The Balance Omnibus

by Alan Baxter

  As one they stumbled back down the corridor, coughing and gasping, heading for the steps. They burst from the excavation into intense heat and blinding brightness and gulped down gasps of clean air. Katherine fought the urge to vomit.

  After a moment, as their breathing settled, Sanchez said, ‘Well, I’m sorry you had to experience that, my friends. I believe something died down there a long, long time ago.’

  Katherine looked up. ‘Something? Or someone?’

  Sanchez shrugged. ‘It’s hard to tell. It may be a burial chamber. In that case it’s possible that servants were sent down there to die, serving their master even in death. Sometimes animals were herded in for prosperity in the afterlife. Perhaps whatever it is was already dead and decomposed down there.’

  ‘You can smell it even from here,’ Thomas said.

  Sanchez nodded. ‘Indeed. We’ll give it a while to clear a bit. Wait there. I have something that will help.’ He stood up and trotted off.

  Drake looked at Katherine and grinned. ‘You know, I said I wanted a little adventure.’

  ‘So you did. Did adventure include uncovering corpses that were hundreds of years old?’

  ‘It wasn’t something I’d envisioned, I have to admit. But it is rather exciting. You’re still concerned?’

  Katherine nodded. ‘I can’t help it. I don’t know if I’m just spooked by the general course of events, that strange old man or what.’

  Drake laid a reassuring hand on her forearm. ‘The best thing to do is to let that sense sharpen your senses, keep you alert. If there’s nothing you can do to shake it off then let it work for you. And if you feel like you should tell us anything, then do.’

  Katherine nodded, laying her hand over Drake’s. His eyes were so solemn, serious. ‘Thanks, Thomas.’

  Sanchez returned, carrying several battery lanterns. ‘I don’t know if it’s just because we’ve been sitting here or not,’ Thomas said, ‘but the smell seems to be lessening.’

  ‘Good,’ Sanchez replied. ‘Here, these will help.’ He handed them each a paper face mask that would cover their nose, mouth and chin, with an elastic strap to hold it on, a small aluminium bar over the nose which could be pinched to fit. ‘We use them to prevent too much inhalation of dust. I’ve put a few drops of eucalyptus oil on each one in order to block out the smell.’

  Katherine smelt the menthol-like odour on the mask. ‘Good idea.’

  Sanchez smiled, gesturing with the lanterns. ‘Shall we then?’

  Putting their masks on the three descended again. They soon stood facing the slightly open door, eucalyptus thankfully being all they could smell. Sanchez pushed on the door again, moving it open until it stood at right angles to the wall. He shone his torch into the space beyond.

  The light landed on a thick, carved column, rising up from the floor. Sanchez followed the column up with his beam of light until it met the ceiling, some twenty feet above. As he shone his torch left and right the size of the chamber they had revealed became obvious. It appeared to be circular, several columns arranged in a circle, perhaps twenty five feet in from the walls. The whole chamber had to be a hundred feet in diameter. As Sanchez pointed his torch across the centre, looking for the far wall, a large raised dais was revealed. Also circular, five steps leading up to a flat top. An altar-like block stood atop it, with a column maybe three feet tall off each corner.

  Katherine felt tremors through her muscles. ‘I have a bad feeling about this.’

  ‘I can feel it too,’ Thomas said quietly. ‘I’m sure I don’t feel it as strongly as you, but there is an oppressive air in here that isn’t simply due to its age or the fact that it’s been closed up for so long. It feels malevolent.’

  Sanchez looked at them both for a moment, then he nodded. ‘Watch your step and keep your wits about you then,’ he said.

  They each flicked on a lantern and held them up. The chamber was flooded with light, the shadows swaying hypnotically as the lamps swung in their grip. Sanchez moved off to the left, Thomas and Katherine to the right. They met on the other side of the chamber, the lamps on the floor evenly spaced around the circle of columns, wan light illuminating the whole chamber. The light made it feel as though they were underwater. Everything around them was intricately carved, the walls, the columns, even the faces of the steps leading up to the dais.

