She headed to a temple that Otomi had called the Labyrinth. The main building was a series of steps upon steps. It was situated to the left of the central acropolis. The front façade was made up of four doorways and three niches that were framed in the same way as the doorways.
Lily touched the emerald-green moss that’d made nearly every structure its home. The moss consisted of thousands of tiny leaves, making it as soft as marshmallow. It was a refreshing contrast to the rustic stone surrounds.
She entered the temple through the middle doorway and was surprised to find a headless statue adorning the entrance. The stone figure reached her shoulders and was intricately carved, much like the terracotta warriors in China that she’d seen pictures of. It was amazing no one had stolen the whole thing. Although, given the effort it took to get up here, if it was as heavy as it looked, it’d be impossible to get the rest of the statue down that hill without some serious planning.
Lily sat on the stone platform beside the headless man, pulled her notebook and pen from her satchel, and began to sketch her surroundings. A light breeze filtered through the narrow hallway that ran left and right of her, and she smelled a combination of old stone and fresh jungle. The monkeys set off in a menacing chorus of howls and screeches, and she wrote how their call of the wild drove shivers up her spine.
“What do you write in that thing?”
She jumped at Carter’s voice and snapped her notebook shut. “I write about what I see.”
He touched his camera. “That’s what this baby’s for.”
“Yes, but you’re so busy looking through that lens that I wonder if you see the big picture.”
His eyes drilled into her. “I see you.”
“Really?” She cocked her head. “And what do you see?”
“I see a woman who’s determined to prove herself . . . no matter how far she’s out of her comfort zone.”
It scared her how well he’d described her feelings, yet she thrust her chin at him. “Is that so bad?”
“I didn’t say it was bad. I’m just saying what I see.”
She shoved her notebook under her elbow and stood. “I’m going to explore a few more buildings.”
“See ya then.” Carter said it as if he didn’t have a care in the world.
Maybe he didn’t. With no wedding band on his finger, she wondered if he had anyone to be accountable to. He looked like a drifter. Unkempt hair, long beard, baggy and disheveled clothing, dirt under his fingernails . . . he appeared as well-worn as his baggage. The only thing he seemed to care about was the camera that barely left his side.
As she made her way to a structure in the central acropolis, the rooster crowed, and that set the monkeys into a frenzy. So far, the monkeys’ howls had sounded distant—now, though, they seemed both close and angry. The horrid screeching noise grew louder, and she looked to the giant trees.
Several monkeys swung through the branches in a synchronized display of agility and strength, and one by one the monkeys congregated in the enormous tree nearest to Otomi and Pompa. When they’d lined the top half of the tree, they jumped up and down, screeching a terrible affront at the rooster, or so she assumed. Otomi let the bird out of its cage and it pecked at the ground, seemingly oblivious to what was going on above it. Lily wasn’t sure if letting Pompa out was such a good idea. She flipped open her notebook and described the spectacle, aware that she might never experience such a raw, energetic display of nature again.
Just as quickly as the monkeys had gathered, they dispersed, swinging through the trees until they disappeared into the dense canopy.
Lily finished her notes and climbed the steps of the temple that Otomi had said was built in around 756 AD by Bird Jaguar IV. The structure was perfectly positioned to take in the view over both the plaza and the river. Again, this temple had three doorways, the difference being that above each of the entrances was an intricately designed lintel carved into the stone.
Otomi had explained that the lintels were a series of three panels that Bird Jaguar IV had commissioned. The middle lintel detailed one of the Mayan king’s wives during a bloodletting rite. While the king held a flaming torch over his wife’s head, she threaded something that looked like barbed wire through her tongue.
Lily shuddered at the ghastly carving.
She progressed farther into the building and noticed an intricate frieze covering the surprisingly well-preserved roof. She sat cross-legged in the middle of the room and absorbed the history around her. It was hard to believe these magnificent structures had survived the centuries and the persistent vegetation that’d made nearly every single stone its home. While this site was impressive, she was looking forward to seeing Agulinta and experiencing a Mayan temple that’d only recently been found.
