Deity

by Theresa Danley

  Lori did look, noting a spot of blood staining the stone where her stunned cheek had just been—where the Katun glyph mocked her from between the carved legs of the Calendar Deity. And that’s when it dawned on her. The placement of the glyph was wrong. In Izapa, the Tun glyph was located on the pillar ball, not the pillar itself. She pulled herself to her feet and glanced at the face of the pillar ball—that space between the fingertips where she expected a glyph to be.

  There was nothing there. However, if she just aligned the pillar ball’s fingertips with the Katun glyph on the pillar…

  Grabbing hold of the pillar ball once more, Lori put her weight into it and found that it was surprisingly easy to turn. She turned the round stone until the hands of the ball aligned with the legs of the pillar. The Katun glyph was now centered beneath the fingertips of the pillar ball.

  Lori positioned herself behind the ball once again and with her hands resting over the ball’s handholds, she gave the pillar ball one last tug. The ball stopped with a click, budging no further atop the pillar. Straight ahead, amid a giant black wall of lava rock, a low rumbling suddenly trembled the mountain. Stone ground upon stone as though tumbling in an avalanche, but there were no falling rocks. Instead, a small crack within the wall widened, opening slowly with the painful screeching of slipping stone.

  To Lori’s amazement, the opening of a cave was suddenly revealed to them like the secret passageway of a Hollywood movie. Grit slipped around the edges as the door screeched to a stop, leaving an opening three feet wide.

  Tarah’s smile returned. “Now that’s more like it,” she said.

  Eschatology

  Chac swallowed hard at the sight of Matt’s limp body sprawled out across the jungle floor. He couldn’t help but feel a touch of remorse. After all, he’d worked with the man for nearly two years and although he hadn’t realized it until now, they’d been two men plagued by secret identities. While Matt hid from Chac his involvement with Abdullah, Chac had kept his position with the Zapatistas painfully quiet.

  His efforts had been in vain, however, if Matt knew who he was all along. That had left Chac at a terrible disadvantage. In the two years he’d worked alongside Matt, he hadn’t considered for a moment that his partner was anyone other than a researching university professor. Chac supposed he had his trusting nature to blame. It was a character flaw that ultimately compromised his position. He wasn’t suspicious enough. He wasn’t ruthless enough. Then again, who really was these day?

  Eighteen years had gone by since the Zapatistas’ pitiful revolution. Eighteen years since the North American Free Trade Agreement had sealed the fate of the poor farmers of Chiapas into a whole new level of poverty. The farmers foresaw the impending doom even then, but what voice did they have against a government wooed by the most powerful nation in the world? Thus the Zapatistas were conceived.

  Violence was the only flag the Zapatistas could wave that would catch anyone’s attention and for a while, the tactic worked. Even the United States turned a wary eye. But the Zapatistas’ resources were short lived and running desperately low when the Mexican Army got involved. They needed some quick and immediate funding and the only source available was a wealthy Middle-Eastern arms dealer named Abdullah.

  It was Abe’s interest in the end times that benefitted the Zapatistas. Stories of an original Long Count Calendar had initially attracted Abdullah to Chiapas when he wasn’t busy north of the border. To ensure his full cooperation, the Zapatistas upped the ante with the legend of the Talking Cross of the Cruzob.

  Legends—that’s all the depleted Zapatistas could offer, but their gamble worked.

  Abdullah agreed to finance their revolution in return for access to the Talking Cross. The problem was, the agreement came too late. Before the Zapatistas could regroup, the Mexican Army broke their back in Ocosingo. The main leader of the movement had been killed and as the group fell under new leadership, so too did the revolution change. The violence had served its purpose by turning a few ears to the plight of the Chiapas people. It was time to employ a new tactic so the revolution turned to more peaceful measures. Coincidentally, the need for Abdullah’s money disappeared.

  But Abe did not. Fully vested in the Zapatistas’ promises, he continued to demand access to the Talking Cross. He quickly became a thorn in the Zapatistas’ side. There, captured by his enemy in the Tacana jungle, Chac felt the thorn festering.

