The Labyrinth Key

by Christopher Cartwright

  It was true. The ground was littered with bones.

  The skeletons neatly sat, facing each other, smiling with their dead skulls and dead teeth as if they were expecting visitors. Some of them still had clothes on. One wore the curved armor of a Spanish conquistador. Sam crouched down and brushed the dust off. Beneath, it was still brilliantly shiny. Gold. Seated next to him, a skeleton wore a black tunic that had probably been brown at some point, and a beautiful spotted fur across its shoulders. Clearly, there had been a struggle as the Spaniards had tried to force their way in, and the residents of Xibalba fought valiantly against the guns. Even more unnerving were the bodies in the familiar wetsuits and SCUBA equipment that Tom and Sam now wore.

  Spears and knives protruded from the suits, revealing how they had died.

  Sam’s mind raced to the obvious and his gut clenched into knots. Booby traps. He’d watched Indiana Jones like everyone else, just as he’d heard the legends – iron spears, crushing walls, and giant axes.

  He wiped his hands on his pants, hurrying forward. “This is gruesome.”

  He’d reached the end of the hall, watching his step and trying to keep within Tom’s footprints, thanking the gods for the centuries that had robbed Xibalba of its deadly intent.

  A whir was the only warning he had before a knife flew through the air and bounced off the hard cave wall opposite, right between them. So close, it nicked his face.

  He touched the blood with a mix of relief and terror. “That was close.”

  Tom said, “Too close.”

  They hurried on, extra careful.

  It wasn’t long before they entered a large cavern, much like the underwater caverns at the caves, but completely dry. In the middle, a huge door made of stone sat expectantly. It peaked at least four heads taller than Sam.

  Sam looked at Tom who was scanning the setting with a practiced military engineer’s eye. “What do you think?”

  Tom shrugged. “Nothing obvious, but…”

  He eased forward before Sam could stop him and walked right up to the door and inspected it closely.

  Sam fought to keep his heart in his chest, half expecting the floor to sink and the walls to slide forward to crush them both.

  Tom turned around with a grin. “Looks like someone’s beat us to it.” He reached forward and pushed it open with some effort. “Not even locked.”

  The door led to another opening. It was as empty as the first chamber except now a pedestal lay broken on its side, the intricate granite shattered and crushed. Either it was deliberate or someone had been rushed to take whatever was there, off it. Or they had been… deterred. By something.

  Sam and Tom rushed forward, both fighting a growing feeling of foreboding. In the back of his mind, Sam reminded himself that they still had to return. They always had to return. If they made it to the inner sanctum, whatever secrets Xibalba had to share, she still had to let them leave…

  Another door. This time, while it was the same height, it was round and made of a black stone. The darkness seemed to suck in all the flashlight’s luminescence. Tom knocked on it. “Obsidian.”

  Sam’s eyes narrowed. His heart picked up its tempo. “You’re kidding me.”

  “Afraid not.”

  “To my knowledge, the Mayans never worked with obsidian and if they had, it’s highly unlikely they would have developed the masonry and lapidary skills required to achieve the level of craftsmanship necessary to construct this door’s delicate features out of obsidian. You know what this means, don’t you?”

  Obsidian, in general, fragmented or shattered when people tried to work with it. Even using modern lapidary technique, it was a difficult stone to work with and almost impossible to shape. There was only one group of people they’d ever heard of who’d appeared to have harnessed a near-mythical affinity with the stone.

  Tom’s eyes narrowed. “The Master Builders were involved in the development of Xibalba?”

  Sam expelled a prolonged breath of air. “It would appear so.”

  “Any idea where this door is going to lead us?”

  “If what Armando tells us about Xibalba is correct, it should lead to the underworld of the dead.” Sam grinned. “Or it leads to a Master Builder temple? And what better way for the Master Builders to ensure their temple remained hidden throughout the ages than to wrap it in a shroud of myth and legend and relating it to a city guarding the underworld?”

  Tom nodded. “I guess there’s only one way to find out.”

  Sam suppressed a small grin. “After you.”

