Glancing down, Zahra knelt and picked up the object.
“A book?” she whispered, looking it over.
It was leather-bound and well-used despite it being here for nearly a century. Zahra carefully opened the cover with an artist's touch and examined the script adorning the first page. It wasn’t a book, per se. It was a journal.
“Jack Fawcett.”
Chapter Four
This was the first time any of Joe or his team had entered the lost city. To his knowledge, no outsider had stepped foot inside the hellish place in decades — and for good reason. The stories did not end well for those curious and foolish enough to explore it. Even now, Joe could feel the icy chill of Death just over his shoulder. Soon, he and his team would be beckoned to the underworld by the evil that inhabited Z.
“Where are you?” Joe muttered.
The question wasn’t just meant for Zahra. He was also looking for this tribe of Amazonians. He had never seen one of the fabled tribesmen before, but those that had encountered them said that they moved like ‘ghosts in the night.’ Another man called them ‘spectral hunters.’ As the years went by, the people of Z had become something of a supernatural legend.
There were other uncontacted tribes in the Amazon — a river basin covering more than six million square miles. Over thirty million people called the region their home, though it was impossible to get an accurate count. Every year, it seemed a new never-before-seen tribe of Amazonians was discovered.
After making it to the rear wall of the city, Joe sighed and placed his hands against the cool stone and closed his eyes. He let out a long breath, feeling defeated. Their time below was nearly up. He and his team were to meet back at the rooftop opening in twenty minutes. It had taken Joe ten minutes to search his section of the settlement. He glanced down at his watch and confirmed as much.
We need to leave, he thought, gritting his teeth. Their prize had successfully eluded them. Zahra Kane had proven herself to be more than only a beautiful archaeologist.
Joe turned and faced toward the center of Z and smiled. He could see the two sacred altars from here, and the sight gave him hope. A woman like Zahra wouldn’t be able to resist the discovery; she would want to poke around and marvel at the implications and history. Joe also felt it — the pull of the undiscovered; the feeling of being on the cusp of finding something incredible. He would have given anything to spend more time in Z.
“No,” he mumbled.
Joe didn’t have a death wish, at least, not at the hands of the savages of Z.
Zahra caught her breath. One of these guys was the son of the famed British explorer Percy Fawcett, the man who had forged the way ahead to find this very city. Jack Fawcett had gone into the Amazon with his father, another explorer, two Brazilian guides, and some dogs, but they had departed from the known areas and entered the thicker jungle as a trio, looking for the lost city. The other body would belong to Raleigh Rimell, Jack Fawcett’s close friend. Zahra looked around, expecting to see Percy’s body too. Had he gotten away?
Zahra made sure she was still alone, popping up like a prairie dog before kneeling and laying the book on the stone floor. She pulled out her flashlight and clicked it on, covering most of the beam with her hand. Zahra skipped the older entries and turned to the last page with writing on it. The script was smeared and shaky. Jack had more than likely penned it shortly before his death, well into his and his father’s escapade into the Amazon.
“My father has gone missing,” Zahra read to herself. “He continued ahead while Raleigh and I gathered water. We have not seen him in days, and we fear the worst. We have been more fortunate, as we have befriended a tribe of peoples.” Zahra cringed. Apparently, the peoples weren’t so friendly after all.
A commotion spurred Zahra into action. She clicked off her light, but it was too late.
“I see you have found them,” a familiar voice said. Zahra had been found.
She couldn’t see Joe, but he and his men had discovered her whereabouts. It made sense too. If they had been unsuccessful in their search inside the city, they would have returned here.
“I have,” Zahra replied. “It’s a shame you’ve kept this from the world, Joe.”
Her former guide laughed. “You think this is my doing? No… Keeping Z off the map was decided long ago. It is a vile and evil place… as are the people that still call it home.”
Zahra’s skin went cold. It confirmed the existence of the place’s owners, though the fresh bodies already confirmed as much. Slowly, Zahra stood, her right hand high over her head. She held the closed journal aloft, keeping her injured appendage tucked into her stomach. Joe stepped into the light surrounding the sacrificial altars. Four others joined him.
“What did you do with Bernardo?”
Zahra didn’t answer.
Joe drew a pistol and aimed it at her.
Now wasn’t the time to play cowboy. So, Zahra replied.
“He’s not dead, if that’s what you’re wondering. Gonna have a hell of a headache, though.”
His eyes narrowed. “Where is he, you bi—”
Before Joe could finish, something impacted the journal, forcefully tearing it out of Zahra’s hand. She ducked and spun to witness the book get pinned to a dead man’s chest behind her. Something was protruding from the leather cover. Zahra recognized the object immediately.
“What was that?” Joe asked, lying prone on the ground.
Zahra placed her hand atop her holstered Glock’s handgrip. She turned but didn’t draw it. The weapon would do nothing to help against a second attack. In this instance, keeping the pistol in its place might actually save her life. Zahra raised her hands and stood tall, spotting the projectile’s owner up at the cenote’s original shoreline.
She sighed. “An arrow.”
The lone native had already nocked another arrow, aiming directly at Zahra. She glanced at her feet and concluded that she had desecrated a holy shrine. It’s why the local was targeting her and not the other, more dangerous, outsiders.
“Get up!” Zahra hissed, stirring Joe and his team into motion. They did as she had and slowly got to their feet with their hands raised. One of the mercenaries refused to drop his rifle. He paid for the mistake with his life.
Five arrows pierced his flesh from behind. One penetrated the base of his neck, punching straight through his esophagus. The only sounds in the entire city were that of the dying man’s rifle clattering to the hard floor and his wet, gurgled breaths.
Calmly, Zahra turned her head and looked up to her eight o’clock. Five similarly equipped natives stepped out of the shadows. Then, dozens more appeared all around them. In seconds, everyone below was surrounded by what must have been fifty armed Amazonians. Z wasn’t as lost as the modern world seemed to believe. And its people were barbaric savages.
Zahra had read about similar tribes, like those who called North Sentinel Island home. Inhabitants were known to slaughter anyone who came ashore — or even too close to shore. North Sentinel Island was considered so dangerous to outsiders that the Indian government banned any travel around it.
The cenote was deathly silent. Nothing moved. Zahra was okay with playing the waiting game. Anything was better than becoming an addition to Z’s macabre décor. After thirty seconds of inaction, one of Joe’s men tried to make a run for it. He didn’t get far. The fool was quickly turned into a pincushion, impaled with no less than fifteen arrows. Zahra shook with fear and snapped her attention up again. The natives that had fired had already reloaded their bowstrings.