And he had let them go, arm in arm, slings over their shoulders to collect wood on the way home. He’d never heard from them again, only constructed a horrifying vision from reports. But in his dream he traveled with them, peering down on their dark heads.
They trotted along the narrow road—more of a pitted mud-caked path—through the pebbled mountain terrain, underneath the bowing branches of pine and oak trees. Every time the rumble of a truck drew near, they skittered into the ditch and hid among the bushes. Two hours later they reached the village of Lachula, actually a jumbled mass of clapboard and corrugated metal shanties. The village perched on the mountainside, next to a ravine that was pocked with caves and split by a river.
Isabel ran up to the rough shack in the center of the village where Maria lived and hammered on the door. Uncle Héctor poked his broad face out and told her Maria and Aunt Rosa had gone to the church to pray. She smiled and thanked her uncle, then dragged Elena toward the clapboard church.
“Devoted to God,” said Isabel, “but is God devoted to them?”
Jorge could hear her words. She was as bitter as he was about their situation, but he didn’t blame God or the gods of their ancestors. He knew whom to blame.
That was when the first shots rang out. Startled, Isabel spun around and saw the men charge into the small town, yelling and firing AK-47s at the panicking villagers.
“Paramilitary!” she screamed. Her face sheeted to white and Elena, always the cool one, pulled her from her frozen position in the middle of the street. They joined a mass of fleeing villagers streaming down the ravine, seeking shelter in the caves. But the gunmen followed, spraying bullets through the crowd. More and more people fell, tipping like dominoes down the mountainside. Not satisfied with just shooting the villagers, some men chased them down and hacked them to death with machetes. Jorge could sense Isabel and Elena’s panic, hear the sharp reports of automatic gunfire, feel the slice of the bullets that found their spines, their arteries, their hearts . . .
He fell with them, screaming. Came to rest in the ravine, blood draining away, dead.
Yet his heart still thundered. It pounded and pounded until it jarred him from his sleep.
Jorge’s face was crushed on the hard pack, not the crisp stems of grass and the cushion of leaves. All around him was suffocating darkness, yet he could breathe. He was alive. A light snapped on and the heavenly sheen of a thousand crystals awoke. Perhaps he had moved on to a better place.
“Are you all right?”
The dream shattered, as if the crystals had exploded. He turned and saw the doctor’s concerned face peering at him. Was it possible?
“Yes, I’m fine.”
“You were crying out in your sleep,” said Mark. “A bad dream?”
“A nightmare,” said Jorge. “Only it was real.”
Anger flared within Jorge, but there wasn’t even a flicker of fear in the doctor’s eyes. The man seemed serene for the first time in this trip. This wasn’t the reaction Jorge would prefer.
“Funny,” said Mark. “In this place my nightmares seem to have faded.”
“Mine never do,” barked Jorge. He sat up and, using a corner of his blanket, wiped the sweat from his eyes. “This spectacle of beauty is never seen in my world. Never!”
The doctor looked at him long and hard. “I understand that,” he said. “But that doesn’t give you the right to murder innocent people and think it’s justified.”
Rage boiled within Jorge again. Not just at the men who’d massacred his people, but at this man, who knew nothing of justice.
“We do not murder innocent people. But we have a right to defend ourselves. To have our basic human needs fulfilled. We have a right to our own country’s resources—not to have it stripped by greedy North American conglomerates and corrupt officials. We have a right to live.”
“I understand the hardships of poverty, but you can rise above it. Anyone can if they try hard enough.”
Jorge laughed. The man actually believed this. Well, perhaps in Canada or in America it could happen. Many Mexicans had crossed the border with that belief.
“You really think that’s possible in this country, where there are virtually no educational opportunities for indigenous people?”
“But you did it,” said Mark. “You said you were a lawyer.”
“I did raise my educational level, but only because dozens of my people went to work in the city to support me. Yet it didn’t bring me one iota closer to getting justice. I was scorned—racism has thrived in this country through the years. We had our own style of apartheid, only the world didn’t acknowledge it. Before the Zapatista uprising, the indigenous people of San Cristobal de las Casas couldn’t walk on the sidewalk; they had to walk in the street. Anyone who couldn’t speak proper Spanish or was dark-skinned, short, and dressed in a particular way couldn’t go certain places. In order to rise above it, as you say, one must be educated. But the government will not provide education for my people. One lawyer cannot change a corrupt system, just as one doctor cannot stamp out all disease. And the people continue to starve.”