She reached into her pack, removed her father’s leather-bound journal, and flicked to the circular statue drawing. According to the archaeologists on CNN, nothing like it had ever been found before.
Yet her father somehow knew of it, about thirty years before they did.
Chapter 6
As the sun reduced to a sliver of white over the towering treetops, Carter took his final photos of the day. Spears of light highlighted the stone structures, accentuating every crack in the ancient brickwork and enhancing the intensity of the already brilliant green moss.
Satisfied with today’s photo session, he clicked out the SD card, and ensuring neither Lily nor Otomi were looking, he unzipped his cargo pants and slipped the card into a secret waterproof pouch he had hidden in his underpants. The pouch had been a cheap purchase from a roadside seller in Peru. Inside it, he kept a little slip of handmade paper with a couple of gold flakes that an old Japanese woman he’d met in Narita had given him for good luck. It was also where he kept his SD cards until he could upload the pictures to his Dropbox. Which, given his position in the middle of the Mexican jungle, was unlikely to happen until he returned to Corozal.
While losing his camera would be painful, losing his photos would be devastating. This was his life; it’d been in his blood since the day his daughter was born. He’d worked hard, learned the craft, experimented, practiced, and practiced some more, and the day after his daughter’s eighteenth birthday, he’d set off and hadn’t looked back.
He’d been chasing the perfect photo ever since.
The small sliver of sun he’d photographed just a moment earlier vanished and darkness seeped into the surroundings. He clipped a fresh SD card into his camera, hooked the heavy equipment around his neck, and headed toward Otomi. He found him at a rusted old tank alongside one of the ruins, with his water bottle positioned beneath the tap. Lily arrived moments later.
“You’re not going to drink that, are you?” Lily bulged her eyes at the guide and pulled a face at Carter.
“We boil it later.” Otomi fetched Pompa, and as he shoved the bird back in his cage, the rooster crowed its apparent dislike at the situation.
“We go now,” Otomi announced. “Must set up camp before sunset.”
“Oh, I thought we’d camp here,” Lily said.
“No. No. Illegal. We go higher.”
“Higher?” Her shoulders slumped.
“Not far.” Otomi picked up the caged rooster and headed off ahead of them.
Carter grinned at Lily as she rolled her neck from side to side and grimaced with the movement. She caught him staring, smirked, then with a clenched jaw she flung her pack onto her shoulders and hooked her thumbs into the straps. He had to give it to her; the climb up had not been easy, but she’d done it, and he hadn’t heard one complaint from her . . . yet.
Carter let Lily walk in front of him, and they set off in single file with Otomi in the lead. Before they exited the clearing, Carter looked up the hillside. Even with the fading light, the hilltop loomed above them, giving him a sinking feeling the stairs they’d climbed earlier that morning were going
to be a breeze in comparison to what lay ahead.
They circumnavigated the temple complex and at the far edge of the clearing, at its highest point, they stepped onto a narrow path that looked to be nothing more than a goat’s track that wove through the thick vegetation.
Agulinta was a new discovery, and as far as Carter knew, only archaeologists and a few adventurous reporters had made it to the site. That meant there was every probability the track to it would be a grueling one.
Carter adjusted his camera strap over his shoulder and pressed on. It didn’t take long for his prediction to come to fruition. The century-old steps were still there, but they’d suffered over the time. Many were completely consumed by snaking tree roots. Slippery moss and inches of dead leaves blanketed the stairway. Dozens of the stepping-stones had dislodged over the years and were precarious at best.
Every step had to be carefully assessed, and with the weight on his back, his creaking knees, and the fading light, brute determination was required. At each turn in the path, he expected Lily to stop and call it quits, but she trudged on, relentless. Some of the steps were as high as her kneecaps, yet she climbed them with nimble tenacity.
