Hurricane Gold (28 page)

Now, all they had to do was drop down the other side on to the iron bars that spanned the scorpion pit and simply walk across them to the other side.

The spectators were clapping and laughing and whooping.

James heard El Huracán’s voice call out to them.

‘That is cheating.’

‘Show me in the rules where it says we can’t do this,’ James shouted back.

‘Yeah,’ rang out another man’s voice. ‘Hats off to ’em, I say. I like their style.’

‘Very well,’ said El Huracán. ‘Continue.’

James and Precious took a moment to catch their breath. They were perfectly safe up here. They could see the scorpions through the bars, scurrying about harmlessly beneath their feet like an exhibit at the zoo.

At the far end they hopped up on to the low wall and looked down into the anaconda pit. There was the great thing, curled up, bigger than any snake James had ever seen before.

‘So far so good,’ said James.

‘Yes,’ said Precious. ‘That’s three down, seven to go.’

‘Ready for the next bit?’ James asked.

‘As I’ll ever be.’

‘Let’s hope our luck holds out,’ said James. ‘I’ll go first.’

He closed his eyes for a moment, rolled his shoulders and flexed his knees.

They were meant to have entered the snake pit from the scorpions’ den, when they would have had no choice but to drop down on to the anaconda, but from up here it was possible to jump clean across the pit.

The gap was about 12 feet, and it was a standing jump, but they had the bonus of height.

It was one thing, though, to practise jumping on the beach, when to fall short meant nothing worse than a face full of sand. Making a mistake here would mean landing on top of an angry serpent.

James, though, was used to this sort of thing. He had learnt the skill of taking dangerous jumps on the rooftops of Eton with his friends in the Danger Society.

He squatted down, steeled himself, then threw himself forward. He landed cleanly on the other side and rolled over to break his fall.

‘Come on,’ he shouted, getting to his feet. ‘You can do it. It’s just like we’ve practised.’

Precious took a deep breath, and, with a loud cry, sprang off the wall.

She made it easily and rolled forward just as James had done.

They had made it past Gucumatz, the serpent god, without even waking him.

James pulled Precious to her feet. They had to keep moving. They were in the part of the run watched over by Kinich Kakmo, the sun god.

They were on the hot plates.

They could already feel the heat rising from the fires beneath the run, and they could see the air shimmering above the metal plates that made up the floor.

They moved quickly, but didn’t run, knowing that if they slipped they would be badly scalded.

As part of their preparations they had laboriously cut out foot-shaped inserts for their shoes from the thin steel sheets used for repairing the water tower. The inserts would insulate their shoes, but once the red-hot floor burnt though the soles, they would start to conduct heat, so they couldn’t dawdle.

Their wet shoes hissed with each step and there was a strong burning smell. It was soon clear, however, that they had once again outfoxed El Huracán. In a minute they were plunging into the water-filled trench that divided this part of the run from the next.

They knew there were leeches in here so they didn’t wait around cooling their feet. Keeping their hands and arms above the surface of the water, they surged across the trench as quickly as they could.

After this it was going to get a lot more difficult. Chunks and Dum-Dum had painted a fairly vivid picture of the next trial, but after that they were entering largely unknown territory. The stolen drawing had helped. It had given them measurements and distances, but it didn’t explain everything.

James tried to clear his mind.
One thing at a time
. He would need all his concentration to get past Balam-Agab, the night jaguar.

They walked slowly and carefully along the alley, watching out for the razor wires that were strung across it somewhere. A grating sound told them that the animal’s door was opening behind them.

They had no tricks. There was no way of fighting the jaguar. They had thought of no ingenious way of surviving this trial. They just had to hope they could get to the razor wire before the big cat got to them.

James glanced back to see it trot out into the run, sniffing the air. It saw the children and curled its lip, then dropped into a crouch. It gave a long low, rattling growl and took up the sinister pose James had seen so many times before when a domestic cat senses a mouse.

It was stalking them.

29

Sweet Terror

Possessed by the ancient instinct to hunt and kill, the jaguar crawled towards them, keeping low, its wide, staring, yellow eyes fixed on its prey. It was lean and sleek. El Huracán would have made sure that it was kept hungry.

James felt his heart thumping against his chest. His breathing was coming fast and shallow. For a moment he forgot about the danger ahead. He wasn’t brave enough to take his eyes off the jaguar, and he turned away from the razor wire. He crept backwards, tensing himself, repeating a string of words in his head, over and over again.

Please don’t jump, please don’t jump, please don’t jump…

‘James!’

James froze – just as Precious shouted – and he felt a pricking at his neck, then a tickle, as warm liquid flowed down his back.

He had reached the first wire. He stepped away from it, towards the cat, and quickly glanced around. Precious was by his side, a terrified look on her face.

He put a hand to his neck. It came away wet with blood. It was his first injury in the rat run. If the jaguar pounced it would not be his last.

