Deity (19 page)

“A
pegged
cross
?” Abe said.

Lori
nodded. “Just like any ordinary cross, only this one had three pegs, one at the
end of the head and each crossarm.”

“What
does it mean?” Tarah asked.

The
fog gradually lifted. “Dr. Webb thought the hieroglyph represents the second
coming of Christ.” Her memory was coming faster now. There was more to the
hieroglyph. “He thought Jesus taught the Maya the concept of calendars as
indicated by five accompanying glyphs from the Long Count Calendar.”

Quickly
she drew five small boxes around the hieroglyph to indicate the locations of
the calendar glyphs. “Maybe that’s why he called this the Calendar Deity too,”
she said, but the doubt had returned to her voice.

Was
she remembering everything correctly?

“So
this frescoe is linked to the very first Long Count Calendar?” Abe asked.

Lori
shrugged.
“Possibly.”

Tarah
suddenly sounded doubtful herself. “And you’re sure this isn’t some sort of
hoax?”

Lori
placed a hand to her throbbing head. “I can’t be sure of anything in all
honesty.”

“The
original Long Count Calendar and a cross,” Tarah thought out loud. She turned
to Abe. “What could it mean?”

“Whatever
it means,” Lori said, “I get the feeling it spelled trouble for Dr. Webb.”

* * * *

Abe
immediately recognized the drawing of the cross. He wasn’t sure how he could be
so certain. He’d never seen a pegged cross like this one before, but there was
something about those three pegs that left little doubt in his mind. This cross
did not come out of the Jesuit conquest. This cross was more special than that.

The
cross aside, there was another, more important issue to consider as Lori
explained Matt Webb’s strange disappearance. Abe knew Matt’s work had something
to do with linking biblical history to the new world, but beyond that he knew
very few details behind the study. Regardless, he had no doubt there was a link
between Matt’s disappearance and the pegged cross.

“Lori,”
he said thoughtfully. “If you are going on to search for Matt, we would like to
help.”

Both
women looked up at him in surprise. Tarah appeared speechless while Lori
dropped her eyes in bashful declination.

“That’s
very kind of you, but I can’t ask you to go out of your way. You’ve done enough
for me already.”

Abe
grinned. The poor girl looked tired and confused. He didn’t know if it was her
long blonde hair, the youth in her face or the way she held the bedsheet in an
amiable attempt to conceal her nakedness, but there was a virgin quality about
her that he found irresistible. How sweet it was for her to think his
intentions might center
around
her needs and yet, how
pitiful.

“We
would like to help,” he insisted.
“Matt’s a good friend.
If he’s in trouble, we want to help him. It wouldn’t feel right leaving you to
search for him alone.”

“I
don’t know that I am looking for him,” Lori admitted. “Our research seems
insignificant in light of all that’s happened.”

“Insignificant?”
Tarah interrupted. “Our friend’s life could be in danger and you’re calling
this insignificant?”

Lori
retracted. “That’s not exactly what I meant—”

“We
want to help you find him,” Abe insisted.

“But how?
I don’t even know where to begin.”

“I
think I can help with that. Matt may have stumbled upon an image of the Talking
Cross.”

Lori
looked up, a studious curiosity thawing her wearied expression.
“The what?”

“The
Talking Cross of the Maya,” Abe explained. “God himself is supposed to speak
through that cross.”

“How
does this help me find Dr. Webb?”

“Can
you imagine the power one would achieve with such direct access to God? That’s
why the Zapatistas of Chiapas showed great interest in finding it during their
revolution nearly twenty years ago. Luckily, they never found the cross. However,
that doesn’t mean they’ve stopped trying. If Matt found some link to the
Talking Cross, I fear he may have been captured by the Zapatistas.”

Lori
looked uncertain. “We’re at the northern tip of the Yucatan Peninsula.
Correct me if I’m wrong but Chiapas
is down in the southwestern point of Mexico.

“Never
underestimate the Zapatistas,” Abe said. “There is a specialized force within
their paramilitary operations that is highly secretive and unusually intelligent.
This force was assigned the specific task of locating the Talking Cross. If
there are any links to the cross, I have no doubts the Zapatistas know about
it.”

Lori
frowned, setting her cold corn soup aside to rub the side of her head. “This
sounds way out of our league, not to mention dangerous. What chance do we have
against such a skilled troop of paramilitaries?”

“It’s
really not as difficult as it may sound. As equipped as the Zapatistas are,
they wouldn’t suspect an archaeologist traveling with a couple of Red Cross aid
workers.”

“So
what are you suggesting, that we go in and sneak Dr. Webb out of some Zapatista
stronghold in the middle of the night?”

“It
could be that easy.”

Lori
glanced at Tarah who shifted her sleek frame on the edge of the cot in silent
expectation. There was a sudden energy about Tarah’s posture. Her eyes had
brightened with anticipation. “Together, we can save Matt’s life!” she urged.

Lori
turned back to Abe, defeated. Perhaps she simply didn’t have the energy to
argue. Abe supposed she hardly had the energy to search for Matt Webb, but they
were going to need her. Who knew what other archaeological puzzles lay ahead. If
the Zapatistas were using Webb to locate the Talking Cross, he and Tarah were
certainly going to need someone with similar expertise, and Lori was it.

