by Leo Romero
The thug shook his head. He spoke and Rafa listened.
“He says the temple of Magdalena is attached to this one, but further that way,” said Alicia.
The thug then began speaking in a hurried voice, his eyes wide with innocence.
“What did he say?” asked Trixie.
“He wants us to let him go,” Rafa said. “He says he won’t tell them he saw us.”
“Yeah right!” Trixie snorted. “Listen, Jack. You’re taking us to the entrance of the temple or you’re going back to the river!”
The thug’s shoulders dropped; he stared at the ground with disappointed eyes, no doubt getting the gist of what Trixie was suggesting.
Rafa then shoved him in the opposite direction to the entourage ahead of them. “Vamos!”
The thug trudged along again, giving the monks a wide berth and leading them through a much thicker section of the jungle. They walked for another five minutes or so before the thug turned and pointed ahead of him. Dom and Trixie stepped ahead. What faced them was a squat stone monument set at an angle from where it had subsided over the centuries. A dark rectangular entrance gaped at them, vine hanging down over it like straggly hair.
“Is that it?” Dom asked in an anticlimactic tone.
The thug nodded.
“Looks small,” Dom said to him.
The thug began speaking, flattening his hand and pushing it down through the air at a forty-five degree angle.
“He says it goes underground,” Alicia said.
“And the Unholy Mother is in there?” Trixie asked.
The thug nodded. “Si. In there,” he echoed.
Trixie nodded. “Well, thanks for the tour, Jack.”
The thug began looking around them with those innocent eyes again.
“You two keep an eye on our friend here,” Trixie told Alicia and Rafa. “We’re going in.”
The thug balled his fists up and hit the air in frustration.
“Okay,” said Alicia. “Be careful.”
Trixie turned to Dom. “All set?”
Dom stared at that black rectangle in trepidation. A temple full of traps, old Lionel found out. At the end of which was an ancient vampire waiting. Hungry.
He gulped. “No, but let’s do this!”
Trixie stepped toward the temple entrance.
Dom followed up, Rafa giving him a pat on the back. Dom nodded in return, but it was a token gesture. His guts were trembling, his heart pounding. He knew he might walk into this place and never come back out.
But, that realization wasn’t new to him anymore. It was his world now.
As they neared, the gushing sound of a small tributary of the Madeira filled the air.
They reached the entrance, and came to a halt. “Well, here we are,” Dom said.
Trixie nodded, her eyes gleaming with uncertainty.
High above them the birds continued with that laugh-like cawing. Dom peered into that dark entrance; a mysterious gloom stared back at him. There could be anything in there waiting. Anything. A cold shiver danced up and down his spine, even though he was sweltering. He reached out a trembling hand and pulled some of the vine aside, clearing the way.
He took a deep breath, glanced at Trixie, and nodded.
“Here goes nothing,” he said and stepped into that darkness. Trixie followed up.
“Buena suerte, amigos!” Rafa shouted after them.
Dom shuddered as the darkness swallowed him whole, and with that, they’d finally entered the temple of Magdalena.
PART SEVEN
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
Dom flicked on his Zippo.
The thin stone corridor illuminated burned orange. The wall to their right was lined with torches. Dom grabbed one and lit the end with his Zippo. The torch caught alight and burned strong, creating ample light for them both.
He passed the torch to Trixie and grabbed another for himself.
He pushed his lit torch on the air ahead of him; he illuminated more stone walls and a stone floor. The ceiling was barely a foot above his head.
Man, the people that built this place must have been tiny.
The stone around them appeared to be veined, but on closer inspection it was jungle vine finding cracks to thrive through and spread. Some of it hung down like a shaggy dog’s fringe, creating a bead curtain effect.
Dom took the lead. He grabbed a deep breath, then set off with slow pigeon steps, his mind wary of traps. He reached out and pushed aside hanging vine; it was thick and coarse.
