Torrent (35 page)

"You killed Dora," he said.

"That's too bad." I steeled my gaze. "I was trying to kill you."

He clenched his jaw.

I heard a giant stalactite splintering behind me. Swiftly, I grabbed his shoulders and rolled onto my back. Then I kicked my legs, sending him over my head and sprawling onto the ledge. He came to a halt next to his gun.

I rose to my feet.

"You know, I was trying to figure out how to get this back." Votan grabbed his gun and stood up. A wicked grin crossed his face. "In the next life, watch your surroundings."

"You should take your own advice."

The giant stalactite cracked. It hurtled to the ground and smashed into Votan. Seconds later, large amounts of blood poured out from under the crumbled fragments of stone.

Staggering forward, I retrieved my machete. Then I looked at Votan. His face was completely pulverized. His body was even worse. I knew his death had probably been painful, but I felt no sympathy toward him. He'd done far worse to other people.

Beverly swam to shore. She helped Graham out of the water.

I hobbled to Dr. Wu's side. I didn't bother to check his pulse. Instead, I used what little strength I possessed to lift him off the ground.

Beverly half-carried Graham toward me. "Where are we going?" she asked.

I snatched my flashlight off the ledge and scanned the various tunnels. My beam illuminated some ancient etchings that appeared to be Maya hieroglyphics. "That way," I nodded at the tunnel. "And make it fast."

As I dragged the doc toward the tunnel, I took one last look at the massive chamber. Votan lay dead under a pile of rock. The nagual was also dead and half-buried under collapsed stone.

Stalactites started to fall faster, slamming into the river as well as onto the shore. I knew the cavern had only minutes left before it ceased to exist. Turning around, I limped forward, heading into an uncertain future.

E
PILOGUE

Simplification

Present Day

"Well?" Beverly gave me a hopeful look as I limped out of the small clinic. "What's the prognosis?"

"The doctors are still running tests." A smile crossed my face. "But they think I'm clean."

Her hands wrapped around my neck. She drew my face close to hers and kissed me on the lips.

I kissed her back. "How's Dutch?"

"Still weak. But he'll heal."

Four days ago, the American satellite Cay Bridge had detected a small 'double flash' in a remote region of the Eastern Mountains. Cay Bridge, launched just two years earlier, was equipped with an advanced sensor array specifically designed to identify nuclear explosions. In addition to detecting gamma rays and neutrons, its sensors could also perceive the two flashes of light that commonly occurred during an atmospheric detonation.

The purpose of Cay Bridge, according to the U.S. government, was to help enforce the Treaty on the Non-Proliferation of Nuclear Weapons. Mexico, which had signed the treaty in 1968, was designated as a nuclear-weapons-free zone. Thus, the double flash, now known as the Cay Bridge Incident, had raised plenty of suspicious eyebrows.

The ensuing investigation revealed the satellite’s equipment had not malfunctioned during the detection. Several potential sources, including lightning as well a meteorite, were quickly ruled out. Within hours, researchers concluded the Cay Bridge satellite had indeed recorded the presence of a low-yield nuclear explosion, in the range of one to two kilotons.

The Mexican government had emphatically denied any participation in a nuclear weapons test. Aided by its U.S. counterpart, the Mexican military swiftly launched a top-secret operation to investigate the Cay Bridge Incident. Twelve hours later, a fleet of helicopters flew to the Eastern Mountains. One of the pilots, an observant fellow, had spotted a couple of folks waving at him from near the base.

He'd quickly landed and his team took us—Beverly, Graham, Dr. Wu, and me—into custody. They'd relocated us to a hastily constructed facility. We were in sad shape at the time. The explosion had been small and relatively contained. And the limestone rock had swallowed up its most vicious effects. But all of us had suffered welts, bruises, burns, and deep scratches among other things.

"Hey Cy."

Shielding my eyes, I glanced at Dr. Wu. He sat on a blanket in the middle of a small clearing. A tattered notebook, filled with scribbled handwriting, rested in his lap.

"How are you feeling?" I asked.

"Well enough, I suppose. You know, I never got a chance to thank you."

"For what?"

"For saving our lives. If you hadn't killed Votan …"

"No problem." I glanced at his notebook. "What are you doing?"

"I wrote down every symbol I could remember from the Library of the Mayas. Fortunately, my memory is pretty good. Plus, I hired a translator to help me make sense of them." He shrugged. "I don't know what happened to Emily. But if she didn't make it, I'd like to use this information to at least try to keep her company alive."

"Did those symbols say anything about the Classic Maya Collapse?"

"Well, it's not definitive. But a few passages point to overcomplexity."

Beverly frowned. "How so?"

"According to Xbalanque, the Maya cities in the southern lowlands faced many problems over the years. Invasions, plagues, and droughts were but a few of them. For each problem, the elites created complicated solutions that ate up resources and caused even more problems. Eventually, people started to flee the cities, probably because they figured they could get a better life outside of organized society."

"Are you saying the collapse was a good thing?"

"It appears so, at least from the perspective of Maya peasants. It makes a lot of sense when you think about it. For hundreds of years, they were forced to build giant monuments and agricultural projects. They were required to produce food for elites, bureaucrats, scholars, and artisans. And they were used as cannon fodder in countless wars. Lots of other people benefitted from their hard work. But the peasants themselves lived short, brutal lives."

"So, they just left?"

"You have to realize I only saw small bits and pieces. But it appears to have been a protracted phenomenon. The peasants snuck away at night in small groups. Some of them headed north to a magical place called Chi'ch'èen Ìitsha'. Others apparently struck out on their own and set up small farms on empty land far away from the southern lowlands." He shrugged. "It's quite possible droughts exacerbated the problem. But it appears the Maya peasants had already grown tired of their lives. They would've left sooner or later. And since they were the backbone of society, it couldn't exist without them."

