by David Meyer
"Excellent. Once the water is gone, the real work begins. The tractor can do most of it." I glanced at Rigoberta. "Are you up for that?"
She looked a little more rested than the last time I'd seen her. She also wore pants so I couldn't get a good look at the bruises on her legs. But her face remained white. Her eyes were still bloodshot. And her limbs still trembled. "Yes," she replied.
"Thanks." I looked at the others. "The rest of us are going to be digging around the pyramid. We'll sift the dirt and look for artifacts, including bones. But the primary objective is to locate the pyramid's true entrance."
Heads bobbed.
"Any questions?" I asked.
Tum raised his hand. "What about the animals? There might be plenty of rain right now, but they're going to need that marsh when we leave here."
"Once we drain the water, I'll open up an access point to the cave river. Is that sufficient?"
He nodded.
"I have a question." Miranda raised her hand. "Why are we going so fast? We should slow down, take our time. At the very least, we should map the subsurface before we proceed."
I sympathized with her. Hell, the archaeologist within me even agreed with her. Draining the marsh could destroy archaeological evidence. The safest way to approach the situation was to conduct a geophysical survey of the area using ground-penetrating radar and other non-intrusive means.
"Archaeology isn't like other sciences," Miranda continued. "If you screw up this excavation, that's it. We can't redo it. There are no second chances."
"I'm not going to screw it up."
"You're talking about moving bones and debris from their original resting places. That could significantly taint this site."
You falsified your work and you're worried about me tainting history?
"I'm trying to balance different needs," I explained. "We want a professional dig. But we also want the library. I think we can accomplish both."
"Impossible. This is why archaeology and treasure hunting don't mix. One side cares about history. The other cares only about money."
"That's enough." Emily took a deep breath. "This is my dig. I'm the one paying for it. And I say we came here for a purpose. This isn't just about history. This is about saving lives. And the Library of the Mayas will do that. So, Cy's excavation will proceed as planned."
Miranda fell silent.
"Okay." I looked at the various faces. "If you can help with the box or the pumping apparatus, talk to us. Now, let's get to work."
I felt a small thrill as people flowed in our direction. But my excitement was tempered by apprehension. Four lives—two people and two dogs—had been lost in our quest to locate the library.
And unfortunately, I had a feeling Hunahpu wasn't done with us yet.
Chapter 75
"Wow." I stomped across the swampy marsh. "It hasn't fallen an inch."
"I know." Graham frowned. "I can't figure it out."
I checked the pumping apparatus. It was working fine. So, I walked east to the large metal box. Beverly had finished it several hours earlier. Now, six hoses sprayed water into it at a decent clip. Six additional hoses led away from it. They continued east, heading into the jungle.
I put my ears next to the second set of hoses. "I hear gushing water. It's flowing fine."
"I don't know what to tell you. If an animal ripped up one of the hoses, we'd see water flowing back here. Only that's not the case."
"Then there's just one explanation. The marsh must be receiving water from an underground source faster than we can pump it out."
"That's what I figured. The cave river might connect to it."
"Maybe. But limestone bedrock absorbs moisture like a sponge. That's why Mexico's got so many sinkholes. They call them cenotes. Basically, rainwater filters through the limestone and carves out underground caverns. Eventually, the top layer of limestone breaks away and you've got an underground pool." I frowned. "In other words, the river should be leaking down, not to the side."
"But it's not ordinary limestone. According to Beverly, it contains rare metals."
"Did someone say my name?" Beverly crossed out of the marsh and walked to the box.
"Yeah. I was talking about those metals you found," Graham said. "Any chance they'd help the bedrock resist moisture?"
"I don't know." Her voice pulsed with excitement. "And right now, I don't care."
We stared at her.
"I was helping the Maneros filter the debris out of the water. I found a couple of interesting rocks, so I took them back to camp. You're not going to believe this." She took a deep breath. "They're shatter cones and tektites."
