The Mayan Secrets

“He’s not just a corpse,” said Sánchez. “He’s a national treasure.”

“Whether he died yesterday or in 900 A.D., the point is that he’s dead,” said Maria. “He’s not in danger, like a patient who needs a transplant. If we make sure he’s preserved, that’s all we can do for him.”

Sam held up a hand. “Please, everyone. It never came up before, but Remi and I have some experience with this kind of find. We’ve been on archaeological expeditions in different parts of the world. We don’t know when this man came to the shrine yet. But he has an obsidian knife and nothing that’s made of iron or steel. The site looks like the classic Mayan period, which means it’s probably from between 300 and 900 A.D. You saw he has jade jewelry, which places him in the highest social class. He was probably either a priest or nobleman. Scientists can learn from him. We’re not aware of any classic Mayan remains that are so well preserved.”

“What do you think we should do?” asked Paul Mendoza.

“Normally, we’d say to seal the entrance up again and call in archaeologists,” said Remi. “But we’re in the middle of a disaster area. It will be a while before they’re able to get here. And there’s no way to hide the site with that carved pillar on the trail.”

Sam said, “I think we’ve got to try to stand watch over the site for the night. Then, we can get the mayor of the last village to understand the importance of this site to the people so he can persuade his neighbors to help. Other parts of Mexico and Central America have benefited economically from archaeological sites. People will want to come and study this one and possibly do some excavating. But if we tell outsiders about it now, advertise it widely before the scientists can study it, then it will be destroyed. Looters and pot hunters will come and dig everything up in all directions before scholars can get here.”

“You’re pretty sure of everything, aren’t you?” said Sánchez. He was angry.

“Of that much anyway,” said Sam. “We’ve seen it happen. Priceless artifacts were taken before they could be indentified, walls undermined and broken, human remains thrown aside and exposed to the elements.”

“And what if it did happen? We own it, not you. Anything from the old days belongs to the people of Mexico. It’s ours by law and by moral right. These people were our ancestors.”

“You’re absolutely correct,” Sam said. “Every Mexican citizen owns one hundred thirteen millionth of what we found. We’d like to see those citizens all get their share, and that means turning him over to the Mexican authorities.”

Christina said, “José, don’t be a donkey. This is a piece of Mexican history. Of course we’ll preserve it.”

“You’re awfully friendly with Sam Fargo, aren’t you? That ride on the yacht must have been very pleasant.”

Sam said, “The doctors came with us because the roads were out and they needed to get here to help the injured. Please don’t insult them by implying it was anything else.”

Maria said something very rapidly in Spanish through clenched teeth.

José Sánchez looked shocked and a bit ashamed. “I’m very sorry I said that. Please accept my apologies, all of you. I’ll go along with everyone else and do my part to preserve what’s here.”

“Thank you, José,” said Remi. “What we need to do now is set up a camp for the night. It should be a bit away from this site so nobody sees it and gets curious.”

“I’ll look for a spot,” said José. He walked off alone, exploring the plateau. After a minute, he disappeared around the curve of the mountain.

The Mendoza brothers looked after him, seemingly tempted to follow and have a say in choosing the site.

“I’d leave him alone for a while,” said Sam. “He’ll be back when he’s gotten over it.”

“All right,” said Raul.

Sam turned to the doctors. “Christina and Maria, I think Remi and I may have caused a problem by opening the lava seal on the entrance to the shrine. The man who’s lying on the floor in there was probably preserved by his airless environment, and now we’ve changed it. He’s exposed to the atmosphere. Do you have any advice?”

“The best thing would be to freeze him, which we can’t do,” said Christina.

Maria said, “I think you were right about the conditions up here on the mountain preserving him. The dry, cool days and cold nights above ten thousand feet are ideal. So, for the moment, he’ll probably be fine. It’s taking him down to sea level to a tropical forest that is the risk.”

Sam said, “Maybe we can improvise a container that’s cold and airtight and carry him down.”

“That’s our best hope,” said Maria.

“Where’s the nearest ice?” asked Christina.

“Above us,” said Sam. “There seem to be ice fields up above twelve thousand feet. I could see them yesterday. Maybe I can climb up and reach the lowest one.”

“The body bags,” said Christina.

“Body bags?”

Maria said, “When medical teams go into disaster areas, sometimes there are fatalities that need to be bagged to prevent the spread of disease. So we carry a few bags. We can use three or four at once to keep the body’s temperature even. They’re airtight and strong. If we put him inside one and then pack ice around him and put a bag or two over that, he should stay fresh.”

“I’m going with you,” Remi said, just beside Sam’s ear.

He shook his head. “Risking both of us doesn’t seem like the best idea.”

“Climbing up to an ice field alone is a worse idea.”

“Not necessarily,” he said. “It could save a valuable specimen.”

“You’re a pretty valuable specimen yourself, and two of us can bring twice as much ice,” she said. “Argue with that.”

“Do you get the impression I argue with you just to get my own way?”

“Never,” she lied.

“All right, then,” he said. “We’ll both go.”

She said, “At least we’ll have those nice body bags if anything goes wrong.”

Remi and Sam emptied their packs of almost everything but a body bag each, a hatchet for her, a shovel for him, water, and their fleeces and jackets. Then they set off to climb.

It was still midday when they began, but the climb was steep. They were able to accomplish the necessary progress without climbing gear because the irregular surface of the mountain offered footholds. After a time, they were on a windswept slope above the tree line on bare ground and felt tired and winded.

“I’m glad we spent a few days above ten thousand feet before we tried this,” Remi said.

“Me too. I just hope this works. I’d like to get up there and be well on our way back before dark.”

“If we keep up this pace, we should be able to do it.”

“Sure,” he said. “Anybody could do it if they could keep up this pace.”

They laughed, and found themselves going even faster. Soon they were climbing in silence, too winded to feel comfortable talking. Once in a while, Sam would turn and say, “You all right?” and Remi would reply, “So far.”

In late afternoon, they reached the snow-covered part of the mountain and stopped to look ahead. There was a big caldera at the top and three smaller ones along a ridge. Sam pointed to the white streaks. “See? The snow is only on the crests of ridges radiating out from the caldera.”

“The caldera must be hot,” Remi said.

“Well, let’s see if we can grab some ice and get down quickly.”

They walked along the rocky badlands between the calderas to reach the streaks of ice. When they got there, they dug down below the snow and found solid ice. They chipped at it with Sam’s shovel and Remi’s hatchet to free chunks they could break out. They gathered ice until they had as much as they could carry. They put it in the body bags, then wrapped the bags in their fleeces and jackets, put them in their backpacks, and began to walk back toward the top of the trail.

As they were hurrying toward the trail, there was a deep rumbling sound, and the rocky ground below them began to shake. They knew they wouldn’t be able to retain their balance. They each bent their knees, sat, and slipped the backpack straps from their shoulders while they waited out the earthquake. The shaking and rumbling continued for a minute, then another minute.