Look What the Wind Blew In

by Ann Charles

  “Shit.” He spit out a mouthful of dust. He rolled over onto his back and wiped his mouth on his shirtsleeve, cleaning the grit off his tongue.

  The half-moon shone through the opening in the tree canopy overhead. The jungle was silent for several breaths, and then the nightly serenades started up again.

  Angélica leaned over him, the moon lighting half of her face as she stared down at him. “Are you okay, Quint?” She ran her hands over him. “Is anything broken?”

  He tested his limbs, moving them slowly. “No, I think I’m fine. What about you? I heard you grunt.”

  “Lucky for me, a tree stopped me from falling into the cenote.” She pointed over his head.

  He twisted his neck to look. A black hole yawned in the earth a few steps away.

  “Shit, that was close.” He stared back up into her face. “If you hadn’t grabbed my leg …”

  “I’d have been jumping in after you.”

  “How far down is it to the water?”

  “Twenty feet or so.”

  He replayed the whole circus act over in his head. Laughter bubbled in his chest and then floated to the surface. “Hot damn, boss lady. You sure know how to show a guy a good time.”

  She kissed him, hard and demanding, knocking every coherent thought out of his head. Her lips tasted sweet from the balche, and when she touched her tongue to his, he forgot to breathe for several seconds.

  She sank down onto him, all soft curves and heat. Her lower body pressed against his, her legs straddling him. He groaned, his hands traveling south over her curves, rounding her hips. He shifted her against him, starting a friction that shot fire through his veins.

  She pulled back slightly. “Oh, Quint,” she whispered. “I really like that.”

  Rolling her onto her back, he trailed his fingers up along the side of her breast, tracing the contour. “You’re gonna like this even better.”

  He slid his hand under her T-shirt, skimming his fingers along the soft skin of her stomach. She arched into his touch, her breaths short and fast as he made his way north.

  There was a rustle in the bushes across the cenote. Something splashed into the water below.

  He hesitated, squinting in the moonlight toward the direction of the sound.

  “What was that?” She sat up, twisting around. “Did you see anything?”

  “No.”

  She rose to her knees and peered over the edge of the cenote. “I think there’s something down there in the water.”

  He grabbed onto the waistband of her pants to keep her from falling in. “What is it?”

  “I’m not sure.” She strained further. “It kind of looks like …” Her body stiffened. She gasped.

  “What is it?”

  “Oh, no!” She yanked free of him, leaning further.

  Quint joined her at the edge. “What?” He saw nothing beyond the moonlight reflecting off the water below.

  “It’s Esteban.” She shoved to her feet, glancing wildly at the bushes surrounding them. “I’ve got to do something.”

  Quint realized her intention a moment too late. He reached for her leg. “Angélica, don’t …” but he missed.

  She leapt over the edge of the cenote and vanished into the darkness.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Tok: An obsidian blade used in bloodletting.

  Angélica burst up through the cenote, searching for Esteban across the surface of the dark, cool water. There he was off to her right, floating on his back. Reflections of moonlight glittered like diamonds on the small waves she made as she paddled over to him.

  “Esteban?” She grabbed his arm, towing him closer. “Esteban, can you hear me?”

  He didn’t answer.

  She touched his neck, searching for a pulse while treading water.

  “Angélica,” Quint hollered from above, his deep voice echoing off the limestone walls.

  Don’t be dead. Please don’t be dead. She closed her eyes in concentration, focusing.

  “Angélica, are you okay?”

  She moved her fingers slightly, trying not to shake as she waited for a sign of life.

  Rustling sounds came from overhead. Pebbles plunked into the water at the edge of the cenote. “Angélica, answer me or I’m coming in.”

  She felt it! Weak and slow but definitely a pulse.

  “Wait!” she called to Quint. “I’m all right.” She pulled Esteban closer, amazed that he was out cold yet floating face-up. What was keeping him from flipping over?

  “What about Esteban?”

