The tired group gazed into the campfire, watching it crackle and snap.
“We never found that Incan trail you promised,” said Molly.
“We’ll reach it tomorrow,” Addison replied, in what he hoped was a confident tone. “I’m sure of it.”
“Do you think it’s true what Uncle Nigel said about the Incan treasure being cursed?” asked Molly.
“Well, no treasure hunter who’s gone after it has made it back alive.” Addison tried a little cuy just to be open-minded. He decided it tasted like chicken.
“Nobody told me about a curse,” said Guadalupe, finishing her dinner and leaning back against a log.
“Yeah, me neither,” said Eddie. “You somehow left that part out, Addison.”
Addison poked the fire with a stick. “Three hundred years ago, a Spanish adventurer named Valverde married an Incan princess. He led an expedition into the mountains to the secret spot where she claimed the treasure was hidden. They never returned.”
Raj busied himself in the dark, setting protective booby traps around the camp. He had already dug several deep pits, bristling with sharpened bamboo stakes, and was now struggling to engineer a complex snare trap of saplings and vines.
“A hundred years later,” Addison continued, “a pair of treasure hunters named Captain Blake and Lieutenant Chaplin claimed they found Valverde’s map. They led a party into the mountains and disappeared in a rockslide.”
Raj, now thoroughly intrigued, joined the campfire and listened eagerly with the rest of the team.
“In the 1930s,” said Addison, “a Scotsman named Erskine Loch mounted a treasure hunt in the forests of the Andes. Torrential rains drove his men to fever and hallucinations. His porters deserted. Loch was found stabbed to death through the heart.”
“Death . . . the long sleep of the hereafter,” said Raj, wide-eyed. “So there is a curse!”
The fire crackled in the lonely night.
“Look,” said Addison, sensing the fearful mood of his team, “none of those explorers found what we found: the first two Incan keys. This gives us a huge competitive edge. Besides, I don’t believe in ghost stories.”
It was at that moment that Molly split the night with a bloodcurdling scream.
• • •
A spotted anaconda, coiled around a low-hanging tree limb, dropped onto Molly. The ten-foot constrictor wrapped its muscled body around her legs, then waist, and worked its way up her chest.
Molly hollered again.
“Don’t shout!” yelped Raj, leaping to his feat. “The snake will squeeze the air out of your chest.”
“What should I do?” gasped Molly, struggling against the wriggling snake.
“Just fill your lungs and hold your breath!”
Guadalupe felt a flood of adrenaline surge through her body. Thinking quickly, she grabbed a flaming brand from the fire and lunged at the great serpent. It hissed viciously, tightened its grip on Molly, and wrapped a coil around her throat.
Addison followed Guadalupe’s suit. He snatched a glowing stick from the fire, danced from foot to foot like a fencer, and slashed at the reptile’s face.
Raj hefted a burning log, half his own size, and speared it toward the snake.
“Ow!” snarled Molly, grasping a free hand toward her singed leg.
“Sorry!” Raj called, hopping backward for balance. He held the burning log to the anaconda’s tail, branding its mottled skin so that its flesh sizzled and filled the night air with a faint smell of barbecue.
The snake tightened its grip on Molly’s throat. Her face began to turn blue.
Raj grabbed more burning sticks, handing them to Guadalupe and Addison. They singed the snake again and again. At last, the enraged serpent decided that enough was enough. The Amazon was a big place, and there were easier meals to be had. The anaconda released Molly with a savage hiss and retreated from the flaming brands. The massive snake barber-poled up a mahogany tree and vanished into the slithering shadows.
“Got to watch out for those,” said Guadalupe.
“It’s a jungle out there,” Addison agreed.
“Thanks,” breathed Molly, panting for breath. She clutched her burnt leg.
“I have a first-aid kit!” Raj cried, still jittery from the attack. He riffled through his backpack and came up with iodine and bandages. He examined the red and swollen burn. “Does it hurt?”
“I’ll give you one guess.” Molly gritted her teeth and didn’t make a sound as Raj cleaned the wound and bandaged it up.
