Afraid to Fall (Ancient Passages Book 1)

by Sutton Bishop

  “Are you ladies okay?”

  “Hey, Matty! We’re fine. Hey, Luca. How’s it goin’? Enjoying the kayaking?”

  As surreptitiously as possible, Ari dabbed at her eyes before piggybacking onto Meg’s response. “We’re fine. Something flew into my eye. I think it’s out now.”

  “Let me see,” Luca insisted, steering their kayak right alongside the women’s.

  Ari blocked Luca from coming any closer with her hand. “I’m good. Really. Thanks.”

  His face was all seriousness, his voice insistent. “You need to flush your eye out. The jungle is full of pathogens and parasites your body is not familiar with. We have saline. Matt, get the first aid kit. It is in the orange dry bag.”

  The knowledge Meg had imparted altered Ari’s go-to snarky response she used whenever she was told to do something she didn’t want to. Instead, she smiled. “I can wait. We’re making camp around that bend up ahead, correct? It can wait until then.”

  “No, it cannot,” he said, more sternly.

  “Fine.” Sighing, realizing she wasn’t going to win this argument. This is what I get for fibbing. She accepted the saline, turning her back to him and the sun, pretending to dribble it into her eye. The saline ran down her cheek. She slipped her sunglasses on and handed the saline back. “All set. My eye does feel much better. Thanks, Doctor.”

  He nodded, then smiled back crookedly, his dimples creating creases in his ever-present salt-and-pepper scruff. “Piacere mio.”

  She rounded her shoulders to hide her nipples standing at full attention under her bikini bra, but still, the telltale ache in the juncture of her thighs began to throb in response to his innuendo. His pleasure indeed. Why does my body go stupid every time he’s around? I am so in trouble.

  It had been close to eight weeks since those nights in Flores when they’d groped each other with unchecked urgency like two randy high school kids. Their heated kiss the first day they arrived at camp just hung out there—an invisible crackling energy whenever they were within range of or thought about one another. Long full days of working Kanul in the heat, humidity, and rain, along with keeping current notes on each day’s exciting finds, didn’t allow for much socializing or personal time. Everyone was exhausted and often a little crabby, especially Luca. He became more demanding as the weeks wore on, chewing out more than one colleague—for this or that, demanding the perfection he had outlined during their orientation.

  As promised, Luca sent two graduate students home because they had not done their best. Several weeks later, he sent three more packing for taking off on a day adventure. They had not asked for the time off nor had they told anyone where they were going. Ari worked tirelessly and adhered to all the project rules, having no intention of meeting the same fate.

  Regardless of the lack of contact with him, her desire for him hadn’t abated. If anything, it had grown stronger. She watched him when no one was looking. The sound of his voice sent her heart racing. Every night, she fell asleep thinking of him, vivid dreams harassing her, sometimes two or three times nightly. Ari woke drained and wet, sure she had literally come as hard as she had dreamed. Having dream sex with Luca further wiped her out, causing her to often fall asleep during breaks. He was somewhere else during breaks, thank God, or he might have wondered why she napped almost every afternoon in the presence of Meg and Joan—who watched out for her and teased her mercilessly. Did he even care? Had she just been a good time? Maybe he was hooking up with Natasha, who seemed to be around him more often than not. Her flirty behavior and his responses were difficult to watch. The idea of them together alternately sickened Ari and made her blood boil.

  He had checked through her work on several occasions, just as he had with everyone else. And he didn’t notify her ahead of time, just as he hadn’t with the rest of the team. One-on-one meetings with him were wholly professional, efficient, and direct. He asked probing questions and made remarkable observations, especially for not being an expert in every aspect of all the research going on. She couldn’t help but be impressed. And, so far, she had come out unscathed, managing to stay current because she’d stayed up late. But every night, sleep overtook Ari the minute she crawled into bed naked and closed her eyes, never bothering to towel off from showering, despite sharing her tent with Joan and often-absent Meg, and the cycle began anew with dreams of soul-shattering sex with Luca.

  The weather had, so far, been perfect during their break trip. The kayaking was pleasant given the abundance of cumulus clouds and their intermittent shade. Instead of disappearing, they began to morph into cumulonimbus, signaling severe weather.

