Deity (29 page)

“We
don’t know that they are,” Lori argued.

Tarah
stepped in beside Abe, cozying up behind the pistol. “They’ve never stopped
looking for it,” she said, her voice suddenly slithery.

Lori
couldn’t believe what she was witnessing. Was she being threatened too?

“It’s
going to be dark soon,” Laffy dared to point out, his voice trembling. “We’ll
never find that marker in the dark, not even with my helicopter.”

Abe
lowered his gun, much to Laffy’s evident relief. Abe smiled.
“There
now.
I knew we could press upon your cooperative nature.”

“He’s
right,” Tarah interjected. “We won’t find the next marker in the dark.”

“And
neither will the Zapatistas. That’ll buy us some time to prepare.”

Deception

Lori
sat quietly in the front seat of the 4-Runner as Tarah drove them out of the
jungle. Laffy sat sulking in the back. She couldn’t blame him. The whole scene
back at the ball and pillar had been unsettling, to say the least. She didn’t
like the way Abe immediately used his pistol on Laffy. In fact, she hadn’t even
known Abe was carrying a weapon until that moment.

Why
was a humanitarian aide worker so readily armed?

The
small taillights of the Polaris bobbed a short distance ahead with Abe at the
controls. Before he had pulled ahead so far into the twilight she’d noticed him
fumbling with some sort of radio or satellite phone he’d earlier retrieved from
the back of the 4-Runner. Who could he possibly be contacting?

Lori
wasn’t sure if it was Abe’s pistol or the graying sky that sulled her mood but
as they drove out of the jungle she couldn’t help but reflect upon the events
that had led her to that moment.
The hunt for Topiltzin
Quetzalcoatl’s true destination.
Dr. Webb’s
disappearance.
The cavern collapse and her fortunate
rescue.
None of it made any sense and yet, somehow it all fit together,
sending her on a manhunt that may lead to nothing more than capture by the
Zapatistas. She was becoming more and more certain of that grim and circumstantial
prospect.

Then,
as if she needed another reason to depress her mood, her mind suddenly flashed
an image of Dr. Peet, sitting in the Mayaland Resort luxury suite. For all she
knew, it could have been their last day together – she couldn’t recall quite
clearly.

Had
she only known what would
happen.

The
memory carried with it a despairing gloom. Lori’s head ached and her mood was
as depressed as the hunkering stars slowly filling the placid sky. She hadn’t
realized they’d reached Laffy’s trailer until Tarah’s headlights reflected off
the windshield of a Jeep parked just ahead, projecting a bolt of pain through
her head. Wincing, and with her fingers pressed against her temple, Lori
suddenly realized there were more than a dozen vehicles parked around the
trailer. Abe and the four-wheeler were nowhere in sight.

And
that’s when she saw the guns.

They
were everywhere, on everyone, strapped in shoulder harnesses, thigh straps and
hip holsters. There were assault rifles cradled in arms and slung over
shoulders. There were even a few propped up against the vehicles and who knew
the arsenal count hidden inside them.

Lori’s
heart stopped. They were driving smack dab into a paramilitary gathering.

The
Zapatistas!

“They
found us!” she gasped. “Turn around now!”

Tarah
didn’t pay attention. Her eyes remained fixed on the scene before them, as if
surveying their options. Lori slid down in her seat. Any minute now the
Zapatistas might open fire on them.

“Tarah!”
she implored. “Turn around.”

The
4-Runner came to a rolling stop and to Lori’s relief, Tarah finally reached for
the gear selector.

And shifted into park.

* * * *

Abe
abandoned the four-wheeler for the armed men milling around at the center of
the parked vehicles. Their response time was impressive, beyond his
expectations, actually.

Rafi
was the first to spot him.

“Where
have you been, Abe?” he asked. “We’ve been trying to call you.”

“I’ve
been out of service,” Abe said, “chasing after puzzle pieces.”

Rafi
grinned. “Well I think you’re going to like this,” he said. “We found the
biggest piece of all.”

“So
fill me in,” Abe said.

“Sonjay found the Jeep in the jungle about four hours
ago. He left a patrol with it and came back to gather the troops. We were just
heading back up there when you called.”

“Good
timing,” Abe mumbled. “And there was just one vehicle?”

“Just the Jeep.
It was empty. Not so
much as a gum wrapper between the seats.”

They’d
approached a small group still sporting their FN Scars. Sonjay had already
spotted Abe and pulled out of the ranks. “You’ve never been very observant,
Rafi,” he snarled. He grabbed Abe’s hand and embraced him briefly about the
shoulder. “It’s about time,” he said. “We were afraid we’d be doing this
without you.”

“What
did you find in the Jeep?”

“The
tailgate’s full of bullets. Then we found this beneath a seat.” Sonjay flipped
a spent cartridge between his fingers. “.223 Remington,” he continued. “It’s
one of ours.”

“Perfect,”
Abe said. “If he’s come this far then he must have the cross.”

“Who
has what cross?”

Abe
spun around to find Lori fast approaching, hot on Tarah’s heels. A furrow
deepened between Lori’s eyes.

Tarah
passed an irritable look at Abe before turning back to the girl. “The
Zapatistas,” she intercepted. “They must have the Talking Cross.”

By
Lori’s steady glare, Abe could tell she wasn’t buying it.

“Who
are all these people?” she asked in a tone of accusation.

“Protection,”
Abe said simply as he turned to walk away. He didn’t have time for Lori’s
questions. With every wasted minute the Talking Cross was one minute closer to
The Calendar; one minute closer to God.

Within
a couple of strides Lori was back at his side, matching him step for step. “This
is a bit militaristic, don’t you think?”

