Treasure of the Mayan King (2012) (7 page)

From the platform on top of the pyramid they could clearly see the entire camp surrounded by a motley group of machine gun-toting men. Most of their weapons were pointed at the workers, and more than one gun was pointed at the top of the pyramid.

The army fatigues worn by the men were old and tattered, torn and creased by years of exposure to the elements. The trucks and jeeps they had arrived in looked no better: covered in mud, dented, banged, and patched together with duct tape.

The international crew of archaeologists, scientists and laborers had been assembled in a courtyard near the camp. They were all seated with their hands either behind their backs or on top of their heads. A perimeter of men with machine guns prevented escape.

One of the laborers with Dr. Sova and Chauncy spoke in a trembling voice. “Son los rebeldes!”

Dr. Sova nodded as his eyes swept the situation. With another nod he turned to Mack. “Rebels huh? Let me do the talking; say as little as possible to these men. In fact, if you and Chauncy can keep your mouths shut the entire time, it would make things infinitely better.” With a deep sigh the doctor pulled out a cigar from his case, lit it, and puffed a few times as he motioned the others to slowly walk down the temple.

Chauncy’s legs were on autopilot as he descended. Trying desperately to think of a plan, anything that might get them out of this, he risked a glance at Dr. Sova and realized that the doctor was doing the same.

Because of the slow pace down the stairs, Chauncy knew the doctor’s mind was rapidly analyzing and rejecting various scenarios of how to deal with the rebels. Despite the danger, Chauncy couldn’t help thinking how comical Dr. Sova looked as he puffed madly on his cigar. It seemed as if the gears of the good doctor’s mind were turning so fast that smoke was pouring out of his ears.

As the five men reached the final steps of the pyramid, the leader of the rebels approached. He was the only one with a new military uniform. His gun was also noticeably newer than that of his compatriots. He was a handsome young man, with well-toned muscles that did not make him any less thin. He was perhaps in his early twenties. He smiled before speaking in perfect English.

“Good afternoon, Dr. Sova. It is a great pleasure to meet face to face. Allow me to introduce myself, I am - ”

“Comandante Solis,” Dr. Sova interrupted with a scowl. “The rebel-rousing troublemaker of Yucatan.”

“Oh, I see my reputation precedes me,” Comandante Solis replied with pride.

“Yes, I’ve made it a personal hobby to study the lower forms of life in the jungle, hence my familiarity with you,” Dr. Sova responded, and then he blew a stream of smoke in Solis’ face.

Comandante Solis seemed as surprised by the insult as Chauncy himself. Chauncy stared at Dr. Sova, wondering if he was trying to force the rebel off balance.

Solis stepped back and pointed his gun at Dr. Sova’s head. “And I make it my hobby to scour the jungle for intelligent life, and it is very obvious at the moment that I have not yet reached my goal. You are a fool, Dr. Sova! As smart as you claim to be, you couldn’t figure out that some of the security guards you hired were actually working for me. They were charged with the job of informing me when the king’s tomb was finally uncovered. That means that you, the great Dr. Sova, have unwittingly toiled for me! Soon I will sell the king’s remains on the black market, and we shall make our millions - ”

“And fund your revolutionary movement, I suppose?” Dr. Sova interrupted.

The Comandante smiled. “Of course, we live and die for ‘La Causa.’ We fight to end all oppression of the Mayan people in Mexico. I will make sure of that. Today we have been successful, and it has become painfully obvious that I have outsmarted the self-proclaimed savant of the archaeological community in the process. What an idiot!” His laugh was echoed by his men as he translated the conversation into Spanish.

It appeared Comandante Solis was trying to humiliate the doctor. From the anger simmering in the doctor’s eyes and the cigar tightly clenched in his teeth, Chauncy gathered that it was working.

Comandante Solis peered up at the sky. “It will be getting dark soon. Tomorrow at daybreak we will remove everything and be off before breakfast.” He barked orders at his men who began directing everyone to their tents. Solis turned his attention back to the two in front of him.

“You will remain in your tents until tomorrow!” he ordered.

Chauncy walked with Dr. Sova to the doctor’s tent. “I have some reading material that I want to pick up at your tent before I go to mine. By the way, who is this guy? He sure speaks good English.”