  ‘I’ve discovered the cause of the smell that was trapped in here,’ Sanchez said calmly.

  Katherine looked at him, her face worried. ‘Really?’

  Sanchez pointed. Near one of the lanterns he had placed was a pile of bones, bits of rag and tarnished jewellery hanging off them. The three of them approached the disturbing collection. ‘There appears to be four people there,’ Sanchez said. ‘They seem huddled together, for warmth perhaps.’

  ‘Or protection,’ Thomas said in an ominous voice.

  ‘Could these four be responsible for a smell that bad in a room this size?’ Katherine asked.

  Sanchez nodded. ‘This room is extremely well sealed.’ He pointed up at the ceiling. ‘Look.’

  A rectangular block protruded downwards from the ceiling about ten feet long, eight feet wide, hanging about six feet below ceiling level. There was a hole in one end of the protrusion some six inches in diameter. ‘If I’m not mistaken,’ Sanchez said thoughtfully, ‘that’s the skull chamber. That hole may well be directly beneath the skull itself. Perhaps it’s time to move the skull. Who knew that all along we were suspended in this chamber.’

  ‘If that hole leads up to the skull,’ Drake mused, ‘then any light down here would shine up it, making the skull glow, as if from inside.’

  ‘You have a keen mind, sir,’ said Sanchez appreciatively. ‘That’s just the sort of technique that could be mistaken for ancient magic. Also, that hole is also directly over one end of the altar block there.’

  Katherine pointed to one of the columns circling the room. ‘Look. Each column has an alcove carved into it. Imagine if each one used to contain a crystal skull. The dais is below a shaft that leads directly up to another skull. Perhaps skulls were placed in each column, their energy channelled inwards to the centre of the circle, to the altar.’ She paused for a second, then laughed in spite of herself. ‘Jesus Christ, listen to me! Skull energy?’

  Drake and Sanchez laughed too. ‘There’s no evidence for what you say other than what we can see,’ Sanchez said. ‘But that in turn indicates that there’s no evidence against it either. Shall we have a closer look?’

  The three of them approached the dais, mounted the steps. When they reached the top Sanchez used his torch to enhance the light from the lanterns, playing it over the surface of the large stone. He whistled gently at what he saw. ‘That is absolutely unique,’ he whispered.

  The surface of what they had been referring to as the altar block was expertly carved, though not with the designs that they had become familiar with. A human shape had been painstakingly excavated, right down to individual fingers, leaving a life sized indentation in the pale rock. ‘You think someone is supposed to lie in that?’ Thomas asked.

  Sanchez nodded. ‘Without doubt.’

  Katherine laughed humourlessly. ‘You’d be lucky to get me on that!’

  ‘No, no,’ Sanchez said, running his fingers carefully around the carving. ‘This is unusual. A sacrificial altar has never, in my experience, been carved this way. This seems to me to be more of a place of honour. Look how the hole leading up to the skull above is directly over the indentation here for the person’s head. Anyone lying here would be looking straight up to the skull.’

  ‘Assuming we’re right about the skull being up there,’ Thomas said.

  Sanchez nodded again. ‘Yes, of course.’

  ‘And look here,’ Katherine called out. She had walked back from the dais a few paces and was looking with one eye closed across the chamber. ‘If I stand with my back exactly in line with this pillar behind me, my line of sight passes directly over where the person’s head would be and h
its another pillar opposite. The person’s head would be the exact centre of this room.’

  Sanchez crouched to share her level of view. ‘And those alcoves in the columns are at exactly the level of a person lying here.’

  ‘So,’ Katherine went on, ‘twelve skulls, one in each column, staring directly at the head of whoever might lay there, with that person in turn looking up to the skull above. That certainly sounds like a situation used to channel some kind of energy or thought process.’