  “He’s unconscious.” She ran her palm over his head and paused when she felt an egg-sized bump at the base of his skull. “He’s got a bump on his head.”

  “Any other injuries that you can tell?”

  “I’m checking.” She skimmed her hands over his shoulders and ribs, then down the side of his baggy shorts toward his legs, sweeping over what felt like a piece of plastic.

  What was that? She dug into his front short pocket and pulled out a sealed plastic sandwich bag. A silver watchband gleamed in the semi-darkness. She reached under him and checked his other pocket, drawing out another bag with a Rosary stuffed into it. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

  So that was what kept him face-up. The sandwich bags had saved his life. She was flabbergasted. There must have been just enough air in each of them to keep him from rolling. What were the chances?

  She stuffed them back into his pockets. The way things looked down here at water level, she needed all the help she could get at the moment. As she pulled her hand back, her fingers touched a piece of rope. She followed its length. Her breath caught when she realized that it was binding his wrists together.

  “What in the hell is this?” She fished her Swiss army knife from her pocket and cut the rope. As she snapped the knife closed, it slipped from her wet hands and plopped into the water. She tried to catch it as it sank but missed in the dark water.

  “Damn it.” She cursed her clumsiness and threw the cut rope off to the side of the cenote. This was no curse and definitely no accident.

  “What’s going on down there?”

  “You don’t want to know.” She lifted his left eyelid, unable to see the pupil in the weak moonlight. “I need your flashlight,” she hollered up at Quint. “I dropped mine when we fell down the hill.”

  “Is it waterproof?”

  “All of the flashlights at the dig are waterproof. They float, too.”

  “Heads up. It’s to your right.” A small splash sounded as it hit the water. “You need to take off your hiking boots, Angélica. They’re too heavy to tread water for long.”

  She swam over and grabbed the light, then paddled back. “I can’t. They’re laced up all the way and double-knotted. Besides, I don’t have time.” She lifted Esteban’s eyelid again, shining the light into his pupil. “Oh, shit.” She opened the other lid.

  “What?”

  “His pupils aren’t dilating, his pulse is weak, and his breathing is shallow.” She shined the beam around the limestone walls. “I have to get him out of here fast.”

  Where was the goddamned rope ladder?

  “Quint, I need you to look around the edge of the cenote. There should be a rope ladder somewhere up there.”

  She tried to ignore the balloon of anxiety expanding in her chest. Panic was not the solution at this point.

  “We usually leave it hanging down into the water in case somebody slips and falls in,” she called up, still holding onto Esteban. “But I don’t see it anywhere.”

  Quint had been right about her boots. They felt like ten-pound barbells dangling from her ankles. She released Esteban, using her arms to keep afloat. She needed to save the strength in her legs for the climb up the ladder with him in tow.

  More pebbles cascaded over the edge from above and plopped into the water.

  “Come on, Quint,” she whispered, a chill seeping up her legs.

  “I can’t find it,” he called down.

&nb
sp; She hit him in the face with the flashlight beam.

  He squinted in the brightness. “Not without that light anyway.”

  “Damn it.” She directed the beam back on Esteban. His lips were starting to look blue. She had to get him out of the water, or he’d go into shock … if he hadn’t already.

  “There are some vines in the trees,” Quint said. “I could lower one down and pull you out.”

  “It won’t work. Not with him unconscious. There’s no way I can hold his weight.” She blew out a breath, knowing what she needed to do. Her chest tightened at the thought of doing it. “Listen, Quint, I have a plan.”

  “I can tell by the tone in your voice that I’m not going to like it.”

  “There’s an underwater passageway between this sinkhole and the cave that I dragged Jared into last week.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Because this cenote is part of an underground river system. A couple of years back, we hired a hydrogeologist to visit the site along with some divers. They mapped the tributaries leading in and out of the cenote.” She paused to catch her breath.

  “Nope. I definitely don’t like this plan. Come up with another.”