For a man who always traveled alone, he was suddenly enjoying the company. It was a strange acknowledgment. He liked being on his own. Preferred it. Most days he woke without knowing where he was going, and without a travel companion to debate with, he went wherever he wanted. He hadn’t called a place home in years.
The path grew even narrower, and with it came a new challenge. Thorn-laden vines lined the track and caught on clothing and skin with equal brutality. Soon his arms were laced with fine gashes that oozed blood in jagged lines across his skin. He hugged his chest, trying to make his body smaller so that only his elbows suffered the attack.
Despite this new onslaught, Lily maintained her steady pace. He was impressed. She was on a mission, and after seeing her already fight her demons by the river, he’d bet on her making it.
They reached a pinnacle and the final steps launched them onto a large open bluff. Above the jungle, the sinking sun was a fiery streak that reflected off the clouds in a grand display of orange and purple. He squinted against the glare. When his eyes adjusted, he took in the magnificent panorama. The Usumacinta River glinted in the sunshine, weaving its way through the jungle like a giant golden anaconda.
He turned to Lily. “This makes the climb so worth it.” Her face was tomato red, her fringe was glued to her temples, and her chest heaved up and down with every breath.
Yet despite her obvious exhaustion, she smiled a glorious smile. “Sure does.”
“I set up tents.” Otomi wasn’t even out of breath.
“Thanks, Otomi.” As he walked away, Carter sat on the grass and spread his legs out before him. Lily flopped down at his side, and except for their ragged breathing they sat in silence.
Behind them, Otomi set about erecting tents and starting the campfire. The man didn’t seem to need a rest.
Carter held his water bottle toward Lily. “Cheers.” They clunked their bottles together and with every gulp of the warm water he wished it were icy cold.
Lily sighed. “I’d love a beer right now.”
He grinned at her, totally agreeing with that sentiment. “Hell yeah.”
Lily flopped back on the grass and looked up at the sky. When Carter copied her, he groaned at his protesting muscles. Stars seemed to magically appear above them, and soon the sky turned to a velvet-black dotted with millions of twinkling lights.
“Oh look.” Lily pointed to her right. “A falling star.”
“Make a wish.”
“I am.”
He wanted to ask Lily what a beautiful, intelligent woman like her could possibly wish for, but resisted.
A pleasant memory drifted into his thoughts. He’d parked his beat-up old station wagon on a bluff that was famous for being Australia’s easternmost point, and he and his daughter were lying on the hood, stargazing. Despite being just nine years old, she’d pointed at the stars and named every constellation correctly.
Those were special times. His daughter had never declared her falling-star wishes, but he’d like to think all of them had come true.
Carter had seen this star-bedazzled spectacle many, many times in his travels. All the best ones had been in places just as remote as this. Peru, high upon the Inca Trail. Egypt, at the bottom of the Nile. The middle of Australia, where red dirt spanned as far as he could see. Iceland, where the northern lights spun colors like the fine-woven silks in Thailand. All of them were wonderful, unique memories, forever etched into his brain.
Tonight’s show might’ve topped the list. And sharing the spectacle with a stunning woman made it even better.
He mentally slapped himself. What am I thinking? Lily was half his age and had the whole world at her feet. She didn’t need an old man like him drooling over her.
He dragged himself upright. “I’m going to help Otomi get dinner ready.”
“Great,” Lily said. “I’m starving.”
* * * *
Dinner was a repeat of lunch, and Carter had a sinking feeling that the next two days’ meals were destined to be a duplication. His stomach grumbled at that thought. After today’s workout, a huge T-bone steak would’ve been a more satisfying feed.
Otomi had placed a blanket on the dense grass. Carter sat beside Lily and they stared at the dancing flames as they ate their bean-and-rice stew. Otomi, however, remained standing on the other side of the fire to eat his meal.