Dr. Sova was walking with his head down. After a moment he replied in a whisper. “He is a fraud, a wannabe rebel. His real name is Raul Martinez. He grew up as a rich boy in a privileged family in Mexico City. His father wanted him to be an archaeologist so sent him off to a university in Texas, which is where he learned English. He was too stupid to get good grades, however, and eventually dropped out to become this, this jungle thug. He is hiding behind his ‘La Causa’ philosophy as an excuse to rob and plunder archaeological digs for his own selfish gain.”

They reached Dr. Sova’s tent and Chauncy went into the small study portion to retrieve two books. When he came out into the living room, he stopped suddenly, surprised to see Dr. Sova sitting with a dejected look on his face.

Dr. Sova sighed heavily. “It is over with, Chauncy.” His tone matched the expression on his face. “It is finished. Tomorrow you can pack up and go home.”

“Wha…what do you mean?” Chauncy’s heart sank.

Dr. Sova raised his head to look Chauncy in the eye, his tone angry. “Your training is over! There will be no more Mayan Code. Those thugs know exactly why we are here. They are going to destroy the writing on the temple steps by wrecking all of the hieroglyphs and then they will remove the remains of King Chac. The riddle of the Mayan treasure will be gone forever. Your services are no longer needed. Hence, you may leave tomorrow.”

“But, but Doc! Can’t you figure something out? I mean, you - you must have a plan.”

“Really?” Dr. Sova said. “Are you bullet-proof? I am not. What do you expect me to do? There comes a time when there is only so much one can do, you must know your limits. We should be grateful that he has not killed us.” He waved his hand and looked back at the floor. “Just go. Leave me alone. It is all over. Let’s face the facts, Chauncy - I know when I have lost. This rebel has got me.”

Disappointment flooded Chauncy’s thoughts. It was the first time he had ever seen the doctor without a plan. “Aren’t you even going to try something?? Remember - the brain?”

“Get out of my tent, Chauncy.” Dr. Sova turned away and buried his face in his hands.

Chauncy walked numbly to his own tent, barely noticing how dark it had become. Night fell and the hours passed slowly. Wide awake, Chauncy watched the glow of the campfires casting eerie shadows of the rebels on his tent wall. He could hear the quiet muttering of the men outside.

He lay there thinking how fast everything had come to an end. Here he thought he had a promising career with Dr. Sova and in a matter of minutes it was all over. The whole incident had crushed Dr. Sova’s ego. He had seen it clearly on the doctor’s face.

Chauncy’s wristwatch showed it was past midnight. He was never up this late. Though he was exhausted, he still couldn’t sleep.

Suddenly, he heard a strange noise that made him sit bolt upright on his cot. At first he thought it was one of the rebels, but they also became silent as the noise grew louder. It sounded as if an infant was crying, off in the distance.

The sound stopped almost as soon as it had started and silence descended again upon the jungle. Shrugging mentally, Chauncy lay back down. But the sound started again, louder this time. Soon it was a plaintive, wailing moan.

Chauncy leapt to his feet and unzipped the tent door with shaking hands. Expecting a rebel to shove a gun at his head, he peered through the door. The rebels guarding his tent didn’t even look at him as he poked his head out. They seemed, instead, to be frozen in place as the sound grew to a painful howl.

The rebels started chattering excitedly. Chauncy could now tell that the sound was coming from some distance, off in the dark hills. He shivered at another loud burst of wailing. Something very creepy was going on. The rebels reached the same conclusion and began to shout in confusion.

One voice rose above the others. “Es el espiritu del Rey Chac!”

It took Chauncy’s befuddled mind a moment to piece together the Spanish words. They think it’s the ghost of King Chac!

He tried to stifle a rising dread. He was not a superstitious man. He did not believe in ghosts.

But that sound.

Comandante Solis came running with machine gun in hand. “What’s happening here!” he demanded.

“It’s that strange sound coming from the hills. They think it’s the ghost of King Chac,” Chauncy answered.

The wailing began again in earnest.

Solis pointed his gun toward the hills and squeezed the trigger, letting loose a barrage of bullets. The rat-tat-tat of the gun echoed in the dark and eclipsed the wailing sound as he continued to shoot toward the hills at the unseen specter.

Dr. Sova rushed out of his tent flailing his arms, an angry scowl on his face. “What is the meaning of this shooting! You are going to kill us all if the bullets ricochet off of the temples!”

