A small pang of guilt appeared in her chest. She couldn't see the others. But she knew none of them would survive the storm that was heading their way.
Chapter 78
I stared hungrily at Beverly. Shadow shrouded her face. A rare beam of early morning sunshine pierced through the tent, illuminating her twisted, curvy body.
I'd spent another sleepless night, tossing and turning. Now, I wanted her, wanted her bad. But I felt guilty about it. Hell, I wasn't even sure how'd she react. Maybe she'd kick me away, tell me to be more sensitive. After all, four lives had been lost in the last few days. And Rigoberta didn't seem too healthy at the moment.
Breathing softly, Beverly twisted toward me.
Screw that.
Life, at times, was one tragedy after another. Misfortunes, injuries, and deaths were a daily occurrence. It was tempting to bow to those things, to consume oneself in grief and guilt. But that was a mistake. Life was meant to be lived to its fullest. Mourning and grief had their places.
But the good stuff did too.
I slid into her sleeping bag. Snaked on top of her.
Her eyes opened. They glittered as she saw my hunger.
I lowered my face to hers.
Her lips parted.
I caressed her cheeks and kissed her, embracing her hungrily. Her body stirred. I felt my grief whisked away, replaced by throbbing energy. I probed her, touching her just right.
She stifled a soft moan. Her breaths came faster and faster, pulsing at an incredible rate.
I grasped her hands. Pushed myself against her.
Her soft gasps came hot and fast, scandalously so. Wavy hair cascaded around her face and she pouted her lips, frustrated but giddy with pleasure.
"Cy!" Graham shouted. "Get out here."
I clenched my eyes shut.
Go away. Please, just go away.
My lips touched her neck. My teeth nibbled on her soft skin.
Her toes curled. This time she couldn't stifle her moan.
"I'm serious." Graham's voice was closer, just outside the flap. "Either you come out or I'm coming in there."
Beverly fought off a giggle. She swung suddenly, rolling on top of me. "Don't worry," she whispered breathlessly. "He wouldn't—"
The zipper unzipped. The fabric ruffled gently. Then a gust of smoky air coursed into our tent.
"Damn it, Dutch." I shifted out from under Beverly. "What do you think you're doing?"
Graham looked at Beverly, then back at me. "Interrupting you guys, apparently."
"Leave."
"No can do."
"What's wrong?"
"The hoses have been working all night. But the marsh still hasn't drained."
I frowned. "But we sealed the aqueduct. We stopped it."
"Maybe so. But we sure didn't stop the water."
Chapter 79
"No." I shook my head. "It's not red enough."
"How much redder do you want it?" Dora asked.
"Make it bloody." I reached into a large crate and pulled out a handful of powdered juice mix packets, orange and grape flavored. When used together, they formed a reddish color. I thrust them into her hands. "Don't skimp. Use as many as you need."
I looked at Graham. He sat on the ground, studying his electric pump. "Are you almost ready?" I asked.
"Sure am. How's the water?"
"Getting redder."
"Good." He stood up, balancing uncomfortably on his artificial leg. "You sure this is going to work?"
Dye tracing was an inexact science, often used for detecting leaks, tracking natural waterways, or analyzing sewer waters. But I'd never heard of anyone doing it with juice packets before. "It had better," I replied. "Otherwise I'm wasting a lot of juice."
"We can't even be sure that concoction is going to get into the river."
"I know. Keep your fingers crossed."
I turned back to Dora. She tore open multiple packages and poured their contents into Beverly's large metal box. Then Renau used a shovel handle to stir it. The concoction turned an even more brilliant red.
"Stir it good," I told Renau. "It needs to be well-mixed."
With a loud grunt, he stirred at an even faster rate.
"And keep adding juice mix," I said to Dora. "We're going to be pumping new water in here at a fast clip."
She nodded and returned to work.
I twisted toward Graham. "Start the flow on my mark."
"Got it," he replied gruffly.
Emily, Rigoberta, Tum, and Miranda were gathered in the artificial marsh. "Get ready," I barked. "If you see even a hint of red water, holler and mark the position."
