“Then Nolan is alive.”
It was impossible for Hooker to tell from Connie Braithwaite’s tone whether she was thrilled or disappointed by the idea.
“He was alive,” Buzz Kaplan said. “Remember, it’s been almost a year since I saw the Indians carry him off. I wouldn’t want to bet any money that they kept him healthy.”
“It looks like they did all right by you,” Connie said.
“Well, yeah, I guess you could say that.”
“So what happened?” Hooker asked. “What are you doing back here?”
“After they picked us out of the wreck, the Indians carried us for almost a day along trails that go by just a few yards from here but might as well be invisible if you don’t know where to look. I wasn’t feeling too hot, but I tried to keep track of where they were taking us. By the sun, I judged it to be generally south by southwest. All of a sudden, out of nowhere, we came to a city.”
“A city?” Hooker said. “Out here in the jungle? Don’t you mean ruins?”
“I don’t mean ruins; I mean a city. With buildings and people and goats and a sewer system better than some I’ve lived with. There was a wall around the whole thing twice as high as my head and a square in the center with a cultivated garden. They had a temple that must have been three stories high. Ruins, my ass.”
“Iztal,” Alita said in a hushed tone.
“What’s that?” Hooker said.
“Iztal, the great lost city in the jungle. The holy capital of the Mayas before the white men came.”
“I’ve heard of it,” Hooker said, “but I thought it was just another legend.”
“Legends sometimes come to life.”
“I’ve noticed that lately,” Hooker said wryly.
“Believe me, pal, this one is real,” Kaplan said with feeling. “Not that I had much time to look around. They brought me in and dumped me in one of those Indian huts made out of stakes and palm leaves. They fed me and treated my leg with some of the foulest-smelling junk you can imagine.”
“Turtle fat,” Connie said.
“Worse. But it did the job. The infection disappeared in a couple of days, and the wound started to heal.”
Hooker pointed at the carved wooden foot attached to Buzz’s leg. “Where did you get that?”
Kaplan knocked the end of his cane against the foot. “The Mayas made it for me. Not bad, huh? I’m not going to win any races wearing it, but at least I can get around.”
“It sounds like they took good care of you,” Hooker said.
“That’s what I thought. At first. I got plenty to eat; I had my own hammock; they patched up my leg. I even came out with a new suit of clothes.” Buzz spread his arms to display the white pajamalike shirt and pants he wore. “Not fancy, maybe, but I know they made it special ‘cause Mayas don’t come in my size.”
“And all the time you were there you never saw Nolan?” Connie asked.
“Not once. Until the last day, I was never left alone, and nobody ever talked to me. Not that I could have understood their lingo if they did, but they acted like talking to me was against the rules. In that society, nobody breaks the rules.
“The only exercise I got was when they took me out of the hut for a walk. Two mean-looking Indians always went with me, one on each side, carrying spears. We’d walk around the outside of the city wall, about two miles, I’d judge, then back to my hut. Not what you’d call a real exciting life. Then I saw something I wasn’t supposed to see, and everything changed.”
“This happened twenty-nine days ago?” Hooker “said.
“Yeah. I was just starting out for my walk with the two nursemaids when we heard a big commotion from another part of the city. I don’t know what was going on, but there was a lot of yelling, and somebody started beating on a gong of some kind. Whatever it was must have been a big emergency, because my guards forgot about me for the first time since I’d been there and started running toward the noise.
“At first, I just stood there, feeling kind of lost. Not knowing what else to do, I started after my guards. They weren’t a whole lot of fun, but at least they were familiar faces. As I hobbled past the rear of the temple, I saw there was a door open. From inside, I heard kind of a moaning, singsong chant. Then a woman screamed. Like a damn fool, I went in to see what was going on.”
“Seventh Cavalry to the rescue,” Hooker said.
“You’ve got to understand I wasn’t thinking straight. I’d been kept in that hut for months with nothing to do and nobody to talk to. So, with a chance for some action, like a damn fool, I grabbed it.”
“I think you are very brave, Buzz,” Alita said. Then, with a frown at Hooker, she added, “And so does he, the big faker.”
“Well, thanks, honey,” Kaplan said, “but a man can be brave and still be a damn fool. Anyway, I went into the temple and down a twisty corridor that was lit by oil lamps on posts sticking out of the walls. At the end of the passage, I came to a big room with a ceiling that must have gone all the way to the roof three stories up. There were two rows of men in white robes standing on both sides of an aisle leading up to a slab of stone that looked like an altar. Standing behind it was a Mayan priest or something in a fancy outfit. He was holding a long knife over his head. Stretched out on the altar was a girl of maybe fifteen. She must have been the one who screamed, but I could see by the blood running out of her throat into a big clay bowl that she wouldn’t scream anymore. I turned around to get the hell out of there, and that’s when the guy with the knife saw me. He yelled something, and the jokers wearing the robes turned around to look at me.”
Kaplan paused in his story to look at the faces of the others. “Hooker, I know you’re not going to believe this, but those people were dead.”
“You mean the ones in the robes who turned around to look at you?”
“That’s what I mean. Their faces were empty; their eyes were staring. There was nothing behind them. Zombies.”
“Muerateros,” Alita whispered.
Hooker looked at her sharply, but he did not contradict her.
“But let me tell you, those characters could move,” Buzz continued. “They started coming toward me, and with my wooden foot, I was sure as hell not going to outrun them. I hobbled back up the passage, knocking down the oil lamps as I went. That slowed them down enough to let me get out of the temple. I made for the wall and somehow clambered over the thing and dropped into the jungle. I dug in under a thorn bush and stayed there all night while the crazy Indians ran around looking for me.”
“Kaplan,” Hooker said, “you do get yourself into the damndest scrapes.”
“You’re telling me? I figured if the Indians caught me, I’d wind up taking the girl’s place on the slab. Or worse, I’d be wearing one of those white robes and looking out of empty eyes. When it was daylight and they were off looking in another direction, I lit out by memory on what I hoped was the trail that led back here. Lucky for me, it was the right one, and I found the wreck. I figured if anybody was going to come looking for Nolan Braithwaite, they’d start with the airplane.”
“And you’ve been here alone for the last month?”
“Most of it. A couple of times the Mayas came sniffing around, but they don’t like to get too close to the plane. I think Wilcox’s bones up in the cockpit make it some kind of a taboo.”
“How did you live?” Connie asked. “What did you eat?”
“Coconuts. Iguana. Once a wild pig. I got pretty good with a Mayan spear. I stayed off the trail, because I can’t move very fast, and there was always the chance of running into my pals the Mayas. Then I stumbled on the river that wasn’t supposed to be there, and I started building the raft.”
“I’d like to have a look at that,” Hooker said.
“The hell with it. All I want to do is get out of here, and with you to give me a hand, the fastest way for us to make it is on foot.”
“You’re right,” Hooker said. “We’ll put together some kind of a litter for you and get moving. By sundown we ought to — ”
Hooker never completed the thought. There was a soft whoosh followed by a thump. Standing a few feet away, Manuel grunted. The shaft of a Mayan spear stuck out like a mast from the center of his chest. He grabbed at it feebly while the blood pumped out of him; then, without another sound, he fell to the ground and moved no more.
Hooker looked toward the trail and saw a Maya looking back at him. Then another, and another. His hand went to the butt of his pistol, but Connie held his arm.
“Don’t, Hooker. They’re all around us.”
He turned in a slow circle and saw they were indeed surrounded. Several of the Indians held their spears aloft, ready to throw. Hooker let his gun hand relax, and the Mayas moved in.