"What do you need?" Graham asked.
"Metal sheets," I replied.
"Where are we supposed to get them?"
"The helicopter cabin. See if you can strip a few floor panels."
"What do you want us to do with them?" Beverly asked.
"We're going to build a path for the plug to slide on."
"Aren't you getting ahead of yourself? We haven't even gotten it out of the pyramid yet."
"Leave that to me."
Beverly arched an eyebrow at Graham. He shrugged. Turning around, they slogged toward the helicopter wreckage.
I walked to the tractor. Rigoberta sat in the driver's seat. Pacho stood in the marsh next to her. Both his hands were extended inside the open door. I heard the sounds of clanging metal. "Hey Pacho."
He pulled away from the door. "Yeah?"
"I need metal pipes."
"I think I can scrounge some up. How many do you need?"
"As many as you can find."
He gave me a questioning look. Then he put down his tools and trudged after Beverly and Graham.
Thirty minutes later, we regrouped at the pyramid. Beverly and Graham placed a series of thin metal sheets into the marsh, forming a makeshift path leading away from the plug.
Pacho handed me six pipes and returned to the tractor to continue his work. I examined them closely. They felt light and flimsy in my hands. But were they too light? Too flimsy?
Pacho finished his adjustments. At my mark, Rigoberta started the engine. The stone plug rose half an inch off the ground. She pushed the gas pedal and the plug rose another half inch into the air. I ducked underwater and shoved one of the pipes under the plug.
The plug slid slightly forward. The pipe bent under its enormous weight and I held my breath.
Slowly, the plug moved on top of the sheet. The sheet sank an inch, causing soil to spit out into the marsh. Swiftly, I shoved another pipe in front of the first one.
The plug slid onto and over the second pipe. I surfaced for air. Then I added more pipes to the mix.
The tractor caught a little traction. The cables jerked on the anchors. The stone plug groaned as it eased out of the wall.
Ancient dust flew out of the gap and shot into my face. Fortunately, the damp respirator kept it out of my nostrils and lungs.
Rigoberta idled the engine. The stone plug now rested in the marsh, several feet from the wall. Turning to the side, I noticed a black hole where it had once stood. Water partially filled the hole.
My heart thumped. So far, Hunahpu's creation had defied us. But that was about to change.
The wind kicked up. Dust and bits of mud scattered into the air. Alonzo barked and retreated from the pyramid. Meanwhile, I took a few steps backward and brushed the debris from my clothes.
Miranda walked across a short stretch of marsh. "Dora," she called out. "Renau. Look at this."
The Maneros took one last look at the jungle. Then they hurried to the plug. Leaning over, they inspected its top surface.
"What is it?" I asked.
"It's an inscription," Renau said. "Written in Classic Maya script."
"Fortunately, it's short." Dora produced a notebook and pencil. "It shouldn't take long to translate it."
I glanced at the gaping hole in the wall. It took all my self-control to keep from entering it.
Twenty minutes later, Dora returned the pencil to her jeans. A troubled look crossed her face as she showed her notebook to Renau. He examined it quickly and gave her a solemn nod.
"Well?" I said impatiently.
"I need to double check a few things. That being said, it goes something like this." Dora glanced at her notebook. "A warning to those who desecrate this cursed ground. The death gods await you. Your end will be swift. It will be painful. And it will be complete."
Chapter 62
"Pretty pathetic." Graham folded his arms across his chest. "Where did Miranda dig up these bozos anyway?"
"What's wrong with you?" I watched Pacho and Rigoberta struggle to free the cables from the stone plug. "They're not one hundred percent yet."
"That's no excuse."
I walked to the tunnel entrance. My flashlight beam revealed a long passage leading into the pyramid. Water from the marsh filled the passage's lower half.
As I ducked my head, I felt uneasy, anxious. I considered myself a rational person. But rationality had its limits. Every man and woman, bar none, was occasionally subject to fear and craziness. It was a part of our species, part of our DNA.
So, I didn't believe in the curse etched on the plug. It was the ancient equivalent of an idle threat. But I still couldn't get the words out of my head.
A warning to those who desecrate this cursed ground. The death gods await you. Your end will be swift. It will be painful. And it will be complete.
The tractor's headlights shone into the passage. But they only managed to illuminate a small portion of it. Using my beam, I saw the passage was the same size as the plug, four feet high by six feet wide.
Awkwardly, I sloshed forward. The passage increased in height and after about fifteen feet, I reached a small room.
"Looks like you guys were right." Emily said as she crawled into the room after me. "Nice work."
I still hadn't confronted Emily about her strange outburst in the summit shrine tunnel. I made a mental note to question her about it later that evening. "Actually, Dutch figured it out," I replied.
My beam illuminated traces of green and purple paint on the large stones surrounding me. Vegetation and bits of mold poked out of the cracks.
A single tunnel ran to the southwest. A strange, yet regal arch hung high overhead.
I aimed my beam into the tunnel. It was about twenty feet long and ended in an ascending staircase.
Emily's flashlight beam danced across the walls and lingered on the ceiling. "It's beautiful."
I glanced at the arch. "I suppose so."
"It's a corbel arch," Miranda said as she crawled into the room. "But most of my colleagues refer to it as a Maya arch. They're quite common in pre-Columbian Mesoamerican architecture."
Beverly followed Miranda into the room. "How can you distinguish it from other arches?"
"It takes a seasoned eye." Miranda slid past Emily and shifted her beam across the ceiling. "See how it forms an inverted V-shape? That's the telltale sign of a Maya arch."
"I don't understand."
"A normal arch consists of rocks pressed against each other. The design transforms tensile stresses into compressive stresses, which allows the arch to be self-supporting. A Maya arch, on the other hand, consists of layers of stone that increasingly jut out into space, thus forming an inverted V-shape. It can't support its own weight so it requires larger stones and considerable secondary fill to keep it from collapsing."
"You definitely know your arches." I shifted my gaze to the walls. "It must've taken a lot of work to build this place."
"Eighteen years, according to the Maneros."
"I can't imagine people hauling these blocks by hand. They must've used carts or wagons."
"The Mayas didn't have those things." Pacho crawled through the tunnel and joined us inside the room. "They knew how to make wheels. They even used them to build pull-toys for children. But they never figured out real-life functions for them."
I walked into the tunnel, splashing water along the way. Outside of a little moss, the walls were devoid of life.
I reached the staircase and quickly scaled it. At the top, I swept my beam across another small room.
Oh no.
A massive stone slab blocked our path. I aimed my beam at its top left corner. The slab appeared to extend past the ceiling. At the same time, it wasn't quite flush with the left wall. "It looks pretty solid," I said.