Still it crept forward.

James had no choice now but to turn his back on the cat and face the wire. It took every ounce of bravery left in him to tear his eyes away from the stalking beast.

At first he was blind in his panic, but then he realised he was looking directly at a thin strand of razor wire, strung with tiny, ruby jewels of blood.

He crouched down. The shining strands of death stretched ahead of him for about 15 feet, crisscrossing the alley like a giant spider’s web.

There had to be a way, through. This was not the last obstacle.
Yes
, the next wire was just below knee height and there was room above it to fit through. He straddled the wire, desperately trying to keep his balance. Then, still keeping low, he shifted his weight and eased his body over. He couldn’t straighten up, though, because he had spotted a third wire directly above him.

Precious was rooted to the spot. The jaguar had edged still closer and was only a few feet away from her.

‘Move,’ said James harshly. ‘Do it.’

Precious came to life and nodded.

‘Keep down,’ said James, and he guided her past the first set of wires.

Now the jaguar stopped, waiting.
Did it know about the wires? Did it usually wait for its prey to get tangled and then make its move?

It gave a frustrated yowl.

James and Precious had trained hard for this part. They had fixed string across their own alleyway and by steadying each other they had practised stepping over and ducking under it.

It was very different with the real thing. The wires were hard to see, and they were placed ingeniously so as to be as difficult as possible to get past. With fear pumping around their bodies and the jaguar watching them hungrily, James and Precious felt clumsy and awkward. But they carried on, staring at the deadly wires, knowing that if they made any wrong moves they would slip and the wires would cut through them like butter.

They crawled on their bellies, they high-stepped, they bent double, they contorted themselves in every way imaginable, but, by helping each other, they made steady progress.

Soon the jaguar was forgotten. He dared not come after them into the deadly forest of wires. A furious snarl was the last they heard of him.

They crossed the final wire and for the first time realised that they had not come through unscathed. As well as the cut in his neck, James saw that his shirt was slashed at the front and a thin red line showed across his chest. Precious had cuts to her arms and legs that were bleeding freely.

It could have been worse, though. Much worse.

They now became aware of a noise. The deep rumbling and grinding sound of huge stones moving against each other. They had studied the plans, and James had seen the workings below in the tunnel.

They knew a little of what to expect.

They climbed a flight of worn steps and looked out across the next trial.

Millstones, 20 feet wide. Laid flat and rotating fast. Three great circles set in a line. And, rolling in place on top of them, on the left-hand side, like huge steamrollers, were three immense grindstones, each one of which must have weighed at least a ton.

James and Precious would have to get across each spinning millstone in turn. The first and last ones were turning in a clockwise direction, but the one in the middle was spinning in the opposite direction, anticlockwise.

It would be very hard to stay upright. And if they fell the consequences would be awful. If they spilt off the sides they would be mangled in the workings below and if they stayed on, they would be crushed to a pulp between the millstone and the grindstone.

The noise of the machinery and the crunching, booming sound of the grindstones were deafening. It sounded like huge rocks, rolling and crashing down a mountainside.

Once again there was no clever way to beat the trap, and they had had no way of practising for it. They would simply have to rely on skill and balance and timing. They would have to jump on to the first stone, which was turning towards them, outrun it, then jump over to the second stone and let it carry them round to the next jump, where they would have to repeat the process.

‘Take off your shoes,’ said James. ‘You’ll have better grip.’

James pulled off his ruined shoes, and one of them fell on to the millstone. It spun round and went under the grindstone. A second later they saw it come out the other side, squashed flat like a bug on a windscreen.

‘I can’t do it,’ said Precious.

‘Yes, you can,’ said James.

‘It’s impossible,’ said Precious. ‘We’ll be crushed.’

‘We can make it,’ said James. ‘We’ve got this far, haven’t we? We’re nearly at the end. There are only three obstacles left after this.’

‘You go first,’ she said. ‘Show me how to do it.’

‘All right.’

There was just room at the top of the steps to backtrack and take a short run up. James got ready, calculating that the safest bet would be to match the first wheel’s speed until he got the feel of it and then accelerate for the second jump.

Well, there was no point in standing here worrying about it. He had to keep moving.

Don’t think. Act.

He ran. He jumped. He carried on running.

He had calculated right. After a tiny stumble, he found himself running on the spot.

‘See,’ he shouted, but, as he did so, his pace dropped and he began to rotate round towards the grindstone.

He sped up, and started to run faster than the wheel was turning, so that he moved round it towards the second wheel, which was separated by a 2-foot wide drop. Now it got more difficult. The second wheel was rotating in the opposite direction. If he got it wrong his feet would be taken out from under him. He jumped across. His landing was awkward, but he stayed upright and found himself being spun around at great speed.

