The Vilcabamba Prophecy: A Nick Randall Novel

by Robert Rapoza

  “If the medallion is so important, how did the tribe lose it?”

  Randall smiled, he could imagine the wheels turning in his daughter’s head.

  “The legend tells about a woman tricking the Chief and stealing the medallion for herself, thinking it would grant her great power. She took the medallion and went back to her people but when they found out what she had done, they killed her, burying her in the tomb with the medallion around her neck as punishment.”

  “How did you get it? I remember Mom getting the call and driving out to pick it up for you, but she never made it back.”

  Randall felt a twinge of pain, even after so many years, the memory of that day was still painful. So much loss. He sighed.

  “After your mother died, I didn’t go back to the University for several weeks. When I finally came back, there was a small package on my desk, wrapped in brown paper. I opened it and found the medallion inside. There was no message with it. In fact, there was no writing on the paper except my name. Given my mental state at the time, I didn’t ask questions. I just put it in my desk drawer and forgot about it. The package sat there for months. By the time I found it again and asked around, no one remembered how it had gotten to my office.”

  “Maybe I can help explain,” a voice called out from the trail behind them.

  Randall spun and found himself facing a man who looked vaguely familiar. He was a little shorter than Randall, and had a slighter build. His face was humorless, and his dark black hair was long, framing his face. He was holding a gun at his waist, pointing it in Randall’s direction.

  “Who are you?” Sam said, turning to face him as well.

  “Your dad knows me, or should I say, he should know. Remember me Nick?”

  “Charles. What in the hell are you doing here?” Randall said, his memory finally clicking in.

  “I’m here for the medallion, Nick. That’s why I orchestrated all of this.”

  “Dad, who is this guy?” Sam asked.

  “My name is Charles Young, and I worked with your dad a long time ago. He and I didn’t really get along did we, Nick?”

  “He and I were graduate students in Georgetown together. When I was going through my rough patch, he caused me more grief than anyone at the college,” Randall replied.

  Charles walked closer to Randall and Sam, keeping a careful aim on them as he did so.

  “You forgot to mention that you cost me my job,” Charles said.

  “No, you cost yourself your job. You were so busy trying to score points with Dr. Adele and the rest of the tenured faculty by making my life a living hell that you forgot your purpose as a student. If you had focused on your research, you would be a tenured Professor by now,” Randall replied.

  “I guess we’ll just have to agree to disagree. The important thing now is getting my medallion back. Do you have it?”

  “What do you mean your medallion, and how did you know we would be here on this trail?” Randall asked.

  “I’ve been planning this for some time. I’m the one who sent you the medallion, but of course, I didn’t let you know it was from me. If I had, you never would have accepted it. Once the University fired me, I struggled to find work. I finally landed at Bates, a small Liberal Arts school in Maine. Perhaps you’ve heard of it?”

  “You knew Richter.”

  A sickening smile spread across Charles’ face.

  “I met him when I was working at the college. It was easy to manipulate him. He was so desperate for a friend that when I showed a little interest, he jumped on it like a starving dog that hadn’t eaten in weeks.”

  Sam shook her head in disgust.

  “So you knew about his research?” Randall asked.

  “Of course. He helped me piece together the location of this tomb, and I retrieved the medallion without his knowledge. Of course, as you can imagine, it cost me a pretty penny to get it. I had to sell everything I owned, and leverage myself to the hilt, to get the money to find that damn thing. It wasn’t cheap to hire locals to hack through this horrible jungle.”

  “Why Charles, why would you go through all of this trouble? You can’t possibly expect to get something out of this?”

  “The legend says that the one who possesses the medallion can control an advanced technology unlike anything else. Do you know what that means? Fame, fortune and best of all, revenge on everyone who has ever crossed me, starting with you. Now, if you don’t mind, we’re losing daylight. We need to find the tomb so you can unravel the mystery of the medallion and explain how I can use it.”

  The group moved forward through the canopied path, stopping occasionally to drink from their canteens. Randall tried to strike up a conversation with Charles to dissuade him from his quest.

  “You don’t need to do this. If you still have your job at the college, you can still become a tenured professor.”

  “Do you know how long that would take? I like my plan better,” Charles responded.

  “So you’re willing to murder innocent people for money?”

  Charles shifted uncomfortably, his face becoming serious.

  “If you do what I say, you and your daughter might live.”

  Nick turned to face Charles.

  “You know I wasn’t responsible for what happened to you.”

  Charles shoulders sagged, but he quickly recovered.

  “I want that medallion, and you’re going to help me get it.”

  They walked on and after some time, they arrived at a familiar spot. Having walked from the opposite direction, the opening was now on the south of the trail. After exchanging a glance, Randall and Sam walked into the circular clearing and to the entrance in the side of the hill.

  “Stop there,” Charles said. “Ms. Randall, you’re coming in with me.”

  “The hell she is. She has nothing to do…”

  “I think you’re forgetting your place here. I’m the one with the gun, not you. If you didn’t want your daughter to be a part of this, then you shouldn’t have brought her.”