  ‘I think you may have something, my dear,’ Drake said, gently stroking his beard. ‘Perhaps a holy man, shaman, whatever, would lie here, channelling the energy from the skulls around him, using that energy to look up and see through the eyes, as it were, of the skull above. Of course, all the crystal skulls that are known or postulated about have been found in various places. Some are even reputed to be in other mystical places hidden in countries like Egypt or Nepal. If that is true imagine the logistics of bringing them all together here at one time, so many years ago.’

  ‘We have to go and move the skull,’ Sanchez decided. ‘See if that shaft does connect with it. It’s time it was examined more closely anyway.’

  As they made their way back to the surface Drake said, ‘There are a number of slightly differing styles to the crystal skulls, you know. For example, one is made of amethyst, suspected to be in two halves which have been bonded together. The one in the British Museum of Man is rather cloudy crystal, compared to the Mitchell-Hedges skull which is absolutely flawless and has a removable jaw. The skull in the pyramid here seems to be as clear as the Mitchell-Hedges skull, but does it have a removable jaw?’

  ‘We’re not sure,’ Sanchez replied. ‘It looks as though it might, but we haven’t moved it yet. I’d say we are about to find out.’

  They stood under the tarpaulin at the top of the steps, blinking against the bright afternoon sun, acclimatising. It reminded Katherine briefly of seeing a movie in the daytime then stepping from the artificial night of the theatre into the surprisingly bright day. But this day was wearing quickly on. After a moment they made their way up and headed for the pyramid.

  The village elder leant against the wall by the entrance to the pyramid, puffing on a pipe. Blue, aromatic smoke curled around his craggy features, incandescent seeming in the strangely filtered light through the tarpaulin porch. ‘Are you making guesses yet?’ he asked.

  Katherine made a conscious effort to calm her heart which had started beating rapidly at the sight of him. ‘What do you mean?’ she asked, her voice sounding harsher than she meant it to.

  The old man’s face darkened. ‘You are already tempting the gods, American,’ he snapped. ‘You should leave.’

  Sanchez spoke quickly in Spanish, his face angry, pointing at the old man, then to the site in general. The elder smiled nastily and strolled away. ‘I’m so sorry, Katherine,’ Sanchez said seriously. ‘That man is getting beyond himself.’

  Katherine shook herself. ‘Don’t worry about it,’ she said, forcing a smile.

  They made their way down into the skull chamber and lit a lantern. ‘It feels rather strange knowing that we’re now in a box hanging from the ceiling of that chamber,’ Thomas observed.

  Katherine nodded. ‘It sure does. She lifted the hessian, revealing the skull, deliberately ignoring the change in the air that she knew would happen. She looked to Sanchez.

  Taking a deep breath he reached into the alcove, placing his hands either side of the smooth crystal pate. After a second, he lifted it. The skull came clear of the lower jaw, leaving it sitting in place.

  ‘Just like the Mitchell-Hedges skull,’ Drake whispered.

  Sanchez turned the main body of the skull over in his hands a couple of times. ‘It is perfect,’ he said in a voice of wonder. ‘Absolutely flawless.’ Holding the skull in one hand he reached back into the alcove and removed the lower jaw. The carved stone that it sat on was not hollow. Sanchez held the skull upside down and fitted the lower jaw into place. It was a perfect fit, settling exactly. He pulled the hessian from the wall and laid it out on the floor, placed the skull carefully on it. ‘Let’s see what else we have,’ he murmured.

  He stood up and looked carefully at the carved stone that the skull sat on. Taking hold of it in an overhand grip, he pulled. It shifted ever so slightly. Glancing at Thomas and Katherine with an excited smile he said, ‘Here we go.’ He pulled a little harder. With a scrape the stone came free of its mounting. It was cone shaped, point first into the hole like a wine bottle cork. When Sanchez removed it a column of watery light sprang up from below.

  All three of them leaned over the hole to see. By the light of their lanterns they could see the dais in the chamber beneath. The hole looked directly down onto the indentation intended for the head of whoever might lie upon the carved dais stone.

  Katherine ran a finger around a slight indentation around the hole, then looked at the skull. ‘I think the skull’s jaw would sit in that dent quite comfortably.’