Without a word, they slogged across the marsh and took up position along the eastern edge.
"Okay," I shouted. "Let her rip."
The marsh gurgled. Moments later, water gushed into the metal box. It quickly mixed with the red concoction.
"Keep stirring," I called to Renau. "You're doing great."
He stirred faster. Meanwhile, Dora grabbed more packets and raced back to the box. She quickly dumped their contents into the concoction.
The concoction rose higher. It reached the second set of pump hoses. I heard more gurgling noises as it began to flow out of the metal box and toward the river.
"Increase the pressure," I said. "Just a bit."
Graham obliged.
"Good. Keep it going until I say otherwise."
I grabbed my machete and ran into the jungle. Beverly joined me. I kept a wary eye out for the nagual. Fortunately, I didn't see it.
We reached the wall. Hours earlier, I'd carefully carved out several holes in the rock. My flashlight beam had revealed a descending walkway that appeared to lead to the river. I'd snaked hoses into the holes and tested Graham's pumping apparatus. Moments later, I'd heard the water pour down the walkway and splash into the river.
Pushing a hose to the side, I glanced past it. I saw the red concoction flowing down the walkway.
Beverly twisted around to guard my rear side. She held a revolver in her hands. "Is it working?" she asked.
"It's definitely flowing." I leaned my ear against the wall. "And yeah, I can hear it going right into the river. It's—"
"I got it." Emily's distant voice drifted into my ears. "Red water. It's over here."
A grin creased my visage. I'd had my doubts about the operation. Many things could've gone wrong. The river water could've easily dispersed the red concoction until it was no longer visible. Also, the concoction could've gotten trapped underground or been pushed out into the middle of the marsh.
Beverly and I ran back to the clearing and peered into the water. Sure enough, I saw a tiny trickle of the concoction oozing to the surface. "Nice," I said. "Now, we just need to—"
"I think …" Rigoberta's faint voice caught me by surprise. "Yes, I've definitely got red water here."
What the hell?
I sloshed toward her.
"I've got it too," Tum called out.
"Me too," Miranda said. "There's a bunch of it."
A cold realization froze me in place. Hunahpu hadn't built just one aqueduct.
He'd constructed a whole system of them.
Chapter 80
"It's working." Graham tromped across the marsh. "About damn time too. The water level has dropped six inches in the last two hours."
I nodded, pleased. A thorough search had turned up two additional aqueducts. Beverly had quickly organized supplies, divided the group into teams, and oversaw an extensive caulking process. Hopefully, we'd gotten them all.
However, the rain wasn't about to make it easy on us. It had fallen steadily faster, turning from a mild storm into an outright downpour. I eyed the sky, silently praying it would ease up a bit.
"I hope you're happy."
I turned around. "What do you mean?"
"That aqueduct system worked for centuries," Miranda said. "Think about how amazing that is. And now, you've destroyed it."
"I …"
She spun on her heel and walked away.
"What's her problem?" Graham appeared at my side.
"She thinks we're destroying a valuable archaeological find."
"I don't like her. But she's got a point."
"You agree with her?"
"Everything we do alters this place." He shrugged. "Excavations are destructive by nature."
I felt a twinge of guilt. "Then maybe we shouldn't dig at all."
"Eventually, someone's going to dig. You know that as well as anyone. And even if you left artifacts in the ground, they wouldn't last forever. Eventually, they'd just rot away like everything else."
I exhaled. "Yeah, I know."
He stared at me for a few seconds. "So, what do you think?"
"About what?"
"Is this our last treasure hunt?"
"I don't know." I exhaled. "That whole incident in the Maya Mountains left a bad taste in my mouth. But saving the sarcophagus made me rethink everything. I'm hoping I'll make up my mind once I see the library."
"It's going to take more than that."
"What do you mean?"
"I've seen a few unexcavated Maya ruins in my time. And you know what? From the outside, they don't look like anything, just a series of rolling hills. Steep hills to be sure but still, just hills."
"What's your point?"