  Having just finished doing the dishes, Ari, Joan and Keaton joined the others silently around the campfire, so as to not interrupt Carlos who told the story of the hummingbird king—a legend passed down through the ages. Sheet lightning in the distance provided an interesting backdrop for his words.

  Ari smiled and clasped the pendant at her throat, enthralled as she listened about how a baby Chirumà had been born to the ruling chief and his wife, on the thirteenth day of the month, a lucky day and a reminder of the Mayan’s thirteen heavens.

  A large, brightly colored hummingbird stayed throughout the long-awaited birth and left a red feather. The high priest determined that the feather was an omen from the gods, indicating Chirumà was extraordinary, just like the hummingbird. The community was happy except for the chief’s brother. His chance to succeed his brother as ruler was now gone. Chirumà grew into a great warrior and a wise young man. No harm ever came to him, regardless of the risks he took.

  One day, nomads attacked Chirumà and his uncle as they walked the perimeter of their village. He stayed close to his uncle. A shower of spears and arrows rained down on them but fell away. The uncle realized his nephew had a special charm that protected him and searched for it while he next slept. The uncle found the red feather and took it. After waking, Chirumà looked and looked, but he could not find it.

  His father passed to the afterlife, and Chirumà became chief. He was compassionate, kind, and inventive. Under him, peace prevailed, crops were bountiful, and people were happy except for his uncle.

  The young ruler was out hunting when the hummingbird present at his birth appeared. Before flying away, it said, “I am your guardian. Beware. Someone close to you means to kill you.”

  Chirumà walked back toward the village, pausing when he heard rustling in the grass. Watching, he saw nothing, but prepared his bow as a good warrior should. Then suddenly an arrow pierced his chest, turning it scarlet with blood. His strength ebbed away, and he fell into the sea of grass and died.

  Something extraordinary happened to Chirumà. His body changed to the emerald-green color of the grass, his skin became feathers, and his hair a great crest of green and gold. His chest remained scarlet, and his arms became wings. His uncle watched as the glowing green bird with a bright red chest and long tail flew out from the grass and into the sky.

  The people of the village mourned his passing. His uncle became chief. The village was plagued with famine and war. The uncle was captured, his body painted black and white, the colors of a slave. The enemies took him, and he was never heard from again.

  The wise, peaceful bird and his ancestors perch high in the canopy, watching over the Maya. They are a symbol of freedom and hope, known as the quetzal.

  Ari rubbed the goose bumps chasing along her arms. The sky flashed more often now. “I really love that legend, Carlos. Thanks for sharing it.”

  “You are most welcome, Dr. Ari.”

  “Hey,” Matt piped. “I’ve got something to share. I was lunching with a few of the lead archaeologists yesterday and they mentioned the name, the American, a badass antiquities looter. The American stops at nothing to secure what he wants. They said the Maya have mentioned there is talk that he’s in Guatemala.” He looked from Carlos to Luca, asking, “Do you know anything about him?”

  “Crikey. That’s wild stuff and a little scary,” Meg said.
“I might not sleep well tonight, Matty.”

  Matt pulled her into the circle of his arm and said something in her ear, making her giggle.

  A look passed between the two. Luca nodded at Carlos.

  “I first heard of the American several months ago. The talk comes and goes,” Carlos said in a hushed tone.

  Luca added, “I have heard of the American over the years, and Carlos told me that there has been talk of him being in Guatemala, but no confirmation. This ebb and flow of talk has happened in the past. I believe it to be urban lore.”

  Ari leaned forward, resting her forearms on her knees, hands clasped in front. “I heard of him too. When I was working in North Africa. But as Carlos and Luca said, no confirmations of sightings. I think he’s a figment of people’s imaginations, created from their fear of confronting looters when working.”

  “So, Ari, you think he doesn’t exist?” Natasha pointedly asked.

  “We all know looting has been around as long as excavation. Hell, some archaeologists have been complicit in looting, fueling the illegal international antiquities trade. I tend to agree with Luca. I think the American is a great story for campfires and”—she smiled at Meg and Matt cuddled up across the fire from her—“late-night spooking. He’s kinda like the boogeyman, holding all of us who recover historical and cultural treasures from the earth accountable.”