All outside sound was now muted. Their footfalls scratched across the stone, echoing back at them from the surrounding walls. Tiny insects crawled across the walls, disappearing in the myriad of cracks and crannies. As he edged along the corridor, Dom’s breathing turned ragged, hot in his ears. Discomfort riddled its way through his mind and body. He didn’t know what to expect, didn’t know what they were walking into.
“Be careful, don’t touch anything,” Trixie said behind him, swinging her head left and right. “This place will be wired with traps. The people who built it didn’t want anyone getting in.”
“Which is why they put Magdalena in here. To stop her from getting out.”
“Or to stop anyone letting her out.”
“True.”
As Dom led them through the corridor, a sense of intrigue mixed with a dash of fear rose inside him. This was the craziest vamp nest he’d stepped into yet. Ancient stone temples filled with traps was a million light years away from run down Chicago projects and abandoned houses. It was kind of like—
His foot fell on something soft; it pushed down like a pedal. He froze, his jaw going slack.
A rumble of stone just behind him made him spin. He caught a final glimpse of Trixie before a stone wall descended, separating them.
“No!” Trixie yelled before the volume of her voice became muted by the now closed door. Dom looked down at his sneakers. He lifted up his foot; a small pressure plate popped back up. He turned back to the stone door, expecting it to open up once more, but it remained shut. He pushed the pressure plate down again. Then again and again. It just clicked endlessly without anything happening.
He grabbed his head with his free hand. “Shit!” he spat in anger.
“Dom! Dom!” he heard Trixie’s muffled voice shout.
He approached the stone door. “Yeah, I’m here. I stepped on something that made this door come down.”
“Step on it again,” she suggested.
“I’ve tried. Nothing happening.”
“Have a look for a switch or something.”
Dom trained his torch on all the surrounding walls and floor; there was nothing noticeable, no buttons, protrusions or levers. He began pushing areas of the walls with his free hand, stepping on different parts of the floor, even the pressure plate again. It just clicked dumb and stupid.
“Anything?” Trixie asked.
“Nothing. How about you?”
“Nothing here either.”
Dom thumped the wall. “Christ! What do we do now?”
There was a pause, then, “You’ll have to go on alone, Dom,” Trixie said.
“What?” Dom exclaimed, his eyes focused on the dark, lonely corridor running off into the distance.
“What other choice do we have?”
Dom grabbed his forehead. “There must be a way of getting this thing open; a pressure plate or a switch or something!”
“Can you find any?”
“No!”
“Then you’ll have to go on alone.”
His head fell back. “Oh Christ...”
A small scratching along the ground caught his attention. Something was being pushed beneath the door. “Here, take this,” Trixie said. “Use the pictures I took at the pyramid to help you.”
With a sigh, Dom bent down and picked up Trixie’s smartphone. He blew the dust away from the screen and rubbed it on his pants. “Thanks,” he said in a peeved voice.
“Give me yours so I can keep a
track on you.”
Dom slid his smartphone under the door for Trixie.
“All right, Dom. If you’re gonna get outta there, you’ll have to go forward.”
Dom reluctantly nodded his head. “Great.”
“I’ll try and find a way to get this open,” Trixie told him.
Dom groaned to himself. “I’ll catch up with you outside,” he said in a despondent voice.
“Be careful, Dom,” Trixie said.
“I will,” Dom replied. I hope.
He turned and surveyed his surroundings. The corridor disappeared into a darkness his torchlight couldn’t yet reach. It was hot, tight, claustrophobic, not a sound to be heard bar the small crackle of fire on his torch. The lack of oxygen in the temple meant his flame was diminished; barely surviving. The small glow it offered gave him a few feet of light and nothing more. He growled to himself. The chips were stacked against him already.
Just my luck.
A thought then dropped in his mind. He saw Trixie, all alone, running around the I-Sore Tower, risking her life, literally working her fingers to the bone to save him and Vincent. Now, he kinda knew how she must’ve felt once it all hit home for her. Once she realized it was her against everything else.
Hope flowered in his heart. If she could do it, then so could he.
