by Karen Diem
Zita shuddered at the idea and opened the repurposed butter tub. Plucking out the fork she’d stored inside, she shoveled the food into her mouth. Spicy rice and beans, cold as if eaten from the fridge, exploded on her tongue while she contemplated the horrific thought of gaining telepathy. Dios, I hope not. I mean, you do okay with it, but I’ll stick to misinterpreting what people say instead of what they’re thinking, thanks. “Not much I can do about it. The pain goes away after a few seconds. It’s already gone.”
“If you’re certain you’re all right, then.” Wyn sounded dubious but brightened again when her attention turned back to the mural. She touched below the painting reverently. “Perhaps we should stay here for the evening? We’re all hungry and tired from the long hike here, and I don’t want to encounter whatever the monsters are at night. It’ll also provide an opportunity to examine these wonderful glyphs more.”
Jerome entered the cave and let his backpack slide onto a rock. “Sounds like a plan. There’s enough space for us to spread out and sleep in here. I’ll check what’s left in the cooler when I’m done with this batch.” Light flashed as he started another round of photos.
Andy hovered near Zita until she threatened him with a forkful of beans. He moved a few steps away and busied himself with his pack.
Zita opened her mouth to vote to push on, but when the usually graceful Wyn stumbled, she frowned. The guys and I could continue, but Wyn’s wiped. The other group has to accommodate Tiffany, who is a lot less athletic than any of us, so they can’t be that far ahead. “Rest sounds great.”
Despite turning to check Zita every few seconds, most of Wyn’s attention was on the mural, a more elaborate one than in the previous corridor. “I wonder what these could tell us if we only understood them.”
Zita sighed. “They’re pictures. You don’t have to wonder. The first one was a warning. Keep going, and you’ll be monster food. This one’s not about religion. It’s about how a teacher married a magic farmer-king.”
“What?” Wyn said. “But it shows signs of classic female fertility goddess…”
“Teacher,” Zita said. She jabbed a finger at a chunky figure surrounded by smaller ones. “See? Here she’s teaching kids about monster bones while she watches the guy on the mountain over there.” She squinted and gestured at the symbols as she spoke. “See the squiggly lines shoot out of his hands? He’s a magic farmer because all the trees are dripping with fruit and the grain’s as tall as a person. In this spot, dudes are bowing to him, so he’s a king or noble or really rich, which would make sense with all that food.”
Andy pursed his lips and rubbed his neck. “As much as I hate to disagree, Muse, the first image does resemble the storyteller figure that’s popular in the Southwest.”
Her eyes narrowing, Wyn seemed thoughtful as she gestured to the next panel. “How about here? Where she’s on an altar and turns into a monster. They clearly show her accepting offerings and being given gifts.”
Zita glanced at the scene and took another fortifying bite. “She took a nap for a few days, and when she woke up, they were being invaded. After she chased off the army as a monster, the farmer-king married her, and it was total party land.”
Jerome wore an odd expression. “She napped for a few days and awakened as a shapeshifter? Sounds familiar. At least, I’m assuming you all caught the coma sickness.”
With a slow nod of his head, Andy nodded.
Wyn’s illusory purple eyes sparkled. “This may be almost as good as a goddess myth. Don’t you see? It’s proof metahumans existed before the Seventies, which were the earliest known incident. To find evidence that it happened however long ago this was drawn… This is amazing even if it’s not as much in my field as I thought.”
The others took the opportunity to eat, even Wyn, though she insisted on nibbling a packaged protein bar while studying the wall. When they had tucked away the debris from their dinner, they set up blankets and settled in for an uncomfortable night. At least the constant temperature of the cave kept them from getting too cold or too hot. By whispered consensus, Wyn was the only one who did not take a watch shift overnight.
***
The next morning, they continued down the corridor until they reached another cavern. After calling out to alert the others to the ancient graffiti on the walls, Zita paused to check out some flattened areas and a few bits of trash. “Tiffany and company camped here.”
Andy sighed. “Was it too much to hope they got lost in the caves? I mean, I don’t wish any harm to the professor or the local guy, but life would be simpler without Pretorius and Tiffany.”