Graham and I looked at each other. "What the hell are shatter cones and tektites?" he asked.
"Shatter cones are rocks with thin grooves carved out of them. They look like horsetails. And tektites are small dark objects made of natural glass. They form during high-temperature events. Hunahpu must've dug real deep to get bedrock for his pyramid."
I rubbed my jaw. "What kind of high temperature event?"
"If it was just the tektite, I'd say a volcano. But the shatter cones are a dead giveaway. They only form during underground nuclear explosions or," she grinned, "impact events."
"So, this isn't a canyon," I said slowly. "It's a …"
"Crater," she said, finishing my thought. "Hard to believe, right? But it makes perfect sense. A small meteor must've entered Earth's atmosphere thousands or even millions of years ago. It struck these mountains and drove a hole straight into the limestone."
I nodded slowly. "That would explain the shape of this place, not to mention the sheer walls."
"It would also explain the extinct radioisotopes."
"They travel on meteors?"
"Not usually," she replied. "But that's because most meteors come from this solar system. I'm thinking the meteor that formed this crater might've been extrasolar in nature."
"There's just one problem." I studied the marsh. "The jungle slopes this way. But the marsh itself is flat. If a meteor really did hit here, wouldn't you expect it to keep sloping into a basin?"
"I suppose so."
My lips tightened. I strode forward.
"Where are you going?" Graham called out.
I didn't answer him. Instead, I grabbed a shovel and walked to the eastern edge of the marsh, right where the slope vanished. I took a few seconds to mark out a large circle with my boot. Then I thrust my shovel into the dirt and tossed heavy mud to the side.
The rain picked up speed, pelting my head and shoulders. Beverly and Graham retrieved shovels and joined me in the marsh. Silently, we dug into the soil.
Five minutes passed. Then ten minutes. Fifteen minutes. Gradually, Dora and Renau wandered toward us. Miranda and Tum did the same.
Clang.
My shovel struck a hard object. It bounced backward and trembled in my hands. I fell to my knees and scooped away more mud.
A tingling sensation appeared in my fingertips as I felt the mysterious object. Hunahpu had been far more devious than I'd ever imagined.
"He outsmarted us." I shook my head. "He outsmarted us all."
"What are you babbling about?" Graham knelt on his good knee and felt around in the water. "What the hell is this stuff?"
"It's cement. Hydraulic cement. I'm willing to bet it rings the clearing, sort of like an ancient swimming pool." I exhaled. "In other words, this isn't a natural marsh. It's artificial."
Chapter 76
"I've got it," Renau shouted. "Over here."
I tossed my shovel to the side. Then I jogged down the long trench.
Rigoberta had spent the entire afternoon employing the tractor's backhoe just outside the eastern edge of the cement basin. She'd systematically removed tons of dirt and mud, forming a long, curving trench. Then I'd split the others into teams and sent them into the trench with shovels, in search of a water source. Apparently, our hard efforts had finally paid off.
Upon reaching Renau, I noticed
a damaged rock formation. It was shaped like a pipe and lined with ancient cement. Water spurted out of it at an incredible clip, turning the ground at my feet into sludge. I gave it a long look and estimated the pipe's cross-section at just a few square inches. "Nice work. It's smaller than I expected. But that's got to be it."
"I think I know why it's so small," Beverly said. "It's to build water pressure. The pipe is probably a lot bigger on the other end. Gravity causes water to flow this way. The pipe gets skinnier, forcing the water into an increasingly small space. That's why it spurts out when it finally emerges."
"And that's how Hunahpu was able to spread the water through the marsh," I said slowly. "But how'd he keep it from overflowing?"
"He must've added some drains on the opposite side."
"God, he was clever." I exhaled. "Can you plug this up?"
"Sure. I just need to get my tools."
I climbed out of the trench and nearly ran into Emily. I quickly pulled her away from the others. "How are you?" I asked. "I didn't get a chance to talk to you after the attack."