“Molly,” said Raj, shaking his head in admiration, “you’re not like any of my sisters.”
“Thanks,” Molly said again. She climbed to her feet and tested her leg.
“Chin up, Mo,” said Addison. “Nobody said discovering seven hundred and fifty tons of treasure would be a walk in the park.”
“Nobody said it’d be a walk in the jungle, either,” Molly grumbled.
“I need to get back to a city,” Guadalupe said, staring distrustfully at the overhanging branches. “Even getting pinched by the policía is better than this.”
Addison could find no flaw in her reasoning. “The good news is, we now know the snakes are afraid of fire.” He sat down and made himself look as relaxed as possible. “We just stay close to the campfire tonight, and we’ll be fine.”
Molly sat down and inched as close as she could get to the flames without catching fire. “Thanks, Guadalupe,” she said.
• • •
It took the team a long time to fall asleep that night. They stared up at the few stars visible through the jungle’s curtain.
“Raj,” asked Eddie at last, “what will you do with your share of the Incan treasure?”
“Rent my own apartment so I don’t have to share space with my three sisters.”
“You really have three sisters?” asked Guadalupe.
“It’s my cross to bear.”
“What else would you do with the treasure?” asked Eddie. “It could be worth millions.”
Raj scratched his chin thoughtfully. “I’d change my last name to ‘Dark Star.’ And then I’d go to survival camp in Montana. What about you?”
“With that much gold, I’d buy a glass submarine. I’d build a Jacuzzi you can drive down the street. I’d buy Restaurant Anatolia. I’d buy our school, tear it down, and turn it into a skate park. I’d build a mansion out of cupcakes and eat my way through it. I’d buy a skyscraper and fill each floor with water and goldfish. I’d hire the Dallas Cowboys to be my personal bodyguard. I’d build a fire engine that shoots Nutella from fire hoses.”
“You’ve given this some thought,” said Guadalupe.
“A bit,” Eddie admitted. “I don’t have brothers or sisters, so I have time on my hands.”
“Addison, what will you do with the treasure?” asked Raj.
“Probably give my share to a museum,” said Addison. “What I really care about is finding it before Professor Ragar.”
“And what about you, Molly?” asked Raj.
“I don’t care about the treasure,” she said simply. “I just want to rescue Aunt Delia and Uncle Nigel.”
• • •
Addison woke the next morning pleased to find he was quite alive and not being digested inside the belly of a snake.
Raj checked his booby traps. Guadalupe stoked the campfire back to life, heating up rice, beans, and corn for their breakfast. Eddie watched the food steam, his mouth watering.
Addison rose and stretched his sore muscles. He opened his notebook and read the second Incan clue for the forty-seventh time . . .
“Across the mighty Amazon,
Through the jungles of the headhunters,
Follow the footsteps of the Incas;
In a castle on the edge of the world
The key is hidden clos
est to the gods.”
Molly raised herself up on one elbow and squinted her eyes. “Addison, did you hear something?”
“Nothing in particular.”
“In the bushes over there. I heard a mumbling.”
“That’s just your stomach,” said Addison. “Rise and shine, Mo. Shove a little breakfast into the Cooke stomach and enjoy this beautiful morning.”
Molly sat up and rubbed her eyes. “It’s funny. It’s just that I’m pretty sure I heard something.”
“I’m sure it’s nothing,” said Addison.
The next second, the air was filled with deafening war cries.
• • •
Fifty Máloco headhunters sprouted from the jungle, spears held high over their heads. Their faces were painted red, and their ears and noses pierced with bone. They barreled full speed toward Addison like stones from a slingshot.
“John Wilkes Booth!” yelped Addison.
“See, I told you!” shouted Molly, jumping to her feet.
“A brisk run will aid the constitution,” suggested Addison, taking flight.
Addison, Molly, Raj, and Guadalupe plunged headlong into the underbrush. Eddie brought up the rear, huffing and puffing.
“Run like the wind, Eddie!” cried Addison.
“I’m trying!” gasped Eddie.
