Death would commence. The players could only use their elbows, knees, shoulders, and feet to place the hard rubber ball into hoops placed around the grass-padded field. While the game traditionally had religious significance, Mayan myth told of the story of Hun Hunahpu and Vucub Hunahpu, two plucky brothers who angered the gods so much that they were sentenced to play against each other, their own blood, on the battle court of Xibalba. Hun Hunahpu, the loser, was promptly decapitated.

  Legend had it, however, that if someone made it through, they would be greeted by the most sophisticated underground city imaginable. Gardens somehow grew without sunlight, vines snaked over carved rock walls, over the different temples and houses where people lived and thrived. In the middle of this paradise stood the Temple of the Lords, towering over all the homes and hostels, nearly scraping the top of the massive cavern that concealed the city.

  Xibalba’s defenses were many and mighty. But no matter how secretive or how well defended it was, trespassers always found ways to get in. Roads leading up to secret entrances above ground were riddled with booby traps and tests that only someone who truly knew the place and lived there would be able to avoid or pass. There were rivers that were said to have run across the entrances; first a river of scorpions, a tide of shiny black scales. Next, a river of the boiling blood of sacrificial victims. Finally, a river of pus.

  Beyond these rivers was a crossroads where travelers had to choose from among four routes that spoke in an attempt to confuse and beguile. Their voices whispered like the wind, whispering secrets, whispering lies and tempting words. Voices of loved ones long past called unseen, cries of help pierced the air from invisible travelers requiring aide. Illusion or real? No one could say. Each traveler had to decide for themselves.

  If one passed through the crossroads successfully and walked along the right route, upon surpassing these obstacles, one would come upon the Xibalba council place, a grand hall where it was expected visitors would greet the seated Lords.

  Lining the pathway that snaked its way to the top of the temple, a series of chambers lay nestled amongst the jungle wilds along the sides. Mannequins that looked real as life were seated between the Lords on ornate thrones just like the ones the Lords sat in, to confuse and humiliate people who greeted them. The confused visitors would be invited by “servants” of the mannequins to sit upon a bench in front of the throne, only to be cooked alive as chains that clenched around their feet locked them to the bench which rested upon glowing red coals.

  Only a few ever got this far, even in the history of all the myths. Only a few could walk to the end of the road where they could face the Lords of Xibalba. Proud, haughty, and blessed with long life, the Lords of Xibalba would then entertain themselves by humiliating the triumphant travelers in this fashion before sending them into one of Xibalba’s deadly houses of pain for more tests and lordly entertainment.

  Six houses of torture and tests awaited anyone that made it this far. The first was the Dark House, pitch-black as a nightmare and deadly silent. In the impossible darkness, the longer one stayed in it, the harder it was for them to find the exit. Their hearts would pound, their ears would ring, their breath would quicken. They would pant. The darkness and silence would render them insane.

  The second house was the House of Cold. The bone-chilling frost would be enough to freeze the muscles of a human being in three minutes. Third was the Jaguar House, a jungle within a room filled with magnificent felines denied meat and water and thirsty for human flesh. The fourth was the Bat House. While many would underestimate the bats at first, the vampire bats would swarm anyone that entered, sucking the blood dry of any living creature that dared to enter. The penultimate was the Razor House, where knives stuck out of the walls, flying from one side to the other without warning, without rhyme, without reason. Their flights were completely random, and their blades were always kept sharp.

  And lastly, the final chamber, was the Popol Vuh, the Hot House filled with fires and heat, stoked with wood and coals until the air was thick with shimmering torridity, so thick one’s breath seared one’s throat and their lungs shriveled in their chests.

  If, by luck, skill, or the whims of the gods, anyone who got through all of the tests set before them, they would find themselves placed in front of the Lords who would glance between themselves and then, begrudgingly but respectfully, acknowledge their power and grant them entry.

  That was what Armando knew of Xibalba.

  If he only knew how little he knew…

  Chapter Seventeen

  Sam suited up faster than last time, eager to get on with it and find answers.

  They both jumped into the water with splashes that echoed off the walls of stone. They sank below the crystalline water with no change in visibility between liquid and air except a slight magnification. Sam fought against the slimy feeling the hot water induced in him, wasting no time giving Tom the thumbs-up, and they were on their way.

  Now that they knew where to go, Sam and Tom silently propelled themselves into the yawning opening. The string was exactly where Sam had left it, floating slightly to the right of them. They took a firm yet delicate grasp of the line and followed it all the way down to its end. Sam bit back his fear and pushed through the crevice.

  When they reached dry ground, gasping, Tom took off his regulator first and turned to Sam as they struggled to clamber up and on to the dry steps.

  Sam asked, “Where is it?”

  “I don’t know,” Tom replied, glancing around. “Listen, there’s no other way to go but this. It had to be here. Right?”

  “Right, right,” Sam sputtered, pushing his mask to the top of his head. “Want to take point?”

  Tom peered into the darkness and flicked the flashlight on his head to max brightness. He turned and peered into the pitch-black passageway. “Might as well. The walls seem smooth,” he said, stroking them. “This is definitely artificial. Manmade.”

  Sam rolled his suit down to his waist and felt the wall for himself. Manmade. “Let’s go,” he said.

  They walked through the darkness and Sam kept checking his watch because it felt like they’d been walking for forever. But the glowing green numbers showed it had only been five minutes. They walked some more, yet nothing revealed itself. He began to wonder if they were going the wrong way. The combined bright beams of their flashlights did nothing to penetrate the oppressive darkness. By now, their suits were c
ompletely dry and Sam was left shivering from the sudden cold. He cocked his neck back and forth to crack his joints, fighting the fear brought on by the close quarters of the surrounding walls. The tunnel was getting narrower.

  As his spine snapped and bent, something caught his eye.

  He shined his flashlight to get a better look. The walls were now covered from top to bottom with Mayan symbols. He squinted, stopping Tom with his hand. “Check these engravings out. Any clue what they mean?”

  Tom kept moving ahead, unperturbed. “Sorry, forgot to brush up on my ancient Mayan before we came. Catch me later.”

  “No, no.” Sam peered forward. “These are different. It looks like they all say the same thing.” He touched them. There was something familiar about them. He stalled, remembering a souvenir from his travels. Someone had given him his name scratched on a piece of stone in ancient Mayan using the symbol designating respect. “I think it’s a… name.” He wracked his brains and saw again the glowing computer screen where Armando had emailed him information about the legendary city he hoped to find. “I think it says… Xibalba.”

  Tom snorted. “City of the dead. Great.”

  They kept going, traveling in silence and awe, occasionally running their fingers over the walls to really confirm that they were, in fact, going into Xibalba. Sam hadn’t expected it to be so easy. He reminded himself to keep alert, thinking where are all those tests and trials? He’d just opened his mouth and said, “We should have run into something by now—”

  He was cut off by a horrendous crashing sound which echoed in the corridor, deafening him.

  “Tom!”

  Tom said, “It’s all right. I’m fine but check this out.”

  Sam swung his beam around to see his friend standing in front of him holding a long, chalky white bone. Probably a femur. “There are skeletons everywhere.”

  Sam moved the light.