“Just part of the job, Dom,” he said to himself as he stared at the stone walls encasing him. “Part of the job. Just remember to ask Vincent for a pay rise once you get back to Chicago.”
Chicago? Man, Chicago suddenly felt like a whole other planet.
He took a long, juddering breath. “All right, Dom. It’s down to you, buddy. Just take it one step at a time. One at a time.”
He took his first step forward, tiny fragments of ancient stone popping and cracking under his sneaker. He shone his torch down at the ground, not wanting to step on another one of those pressure plates. They’d caused more than enough trouble already. He ventured to take another step, the ancient aroma of old stone, vines and trapped humidity flirting with his nostrils. Dom recognized those combinations; they were the smell of a tomb, the exact same sensation he experienced whenever entering the crypt of a vamp. Whether it was a Chicago slum or a Mayan temple, it was always the same.
He took another tentative step and now he was deep into the corridor, all alone. Pangs of paranoia slapped him from all angles. All he could think of was traps. Traps, traps, traps. All over the place, everywhere, like he was imprisoned in a videogame. Any wrong step would trigger off a closing wall or a flying spear or blow dart in his ass and that would be the end.
His breathing turned shallow, sweat began to pour. It trickled down his back, plastering his tee to his skin. He wiped his brow; the back of his hand was soaked.
Man, this is some seriously scary shit.
“I’d take a night in a haunted castle over this any day.”
He squinted his eyes as he scrutinized everything; every step, every bit of wall. He brushed past a low hanging vine, which resembled a dangling snake, the glow of his torch guiding him.
So far, so good. But, that didn’t alleviate any stress; his heart continued to hammer in his ears, his legs still trembled. He pushed on, taking one step at a time, fear juggernauting through his veins. The whole thing was surreal, like a dream, like it wasn’t happening. Am I really stuck in an ancient Mayan temple, hunting down a mega vampire?
It was too weird.
He edged forward a few more feet and his torch lit up some steps in the near distance.
Dom reached them and stopped. He crouched down low and shone his torch down them; he couldn’t see where they ended.
“Down we go,” he said to himself. He placed the tip of a sneaker on the first step, wary that it could be a trap. It was solid. He nodded to himself and began down the steps, taking them one at a time, still arcing his torch up and around, wanting to be safer than sorrier. The steps led down and down further. As he descended, a pressure began to work on his head. He was going underground. Like the thug had said outside, when he held his hand at an angle. The temple goes under.
Man, they actually dug all this out with primitive tools? he thought to himself in wonderment. How?
Aliens. Had to be. No other explanation.
The steps ended. Dom shone his torch ahead of him, scanning the area with wide eyes. There was a doorway up ahead that led into more darkness. What waited for him beyond was a mystery.
“Hopefully a cold bottle of Bud.” Wishful thinking. More like something that wanted to kill him; that’s all he seemed to be meeting in his life these days.
He took a careful step down onto the floor at the end of the steps, the scratch of his sneaker on stone reverberating louder down here.
He stared at that rectangular entrance in trepidation, his throat dry, his limbs trembling. Shit was about to get real, he just knew it. He gave the steps behind him a longing stare. They disappeared up into darkness, but he knew what the darkness was hiding. The darkness beyond this doorway was a total mystery. And that’s what scared him. He wished he could turn and run, but the truth was he had more chance of escape going forward, not back.
He gave himself a stern nod. “Let’s do this!”
He sucked in a breath of dank, stale air and took a step toward the opening, his torch held out in front of him. He came to a halt and poked the torch through the doorway. He couldn’t see far enough in, so he stepped inside.
He came to a stop, and raised his flame; he lit up a slightly raised stone ceiling. He lowered the torch and brought it around, arcing it across the air, hoping to—
His eyes bulged in horror. His breath bolted from his chest. “Oh my God!” he gasped.
Did I just see...
He gathered himself and poked his torch forward again. He lit up a skull on the floor, random bones lying next to it.
“Yeah, I did just see that.”
He gulped. He turned his head, bringing his light with him. He illuminated more old bones and skulls.