  Randall began to move towards Charles when Sam stepped in front of him. She placed her arm on his shoulder.

  “I’ll be all right, Dad, he won’t hurt me. Will I know what I’m looking for when I check the coffin?”

  Randall’s anger subsided as he looked into his daughter’s eyes. He then turned to face Charles.

  “You wanted me to come here to help you understand the purpose of the medallion. If I don’t go in with you and there are symbols to interpret, how are you going to know what they say? Let Sam stay here, and I promise I won’t try anything. I’ll do as you say, and I will interpret anything we find.”

  Randall watched Charles face as he mulled the situation.

  “Fine, but I’m warning you, Nick, if you try anything, I’ll shoot you…and then her,” Charles stated, pointing his gun at Sam.

  “I understand.”

  The two men entered the earthen mound, Randall in front with his flashlight and Charles close behind, his gun pressed into Randall’s back. Randall stopped for a moment as his eyes adjusted to the darkness. He felt the hard steel of the gun barrel dig into the small of his back.

  “No tricks!”

  “I’m just letting my eyes adjust to the darkness before moving in.”

  They resumed walking and had soon covered the distance to the first chamber. Randall stopped for a moment and shone his light around the room. He then shuffled the remaining way into the rear chamber, where the coffin lay in the same state as before. Richter’s lifeless body lay slumped on the floor, the blood pooled under the gaping gunshot wound in his chest.

  “My God…” Charles said.

  “You’re responsible for his death.”

  After a long pause, Charles spoke, “Get on with it, Nick.”

  Randall moved gingerly around Richter’s body and stood by the side of the coffin. Shining his light in, he once again looked to the feet of the skeleton and saw the wrapped package. He reached in with his free hand, slowly
guiding it through the beam of light until he could grasp the rectangular parcel. It wouldn’t move. He grabbed it more tightly and pulled harder, but again, failed to pull it out. He leaned into the casket, looking more carefully at the bundle. It was wedged under a small rectangular section of rock protruding from the side wall of the box and a small raised triangular piece of rock on the base of the box.

  “What in the world is taking you so long?”

  “It’s wedged under some sort of ledge in the coffin. I can’t seem to get it free.”

  Charles shoved Randall out of the way, almost causing him to trip over Richter’s body. Catching himself. Randall shined his light at Charles, who reached in and pressed against the rectangular ledge with his gun hand, while grabbing the package with the other. The stone moved under Charles’ pressure, receding into the side of the coffin. Charles wrenched the parcel free and turned to face Randall.

  “See, Nick, sometimes you just need to be a little more aggressive.”

  As Charles spoke, Randall detected a faint rumbling sound. It became louder and the earthen tomb began to shake. A look of confusion came over Charles’s face.

  “It was a trip lever, come on Charles, we need to get out of here,” Randall said, grabbing the other man’s arm, yanking him towards the entrance of the tomb.

  The ceiling began collapsing on them as they ran. Dust rained down through the beam of Randall’s light as he towed Charles behind him. Large chunks of rock fell from the earthen roof and the whole chamber shook violently. Randall nearly stumbled over a large stone, releasing Charles’ arm in the process. Catching himself he spun back, shining his light towards Charles’ face, which was ashen.

  Randall grabbed his arm again and pulled him back towards the entrance. Earth rained down on them as they pushed forward. The opening to the outside loomed brightly in front of them, but debris was beginning to build up in the path. Another vicious jolt rocked the chamber, sending both men careening to the floor.

  Randall struggled to his feet. Having lost his light, he groped for it on the floor.

  “Nick! Help me!”

  Randall found the light and turned to search for Charles as dust choked his lungs.

  “Keep talking, I’ll follow your voice!”

  Charles did as instructed, allowing Randall to locate him, quickly. He shined his light over Charles body, inspecting for damage. Charles face was contorted in fear and pain.

  “My leg,” he whimpered.

  Randall pointed the light down his body. Large rocks covered Charles left leg from the thigh downward. Randall knelt beside him and moved a large stone causing Charles to moan in pain. He worked quickly, heaving the heavy stones as dust and debris rained down around him.

  The earth shook again sending a storm of earth showering from above. More rocks broke free.

  Randall used his body to shield Charles from the falling rubble.

  “Dad! You’ve got to get out of there!”

  “I can’t, Charles is trapped!” Randall said, casting a glance at the ever dwindling opening back to his daughter.

  Randall continued to dig at the jagged rocks pinning Charles, his fingers bleeding from the coarse stone. He could hardly breathe, now; the dust choking him so badly he could hardly function. There were too many boulders, he couldn’t move them all.

  “Nick,” Charles gasped.

  Randall stopped digging and turned his flashlight to the injured man’s face.

  Charles was holding his gun, the barrel pointing directly at Randall’s head.

  “There’s no way I’m getting out of here alive,” Charles said.

  Randall froze, staring directly into his eyes.

  Charles smiled, “Sorry, Nick.” He turned the gun to his own head and pulled the trigger.