"In other words, the Classic Maya Collapse wasn't really a collapse," I said slowly. "It was a gradual simplification."

"That appears to be the case. But like I said, I only saw a small amount of text. So, I could be wrong."

Beverly flashed him a sly grin. "There's one way to know for sure."

"What's …?" He trailed off as Beverly handed him a digital camera. His brow tightened as he scrolled through the memory. "I don't understand. When'd you take these?"

"That's Emily's camera," I replied. "I offered to take pictures of the two domes for her. Turns out I forgot to give it back."

Multiple days of searching had failed to turn up any other survivors. Emily, Miranda, Tum, Dora, and Votan, along with numerous other people, were presumed dead. At the same time, the georeactor explosions had caused a partial collapse of the extensive cave system. The pyramid, along with everything else in the crater, had crumbled. Presumably, it was now buried deep beneath the surface.

"I checked the memory," Beverly added. "There are a couple hundred pictures, including some of the pyramid and the artificial marsh. It might not be the library. But it's the next best thing."

"What are you going to do with them?" Dr. Wu asked. "You could make a lot of money with—"

"They're yours," I said. "We already talked it over."

"But they could be worth millions."

"True."

He frowned. "What kind of treasure hunter are you anyway?"

"The type who prefers to keep hunting." I paused. "Look, maybe the Mayas really did invent a few miracle cures. And maybe the secret behind those cures along with the collapse can be found in those photographs. But they need someone with passion to dig them out. And frankly, my passion lies in the hunt. Always has. Always will."

"If there's any money in this, I'll … well, you know you'll get your share and then some."

I smiled.

As he studied the pictures, Beverly and I walked to a grove of trees. I ducked under the branches, allowing the cool shade to engulf me. The heat, although still sweltering, eased a bit.

She stopped just short of the tree line. Her chest, adorned in a halter-top, stretched backward. She stared up at the bright sun, soaking in the powerful rays. "So, simplification, huh? It makes sense. I wonder why no one's ever thought of it before."

"Actually, I remember Miranda mentioning it in one of her books. She blew it off, of course."

"I'm still amazed she faked her research."

"I did some reading these last few days. It turns out theories of the Classic Maya Collapse have changed with the times. During the Vietnam War protests, archaeologists blamed it on war. The rise of the environmental movement in the early 1970s caused scholars to blame it on poor agricultural methods. During the religious revival, people decided Maya prophecies about the end of the world had become self-fulfilling." I shook my head. "Unfortunately, a lot of scholars let their personal beliefs guide their work. Of course, Miranda took it to a whole other level."

"I guess we're all influenced by the world around us." Beverly peered at me. "How about you?"

"I suppose I'm the same way. But at least I can admit it."

"As I recall, you were pretty influenced by what happened in the Maya Mountains."

"Not anymore." I looked into her violet eyes. They swirled, forming ever-changing patterns. "I think retirement can wait a few more years."

Her eyes shone brightly.

I took her by the hand. Led her behind a giant ceiba tree. We strode over a couple of large roots and then ducked into a hollow niche.

I pressed her against the bark.

She pushed me away.

"What's wrong?" I asked.

"The Mayas weren't the only ones who had to deal with overcomplexity," she said. "What about us?"

I studied her face.

"If we go back to treasure hunting, our lives instantly become complicated. We won't be able to live in the suburbs, collect regular paychecks, or go to movies on Friday nights. Instead, we'll have to keep moving, keep fighting, keep hunting for the next artifact."

"Is that so bad?"

"Depends on how much you like chaos."

I cocked my head. "How long until dinner?"

"Four or five hours, I guess."

"Trust me. Chaos is a good thing." A wily grin crossed my face as I kissed her. "And I've got four or five hours to show you what I mean."

D
ON'T
L
EAVE
J
UST
Y
ET!

Thank you for purchasing Torrent! I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. Just ahead, you'll find a free sample of my novel
Ice Storm
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Read on for an excerpt from …

I
CE
S
TORM

by David Meyer

F
ENRIR

October 28, 1945

The creature, a horrific mass of muscles, hair, and ugly red welts, lay on the operating table. It snarled, baring a set of long sharp teeth.

Exhaling loudly, Jean-Pierre Badon set down his clipboard. He took a moment to adjust his spectacles. Then he picked up a pair of gloves. His fingers shook as he extended them into the cool rubber pockets.

The creature snapped its jaws. Teeth slammed together. Badon shuddered. Just two days ago, he'd seen the creature slip its leather bindings. Its head had shot off the table. Its teeth had ripped into the exposed neck of an armed soldier. In a matter of seconds, it had nearly beheaded the poor sap.

Badon tried to steel his nerves. But his hands trembled as he picked up a paintbrush. They trembled even harder as he dipped it into a cup of red paint.

The creature, or at least the blood that ran through it, represented his greatest achievement. It was a breakthrough of epic proportions. It would lead to radical changes for humanity, for all of creation.

It was, in short, the ultimate victory of science over God.

And yet it was also Badon's biggest mistake. He felt no pride in his work, no joy in his discoveries. This wasn't due to the creature itself. It was a mere test subject. No, it was the horrifying implications of his research that kept Badon awake at night.

He located a vein on the creature's neck and marked it with a small red X. He shaved the marked area and scrubbed it with two separate solutions. Then he held out his right hand. "Needle."

One of his assistants, a young boy named Pascal, placed the instrument in his hand. The boy didn't say anything. He couldn't. Not after what they'd done to his tongue.