It’s a grave, he realized in horror. A tomb.
And then a more pertinent question hit him. But why?
The horror of traps severed his mind. A sense of dread overcame him. This room was a deathtrap and he was standing right in it. Something hanging on the wall caught his eye. Another torch. Dom reached out his own torch; it trembled on the air as the flame touched the head of the one on the wall. It lit, bringing with it more light. Now, he could see all the bones on that side of the room. They lay there like it was the cave of a flesh-eating monster. Dom rubbed his stubbled cheek. He didn’t wanna end up like them. Something had done that and he didn’t want to go out the same way.
He rotated on the spot, scared to take another step. On the wall to his right was another torch. He reached out his flame, catching just the edge of the head; it lit. Now, the whole room was illuminated sufficiently. He took it all in, down to the bare bones. It was a small chamber the size of Vincent’s secret room at the back of his lab with no discernible exit. Some square sections of the walls were missing, but weren’t big enough to crawl through. More bones were strewn left and right; how long they’d been there was anyone’s guess.
Dom puffed his cheeks and looked around him for a way out other than the way in. He couldn’t see anything. His eyes fell on the bones and a grim thought struck him.
Did they... starve to death?
The horror of that being a reality set in. If that’s what happened to them, then it would happen to him.
He grabbed his head. “No, no, no,” he said to the tomb. “There’s gotta be a way out, gotta be a pressure plate, or a switch.”
I can’t be... stuck here.
Dread bombed in his stomach. No, please no.
He spun in a circle, the hollow eyes of those skulls watching him.
“There’s gotta be a—”
Something caught his eye on the wall behind him. An alcove. He squinted and poked his head forward. There was something on the wall inside the alcove. Protr
usions. They looked like levers. Clutching one of them was a skeletal hand. Dom ran his eyes down the hand to an arm attached to the rest of the skeleton on the floor. Something killed him while he was pulling the levers.
A spark went off in Dom’s mind. One of those paintings on the wall of the pyramid back in Mexico. His eyes widened. He fished Trixie’s phone from his pocket and switched it on. The artificial glow of the screen lit up his face, a small jingle playing out, totally out of place with his ancient surroundings.
He brought up Trixie’s snaps and began rifling through them. “Come on, come on...”
Then, he found it. His eyes lit up. The picture of the guy pulling levers, those black lines heading his way from those gnarly, twisted faces. Dom knew what those black lines were now; poison darts. He had another look around him; he couldn’t see any of the faces shooting them, only walls. Whatever, he now knew he had to pull a lever to open a door to pass through, but he had to get it right or he’d end up like all his buddies around him.
He wiped the grimy sweat from his forehead. “Okay, okay, I got this,” he said to the dead chamber.
He set off for the alcove, taking precautionary steps, not wanting to trigger anything off by accident. He moved past all the bones and old rags, nausea crawling in his belly. Any wrong move and he could easily end up like them. The musky aroma of old rot filed his sinuses as he approached that section of wall, the dank claustrophobia intensifying. This was his first real test in this temple and he was determined to get past it.
He reached the alcove, his stare fixed on those levers. He placed a foot down ahead of them. The section of floor beneath his sneaker clicked. His reactions were too slow; his foot sunk into a pressure plate. His eyes bulged. He froze, his blood running cold, his heart leaping straight up into his throat.
“Oh my God!” he gasped with a shudder.
He snapped his eyes shut. He waited for something; a spear, a dart, a set of spikes to fly out of the darkness and impale him, poison him, kill him; for him to join the legion of bones.
But they never came. Instead there was an ominous low rumble. He flicked open his eyes and spun them left and right. His torch lit them up; the faces now coming out of the gaps in the walls, staring right at him. Ancient Mayan depictions of angry and virulent gods etched by people from a different age, a different culture altogether. They once believed in the existence of those faces, thought they were real; holy. And now their age-old sentiments were a deadly threat to this visitor from the modern world, a world the constructors of this deathtrap couldn’t even begin to imagine.