  Randall recoiled at the sudden gunshot blast. Opening his eyes, he stared in shock at Charles’ now lifeless body. The tomb had claimed its second victim in as many days.

  “Dad! Are you okay? I’m coming in!”

  The sound of Sam’s voice pulled Randall back to reality.

  “No, I’m okay! I’m coming out!”

  Randall picked up the package lying near Charles’ body and cast a final glance at his former adversary.

  “Goodbye Charles.”

  Randall scrambled towards the entrance, trying desperately to keep his balance as the world around him rocked wildly. The opening was significantly smaller than before, and dirt continued to pile up on the other fallen debris, causing it to grow tinier by the second.

  He finally struggled the final few feet and reached the opening. It was too small to walk out. Randall flung the package through the cavity and into the clearing beyond. He began climbing up the debris pile on his stomach, digging his fingers into the dirt and pulling his body up a few inches at a time.

  Dirt poured down on him, getting into his eyes, clothes, mouth and any other exposed body part. He spit it out and tried wiping his eyes clean with one hand while climbing with the other in a futile attempt to see. The best he could do was squint as he dragged his injured body up the dirt hill towards daylight.

  He was close and with one final pull, his torso shot out of the hole and into the sunshine. Sam, grabbed his arm, yanking him the rest of the way out of the earthen grave.

  Randall rolled on the ground, coughing and spitting up dirt as he tried to clear his lungs. His eyes burned with sweat and dirt, and he was unable to catch a good breath of air. Sam raced to his side, offering him her water bottle. Randall gulped the water and immediately began to gag. He spit out a muddy handful of water and coughed extensively while his lungs burned from a lack of oxygen. Sam propped him up on a backpack and tried to give him more water. Randall pushed the liquid aside and continued coughing.

  After several minutes, the coughing subsided, and an exhausted Randall looked up at his daughter, his face covered with dark dirt except for small, circular bands of clean skin, outlining his eyes.

  “What happened in there? I heard the gunshot and thought the worst.”

  Randall explained how Charles had unwittingly set off the trap and became pinned under the debris.

  “I tried getting him free, but the rocks were too heavy and there were too many of them...”

  “…and you couldn’t move them all.”

  “In the end, Charles knew there was no way I could free him. He took his own life, so I wouldn’t stay behind to try and save him.”

  Randall sat for a moment, staring off into space. He glanced back at the tomb and shook his head. He closed his eyes and sighed deeply. Several minutes passed as he gathered his thoughts. He rubbed his temples, trying to find reason in the violence he had experienced since he had started this journey. There was none.

  More time passed and he finally spoke.

  “Where’s the package?”

  Sam left Randall’s side and searched for the bundle her father had thrown from the tomb. After some time, she returned holding a leather bound book. She stared at it intently, flipping through the first few pages as she walked.

  “What is this?”

  “I’m not really sure, but it’s definitely the same writing we found on the tablets at Paititi and on the medallion.”

  “How are you able to decipher this?” Sam asked.

  “Back when we weren’t speaking, I didn’t really have much to do in my spare time, so I concentrated on learning their language. I’m not going to lie, it was really rough going at first, but with a lot of practice, I came to understand the flow of the language. Now, reading it is second nature to me.”

  Randall sat up and took the book from Sam. He studied it, intently, flipping from page to page, as if searching for something.

  “Well?” Sam asked.

  “Grab a seat, this is going to take a while.”

  Chapter twenty-eight

  Randall found a large, flat stone, and he decided it was as good a place as any that he would find along the trail to read. Sam left to scout the area, as he sat down with the bo
ok. He flipped open the cover and began reading with great interest. The book was the story of the woman who had stolen the medallion. It was also a history lesson on the tribe that had broken away from the main group living in Vilcabamba.

  This is the tomb of Luna Quispe, daughter of Matias Quispe, and this is her story. Let this tale serve as a warning to all who would disturb the great power of Ayar Cachi and the ancestors. After being forced from the sacred city, Ayar Manco and our ancestors settled along the sacred river and built the jungle city, Paititi, with the help of men sent by Ayar Cachi. There, our people flourished as the mother jungle and river provided us with ample food and water. We lived there peacefully for many generations, and contact with our brethren in Vilcabamba became less frequent as we were able to live off of the bountiful land without their assistance. As such, the younger generations began to believe that Ayar Cachi and the great sacred city were simply stories fabricated by the elders.

  One such disbeliever was Luna Quispe. Luna practiced the dark magic which was forbidden by the elders and believed the stories of Ayar Cachi were attempts by the elders to control her power. One day, she tricked one of the elders, Huayna Capac, into believing she was sorry for her evil ways and asked to learn about the ancestors. Happy to help the wayward girl back onto the right path, Capac spent a great deal of time with her, teaching her the old ways and telling her stories passed down by our people. She learned quickly, grasping the ancient teachings and becoming an expert on our people’s lore. Capac was satisfied with the progress of his pupil, but continued to withhold the one story which she sought most. The story of the Ayar Cachi’s staff.