  Abdullah nudged Matt with the toe of his boot, turning the body over and effectively draining more blood from the hole in his head. One of his cronies approached. It was Sonjay, Abdullah’s right-hand man. Chac had had skirmishes with the man before.

  “We might have needed Matt,” Sonjay said, shaking his head as he looked down upon the body. “We haven’t reached the end yet.”

  Abdullah snickered. “I think we’ll be fine.” His cold eyes quickly darted to Peet. “We still have Matt’s baggage.”

  If Peet weakened beneath Abdullah’s glare, he didn’t show it. In fact, he seemed to stand a little taller, a little bolder, as all focus turned on him.

  “Tell me, professor,” Abdullah said. “What are we supposed to find on this volcano?”

  Peet shrugged. “I don’t really know for sure.”

  Abdullah scowled. “That wasn’t the answer I was looking for.” He calmly trained his pistol on Peet. One step over Matt’s body and he had the muzzle pressed against the side of Peet’s head.

  The professor stood firm.

  “We’re looking for a pillar,” Father Ruiz jumped in.

  Abdullah studied the priest a moment but his gun remained trained on Peet. “Where exactly is this pillar?”

  “A villager said we’d find it in a ravine.”

  Abdullah turned back to Peet. “Are you telling me you’re entrusting your science to the word of some bushman?”

  Peet hesitantly nodded.

  Abdullah’s face fell stone serious as he pressed the pistol tighter against Peet’s head. “That doesn’t sound like Matt at all. What are you trying to hide?”

  “There’s nothing to hide,” Peet said.

  Chac was tired of the charade. In fact, their captor’s pleasure in holding Peet’s life in his hand sickened him. If there was anything Chac could take away from Abdullah now, it would be that simple act of dominant control.

  “He doesn’t know anything,” Chac interrupted.

  Abdullah steadied his pistol. “He must know something. Matt was too much of a tactician to just leave everything to chance in this jungle.”

  “He would if he felt time running out on him.”

  Abdullah hesitated. Chac knew he’d struck a nerve. December 21, 2012 was the day he’d been waiting for. Apparently it was the day Matt was expected to have the cross ready for him. When confronting the end times, desperate measures could be taken to meet the deadline.

  Abdullah finally pulled away from Peet and returned to stand over Chac once again. “You know where the next clue is.” It was more of a statement than a question.

  Chac didn’t hesitate. “I know where it is.”

  It was a lie. Chac had no clue where they were supposed to go next, but he had to give the man something. He needed to buy them all time. He needed to appear useful or else they’d all meet Matt’s fate. More time allowed him to think things through, to work things out. More time would give the Zapatistas a chance to—

  A radio buzzed somewhere nearby. Abdullah reached for his hip. His eyes never left Chac, warning him not to make a move, yet challenging him to do so. Chac remained steady.

  “Come in,” Abdullah said into his radio.

  A woman’s voice returned. “Do you need assistance?”

  Abdullah smirked as though the very idea of needing the aid of a woman amused him. “Negative. All is contained here. We are preparing for phase two.”

  “Cease preparations. Phase two is complete.”

  Abdullah scowled as though her words made no sense to him. “Come again,” he said.

 
“Phase two is complete.”

  Abdullah’s smile returned with even greater strength. In fact, Chac could see his excitement grow as the impact of the woman’s words sank in. “That’s my girl!” he finally blurted.

  He spun back to his troops, inspiring sudden energy from them. “Let’s go, boys!” he barked. “We’ve found The Calendar!”

  Ravine

  Peet was hot, but he couldn’t determine if it was the heat or the anger boiling inside that caused him to sweat. For a man accustomed to the dry Rocky Mountain winters, he was not at all acclimated to the December humidity of the jungle. But that was trivial compared to the prisoner parade he was now marching in, hands bound behind his back with the constant display of firepower all around, ready to kill should he or Chac or Father Ruiz make a wrong move.

  And Matt Webb was still fresh in his mind.