"Once upon a time, those buildings were pretty magnificent. But when the Classic Maya civilization collapsed, they were left to rot. Gradually, they became hills of all shapes and sizes. But they didn't disappear. Instead, they lived on like tumors, festering beneath the surface."
I frowned.
"That's what makes excavation so important," he continued. "It brings a sort of peace to ruins. It shines light on long-forgotten wounds, offering an opportunity for understanding and renewal."
"They're just ruins. They can't feel anything."
"Maybe not. But an excavation is the only way to retrieve artifacts in context. Without that, we'll never fully understand a building or the people who lived within it."
I nodded slowly.
"In other words, excavation—physical or otherwise—is the only way to truly understand something."
"I know." I knew what he was talking about and it wasn't Maya ruins. "I just wish it wasn't so hard."
Chapter 81
Hunahpu didn't just bury the entrance. He buried Xibalba too.
I stared out over the former marsh, awestruck by the sight before me. Our excavation had bore fruit. The area, despite the rain, was mostly dry. Using the tractor, Rigoberta had cleared the soil and debris from the pyramid's immediate vicinity. In the process, she'd exposed an ancient structure. Evidently, Hunahpu had decided to just bury it rather than tear it down.
It appeared to be a bunk. Most of it was still buried several feet underground. But it was less than five feet in height, adding further evidence that the average Xibalban had been relatively short in stature.
"Here." Beverly handed me a mug. "Tell me what you think."
I lifted it to my nose. My face screwed up in disgust. "What is it?"
"Coffee."
It didn't smell like coffee. More like water with dirt in it. "Who made it?"
"Me. It's just instant coffee. I heated it over the fire."
I took a sip. The water was only lukewarm. And what little flavoring it had reminded me more of kidney beans than coffee beans. But I was tired so I welcomed it. "Thanks."
As I gulped it down, my mind briefly wandered. I thought about the nagual, about how it had killed Crowley and the two dogs. Between the two bullets and the snare trap, I suspected it was dead. Still, I resolved to keep an eye out for it.
I walked to the edge of the excavation. Sealing off the aqueducts had done the trick. Water, including the continuing rain, had quickly flowed out of the marsh via a complex drainage system.
Afterward, we'd dug a test hole and established Hunahpu's construction methodology. It was rather ingenious.
First, he'd built the basin around the former city. He'd connected it to the river on the east side via the aqueducts and temporarily blocked them off. On the west side, he'd built drains leading deep into the ground.
Second, he'd placed three feet of soil at the bottom of the basin and topped it off with three feet of crushed gravel and Xibalban bones.
Third, he'd heaped several feet of soil on top of the gravel and bones and planted a variety of wetland plants into it.
Finally, he'd unblocked the aqueducts. The combination of downward flow and sudden channel restriction pressurized the water, causing it to spray outward with strong force. The water had flowed evenly into the porous gravel and bones, saturating them, the plants, and the lower soil layer. It then exited via the drain.
Over time, the plants had grown. Their roots and stems soon formed a dense underground mat. The artificial marsh became self-sufficient.
I couldn't help but respect Hunahpu's skills. He'd been an artist of exceptional quality, using the entire crater as his canvas.
I walked to the partially exposed Xibalban bunk. Some of the interior dirt had been cleared away and I noticed an object protruding from the southwest wall.
"It looks like a broken bi-facial point, probably an arrowhead," Beverly said from behind me. "I think it's made of chert."
"Good observation." Turning my head, I studied the rest of the visible wall. "There's an obsidian dart too. A real nice bit of craftsmanship."
She pointed her flashlight at the northwest wall. "Look at that."
Several marks were etched deep into the rock. They weren't hieroglyphics. Instead, they came together to form rather rudimentary drawings. They were far less artful than the ones in the summit shrine.
I focused on one in particular. Dark-skinned people lay on the ground, obviously in a state of distress. There were bits of color above them. "That looks like red rain."
My eyes shifted to another drawing. It showed a second group of people, surrounded by small yellow circles. The circles appeared to be airborne and small lines indicated they were moving as well. "And those are orbs," I said slowly. "Just like the ball lightning we saw."