  Tom shrugged and tried to turn the ornate golden handle on the door’s edge, to the right. He shook his head, glancing back the way they’d come. “This one’s locked.”

  “Any ideas on how to open it?”

  “We could take a ton of C4 and shatter the entire thing, but chances are we’ll get stabbed by obsidian shards or the entire cave system will fall down upon us. Probably both.” Tom shook his head. “We could…”

  But Sam had stopped hearing him. Instead, his eyes focused on the pattern etched into the doorknob. It was the same pattern that sprawled across the door in a series of spirals forming a maze, or the intricate pathways of a secret map.

  It was a pattern he’d seen once before, long ago, and had hoped never to see again. He thought he’d left this hell behind him. But here in the darkness in the gateway to the underworld, hell had reared its ugly head once more to look Sam Reilly in the face.

  His face darkened, but he remained silent.

  Tom noticed the change in his demeanor. “You okay, Sam?”

  Sam expelled a breath of air. “Yeah, I’m fine. Sorry, I was just contemplating how to get through the door.”

  Tom nodded, unsure whether or not to take Sam’s response at face value. He continued, “If we want to open the door to the labyrinth, we’ll need to find the key.”

  Sam felt his heart form a lump in his throat. “What did you say?”

  “We’ll need to find a key.”

  “No. Before that…”

  Tom bit his lower lip, the muscles around his jaw tightening. “What? I think I was saying we’d need a ton of C4 to dent this door.”

  Sam shook his head. “You mentioned a labyrinth.”

  Tom turned the palms of his hands toward the vaulted ceiling. “Yeah, so?”

  “What makes you say that on the other side of this door is a labyrinth? What made you think of that term, specifically?”

  Tom shrugged. “Honestly, I didn’t give it much thought. Armando mentioned that Xibalba was protected by a maze-like labyrinth of hidden passages and flooded tunnels like the ones we had to dive through to get this far. Why do you ask?”

  Sam turned his gaze away from Tom, his eyes fixed on the obsidian door. “It’s nothing. You mentioned the labyrinth key and it startled a hidden demon from my past.”

  Tom arched an eyebrow. “What’s the labyrinth key?”

  “Something from my past and a secret hell that I’ve promised to keep buried for the remainder of my days.” Sam turned to Tom, meeting his eyes. “I’m sorry. It doesn’t have anything to do with Xibalba or this obsidian door. Nothing more than the coincidence of a name. Let’s get back to the surface and find out where we can locate that crystal-shaped key.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Xi- balba… Xibalb-a… Xibalba…

  The water crushed against her temples until Mia felt like her brain would squeeze out of every hole on her face. The edges of her vision darkened as she kept pumping and pumping, forward, forward. A race of sheer will against her body.

  And then she remembered nothing.

  Had she made it out of the water? If not, she should be dead by now, her body lying at the bottom of the cave floor, rotting like everyone else who had come before her. Maybe she was dead already. It honestly wouldn’t be a bad way to go – painless, with the added benefit the cartel wouldn’t be able to find her.

  From the distance of her mind, Mia shuddered. The goddamned B
lack Muerte Cartel. The root of all her problems yet also, so much joy. It had seemed glorious in the beginning; endless highs, the feeling of power. She’d felt invincible and fearless, like no one could touch her.

  Not even her own brother.

  She didn’t remember when the drugs had changed her from warrior to victim. She just knew the crystals had burned her nose and her lungs and her veins and little Mia was gone for good. She’d do anything to get more. It took more and more to get that feeling.

  And more meant she needed money.

  Money meant sauntering up to violent-looking men in cutoffs and tank shirts, relying on her high school Spanish to get an ‘in’. Money meant impressing them with her street smarts, her quickness, and size. Mia had a great memory. The crack didn’t affect that. And soon, just like that, she was doing retrievals and odd jobs for the second-largest cartel in Mexico.

  Soon, the stealing had taken the place of the drugs. Most of the time, anyway. It gave her everything she’d always wanted. Control.