"I'll miss Crowley. He was a loyal friend." She sighed. "I overheard your conversation. Do you really think you can stop the water?"
"I hope so."
"What do you want the rest of us to do in the meantime?"
"Just wait." I took a deep breath. "And hope like hell it works."
Chapter 77
Clutching the satphone in one hand, Miranda turned her head. The others were still gathered around the eastern edge of the marsh. She could barely see them through the mist.
She ran to the west. She got a good view of the outer tree line as she passed it. It was a series of gently swaying mammoth trunks that seemed to go on forever. They served in stark contrast to the tents. To the helicopter wreckage. To the piles of supplies and other items.
To her.
New civilization had secured a foothold in ancient nature. But she didn't care about that. She only cared about one thing.
Destroying the Library of the Mayas.
Miranda slid to a halt next to a tree grove. She still felt furious toward Pacho. Sure, she'd intended for him, along with everyone else, to die at the hands of Votan. But he couldn't have known about that. So, his efforts to undermine her work felt like the ultimate betrayal.
She stared into the sky, into the eyes of what the ancient Mayas had called Chaac. She loved archaeology. And Xibalba was undoubtedly the greatest find of her career. She could scarcely believe that it, along with the Maya Hero Twins, had actually existed. Unfortunately, no one else could ever know that.
Many years ago, she'd made a conscious decision to focus less on fact and more on the greater good. She'd sacrificed the quality of her research in order to make the world a better place. She'd felt guilty from time to time. But she'd never regretted the decision.
As a popular pundit, she'd used her knowledge of the past to predict the future. In that way, she'd been able to exert some control over political policies. And she intended to keep it that way, at least until the vast majority of people understood the dangers associated with manmade climate change.
She wasn't stupid. She knew she'd committed academic treason. She's forged hundreds of citations over the years. And at least a quarter of her own data—data she'd supposedly collected from all over the Maya southern lowlands—had been deliberately altered or misreported.
If the truth ever came out, others would turn a skeptical eye toward her work. Like Pacho, they'd find the discrepancies, the massaged data. And that wasn't the worst part. Worst of all, the scandal would distract the world from the very real danger of climate change. It would give ammunition to the oil-loving, anti-science zealots.
Miranda knew the case for climate change didn't rest solely on what had happened to the Classic Maya civilization. But she also knew how climate change deniers liked to twist the evidence. She knew how they thought, how they manipulated the media. If problems with her work came to light, it wouldn't just destroy her career. It would put a serious dent in the environmental movement as well.
And that was why the Library of the Mayas, as well as the rest of Xibalba, could never come to light. There was too much risk it would refute her carefully prepared conclusions. If she could've studied it in secret, she might've been able to preserve some of its knowledge. But she couldn't afford to let Emily take control of it.
Several weeks ago, she'd reached out via secret channels to the mysterious Votan. She'd offered him the Library of the Mayas under two conditions. First, he was required to spare her life. Second, he needed to melt the library down upon taking possession of it. The gold would serve as his payment and she'd never have to worry about its knowledge being used against her.
She knew she was taking an enormous risk. Votan never left anyone alive. In order to convince him to do so, she'd promised to be his eyes and ears in the archaeological world going forward.
She was less worried about him breaking the second condition. Obviously, Votan had little use for history. Otherwise, he wouldn't have been attacking archaeological digs in the first place. And while engraved plates would certainly fetch higher prices than melted gold, they'd also prove far more difficult to sell.
Swiftly, she dialed the now-familiar number and listened to the ringing noise. The line clicked.
"We're on the verge of entering the pyramid. The Library of the Mayas should be accessible within the next twenty-four hours. I'll do my best to slow the process." She quickly gave the coordinates of her position. "One more thing. I understand a certain treasure hunter named Cy Reed gave you trouble several months ago. Well, he's here with us so take all necessary precautions."