“Surely there are some people in your government willing to listen.”
Jorge snorted. “Yes the rich and the powerful are always concerned with the masses. I went to school with some, and I tell you, it has been interesting to watch those higher on the social ladder as they climb. In a position of moderate poverty, they understand extreme poverty. They would do anything to spring us from the mud. But as they climb, the bridges begin to fall. The wealthy sympathize more heartily with those hanging on to wealth. Take your hockey players—they feel justified in demanding millions to play a game they love, while other people who work much harder must struggle to survive. The world is unbalanced. Trust me, it will not be rectified by words.”
The doctor was frowning, obviously troubled. “How will it be rectified, then?”
Jorge stood up and shoved the blanket into his pack. “We have to go,” he said. “Your wife is waiting.”
“No, I want to know how you think the balance will be achieved.”
Jorge stared at him, wanting to throttle some sense into him. How could anyone be so naïve?
“By guns? Is that what you think? Bombs? Murder?”
“I am not a terrorist,” Jorge said, “but if that’s what it takes . . .” He dropped his gaze, shouldered his pack, and walked away.
Chapter Thirty-one
Megan was about to dip her hand into the coffin when Kat snatched it back.
“Best not to do that, Megan. We don’t know what we have here.”
Despite the warning, she grinned. This could be the luminescence she’d been trailing. That elusive light might be an organism. It could even be a form of nanobacteria that had developed in anaerobic conditions beneath the earth and, when exposed to oxygen, found it toxic. The theory had been postulated as far back as 1962 as the precipitating circumstance for some kinds of fungal bioluminescence. The best way for the fungus to get rid of the oxygen was to chemically reduce it to water. The chemical reaction, often using an enzyme called luciferase, produced light. Not that that would help in her present situation, but maybe this organism had other qualities.
She was dreaming, of course.
“We’ll turn on the light first and I’ll get out my kit.”
“Kit?” asked Ray, raising his eyebrows as she flicked on the bulb.
“This isn’t jade or emerald or some new calcite derivative. It’s organic,” said Kat, unable to contain the squeak in her voice. “And I want a sample.”
Ray shook his head. “Always the microbiologist. Even trapped two thousand meters below the earth’s surface, in an undiscovered tomb, you get excited about miniature life.”
“Miniature life is where we started,” said Kat, just as cheerfully.
“Started?” asked Megan, now looking as confused as Ray. “Do you mean algae in the oceans?”
“No,” said Kat. “I mean bacteria and archaea—heat-lov
ing, deep-dwelling organisms—were probably at the root of all life on earth. Life began in the oceans, but not in the calm tidal pool that Darwin suggested. More likely it commenced in a boiling pit of lava—a sea-floor volcano. Scientists have found archaea in the middle of the black smokers in the Pacific—the volcanic geysers that somehow feed the bizarre crabs and tubeworms discovered there. And that’s not the only place. They’re finding nanobacteria everywhere, from Antarctic ice cores to salt domes to the deepest holes ever drilled. They are the oldest form of life, and some have just been unearthed on Mars.”
Kat beamed at the team, turned, and dashed back through the boneyard. Skeletons crunched and cracked underfoot, but at this point she hardly cared. All she could think of was a new discovery—an undocumented life form—and hope. She reached her pack where Ray had dumped it on the ground and hoisted it onto her shoulders. Then she raced back to the others, who were still ogling the coffin. She set the pack beside them and removed the sampling kit.
“If you can shift the lid a little farther, I can get a better view and a better sample.”
Ray, Pete, and Megan eyed the giant slab of limestone. “There are usually some plugs that cover the lifting holes,” said Megan. “Oh, there they are.” She pointed to round stone insets fitted perfectly into two holes. “We don’t have anything to lift it with, though.”
“Just use some muscle,” said Kat. “I only need it displaced a few centimeters.”