  Sanchez picked up the skull, carefully placed the jawbone back into the alcove. Then he placed the main body of the skull atop the jawbone. The whole thing came alive with watery light as it filtered up from below, refracting around the flawless curve of crystal. Sanchez looked to Katherine then Thomas, smiling broadly. ‘This is truly remarkable,’ he said.

  Thomas nodded. ‘I’m glad I was here to see this. May I?’ At Sanchez’s nod Thomas took a photograph of the glowing skull.

  Katherine said nothing, staring with a feeling of combined awe and dread. She was still scared.

  ‘I have to get some men together quickly,’ Sanchez said. ‘We must catalogue and map all this immediately.’

  The merciless sun beating down through the canopy began to lessen, its harshness fading, its brightness becoming more diffuse. Carlos looked up through a gap in the dense foliage, estimating how much longer he had before dark. He knew better than most that night in the jungle came quickly. Once the sun was below the treeline the thick, heavy shadows dropped like blankets, visibility disappearing before your eyes. He knew he had about another hour at most before he reached the site. The light should last that long at least. If he was lucky he might get a quick look at the layout of the place before that fast moving night fell.

  He carried on through the brush and undergrowth, swinging his machete expertly, clearing no more than was absolutely necessary. Certain habits formed quickly and stayed, like leaving as little evidence of your passing as possible or always knowing at least three escape routes. Like a cat, Carlos would never be caught looking left and right, searching for a way out. It would already be logged. He always knew where his weapons were, he automatically registered everything around him that could be used as a weapon or used against him. His mind was never still.

  At the moment his mind was occupied with thoughts of the priest’s forthcoming torment, as they had been for as long as he could seem to remember. But those thoughts drove him on when he should really rest. His thigh was a burning slab of pain, his ribs stabbed every time he breathed, his head ached constantly. And he was so tired, so short of breath. It was frustrating him beyond reason that he had fallen so far out of condition. His body was a weapon, perfectly maintained, lithe, strong, flexible. He was a dirty fighter, but a good one. He was a warrior athlete. He could run for five miles through the thickest jungle, jumping, ducking, rolling, and come out the other side barely out of breath. He could run down animals for food and take them with his hands. And now, this lazy, ambling stroll through the jungle, cutting himself a path as he went, was leaving him breathless, dizzy. Fuck you, Karl mercenary, you didn’t pay enough for this.

  He paused for a moment, squatting in the shade of large leaves. Marco had given him another present to help him through, the world’s best painkiller. He had been saving it until it was absolutely necessary, not wanting to waste it. He reached into one of the numerous pockets of his cutoff combat jacket and pulled out a small plastic bag. He held it up, admiring the fine
white powder inside. White with the faintest hint of pink, pale beige perhaps. Almost pure, Marco had said, barely cut at all. As close to base as he could get. There were two grams of it, plenty now that he was this close.

  Cursing aloud Carlos stood up again, gingerly moving his leg. Crouching like that was agony in his thigh. After a moment he crouched again, this time with his injured leg out straight and his good leg bent to take his weight. He thought for a minute, How to take this? He pulled a 9mm pistol from his hip, held it out flat, the grip parallel with the ground. The square, black side of the barrel was flat and smooth.

  He carefully opened the bag and tapped out about a third of the valuable powder onto his gun barrel, gently moving it along to leave a powdery white line a few inches long. He pinched the bag closed again, all the time watching the pistol. He tucked the bag away into his pocket and searched another for a moment before drawing out a grubby note. Using his thumb across his palm he rolled the note into a tube. He had to smile, thinking how bizarre this must look. Snorting along the barrel of a gun did have a certain violent romance to it. A photograph of that would make a good album cover for one of those angry American bands. Or perhaps the cover of Time.

  He put the rolled note to one nostril, holding it in place with his middle finger and thumb. He used his index finger to press his other nostril closed. Putting the end of the tube to the end of his line he sniffed deeply, moving the gun under the tube. Halfway along the line he stopped, quickly changed nostrils and finished the line.