  Natasha’s eyes narrowed on Ari. “I see. Interesting.” She rose and stretched her arms up over her head. “I’m going to take advantage of an early bedtime. There’s a storm on the horizon. See you all in the morning.”

  Within thirty minutes of Natasha leaving, the breeze strengthened, and the air turned noticeably cooler. Lightning and a crack of thunder announced the impending storm. Luca and Matt hurried to bank the fire while others sealed and covered supplies to keep them dry and secure. Everyone ran for their tents as the first fat raindrops hammered down.

  Rain fell intermittently. Soft drizzle punctuated sporadic, roaring downpours, making it hard for Ari to hear anything. She slipped into a dry, clean sleeveless shirt and a pair of shorts after entering her tent, having learned that wearing anything damp brought on a chill, even when the temperatures were warm.

  Ari had drawn the short twig earlier, giving her the single tent for the night. This was the first time she had pitched a tent all by herself. Any smugness with her success was checked by nagging concern. She had opted not to dig a trench around her tent. Hopefully, the weather would blow over quickly.

  She had mixed feelings about sleeping by herself in the middle of nowhere, even though she was in a grouping of tents. It was only their team and Carlos. In Tikal, they had slept within the park boundaries. At Kanul, they were a much greater number—with armed security.

  The rain paused, and she glanced at her watch. It was still early although dark. She grabbed her poncho, flashlight, and the deck of cards from her pack, deciding to visit Joan and Meg. Before leaving, she rolled all the flaps back and secured them, exposing as much of the screens as possible to encourage cross ventilation of the cooler air.

  “Hello?” Ari rapped on the canvas, pressing her face against the mesh. The tent was empty. She ran the short distance and tried another. “Meg?” Ari called, spotting her through the screen. No answer. Louder, she said, “Hey, Meg!”

  Meg looked up from writing in her journal. “Oh, sorry.” She sat in her bikini and motioned to Ari. “Come on in, mate.”

  Ari nodded and stepped in, leaving her sandals outside. She dropped her poncho next to the screen. “Where’s Joan?” She laughed at Meg. “You’re back in your bikini. It certainly doesn’t take much to sweat in Guatemala, does it?”

  “Nope. It’s so humid I can lick moisture off my arms. Joan is probably in Keaton’s tent. Working even though the boss gave all of us a few days’ respite. They were in a deep convo when the sky opened up.”

  “It’s cooler outside now. I vented my tent.”

  Meg stood. “Maybe we can get some cross ventilation going. Lemme check. This side vent is closed. The vents are easy to miss if you don’t camp. No worries.” She motioned Ari to the back of the tent. “Tie those flaps back tight, please. I had to shut them when the last monsoon blew through.” She placed her hands on her hips, surveying the tent. “Okay, they’re all open. I think that’s the best we can do.” She pointed to her bedroll. “Sit.”

  “Ugh. It started again. The rain is misting in. Do you have something to put down that can absorb the moisture? Your floor is going to get wet.” Ari glanced at Meg. “I thought you changed.”

  Meg threw a shirt to Ari. “Try this. It’s not clean, but it’ll do. I did change, but I was melting, so I put my suit back on. Much cooler. I’ll probably sleep in it. Or naked, if Joan doesn’t care. Shouldn’t bother her since you slept in the buff every night at Kanul.”

  “It was hot.”

  “Uh-huh. Hot was in another tent.”

  “You mean Matt’s?”

  “Luca’s. You think he slept naked?” Meg laughed, slapping her knees. “Guilty! Oh, girlfriend, you are blushing like a bride. Obviously you wondered. I bet he’s magnificent.”

  She wiped some of the moisture from her face with the hem of her shirt. “Let’s change the subject.”

  “Okay. Sorry, girlfriend. I wish we had thought to put our awning up. It might help keep some of the misting out but allow the breeze. Does your little tent have an awning? We should have brought the tent from our site. It’s roomier and you’re a great tent mate, although you talk and moan a lot in your sleep.”

  “Um, you never slept in our tent.”