  “According to the divers,” she continued, “the tunnel is about four feet in diameter most of the way.” She didn’t want to think about the section at the end that supposedly narrowed before emptying into the river.

  “No, Angélica. Do not try it.”

  “It’s only about fifteen feet long if I remember right. With your light, I think I can swim both of us through—”

  “That’s an insane plan, woman!”

  “—the passage and into the river. You can meet me in the cave, and we’ll carry him back to the site.” She waited for another comment from him, but none came. “One more thing, make sure you take the left fork, not the right.”

  “Here’s a better, more sensible plan. You wait right there for me to go get help.”

  She checked on Esteban. His breathing was too shallow. “We don’t have time for being sensible. I need to get him out of this water. If he stops breathing, he’ll start to sink, and then we’re in big trouble.”

  “Christ,” he growled.

  “Besides, you were right about my boots. My legs are getting tired. I don’t think I can tread water for another ten minutes while I wait for you. If I go through the tunnel, we could be out of the water in half that time.”

  “He can’t hold his breath when he’s out cold. You’re going to drown him taking him under there.”

  He had a good point, but by the looks of things, another ten minutes in this water and Esteban would go into shock, and who knew what would happen then. Her odds were better taking the underwater passage. “I know CPR. I can bring him back on the other side if he swallows water. Just meet me in the cave.”

  “I can’t! I don’t even know where the damned thing is.”

  Oh, hell! She hadn’t thought about that. “Okay, go back and get Teodoro, Pedro, and Dad. They know where the cave is. While you do that, I’ll take Esteban through the passageway. Tell Teodoro to bring his bag and some blankets. He may have to work on Esteban in the cave if he’s too far gone.”

  “There has to be another way.”

  “I wish to God there was.”

  “I don’t want you to do this.”

  “I don’t want to either, but I don’t have much choice.”

  She looked around the cenote walls, trying to get her bearings, remembering the details of the underwater map. The passageway to the cave was on the north side, the entry point twenty-four feet from the lip of the cenote. When the water table was low, and the sun was overhead, she could see it under the surface. Lucky for her, it had been a dry year so far. She shined the light under the water at the wall in front of her, searching left and right.

  There it was about five feet down—a dark circle.

  “Quint, do you think you can get back to the site without a flashlight?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good, because I’m tired of talking about this.” She shined the light at him. “Now go! And keep an eye out for Rafael on your way. He might have witnessed what happened to Esteban.” She prayed she wouldn’t run into Rafael below the waterline. Dead.

  “Okay, I’m going.” Quint shielded his eyes from her light. “But you get your ass in and out of that passage as fast as you can. You understand me, woman? No fucking around in there.”

  “Trust me, I won’t dilly dally.”

  “Good, because you and I have some unfinished business.” He disappeared from view, leaving her alone with the moon glowing overhead and the water lapping around her.

  “Quint was right,” she whispered, drawing Esteban toward her. “This is insane.”

  She treaded water for several seconds, trying to build up her courage.

  Esteban wheezed next to her and then coughed.

  “Esteban.” She shined the light across his profile. “Open your eyes if you can hear me.” She spoke in his native tongue in hopes of getting through to him.

  His lids opened a little, then even wider as he looked around. He began to struggle, but he was too weak to do more than squirm in her arms.

  “Esteban, be still.”

  He obeyed, groaning in pain, staring dully up at her.

  “Esteban, listen closely to my words. We’re in the cenote. I need to get you out of here, but you’re hurt and the only way out is for me to take you under the water and through a short passageway. We will come out in the river inside the cave.” Fifteen feet was sort of short anyway. “Do you understand what I’m saying?”

  His eyes started to roll back in his head.

  She squeezed one of his arms hard. “No, Esteban! You have to stay awake for me.”

  His eyes opened, blinking. He looked dazed but awake.

  “You have to hold your breath for thirty seconds. Do you think you can do that?”

  He frowned. “Yes,” he said, barely audible.