Ray shrugged, braced himself against the wall of the sarcophagus, and gestured for Pete to do the same. Megan went around to the end and placed her hands firmly on the slab.
“All right. On three,” she said. “One, two, three—” They heaved and, miraculously, the stone lid shifted. Kat elbowed in immediately and shone her light inside. The green glow was subdued in the stark light, but other objects were revealed. Jade ornaments, red painted teeth, fragments of a mask, and bones.
“I think we’ve found the king,” said Kat.
Megan nodded, speechless. The mummy was nothing but blackened and fragmented bone, but the jewelry surrounding him spoke of his majesty. Megan pointed with a trembling finger at the mother-of-pearl and obsidian eyes of the mask, and an elaborate breastplate of jade that lay across the ribcage.
“Symbols of rank,” she blurted out. “Even down to the jade bead in his mouth to allow his spirit to purchase food in the afterlife. Incredible. To be the first to lay eyes on the Serpent King.”
“Yes, utterly fantastic,” said Kat, still eyeing the slimy growth on the king’s bones. “Don’t touch anything.”
They looked at her, rather shocked, and Megan removed her hand quickly.
“Remember the Itchy Passage and the snottites up above? We don’t know if this organism is toxic in any way, and it’s best to be cautious. We’ll all wear gloves while dealing with this king.”
Kat popped the lid on her kit and withdrew some latex gloves, chucking the extras over to her companions. She took out several sterile centrifuge bottles and swabs, a couple of Petri dishes full of highly specialized nutrients, and another sterilized loop of wire. She handed the swabs to Pete and Ray and the bottles to Megan and removed the wire from its package. Very carefully, almost tenderly, Kat ran the wire over the growth that continued to flicker within the sarcophagus. Pete rolled the swab against the eye socket of the skeleton and clipped it into one of the centrifuge bottles. Ray twisted his mouth and followed Pete’s example, swabbing a jade ornament that was layered in slime. His fingers dipped deeply into the substance, and when he held up his gloved hand to slip the sample into the bottle Megan held out for him, it emitted an eerie blue-green glow.
“Wild,” he said, holding his hand out, watching it dim, then brighten.
Kat only glanced at him, smiling, as she skimmed the surface of the agar with the wire. “I hope we can bring some of this out alive. I can’t wait to look at it under the electron microscope.”
“I guess you’re assuming we are going to get out of here,” said Pete, dampening her spirits again.
“It’s better to be optimistic, isn’t it, Pete? Maybe we’ve found something wonderful for your company—some amazing new drug—that just happens to glow, too. And Megan has made the archaeological find of the century. We are going to get out, and bring these samples with us. What I found in the lake has some amazing healing qualities. Maybe it will save someone’s life.” Except not mine, she thought dismally. “And this might have some other fantastic mechanism. I was feeling a little dejected, but I just know that we found this for a reason. It’s no longer meant to be hidden. Neither is this Mayan city or this tomb. So we have to escape.”
Pete grunted a mild agreement, but his eyes held a glimmer of doubt.
“Of course we do,” said Ray. “And there’s really no time to lose. I think we’re wasting time here, Kat, collecting microbes and investigating a long-dead king. I was the first to get excited about this discovery, but we’re getting sidetracked. Our food will hold out for a while, but our oxygen won’t if that volcano decides to gas us. We need to save enough so we can dive through the sumps or the sinkhole to get out of here. I think we should look for that exit now.” He raised his gloved hand and scratched his neck.
“R-ray,” said Kat, reaching out to him, but it was too late. “You just transferred some of this organism to your skin.”
“Oops,” he said, but he grinned, unconcerned.
Kat, however, was not taking chances. She stripped off her gloves, yanked open her pack, and grabbed the Nalgene bottle. After popping the lid, she doused his neck with water.
“Damn that’s cold. Kat, it really isn’t necessary.”
“Yes, it is,” said Kat. “We don’t need more than one sick person around here.”
Pete looked at her with a creased forehead. “Sick?” he asked. “What are you talking about?”
“Oh. Well, nothing really. I’ve just been feeling a bit under the weather since the crawlway and getting stuck. I suppose that’s why I collapsed back there. But I’m fine now, so don’t worry.”