  Whatever the boys wanted, to satiate their desires, Mia would steal it for them. She knew all the tricks for stealing anything. And they loved her for it. About a month ago she’d strolled into some noble’s mansion in London dressed as an art critic, picked up an expensive statue, stashed it in her duffel bag and walked off. She’d laughed when she read the news the morning after. She was still laughing and the stories were still running, in London, at least. She’d stolen it over a month ago. Didn’t London have other things to write about?

  Boring. Mia hated being bored.

  But this mission had been unusual. That was what had drawn her to it; so was the conversation she recalled with her boss.

  “Mia? Ready to go out again?” Ramone had asked. They were still basking in the glory of their recent masterly-planned heist and Mia was snacking on crackers and caviar with Cheez Whiz from the can.

  “Already? Don’t you want to wait until all the fiasco dies down? You know what happened to Juan and his gang when they tried busting five museums in a week.”

  Her boss waved his fleshy hand. “Yeah, yeah, but this is special. We might even get more of a cut this time.”

  Mia missed her mouth. She wiped some cheese off her lip, flicking away the crumbs. “Always down for more money. What is it?”

  “See, down where the Mayans used to live, they had an underground temple. Called it Xibulbous or Xibaldo or whatever. Highway to Hell.” He grinned. “Sexy, no? The route to the temple was dangerous, but now it’s all abandoned, so anyone can get in.” The grin widened. “And you like a little danger, don’t you?”

  Mia rolled her eyes. “And?”

  He shrugged. “Big Boss said it wasn’t treasure but something else he wants. And he wants you to go get it for him.” He should get dental work done while he was here, Mia thought. It was cheap in Mexico. “What do you say?”

  Something else he wants. Drugs? Mia popped the rest of the cracker in to her mouth and swallowed. She wiped her hands on her shorts. “I say when do we leave?”

  He wagged his fat bejeweled finger. “Ah. Not ‘we’. You. I’ll set up all the flights and give you a guide who will go along with you. I’m staying right here.”

  Fat ass couldn’t fit on a plane, eh? All she said out loud was, “Huh. Weird.” She gave him a flirty smile, just to stay in practice. “At least tell me what I’m looking for.”

  He leaned in. “A key,” he whispered.

  She gave an incredulous smile. “A key? To what?”

  The man laughed. It was big and boisterous. “To the labyrinth, of course.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Yes, Mia thought she was dead. The first thing she felt when she woke up was the water sloshing in her throat and mouth. Instinctively Mia spat it out, turning her head to the side. She looked back up to see a pair of eyes staring back at her. A surprised look ran across the man’s face but not before Mia saw what else was on his mind. She had seen that look countless times: When a man was attracted by her prettiness but confused by her rough edges, scars, and bruises, they just put on a dumb face, as if she was an equation they just couldn’t solve. It had happened enough times that the information simply slid under her skin like someone else’s sweat.

  The man blinked and pushed his wavy hair out of his eyes, composing himself.

  Mia coughed and spat, turning her face away. “Get out of my face.”

  “Good morning to you, too,” the man muttered sarcastically. His sun-dried locks glistened like the water she laid next to. “Tom, she’s awake.”

  “Great. Can I get out of this diving suit first?” This voice was gruffer, deeper.

  “What the hell do you want from me? I don’t even know who you are!” Even as she said it, Mia knew it wasn’t true. Those ice-blue eyes stuck in her mind and she swore she’d seen those before. In Rhyolite, Nevada, the first time she had fought tooth and nail for her life…

  Well. There was always a first time. It certainly hadn’t been the last.

  He didn’t seem to recognize her though. His eyes simply remained empty. Not cold, but not kind either. He didn’t trust easily. Mia recognized the signs. “You were nearly dead when we came across you in that cave. We brought you out and you lapsed into a coma. You spent nearly twelve hours in a hyperbaric chamber.”

  Mia struggled to sit up and discovered she was trapped inside some sort of steel contraption. “Where am I?”

  “Uxmal, Yucatán – Mexico.”