Jerome shrugged. “At least they had to stop. It’d suck if they’d already come and gone and all this was for nothing.”
Gesturing toward the walls, Wyn turned to Zita. “While we’re here, what do these say? They have more people… and the king and queen seem to be exploding?”
Zita scanned the mural. “The invaders returned, bringing outsiders, probably gringos, who tried to take over with bad magic.”
“Gotta hate those gringos getting into messes everywhere.” Jerome snickered.
Andy huffed. “Sounds like a familiar pattern for this continent, though.”
Frowning, Wyn said, “How do you get gringo out of this?”
Zita pointed to the mural again. “See here? This person is black all over, and this one has yellow hair, and all of them are wearing white dresses. Nobody else has colored hair or wears that outfit. Yellow hair guy threw lightning, too.”
Wyn waved at another panel. “While evidence of conflict between competing supers is fascinating, I’m almost afraid to ask what’s happening here, given the number of discarded limbs.”
“They had a war.” Zita skimmed the picture, glossing over the weirder stuff, like plants eating people. She tapped an image she thought her friend might like.
To her surprise, Wyn batted at her arm. “Don’t touch it! Ancient art like that is notoriously fragile, and the oil from your skin could damage it!” After a moment, her face filled with curiosity. “Who won?”
“Not this guy,” Jerome said, pointing at an invader who appeared to explode in fire.
“Or that one.” Andy jerked his chin at a native being hit by lightning.
Removing her hand from the wall, Zita gestured at various parts of the mural as she read aloud. “Lots of death all around. The farmer-king cast a spell as he was dying, and their land became forever green and fertile. After he died, the teacher flipped out and accidentally turned most of their surviving tribe into monsters. The invaders fled… at least the ones the monsters didn’t eat, anyway.”
A hand fluttered up to cover Wyn’s mouth. “How sad! And then? Did she perish from heartbreak or did her tears bring him back to life?”
“What, you think this is a telenovela? No.” Zita left out the bit about how the teacher traded hearts with her dead husband because that made no sense at all. “Since the teacher couldn’t change her people back, she shut them away and instructed the few humans remaining in the area to never to come here or face a horrible death and whatever. She sealed herself and the farmer-king’s’ body in with them.”
Wyn sniffled. “Your delivery is sub par, but it has all the hallmarks of a tragic love story and a standard mythos.”
“What do you think really happened?” Andy’s voice was soft.
Zita shrugged. “Who knows? Could’ve been any number of things. If we find people, we need to avoid them. We don’t want to accidentally infect them with viruses they’ve never been exposed to.”
“Prime Directive, then?” Jerome said.
“What?” Zita blinked at him. No one answered.
Andy nodded gravely. “Yeah. I don’t want to introduce smallpox or something if uncontacted people live there.”
“Dr. Mwangi didn’t mention any people, just tried to convince us it was too dangerous,” Wyn said. “Though I concur, if there is an untouched civilization living near the temple, we skirt around it to avoid
passing any contagions to them. I doubt Tiffany and her group will be that considerate.”
“The doc might not know. His mom went, not him,” Jerome pointed out.
After another moment of examining the wall, they continued further up the passageway. Green-tinted light and a warm breeze teased flowers at the end.
Excitement sparked. Zita rocked on her feet. “We’re almost there! We might have to put on some extra clothes for warmth, but let’s see before we go rummaging through the bags.” She rushed forward until her toe hit something rectangular and metal and sent it skittering across the floor. When she bent to pick it up, she noted the way the ground was churned up, as if multiple people had dragged large objects around. Darker blotches marred the dirt.
The others crowded near her to see what she’d found.
“Well, that’s a lot more recent than the wall art,” Andy said.
Zita wrinkled her nose. The faintest scent of decay clung to the thin sheet of worked metal. While it had the shape, white frame, and green background of a street sign, it displayed a series of emojis instead of words.
“Why would they haul this all the way here and then abandon it?” Jerome asked. “Not to mention, why have a sign with a tiger, a fish, and a skull and crossbones on it?”
“Not a clue.” Zita set it face down on the ground. “If it’s still here when we go to leave, let’s grab it. It smells like something dead was on it, though, so I don’t want to carry it longer than we have to.”