With a defiant sneer, Comandante Solis turned and looked at the doctor. “The men are descendants of the Mayans, they are very superstitious.”

The wailing continued. The rebels chattered loudly, frightened looks on their faces. Puffing his cigar, Dr. Sova stepped a few paces toward the perimeter of the camp, straining to see past the glow thrown by the lights. Past that glow, however, there was only deep darkness out in the jungle.

“It is probably the death screams of some pitiful dying animal in the jungle. Tell your men to stop being so stupid.” He then abruptly turned and walked back to his tent, grumbling to himself.

Chauncy secretly mocked the superstitious feelings of the native people, but later lying in the semi-darkness of his tent, Chauncy replayed over and over again the eerie wailing from the hills. His mind kept drifting to the skeleton of King Chac in the sarcophagus, imagining a malevolent smile on its ancient features.

No one in the camp slept that night, despite the fact that no more wailing was heard. When the sun finally rose, Chauncy joined Dr. Sova as he went to the breakfast table in the outdoor kitchen.

Comandante Solis walked up to them, his machine gun in hand and a large grin on his face. “Well, it looks like the king’s ghost gave up on us! Today we will take him away for good. As for you, my dear doctor, perhaps you will end up as a good tour guide in some museum. Ha-ha-ha-ha!”

Dr. Sova clenched his fist, but before he could answer a rebel came running up to the group.

“Comandante!” he yelled when he came to a stop, his face twisted with worry.

“What do you want?” Solis asked.

The rebel’s face turned from being twisted with worry to being contorted with pain. He attempted to step forward, but his gun slipped from his fingers and he gripped his stomach. Within seconds he fell to his knees and began vomiting violently on the ground.

Comandante Solis backed away quickly in disgust. “What the - ? Get this man away from me, now!”

Another rebel came to pull the sick man away, but he also grabbed his stomach in pain and began vomiting as he fell to his knees.

“You, too?” Solis yelled. He turned and ordered another of his men to move them, but that rebel also became violently ill.

The rebel looked up at his commander as he fell to his knees. “El espiritu del Rey Chac nos esta castigando Senor, por haber violado su tumba!”

Dr. Sova looked at Chauncy with wide, surprised eyes. “Ha! He thinks the spirit of the king is punishing them for violating his tomb. That is impossible! Let us not panic, Chauncy, there is a scientific explanation for these phenomena.”

Chauncy held his nose because of the stench of the vomit

Comandante Solis looked around with a terrified expression. He saw that, one by one, his men were succumbing to the mysterious ailment. His men were yelling and begging him to leave the site without King Chac’s remains, lest the king’s ghost kill them all.

“What is the meaning of this?” Solis shouted to no one in particular. A moment later a deep anger came to his eyes and he spun around and approached Dr. Sova.

Before he could speak, a look flickered across his face. Chauncy stared in horror as Solis began to cough. The commander tried to conceal his discomfort, but within seconds he, too, was on the ground vomiting.

Dr. Sova overpowered Comandante Solis and picked up his gun from the ground. “Chauncy, quickly, get a rope and tie up this swine!”

As they tied the commander’s arms, Dr. Sova ordered the other archaeologists and laborers to bind up the rest of the rebels. Within moments, all of the rebels were sitting inside the courtyard with their hands tied behind their backs. All of the men were looking at Dr. Sova. The doctor was going to dramatically make an example of Solis.

Dr. Sova lifted Solis by his shirt collar, forcing the commander to stand up in front of his men. Vomit dripped from his chin to his stained shirt. His face was contorted with pain.

Dr. Sova plucked a small vial from his shirt pocket and tapped it on Solis’ forehead. “You fool! Do you know what this is, Commander?”

Comandante Solis closed his eyes as the object was tapped against his forehead. Opening them again when the doctor had stopped, he glanced at the vial but didn’t answer.

“It is syrup of Ipecac in a concentrated form. Do you know what it does?”

Solis glared and shook his head.

Dr. Sova laughed. “Are you having trouble figuring it out? Ha, ha! Well, I will indulge you. In mild doses, this syrup makes you nauseated. In strong doses, it gives you horrendous stomach cramps and produces extreme vomiting seizures. Understand now?”

Now the commander’s expression would have melted ice. “So you are responsible for this?”