  It seemed inappropriate to feel hatred toward a dead man, and yet Matt’s deceit was frustrating, even maddening, to comprehend. He’d known Matt for years, and in all those years the BYU professor that he thought he knew had been nothing but a mirage, a cover for a sort of espionage in this battle against the Zapatistas. The most heartbreaking of all was that the man Peet had once considered a colleague was the very same man that had planted the bomb that had killed Lori. Matt Webb had lived a double life and now, somehow, Peet had stumbled into his secret. He was trapped in a world he didn’t belong, amid a war that wasn’t his. Peet was, as Matt so bluntly put it, baggage.

  How much baggage Abe would continue to drag along with him, Peet wasn’t sure, but he knew that wherever they were being led, he would need to be of some benefit to stay alive. But how?

  Peet sensed his time running out. To make matters worse, his anger toward Matt and Abe was clouding his ability to think straight, to develop some sort of survival strategy. Nothing had come to mind and now, as they marched up a sloped ravine, he could see the end of their journey just ahead.

  An armed man awaited them beside a stone pillar. A lookout perhaps, keeping an eye out for the Zapatistas, but no doubt a guard posted to keep anyone from accessing the last clue.

  Anyone but Abe.

  Peet and Father Ruiz were led to the pillar behind Chac. There, a stiff blow to the back of the knees brought him to the ground. Chac was unexpectedly compliant, dropping to his knees without so much as a suggestion and stealing a glance at the ball sitting atop the pillar’s crown.

  Abe didn’t notice, or Chac’s observation just didn’t concern him. “Good work, Rafi,” he blurted, rubbing his hands together like an eager child. His eyes shifted to the pillar. “So where is it?”

  The guard tipped his head toward the narrow slit in a layer of ancient lava flow just beyond the pillar. “It’s inside.”

  Abe’s smile widened as he turned for the cave opening. “Perfect.”

  “There’s another pillar,” Rafi warned, causing Abe an unwelcome hesitation. “It’s like a puzzle.”

  “So?”

  “It can’t be unlocked without the cross.”

  Abe reached inside his vest and retrieved the Talking Cross. His fingers curled around the shaft, opened, then curled again like a batter re-gripping his Louisville Slugger.

  “Don’t worry, Rafi. I can take care of this.”

  Abe started for the cave once more but after a couple steps he paused again and then turned thoughtfully back to Chac. “But just in case there’s some Mayan code I don’t know about, why don’t we bring Mr. Bacab with us.”

  “What makes you think I’ll decode that pillar?” Chac sneered as two riflemen yanked him back to his feet.

  His words effectively wiped the smile from Abe’s face. Abe drew his pistol, marched back to Chac and pressed the muzzle squarely between his eyes. “You’ll come or the local wildlife will scatter your bones from where you’re standing right now.”

  Chac didn’t bat an eye. “Go ahead. Shoot me like you did Matt. It’d bring me great pleasure knowing you’ll have nobody left to do your work for you.”

  Abe considered for a moment. Peet could hardly bear the tension as Abe decided whether or not he was going to pull the trigger. For a brief moment he worried Abe would switch tactics and turn the gun on him or Father Ruiz, coercing Chac’s cooperation by threatening the life of another.

  Luckily, Abe didn’t choose the immediate option. Instead, he surprised them with an entirely different card he’d been holding. “You may not value your life, Chac,” he began, putting the pistol away, “but how do you feel about the life of a young girl?”

  Chac returned with a sarcastic smile of his own. “Who did you kidnap this time? Some poor farmer’s daughter? Or is she just another hooker you pulled off the street?”

  Abe stepped back, clearly amused. “I believe she’s somebody you know. A young lady you took swimming on your last little caving adventure.”

  Peet’s heart skipped a beat. Lori? His mind began to spin. Could it be true? Could Lori somehow be alive? How could Abe know about her unless she was alive? The very idea sent every nerve within his body tingling.

  “Lori’s dead,” Chac said flatly.

  “That’s where you’re wrong,” Abe challenged. “She’s very much alive. But she won’t be for very long if you refuse to cooperate.”

  Chac merely shrugged, his hands still tied behind his back. “Kill her,” he said in an unaffected tone.