Ray, who was shaking the water from his shoulders and neck, sneaked a peek at her from beneath his lashes. Megan clenched the side of the sarcophagus. The air seemed choked with their angst. Hopefully Pete wouldn’t notice.
“So,” said Kat, tucking the Petri dishes and centrifuge bottles into her pack. “I think we should start the search. It looks like the cavern wall is just beyond the graveyard here. Ray, you should take Megan and look in the northeast corner, and Pete and I will check out the west. We’ll meet back here in two hours.”
Ray’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t think we should split up,” he said, stripping off his gloves and bagging them.
“Why not?” asked Kat, staring him down. “We’re both experienced cavers. If you run into trouble, just use your whistle. I’ll do the same. But I don’t foresee any problems except perhaps a pocket of gas, so we’ll take the rebreathers along.”
Ray took a deep breath, then nodded reluctantly. He raised his hand to his neck and flinched.
Kat’s chest tightened. “Ray?” she said. “Does your neck hurt?”
He caught her gaze and scowled. “No,” he said firmly.
But Kat didn’t buy it. “Friggin’ macho cavers,” she muttered. She uncorked her water bottle and doused him again.
Ray scuttled away, but not before he was drenched. “Maudit! Kat, that was uncalled for. I’m soaked now.”
“I don’t care,” said Kat, her action inferring the opposite. “Come on, Pete. Let’s go.”
“Right,” said Pete, grinning.
“Yeah, laugh,” said Ray. “Let’s see how much she doesn’t care about you next time.”
“She’s an indifferent bee-atch. I know.”
Kat ignored them, shouldered her pack, and trotted back to their bundle of provisions. She strapped on the rebreather and waited for Pete to join her. She didn’t relish having him as her partner, but she’d feel worse leaving Megan with him, or Ray, who could b
arely tolerate him, and they’d definitely cover more ground if they surveyed different sections of the cavern separately. It wasn’t long before Pete had hoisted his own load and raised his eyebrows, waiting for her to lead.
Megan and Ray were preparing as well, although Ray refused to look at her as she wished them good luck. She didn’t like that. Was he angry at the dousing, or was something else going on?
“Ray?” she said, tapping him on the shoulder. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
“I’m fine,” he snapped. “Don’t even think about soaking me again.”
She recoiled. “I wasn’t. I’m glad you’re okay. We’ll meet back here in two hours.”
Kat walked away, feeling shocked by his reaction. She’d never seen him that angry before, except perhaps at Pete. Now if Ray had been Pete, well, volatility was expected. But Ray was usually so even-tempered. Maybe it was due to the same feeling of helplessness over her disease that she had. Anyway, he’d have a couple of hours away from her in which to cool off.
Kat dug into her pocket and removed her trusty compass. She headed due north, right through the boneyard again and beyond the huge stone slab of the sarcophagus.
The ground was stippled with limestone bubbles, and the mushroom columns blotted out any view of the far wall. Kat had to zigzag between them and continuously recheck her compass readings to make sure they kept their direction heading. Pete slogged behind, making the odd comment about how damp it was, how jumbled and uneven the surface, or how steeply pitched, but surprising her by stopping and exclaiming over the frosted icicles of selenite crystals.
“I thought you didn’t care about cave creations.”
“I didn’t,” he said. “Not at first, anyway. I was just intent on my job until you started nagging me about conservation. Maybe I’ve lost my focus.”
“Or gained perspective,” said Kat.
He grunted and smiled. But somehow his smile didn’t quite reach his eyes, and this chilled her all over again. Why wasn’t Pete easier to read, like Megan or Ray? Megan had come for the archaeological prize, there was no doubt about it, regardless of her inner demons. She didn’t hide her professional ambition. Ray was the genuine adventurer. He’d joined her team because he loved caves and, simply by accident, he loved her too. But Pete had been sent here with an agenda, and it was more than just a quest for microbes. She was sure of it. But she had no idea what it was. Just when she thought him absolutely sinister, he came up with something kind. Just when she thought him perfectly kind, he transformed into some kind of monster. He was a bundle of contradictions.
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