“You run like a mild breeze!” shouted Molly. She was pleased to find that her burnt leg didn’t seem to slow down her feet.
The Máloco tribesmen were not kidding around. They hurtled right over the booby traps Raj had set, catching up quickly. Their screams rattled in Addison’s ears, chilling him to the bone.
Addison’s team leapt over tree roots and ducked under branches, and sometimes were forced to do both at the same time. The vegetation grew so thick, Addison couldn’t see three feet ahead of him. So Addison was as surprised as anyone when he and his group raced right over the edge of a ravine.
They skidded down the steep dirt slope on their backs, grasping at roots and stones to slow their descent. The Máloco lost ground, choosing a more sensible detour down to the gully.
Addison’s group scrambled to their feet, clumps of leaves matting their hair, and kept right on moving. Their route led them directly up the next steep hill. Soon they were out of breath, gulping for air like beached trout. Addison was already sore from yesterday’s hike and this life-or-death sprint was not particularly helping matters. He wondered how long he could keep running without any breakfast.
“Look out this time!” cried Guadalupe, skidding to a halt. The jungle opened up to reveal a hundred-foot drop to a deep rocky gorge, a fast-moving river gushing far below.
“Benedict Arnold!” cursed Addison.
Raj found a dangling jungle vine and took a running start. He screamed his battle cry at the top of his lungs: “BHAAAAAAAANDARI!!!!”
The team watched in amazement as Raj swung all thirty feet across the rocky chasm. He crashed into the bushes on the far side in an explosion of leaves and squawking birds.
“Let’s just take this footbridge,” Molly suggested, pointing a few feet to the left. The team wasted no time in agreeing. The hemp rope bridge danced and shivered as they raced across, the raging river rushing a dizzying hundred feet below.
“Destroy the bridge!” Addison called.
Reaching the far side, he and Guadalupe dropped to their knees and tugged out the stakes anchoring the rope bridge to the cliff. Just as the Máloco reached the bridge, it snapped apart, wilting to the far wall of the gorge.
The furious tribesmen shouted at Addison from across the canyon. They sent poison-tipped spears and darts raining down on the group.
“We should probably keep moving,” said Guadalupe, ducking an incoming arrow.
“Wait,” said Addison. “There wouldn’t just be a footbridge here for no reason.” He squatted low to the ground, scanned the terrain, and cried out in triumph. “There!” he cried, pointing to a stone marker. “The Incan trail! I knew it!”
“Sure you did,” said Molly. She took off down the trail, the group following at her heels.
“Some people are so hard to impress,” Addison muttered. A Máloco spear clattered to the ground by his feet. Addison scurried after Molly.
A few miles later, the team relaxed to a slow march, exhaustion written on their dirt-lined faces. The Incan trail petered out to a pathway, dwindled down to a rut, and finally fizzled out altogether.
Raj beat a path for them through the jungle, pounding the vegetation with a stick. The forest grew lighter up ahead. Suddenly, Raj stopped and uttered a cry. The group caught up to him and peered through the bushes.
“What is it now?” gasped Eddie, wheezing for air.
“The end of the world,” said Addison.
The team gazed beyond the edges of the jungle. Sheer cliffs dropped away a thousand feet below them. The Pacific Ocean spread its arms ten thousand miles wide to embrace the curve of the world. Majestic waves rolled across the panorama to pound the rocky shore.
“Look!” cried Molly, pointing to an outcropping along the coastline below. A stone bridge joined the land with a small island. And on the small island stood an impossibly large stone structure perched impossibly high on an impossibly thin jetty of land. Waves crashed against its stone foundations, casting rainbows glinting in the midday sun. Like an image from a fairy tale, its rounded turrets and pointed spires proudly presided over the gray-blue sea.
It was a castle.
Chapter Thirteen
The Castle on the
Edge of Forever
THE GROUP PICKED THEIR way down the rocky bluffs to a winding road along the barren beach. Scavenging seagulls hovered on the blustering wind.