  “Oh, right. According to Joan. Hey, I think the rain stopped. Help me with the awning?”

  Ari looked through the front screen, her face quickly getting drenched. “I don’t think so. It’s a heavy mist, like we’re in a cloud.” Thunder boomed again, and lightning crackled. The rain followed, slapping the ground hard. “What do you mean I talk and moan a lot in my sleep? I had no idea rain could be this loud. It’s like being in a waterfall.”

  Meg yelled over the rain and winked at Ari. “I think you dream about Luca. Sounds like it anyway. Did you by chance bring your cards?”

  “How utterly embarrassing.” Lying, she said, “I have no idea what I dream about.” Ari retrieved the cards from her coat pocket, waving them with a smile. She recalled her day as she sat, her muscles aching pleasantly from hours of kayaking. “I’ll help you with your awning if the rain stops before I leave. Fair? Jacks Back?”

  “Um, have we played that before?”

  “Yep.” She shuffled and dealt each of them five cards.

  “Okay, but let’s do a practice round first. How do you remember all these games, Ari?”

  “Years of playing.”

  Meg organized her hand. “You start. You should just sleep with him.”

  She looked at her cards and placed them in front of her on the bedroll. “Jeez. We’re here to work. What do you have?”

  Meg showed her cards and laid them opposite of Ari’s. “Not as strong as you. I can’t open. Yeah, we’re working, but there’s ample time for other interests. Matt and I find the time. You and Luca are so”—she added air quotes—“disciplined. All work and no play. That makes for imbalance.”

  “Discipline isn’t a bad thing. And Luca really bothers me,” she said, gathering the cards, shuffling, and dealing again.

  “How so?”

  “He’s so watchful, like earlier today. Remember? When we were kayaking. He and Matt stayed behind our kayak the entire time. Can you open?”

  “Do I really need to state that we are in the jungle? That we are in a place where something, anything can go suddenly and horribly wrong?” Meg looked at her cards. “Yep.”

  Ari rolled her eyes and sighed. “I never forget that. It’s just… Well, I don’t need a keeper. I feel like he’s always watching me. It feels presumptive and irritates the snot out of me. Does he treat you like that?”

  “You certainly haven�
��t seemed irritated. Granted, none of us has had much time for anything except work. I think back to Tikal, when you were practically in his lap during that astounding sunrise. Or when he was teaching you about tarantulas, leaf-cutters, and jungle insects. The way you explained it, you hung on his every word. Nor did you seem irritated when we were in Semuc Champey. You stripped him naked with your eyes. You ate lunch with him. You went caving with him. Do I have to bring up our hotel? You were humping him in the hallway!”

  Ari blushed. “Okay. But you don’t realize he disappears afterward, in a flash. Each time. And now Natasha is a revolving moon around him.”

  “Natasha is his assistant. That’s it. She’s gotta be at his beck and call. Remember who you are talking to. It’s me. Come on. Be truthful. What happens? Is there a pattern?”

  Ari leaned in so she wouldn’t have to speak so loudly and chance being overheard when the rain slowed or stopped. “He and Natasha have a history.”

  “You assume it was intimate.”

  “I do, even though he cautioned me not to assume. They’re comfortable with each other, in sync. She just seems to know him really, really well. You’ve seen how she is with him. ‘Big Guy.’” She sneered. “I’m an emotional yo-yo. He flirts with me, and then he’s distant.”

  “Hm. Me thinks you are attracted to one another beyond the physical.”

  Ari’s stomach clenched, worried others might see she was attracted to him, that she might have feelings for him. She firmly denied Meg’s assumption. “That idea is just too… just too crazy.”

  “What? Really? Who do you think you’re kidding? He’s gorgeous! And you’re adorable. Together, you’re a stunning couple.”

  “We are not a couple. I’m not looking for a relationship. Becoming involved with the de facto leader of our group would be a poor decision on my part.”

  “Sometimes the relationship comes looking for you. It just happens.” Meg leaned forward. “Circle back to your history comment.”

  “Luca and Natasha met in Italy, when they were in college. After his wife died, she came in as an adjunct at the university he teaches, for a semester. That’s all he said.”