“Eww, agreed. I don’t want that in my purse,” Wyn said.
“Fine, I’ll carry it out when we go. Sissies,” Jerome said.
Neither man objected, so Zita left it behind and headed to the exit. She pushed aside massive ferns and stepped out.
Heat and humidity wrapped around her as she stared at the vista unfolding before her, and the thunder of an enormous waterfall nearby pounded her ears. “This is all wrong.”
Chapter Fifteen
Andy exited the cave, holding an oversized fern leaf aside for Wyn and Jerome. A moment later, all three came to stand beside Zita, and they stared over the tepui.
The mouth of the cavern spat them out onto a ridge overlooking the main plateau. From that vantage point, Zita saw a plain of unfamiliar ferns reaching upward, some taller than any of the humans based on the size of similar plants nearby. Butterflies skipped along above the swaying fronds. The occasional tree, conifers of some sort, struggled out above the mass of greenery. Broad, empty swaths of dirt as wide as suburban streets crossed and meandered through it all. Farther out, the ferns ended before another cliff, atop which rose a mix of cycads with their palm-like leaves and more pines, with flowers splashing color on green and brown of the trees. Several hundred feet away, an enormous waterfall thundered down from the highest edge of the rim, spreading into a river that wound its way down the wall and through the ferns. One bank came within a hundred feet of the base of the ridge where they stood. Reeds and marshy grasses blurred the lines of the waterway, and brief splashes of silver and bronze swam past and disappeared under the clear liquid. The warm, moist breeze carried the scent of the river, the spiciness of the nearby plants, and the earthier undertones of rotting vegetation and animal life.
“Toto, I know we aren’t in Kansas anymore,” Andy murmured.
Jerome stared. “You said it. Wasn’t it supposed to be cooler up here? It’s just as hot as it was in the rainforest.” He wiped sweat off his forehead.
In the distance, the rim of the tepui was only a misty grayness on the horizon, with a sea of verdant life between them and it. Thick clouds crowned the tips of the walls and carpeted the sky overhead, allowing only the occasional glimpse of blue.
“It’s huge,” Andy offered.
Turning in place, Zita assessed the area and frowned. “It’s too big. It shouldn’t fit.”
“That’s what she said,” Jerome stage whispered and snickered.
Andy snorted and broke into a smile.
Zita waited until they were done to continue. “The size and microclimate are all wrong, as is all the vegetation. It should be cool and rainy with lots of carnivorous plants, bromeliads, and orchids. While every tepui does its own thing, I’ve been to Monte Roraima and Auyantepui, and they’re not like this.” From the corner of her eye, she caught Wyn retreating toward the cavern. “Muse? You okay?”
Raising her arm, Wyn wiggled her fingers in the air next to the entrance. Her gaze skimmed the wall, the sky above it, then returned to the same spot to begin again.
She looks like she’s reading bottom to top, left to right and using her hand to keep her place. Is it time for her to do a spell? “Well, I’m guessing we’re here. How long do you need to do your ritual thingy to find the temple?” Zita cocked her head. “Or did you already start?” She had to repeat her questions before her friend responded.
“What? Oh, you mean you don’t see it?” Wyn fondled the rock, her attention focused on it.
Zita and the men exchanged a glance before scanning the area. Andy shrugged, Jerome shook his head, and she spoke for the three of them. “No?”
Wyn gestured at the wall and sky. “Around the cave and going up into the air, as far up as is visible, everything has this really intricate spell on it. It all leads that direction, toward the massive glowing pillar of light surrounded by a multicolored mushroom cloud.”
Jerome swore. “What is this, every modern superhero movie ever?”
Obediently, Zita checked again. The stone remained the same, save for where a few lizards and insects had scurried a few feet, and the sky was clear all the way up to the thick blanket of white clouds that hid the sun. A brilliant bird in shades of blue and red flew from one tree to another at the edge of the distant forest. “Pretty macaw, but no, I don’t see any magic,” she murmured.
Andy had an odd expression and started to speak but stopped when Wyn gasped and pointed upward.
“Guys? Is that?” Wyn’s eyes were huge, and she had lost the geeky absorption she’d had since spotting the spell.