There was no time to think. He had to make the next jump straight away or risk being carried on round and into the jaws of the grindstone. He used the momentum of the wheel to hurl him over on to the third millstone and was running in the air before he hit it.

As he landed he teetered and fell, rolling forward in a half-somersault. Somehow he scrambled to his feet and started running again, but he had slipped a long way back and was dangerously close to the grindstone. He could hear it behind him, roaring and tumbling, and he could feel it sucking in the air. He glanced back. He was right on top of it. If he clipped it with his heel it would pull him down and under.

Move, dammit. Get away.

He forced himself forward, outrunning the wheel. And he moved steadily round it towards the ledge on the far side. He was nearly there, but knew he mustn’t lose concentration. He wouldn’t be safe until he was standing on solid ground. The distance shortened, 6 feet, 5 feet, 4 feet, 3 feet…

Now jump!

There. He had done it. The ground was no longer moving beneath his feet.

A great cheer went up from the spectators. They were enjoying the show. James knew that they would have placed bets on when he and Precious would be killed. He wondered how many of them had wagered that they would get this far.

Except, of course, Precious had yet to come across.

He looked back. She was still waiting.

‘Easy!’ he yelled, filled with a crazy elation. ‘Piece of cake. Come on. It’s fun.’

Precious was shaking her head.

‘Come on!’ James shouted.

The men above started up a rhythmic chant.

‘Go, go, go, go, go, go, go…’

Precious suddenly yelled and ran.

She got on to the first stone.

She was very unsteady and was wobbling from side to side, but she was just managing to keep pace with it.

She struggled round it, at every moment threatening to trip and fall. There was a look of fierce determination on her face. Her eyes were narrowed and her teeth bared.

James felt proud of her. He would never forget how she looked at that moment. She was someone who would not be beaten by anyone or anything.

She made ready to jump across to the second stone.

With another yell, she flung herself through the air, hair flying, arms flailing.

As she landed, though, her ankle turned, and she was toppling forward on to her front.

Time seemed to stop.

James felt his heart turn to lead; a terrible sick feeling came into the pit of his stomach, which was flushed with acid. The blood hissed in his ears, drowning out all other sound.

And then he realised that he was in the air. As soon as he had seen Precious losing her balance he had started to move. In an instant he had leapt back on to the cold slab of stone, which was spinning towards Precious on the second wheel. He took one long step and was launched across. He slammed face first into Precious, even before she had hit the deck. James’s momentum forced her back to the far side of the stone. Then, a fraction of a second before they reached the hungry, crunching teeth of the grindstone, he pulled her to her feet, and, without letting go of her hand, ran, jumped, scrambled, flew back over the wheels and tumbled on to the platform. It had all happened so fast, and in such a confused blur, that for a few seconds, neither of them could quite believe they were safe.

Then Precious looked at James and James looked at Precious and they both burst out laughing.

James got to his feet and looked up at the spectators.

‘Where are you?’ he shouted. ‘Where are you, Huracán? Show yourself.’

A group of men moved aside and El Huracán appeared. He walked to the edge of the parapet and smiled down at James and Precious. He was smoking a fat cigar. He took it out of his mouth and saluted them.

‘You are doing well,’ he said. ‘But you are not finished yet.’

‘We’re not scared,’ James shouted back. ‘We’re enjoying ourselves.’

El Huracán looked at the boy, standing there so defiantly. He was quite something. A shame that he had not wanted to come and be his right-hand man. The American girl too. She was tougher than she looked. He had thought she would fall at the first hurdle.

What a pity they would both soon be dead.

The two of them could have no way of knowing that the reason nobody had ever made it out of the final trap was because there
was
no way out. Once they were in there, they would stay in there until they were killed.

Ah well
. He took a puff on his cigar, savouring the thick smoke. In his long life he had seen many people die. Some of them he had loved and had thought that he could never live without. He would gladly have died in their place. And now… now he could not even remember their faces. They were nothing more to him than characters in a long-forgotten book. It would be the same with James and the girl. People come and go in this world. Only the stones remain.

For now, though, they had made it past Ah Mun, the god of corn and farming. Let’s see what the next god had in store for them: Ah Mucen Cab, the god of bees.

An amusing trial, a little different to the others, a little more subtle.

‘Can you smell it?’ said James.

‘Yes,’ said Precious. ‘A sweet smell. What is it?’

The passage gave a sharp turn, and as they walked around the bend they were met by something unexpected. The plans had shown another sunken tank, and they had assumed that it would be full of water. Instead, 4 feet below them was a sunken alleyway filled with what looked like gold, its surface spattered with black dots. The sickly sweet smell was overpowering here and big wasps buzzed through the air.

The distance to the other end was about 20 feet and there was no way of getting there without crossing the golden floor. From up here it looked quite solid, but it was very hard to tell.

‘What do we do?’ said Precious.

‘What can we do?’ said James, who was feeling light-headed and reckless. ‘We carry on.’