Her fingers trembled as she hung up the satphone. She stared at it for a moment. Then she looked toward the marsh. It was getting late. The cloudy sky was dark. The rain was somewhere between a drizzle and a downpour. A thick layer of foggy mist covered everything, reducing visibility by a considerable amount.
A small pang of guilt appeared in her chest. She couldn't see the others. But she knew none of them would survive the storm that was heading their way.
Chapter 78
I stared hungrily at Beverly. Shadow shrouded her face. A rare beam of early morning sunshine pierced through the tent, illuminating her twisted, curvy body.
I'd spent another sleepless night, tossing and turning. Now, I wanted her, wanted her bad. But I felt guilty about it. Hell, I wasn't even sure how'd she react. Maybe she'd kick me away, tell me to be more sensitive. After all, four lives had been lost in the last few days. And Rigoberta didn't seem too healthy at the moment.
Breathing softly, Beverly twisted toward me.
Screw that.
Life, at times, was one tragedy after another. Misfortunes, injuries, and deaths were a daily occurrence. It was tempting to bow to those things, to consume oneself in grief and guilt. But that was a mistake. Life was meant to be lived to its fullest. Mourning and grief had their places.
But the good stuff did too.
I slid into her sleeping bag. Snaked on top of her.
Her eyes opened. They glittered as she saw my hunger.
I lowered my face to hers.
Her lips parted.
I caressed her cheeks and kissed her, embracing her hungrily. Her body stirred. I felt my grief whisked away, replaced by throbbing energy. I probed her, touching her just right.
She stifled a soft moan. Her breaths came faster and faster, pulsing at an incredible rate.
I grasped her hands. Pushed myself against her.
Her soft gasps came hot and fast, scandalously so. Wavy hair cascaded around her face and she pouted her lips, frustrated but giddy with pleasure.
"Cy!" Graham shouted. "Get out here."
I clenched my eyes shut.
Go away. Please, just go away.
My lips touched her neck. My teeth nibbled on her soft skin.
Her toes curled. This time she couldn't stifle her moan.
"I'm serious." Graham's vo
ice was closer, just outside the flap. "Either you come out or I'm coming in there."
Beverly fought off a giggle. She swung suddenly, rolling on top of me. "Don't worry," she whispered breathlessly. "He wouldn't—"
The zipper unzipped. The fabric ruffled gently. Then a gust of smoky air coursed into our tent.
"Damn it, Dutch." I shifted out from under Beverly. "What do you think you're doing?"
Graham looked at Beverly, then back at me. "Interrupting you guys, apparently."
"Leave."
"No can do."
"What's wrong?"
"The hoses have been working all night. But the marsh still hasn't drained."
I frowned. "But we sealed the aqueduct. We stopped it."
"Maybe so. But we sure didn't stop the water."
Chapter 79
"No." I shook my head. "It's not red enough."
"How much redder do you want it?" Dora asked.
"Make it bloody." I reached into a large crate and pulled out a handful of powdered juice mix packets, orange and grape flavored. When used together, they formed a reddish color. I thrust them into her hands. "Don't skimp. Use as many as you need."
I looked at Graham. He sat on the ground, studying his electric pump. "Are you almost ready?" I asked.
"Sure am. How's the water?"
"Getting redder."
"Good." He stood up, balancing uncomfortably on his artificial leg. "You sure this is going to work?"
Dye tracing was an inexact science, often used for detecting leaks, tracking natural waterways, or analyzing sewer waters. But I'd never heard of anyone doing it with juice packets before. "It had better," I replied. "Otherwise I'm wasting a lot of juice."
"We can't even be sure that concoction is going to get into the river."
"I know. Keep your fingers crossed."
I turned back to Dora. She tore open multiple packages and poured their contents into Beverly's large metal box. Then Renau used a shovel handle to stir it. The concoction turned an even more brilliant red.
"Stir it good," I told Renau. "It needs to be well-mixed."