  “Okay. I’m going to count to three. Then I want you to take a deep breath and hold it until you reach the river. We’ll get you up on the bank and help will be there soon.”

  She hoped.

  She wrapped her arm around his ribcage. “Ready?” Ignoring her pounding heart, she took several quick breaths. “One, two,” she drew in as much air as her lungs could hold, “three!”

  She dove under the water, dragging Esteban down with her. She kicked hard, struggling, trying not to lose her grip on the flashlight as she towed him with her. As she swam into the tunnel, she had to let Esteban slide toward her feet. She kept a firm, one-handed grip on his arm, careful not to kick him with her boots as she swam. The current helped to pull them along the passage as it flowed out of the cenote into the river.

  She pointed the flashlight in front of her. The beam cut through the clear water. Keeping her mind on the task at hand, she tried not to focus on the walls of the passageway getting tighter and tighter.

  Up ahead, she saw a dark hole where the tunnel met the river. The divers hadn’t exaggerated. It was a narrow hole. They’d have to squeeze through one at a time to make it.

  She was able to move quicker now, using the walls of the passageway to propel them along. She stretched her hand forward and reached for the edge of the dark opening.

  Something caught her foot, yanking her backwards.

  She bumped into Esteban, sending him into the tunnel wall. A shine of light in his face showed his cheeks puffed out with air, his eyes darting around the tight space.

  Angélica tugged on her foot but couldn’t pull free. She looked down, the glow of the flashlight dimmer down by her legs. Her bootlace was snared on something she couldn’t see in the swirling water.

  Shit! Her heart pummeled her ribs, determined to break out and swim to the surface.

  She had to get Esteban out of the tunnel, or they were both going to drown in here. Waving her hand in front of his face to get his attention, she pointed toward him and then the hole.
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  He frowned, pointing back at her.

  Angélica shook her head and started pulling him up past her and then pushing him toward the opening. He grabbed the edge of the tunnel and with a final shove from her, squeezed through.

  As his feet disappeared from view, fear took hold of her, chilling her to the bone along with the cold water churning and bubbling around her.

  Her lungs were starting to burn.

  Her legs ached from swimming so long in her damned boots. Her muscles were slowing, starved for oxygen. She probably had twenty more seconds to free herself or she was up shit creek. Or under it.

  She shined the beam on her boot, bending down to take a closer look. Her vision blurred, panic trying to take over. She shook her head, forcing herself to focus on her boot lace. The loop of her shoestring was lodged in a narrow crevice between a piece of rock jutting out and the cave wall. She tried to tug the string out the way it had gone in, but it wouldn’t budge.

  Just her fucking luck! She’d bought these damned industrial strength laces last fall. If only she hadn’t dropped her knife in the cenote.

  Several bubbles of air escaped through her nose.

  Her eyes felt like they were bulging out of their sockets.

  She tried to loosen the double knot, but it wouldn’t give. Son of a bitch!

  She let out several more bubbles, starting to feel a bit lightheaded.

  Her ears began to ring.

  Grasping the heel of her boot, she tugged down on it, trying to wrench her foot free. But the laces were too tight up top.

  She pulled and pushed, slicing her finger on one of the eyehooks.

  Panic won, gripping her. Any last bits of control bubbled out and up as she struggled for freedom.

  Her lungs were on fire.

  Her leg muscles were shaking uncontrollably, along with her arms.

  This was not how she’d hoped to leave this world. Not twenty thousand fucking leagues under the cenote, damn it!

  Burrowing her finger under the laces where they crisscrossed up on the ankle of the boot, she heaved on one of the strings until it felt like it was digging into her fingers. She stretched it as far as she could, and then forced it over the eyelet hook holding it in place, cutting her fingers again. Through her panic, she forced herself to focus and slipped the loose lace over another hook and then another. As soon as she had enough slack near the knot, she freed the other lace, too. When she had the laces unwound from all three sets of hooks, she yanked her foot free of the boot.