Guadalupe pointed to a street sign. “The next town is Casa Azar! This is great news—in the jungle we must have crossed the border into Ecuador!”
“You seem pretty excited about Ecuador,” said Molly.
“Well”—Guadalupe grinned—“I’m not wanted by the policía in Ecuador.”
“Give it time,” said Eddie.
Guadalupe shrugged and nodded. “I give it about twenty-four hours.”
Addison thumbed through his copy of Fiddleton’s Atlas and found the castle listed under “Places of Interest.” He cleared his throat dramatically. “Ladies and gentlemen, I give you the Castle on the Edge of Forever.”
“Are we sure it’s the castle we’re looking for?” asked Molly.
Addison’s eyes popped as he read the description in Fiddleton’s Atlas. “It must be,” he said, tapping the page. “This castle was built by Diego de Almagro II.”
“The conquistador who built the Cathedral of Lost Souls!”
“The very same. And Diego built this castle in the same year, 1541.”
“Wow,” said Eddie, impressed. “What have I done this year?”
Addison examined the castle through his field binoculars. Sandstone towers ringed with bastions. Curtain walls pocked with arrow loops. Battlements, saw-toothed with stone merlons, flanking the tower gates. If this was any indication of what Ecuador was going to be like, Addison was ready to give up New York for good.
He zoomed in the binoculars, training his focus on the causeway connecting the highway to the castle. “There’s a lot of activity down there.” Limousines and luxury cars rumbled over the stone bridge onto the fortified island.
Eddie borrowed Addison’s field binoculars and peered at the castle. “I don’t see anything.”
“I put the lens caps back on.” Addison turned to face the group. “The third key is in that castle. We have to find a way to sneak in there and grab the key before Professor Ragar.”
• • •
Addison’s team crouched in the underbrush watching the castle gatehouse at the foot of the bridge. Security guards inspected a line of black limousines before waving them
onto the island. Each limo was filled with dangerous-looking men in tuxedoes, accompanied by dangerous-looking women in colorful dresses.
“Está berraco,” whispered Guadalupe, ducking low into the bushes. “Do you realize who these people are?”
“It just looks like a wedding,” said Addison. “A very expensive wedding, but just a wedding.”
“These are bad people,” Guadalupe said, shaking her head. “Even by my standards.”
A stretch limo pulled up to the gatehouse. Guards circled the limo with bomb-sniffing dogs.
Guadalupe pointed out the new arrivals through the open windows of their black limo.
“That’s Héctor Guzmán, head of the Guzmán cartel.”
“Is a cartel like a gang?” whispered Molly.
“A huge gang. They say Guzmán kills his rivals by locking them in a freezer.”
“That’d have to be a pretty big freezer,” said Raj skeptically.
“Maybe he uses a walk-in freezer, like at a restaurant,” Molly reasoned. “How do you recognize all these people, Guadalupe?”
“TV.” Guadalupe studied the gang members arriving in the next limousine. She solemnly crossed herself. “I just figured out whose wedding this is . . . Don Miguel’s daughter.”
The name Don Miguel meant exactly nothing to Addison. “I’m very happy for Don Miguel . . . and his daughter. But we still need to get into this castle.”
“Fat chance. That’s Don Miguel’s castle.”
“He’s allowed to own a historical site?”
“In Ecuador, you can buy anything. Don’t you realize who Don Miguel is?”
Addison’s group blinked at Guadalupe.
“No?” said Eddie.
“Not even a little bit,” Addison admitted.
Guadalupe stared at them in amazement. “Don Hernando Miguel?”
“Still not ringing any bells.”
“We’re from America,” said Eddie. “All our famous criminals are TV stars or professional athletes.”
“Don Miguel is the boss of all the bosses,” Guadalupe whispered in something approaching superstitious awe. “He’s marrying his daughter off to his biggest rival, Héctor Guzmán. I saw it in the news. Their two gangs have feuded for years, but this wedding could bring them together. Then they can stop shooting each other and get back to shooting other people. It’s beautiful really.”
Addison Cooke and the Treasure of the Incas Page 12