  She grimaced. “I’m still outside the cave?”

  “Afraid so,” Sam replied. “We were going to move you but were afraid the trip might kill you. What’s more, we had to make a second dive because we were worried that you weren’t the only person trapped down there. Were you?”

  She blinked. “What?”

  He smiled kindly. “Were you diving on your own or did you have a partner?”

  “I was on my own,” she lied.

  “That’s a relief,” he said. “I sure didn’t revel in the idea of a third trip down that road to Hell.”

  Something about what he had said brought her memory out of its fogginess. “How did you even find me?”

  “We were here diving the cenote. Somewhere deep inside – farther than anyone with good sense should ever attempt – and came across you in a dry chamber. I don’t know how long you had been there, but you weren’t conscious when I found you.” His eyes narrowed. “What were you looking for in Xibalba?”

  Mia put on a look of surprise and innocence. “Ze ball ba? What’s that? I didn’t know it had a name. I’m just here diving the cenote, just like you.”

  The one called Tom snorted. “Yeah, right. We heard you sleep talking all about it while we tried to keep you alive.”

  Mia felt her cheeks flush a deep shade of red despite the chill she felt from almost drowning. The man continued. “You look too young to even be here exploring sacred, ancient caves. Who set you up?”

  Rule number five of the Black Muertes: Never snitch. “No one. I’m here of my own accord.”

  Sam and Tom glanced at each other and shrugged. Yes. Reilly had aged, no doubt about it, but now she was sure it was the same person. How she’d choose to confront him, she didn’t know.

  Looking around she realized for the first time where she was. “Where’s my stuff?”

  The same deep voice from earlier- Tom- replied. Now she could get a good look at him. Plain and huge. She filed this away as he appeared contrite. “We couldn’t save any of your equipment.” He spread his hands. “There wasn’t space. And there wasn’t time. Our priority was to get you out.”

  Mia dismissed this, pushing down her panic. Her dive bag! It contained everything she’d come here for!

  Sam leaned over and grabbed something out of her view. He tossed it to Tom. “Everything except your dive bag, anyway. It was on you, so it made the trip, inadvertently.” The tall and imposing figure handed her the wet bag. It looked tiny in his huge hands.

  He hesitated, like he didn’t
want to give it back and she just sat there, anticipating.

  Finally, he released his hold on it. She snatched it to her and felt the outside, hoping against hope it still contained its precious cargo as the key’s distinct outline presented itself. She breathed an internal sigh of relief.

  “You got anything important in there? Find anything in the tunnels?”

  “You didn’t snoop? I’m touched.” She sighed. “Listen, I’m sorry. I don’t mean to snap at you. I’m grateful – so grateful for what you did. I’ve just had a rough day.”

  The men softened, just as she knew they would. “What were you doing in there anyway?”

  Mia shrugged. “Diving. I didn’t see too much, though. I only got as far as where I stopped.” They glanced at each other again. “Might be a minute before I think of going back in though.”

  The big one’s eyes clearly said he didn’t trust her. Mia wasn’t worried. Lying well was what she did for a living.

  The men glanced between themselves, and then Sam Reilly seemed to come to a decision. “Listen, how did you get out here?”

  She shrugged. “Hitched.”

  He shook his head. “We’ll have our charter plane drop you off at the nearest airport.” Tom and the man shared a look. It was evident they’d known each other for a long time. “Look, we won’t ask questions, we just want you on your way so we can work on our own project.”

  Mia ran her fingers over the object in her bag. So they were looking for the same thing after all. Maybe that was why her Boss had wanted her to get in and out so quickly. How he knew about them, she had no idea. The Cartel worked in dark and mysterious ways; even she didn’t dare to find out.

  She swung her bag to her shoulder and looked at the evening light. “You want me gone?”

  “It’s nothing personal, no offense.”

  “No offense taken. I thought I was about to get arrested. My ride isn’t scheduled to return for another week, so I’ll have to work out someway to get out of here.”

  “Where would you like to head to?”

  “I’m meeting up with some friends in Mexico City.”