“Even
if what you say is true,” Lori began, “Chiapas
is a big area. Where do we begin looking?”

“Izapa,” Tarah jumped in perhaps a little too enthusiastically.

Abe
read the confusion on Lori’s face. “It’s an old Mayan city,” he explained. “The
oldest Long Count Calendar dates are recorded in Izapa. It’s believed the Long
Count Calendar originated there.”

“You
seem to know a lot about it.”

Abe
smiled. He had to hand it to her, this girl was sharp. He offered a modest
shrug. “I don’t know a whole lot about the site. Just some tidbits I picked up
from somewhere—you know, with all this 2012 doomsday stuff going around.”

Lori
nodded as if she knew exactly what he was talking about, but she still looked
hesitant.

“So
you’re planning to go to Izapa based on the assumption that the Zapatistas have
captured Dr. Webb.”

“It’s
the only logical explanation for Matt’s disappearance,” Abe insisted.

“How so?”

Tarah
leaned forward. “Did we mention the Zapatistas are Mayan?”

PART III

Thursday, December 20, 2012

TUN

“You are going to live,
those of you who understand the words of the written scriptures of life,
children of Mayapán!”

-Chilam Balam

Chicxulub

Chac
paced the edge of the cenote, occasionally glancing into the pool that had
swallowed the collapsed ceiling of the cavern. The water level had risen
considerably and the divers had been underwater for over an hour now, having
come up only once to report finding the crushed generator. There’d been no mention
of the Calendar Deity. There was no sign of Lori.

But
that wasn’t what kept Chac prowling the limestone rim.

His
mind was preoccupied with the five glyphs that had accompanied the Calendar
Deity. Despite Matt Webb’s interpretation that the glyphs marked the day of the
second coming of Christ, Chac knew better. The glyphs were a sign, a link to
the very first Long Count Calendar ever created. His hunch had been confirmed
by the pegged cross that had been conspicuously drawn within the hole vacated
by the Kin piece. No doubt Matt would have claimed the cross as indisputable evidence
of his Jesus theory. Chac didn’t see it that way at all. The pegs on the arms
and head gave it away. The cross was not that of the cross of Jesus but that
wasn’t the only thing that worried him.

Matt
Webb was the only person besides himself that knew of the cavern, but something
about that reality had changed. Either someone had gotten to Matt, as Peet suspected,
or Matt himself had separated the gear-shaped Kin artifact from the cavern
wall. Whoever did it would have certainly found the cross drawn inside the
hole, and whoever found the cross also planted the bomb. It made Chac’s stomach
churn to realize that the bomb had been planted to keep
him
from noticing the Kin piece missing from the Calendar Deity. The
bomb had been planted to keep him from finding the cross.

The
very idea had plagued Chac’s thoughts ever since he left Peet at the Mayaland
Resort. He spent a restless night marching the floors of his home, not once
considering his bed. He’d been on the phone, dialing numbers, leaving messages,
contacting nobody. He supposed the approaching Christmas holiday had something
to do with everyone’s absence, but surely he could reach
someone
.

Or
had his communications been cut off?

Having
accomplished nothing in the hours since he parted ways with Peet, Chac decided
he’d rather pace the jungle floor with the search crews than sit in the
emptiness of his own house. And so he remained pacing, wishing for a phone
call, wishing they’d find the girl, wishing for anything to take the edge off
his nerves.

The
phone call came first.

He
answered his cell before the end of the first ring.
“Bacab.”

The
voice on the other end spoke Quiché. “Chac, what’s going on? There were nine
messages on the machine this morning.”

Chac
released a long-pent breath, but his muscles tensed for action. He recognized
the voice. It was the first man he’d called last night, and the first voice—the
only voice—he cared to hear right now.

“It’s
urgent, Sabino.”

“What’s
happened?”

Chac
stepped away from the cenote, keeping his voice low. “Get everyone together as
soon as you can. The last thing we ever expected has happened.”

“What
are you talking about?”

“The calendar wheel.
We have to get it
running if we expect to see the end of this.”

There was a shock of silence at the other end. And then,
as if suddenly understanding, Sabino gasped, “Oh!”

“It’s
my fault,” Chac blurted. “I should have recognized the signs.”

“What
is their progress?”

“They’re
on their way, if they aren’t there already. Stop them.”

There
was a pause. “If they’re coming here, then that means—”

“They
have the cross,” Chac said impatiently. “Stop them at all costs.”

“What
if we don’t find them in time?”

“Be
sure you have the calendar running. It’s our last resort.”

“I’m
on it.”

“I’ll
join you tonight.”

“No.
We can cover the front from here. We need someone watching the highland route. Cover
the ground there. Good luck.”

Chac
disconnected the call. Without missing a stride he glanced back at the cenote. There
was no sound of activity. He felt even
more jittery
than before.

Screw
it!

He
picked up his pace as he disappeared into the jungle. They would have to find
the girl without him.

Ladybug

The
Ladybug leveled off at cruising altitude and KC McCulley, feeling refreshingly
cool and quite comfortable in her blue-gray tank top, had just settled in
behind her controls when Father Ruiz sneaked into the cockpit, unannounced, and
took a seat in the co-pilot’s chair. KC groaned inwardly. She didn’t ask for
company, least of all his.

“Everything
all right back there?” she asked, struggling to keep a civil tone.