Abe
had reached Sonjay’s Jeep and just as he’d expected, his Scar waited for him
there. He picked it up, pleased to find a loaded magazine already in place. “Did
you honestly believe the three of us could take on the Zapatistas alone in the
jungle?” he asked flatly.

Lori’s
heels dug in even deeper. “So you’ve got a troop of paramilitaries of your own?
These aren’t exactly locals you have here. They look more…Middle-Eastern.”

Abe
checked the safety on his gun, silently cursing Lori’s scrutiny.

Lori’s
eyes narrowed. “You’re looking for the Talking Cross, aren’t you?”

“Yes,”
Abe snapped back. “If the cross leads us to Matt Webb, then yes, I am looking
for it.”

“What
makes you think Dr. Webb has it?” Lori challenged. “We don’t know that he’s
even found the fourth clue yet.”

Abe
was getting irritable, a condition that only worsened when he realized Sonjay
and Rafi were watching him, observing how he was handling this aggravation.

He
pulled the magazine from his rifle and feigned a quick bullet count. “Why else
would the cathedral be missing a cross?” Abe snapped, slipping each bullet back
into the magazine. “The fourth clue would be useless if he didn’t already have
it.”

Lori
crossed her arms defiantly. “I never told you about the missing chapel
crucifix.”

Abe
hesitated, checking himself. “Sure you did,” he growled.
“Back
in Tunkuruchu.”

Lori
was adamant. “I only told you about the fresco I saw in the cavern,” she
argued.

“You’re
confused, Lori,” Abe said irritably. “Concussions have a way of confusing short
term memory.”

Lori
shook her head. The furrow on her brow deepened, her eyes became more piercing.
“No,” she said. “You’ve been looking for the Talking Cross this whole time,”
she accused. “That’s how you came to find me in the cenote, isn’t it? You were
looking for the Talking Cross before you ever knew Dr. Webb was missing.”

Heat
began to rise in Abe’s face. Lori was plucking his last nerve. He suddenly
regretted letting her tag along. Sure, she’d decoded the clues that had gotten
them this far but as far as he could tell her usefulness was about to reach its
end. Not that he expected her cooperation from this point forward anyway. If
his troops could reach Matt and his partner before the Zapatistas found them,
he could just as easily use the scientists to decipher any more clues that may
lay
ahead.

“What
does that pillar lead to, if not the Talking Cross?” Lori asked with a tone of
distrust.

Abe
couldn’t stand that smart look of suspicion smeared across Lori’s face. He spun
on her but before he could train his Sig Sauer on her, Tarah came to his
rescue. With Lori focused on him, Tarah easily swooped in from behind and
slipped a black, plastic garbage sack over her head. Lori fought for a moment
but Tarah easily dominated her, throwing her to the ground and tying her hands
behind her back.

“Enough
with the fifty questions already,” Tarah said quite collectively.

Lori
spat something back from under the hood but Abe had turned away by then,
retiring the pistol once again as he addressed Rafi and Sonjay.

“Tell
the men to collect their gear,” he ordered. “We’ll pick up the trail from
here.”

Olmec

The
jungle was growing thicker and less predictable the further Peet led the group
away from Matt’s Jeep. That was to be expected. At the same time the swarming
insects seemed to be thinning. That was pleasantly unexpected. So far, fortune
seemed to be in their favor for they quickly found a faint trail that made
traversing the jungle a little easier. But the game must have been small for
the trail often ducked under limbs and through brush that would have been impassible
were
it not for the machete wearing blisters into
Peet’s palms.

Over
the past few hours they’d quickly packed food and supplies and drove as deep
into the jungle as the two-track roads would allow. By late afternoon they were
well on their way, approaching the base of the volcano on what seemed to be a
blind trek to find a needle in a haystack. As the jungle grew dense he realized
they could easily miss whatever feature Matt was looking for by only a matter
of yards. Nonetheless, having found no service for Matt’s GPS, they continued
on by the guidance of John’s compass toward an ancient trading route he knew.

Matt
followed close behind, readily available to share the clearing duties through
the thickest jungle. KC groaned somewhere in line between Matt and Father Ruiz.
She’d given up lamenting about her favor for the air and traded it for frustrated
moans as she shifted the weight of her pack strapped over her sweat-moist
shoulders. However, her complaints were quickly submerged by John’s
speculations on the importance of Tacana’s cleft through Izapan cosmology.

“Clefts
played a significant role in Mesoamerican cultures,” John said, dodging a limb
that backlashed from KC’s passing. “They are a constant presence in Izapan
stelae.”

Peet
was familiar with Mesoamerican clefts. Whether represented by caves, the gaping
mouths of animals, or the seats of enthroned kings, clefts were portals to the
underworld.

“In
early Izapan mythology, the cleft on Tacana was viewed as a creation place,”
John continued.

Portals
to the underworld and wombs of creation—the mystical dual purpose of
Mesoamerican clefts.

“Sounds
like the perfect location for the conception of the very first Long Count
Calendar,” Matt offered.

“Maybe.
But the significance of Tacana’s cleft
goes way back to the Olmec culture,” John said. “In fact, Izapa was a culture
in transition between the Olmec and Maya.”

“Because of the cleft.”

“The
cleft is only part of the story,” John continued. “It’s not only a place of
creation, but to the Olmec and early Izapan tradition, the sky above Tacana was
the center of creation. After all, the North Star hovers nearby. The early Olmecs
must have noticed the skies rotating around the North Star and therefore
determined that to be the center of creation.”

“But
the Tacana cleft is twenty-three degrees off from true north,” Peet argued as
he took a slash at a tangle of vines.

“Yes,”
John agreed. “However, consider the night sky on the December solstice during
the seventh Baktun. To the Olmecs, the Big Dipper appeared to rise directly out
of the Tacana cleft after sunset, traveled around the North Star and set at
sunrise. This event was translated into Olmec mythology.”