Zita and the two men turned their attention skyward. A pterosaur swooped down and captured the colorful bird in its mouth. With a few shakes of its head, it flapped its wings to rise high again. Once it soared above the ferny land, it tilted its neck back to swallow its unfortunate meal.
“Holy Land that Time Forgot, Batman.” Andy gaped. “Is it just me or does that pterodactyl needs a shave? Is it wearing a jaunty blue beret?”
Taking a second, Zita began to shift to eagle but stopped when her vision sharpened. As the creature soared off, she admired it. “That’s not a pterodactyl, but it’s some kind of pterosaur. The blue hat’s a big crest, and the beard is hair-like filament things—pycnofibers, that’s it. With those legs and the giraffe neck, it’s probably an azhdarchid of some kind. Sucks to be the macaw, but isn’t it cool?”
Andy grunted in agreement.
His hands on his hips and his feet spread wide as if to take on the entire landscape, Jerome stared at it until it disappeared into the cloud cover overhead. “If we see a Tyrannosaurus Rex, dibs on taking it home as a pet.”
“Have you gone insane, or have I?” Wyn asked. “At least those hairy things over there are cute from a distance, an extensive distance.” She waved at a trio of thirteen-foot-long sloths, one of which reared up on hind legs to stare their direction, before dropping down and continuing to move away.
Zita snorted and returned to her usual Arca form. “No way, hombre. T-Rex never partied this far south. Not to mention, who wants to poop-scoop after one of those? Or even after the furballs Muse prefers. Though now that I think about it, giant sloths and the dinosaurs never coexisted, so this place might be messed up enough to grant your wish.”
Jerome laughed. “So, you’re secretly a paleontologist?”
“I wouldn’t want a giant sloth as a pet, but it’d be preferable to a T-Rex.” Wyn turned her head, and the warm sensation of party line sprang up. I’m curious too, how did you know the respective din
osaur eras?
“No, I just like animals, including the extinct ones. Why would you want a giant, ravenous predator anyway? I mean, it’d be fun to see one, provided it’s not attacking, but they’re a bad idea anywhere near people,” Zita said, her eyes scanning the area. My college scholarship required me to have a sciencey major or minor. I liked dinosaurs and took a class on them, but paleontology wasn’t for me. I don’t have the patience for all the grids or a taste for all the academic backbiting.
Andy’s tone was dry. No, you lacked patience for something? What a surprise.
Unaware of the mental conversation around him, Jerome grinned. “I wouldn’t actually take one home, but if I did, there’d never be a question about who the man is because it’d always be me. No matter what anyone else said, I’d be all ‘yo, I don’t have time for this. My T-Rex, Bowser, needs dinner, so I got to jet and feed him before he eats the maid.’”
Really? I knew you had to have a degree to be an accountant, but… Wyn sent. Her face flushed a rosy pink, and she seemed to forget her preoccupation with the walls.
Zita turned toward her friend. But what?
“You’ve already named your imaginary T-Rex?” Andy said. “And you named him after a bad guy?”
Jerome made a face. “Sure, haven’t you? And what else would you name it after? Big Bird?”
Andy colored, and his gaze darted away. He coughed. “Maybe.” What she’s saying is we’re surprised you were able to last through classes at all, let alone long enough to take a minor.
Setting her hands on her hips, Zita made a face at her friends. Pues, I’m not a total idiot just because I like to move. The college didn’t have zoology, so I got a minor in biology because it had the most hands-on classes. I don’t know how you people stood getting more than a bachelor’s degree. College was hard and not in a fun “ay, papi” way either.
Andy grimaced and chose to speak aloud. “So, what about those dinosaurs, huh?”
Zita jiggled her leg as she thought. While she moved, her mind raced, categorizing the area. “Everything’s stuck in a mishmash of prehistory. Flowers and butterflies mean Cretaceous period or later if I remember right. Giant sloths weren’t around until after the dinosaurs died out, so for them to coexist with the pterosaurs… it’s more than one era.” Zita said, her eyes returning to the flying animal. “I couldn’t tell you if the pterosaur is a known species or not. It’s gigantic though. That wingspan’s got to be thirty feet. Again, not an expert.”