“So, Miss Journalist, what would your report say about where we are right now?”
A small smile curled at Lily’s lips, and as the flickering fire danced in her eyes, her chest rose and fell with a deep breath. “I’d write about the smell of the jungle being fresh and alive.” She closed her eyes. “I’d describe the crackling fire and the embers that drift up into the black sky only to vanish moments later. I’d write about stepping back in time and the vastness of the jungle around us, and the billion stars that dot the velvet sky.”
Her description perfectly matched their surroundings, and when she paused and opened her eyes, he didn’t want her to stop.
She turned to him and crinkled her nose. “Sorry. I get carried away.”
“No, no, don’t stop. I’m impressed.”
“Thank you. This’s what I was trying to tell you earlier. Your profession only focuses on one of the senses, and these days photos are manipulated so much that you can’t guarantee what you’re seeing is actually what it looks like.”
He cocked his head. “So journalists don’t sensationalize, elaborate, or manipulate the truth. Is that your argument?”
“Not the true professionals.”
“Are you a true professional?”
“Yes, I am.”
He huffed. “Go on then. Tell me about your favorite piece.”
Lily screwed up her face, cleared her throat, and when she ate her final spoonful of food, he thought she was stalling. “You’re changing the subject; we were talking about how photographers these days can manipulate photos. Believe me, I’m grateful that software can fix most photos, because my photography is appalling.”
“So what you’re really trying to tell me is that your job is more important than mine.”
“What?” Her eyes drilled into him. “No I wasn’t.”
“Not in so many words, but you did.”
“No. I said what I do is important.”
“And what I do isn’t.”
“I didn’t say that.” She wiggled her head. “Don’t worry; you wouldn’t understand.” She stood. “Would you like some help cleaning up, Otomi?”
“No, no. I can do it.”
“Thank you, that was delicious.” She handed her empty plate to him. “I’m going to freshen up.”
Carter watched her until s
he disappeared into her tent, and wondered what it was that he didn’t understand. The rooster came near and ruffled his feathers, puffing himself up. The irony wasn’t lost on Carter. Somehow, he’d ruffled Lily’s feathers, and he had no idea why.
He lay back on the blanket, and as he stared at the Milky Way and listened to the crackling fire, he realized that the wonderful sense of contentment he’d felt when Lily was at his side had drifted away.
* * * *
The next morning, he woke to an aching back and a bursting bladder. He unzipped his tent and was shocked to see Lily sitting on the blanket by the fire. The sun was barely a glow on the horizon. He meandered toward her.
“Wow. You really are an early riser.”
She shrugged. “An old habit from my dairy-farm days. What’s your excuse?”
“I don’t really have one. But for as long as I can remember, I’ve always woken before sunrise. Excuse me for a sec.” He walked around the back of the tent and relieved himself in the bushes. Before he returned to Lily, he ducked into his tent to grab his trusty camera.
Returning to her, he switched it on and the camera did its usual series of whirs and checks. “May I?” He indicated toward the blanket.
She shuffled over and Carter groaned as he eased onto it. “Man, my back’s sore. How about you?”
“I’m fine.”
“What? Not even a little bit sore?”
“No. All good.”
Resisting a debate that was hot on his tongue, he removed the cap on his camera and looked through the lens at the skyline. Above the distant treetops, the sun developed into a bright orange fireball that shot laser beams into the scattering of low-lying clouds. He clicked off a few shots, capturing the intense yellow outline of one particular cloud.
Movement caught his eye, and he adjusted the lens to focus on a thick-branched tree, high on their ridge. Four monkeys with orange chests and black faces stared right at him. As he clicked off a few shots, a baby monkey appeared over the shoulder of one of the bigger monkeys. It was cute, with big black eyes that peered out from his face covered in what looked like a thick white beard. His face, neck, and chest were scattered with long white hairs that jutted out at random and wafted in the breeze.
Out of Reach Page 6