  Peet nearly choked. How could Chac suggest such a thing? He knew Lori. He had been affected by the loss of her at the cenote, and yet, there he stood, just as cold and calloused as the man threatening her life.

  Abe laughed, finally breaking the stare-down he’d been having with Chac. He turned away to call two men over. Rafi and Sonjay immediately responded like a couple of loyal dogs. Peet couldn’t hear what Abe was saying to them, but he could see the incredulous smiles that spread across their faces - faces that brightened as though they’d just been handed an unexpected promotion.

  As the men obediently raced off into the cave, Abe turned back to Chac with a pleased smile plastered across his own face. Once again he toed the line before his adversary, leaning ever closer into Chac’s face.

  “Of course the girl means nothing to you,” Abe said with a sneer. “After all, you left her to die in that cenote yourself.”

  Chac was unmoved. He didn’t even flinch as flecks of Abe’s spittle landed on his face. “Taking a girl’s life won’t get you any closer to your prize,” he said coolly.

  Abe paused for a moment. In the tense silence that followed the two men simply glared at each other as though daring the other to blink. Peet fidgeted anxiously, wondering which man would finally give in. There had to be a breaking point in one of them somewhere, and it made him nervous wondering where that point would be. What would happen if one of them did?

  What would happen if they didn’t?

  It was Abe who finally moved, but it wasn’t to step down from the confrontation. In fact, he straightened his back in a move that appeared more like a regrouping of wits before unleashing a second wave of attacks.

  “I have no intentions of killing Lori,” he said, withdrawing a large hunting knife from its sheath dangling from his belt. He thumbed the blade. “I kind of enjoy her company.”

  Then, as if on cue, a pain-stricken scream suddenly broke the silence. It carried an eerie echo that resonated from deep within the cave with a pitch that only a woman could make. The sound made Peet’s hair stand on end. It made Abe’s eyes dance with delight.

  “However,” he said, stroking his blade with great pleasure, “when my men are through I can do things to her that will make your skin crawl.”

  Another tortured scream set Peet’s nerves on edge. It took all he had to restrain himself but to his utter astonishment, Chac stood silent, completely unaffected by the wails now spilling from the cave—one after another after another.

  Abe lingered, his eyes studying Chac’s face, looking for any sign of weakness. “You’re a hard man, Chac,” he finally said. “But thi
s is your last chance to stop this. If I go in there, know that I’m not coming back out until it’s finished.” He leaned into Chac tauntingly. “I can take hours.”

  Peet, like Abe, expected Chac to break. His every last nerve implored the Mayan to stop this madness. Lori’s life depended on it.

  But Chac did something unthinkable. His back stiffened and his lips curled back into a defiant sneer. He stared Abe square in the eye—a challenge, or a dare.

  “You don’t have hours,” he spat.

  Abe stepped back, either impressed or surprised by Chac’s coldness. He spun the knife in the palm of his hand and with a parting smile, he said, “I never thought you had it in you, Chac.” With that, he performed an about-face on his heel and started for the cave.

  “Just remember when this innocent girl haunts your dreams at night,” he called over his shoulder. “You could have saved her.”

  Peet couldn’t take it any longer. This wasn’t a game and it was obvious now that Chac could not be trusted. The Mayan didn’t know Lori like he did. He hadn’t spent the past decade nurturing the collegiate career of one of his brightest students, preparing her for a promising future. He didn’t care about Lori the way Peet did. Chac certainly didn’t ache for her the way he did.

  As Abe drew closer to the cave without any sign of slowing down, Peet sprang to his feet. “Wait!” he called. “I’ll do it!”

  Abe spun around, surprised. He took a moment, his eyes sweeping to Chac, and then lingering on Peet in disbelief. Slowly, Peet could see the realization seep into his face. Then the smile, that dreadfully evil smile, made one last appearance upon his lips.

  “Now here’s a man with some spine in his back,” Abe taunted. “It’s too bad he’ll be no use to the cause.”

  “I’m an anthropologist,” Peet insisted, stumbling forward despite the rifles suddenly swinging his way. Abe brushed his alerted men aside.