CHAPTER 65

“We should go after them!” I said, tapping the top of the stone table. “We know exactly where they’re headed.”

“We can’t leave,” said Storm. “Not yet.”

“Wha-hut?” said Beck. “The bad guys just kidnapped Tommy.”

“They also know how to find Paititi!” I added. “Collier saw the map etched right here in the stone!” This time I pounded my fist on the altar table. Bad idea. Like I said, it was made out of stone.

“We need to move expeditiously, Storm,” said Dad. “They have motorized vehicles. We do not.”

“We also don’t have the one thing the secret map sent us here for,” insisted Storm.

“Yes, we do,” I said. “You can take a mental picture of the map carving. Compare it to the one you saw on the cave wall.”

“You mean when I looked through the Sacred Stone?” said Storm. She was sort of smirking, like she knew something I didn’t, which, by the way, happens on a regular basis. Storm always knows something other people don’t. Constantly.

“What are you hinting at, Stephanie?” said Dad, sounding semi-peeved. “Collier has Tommy, and, most likely, they intend to use him instead of you as the heart donor in the sacrificial rite of capacocha.”

Storm nodded. “He’s a way better choice. Brave. Strong—”

“Storm?” said Dad.

She took a deep breath. “You might recall that when I looked through the Sacred Stone at the cave wall, in addition to the map, I saw a verse of poetry written in the ancient alphabet of the Incas.”

“What did it say?” I asked. As the writer in the family, I guess I’m the one most interested in poetry. Except Tommy. He likes those “Roses are red” poems. Recites them to his girlfriends all the time. They usually groan when he does.

Storm gave us her translation of the ancient verse: “‘At the temple near the river, within a table where hearts do quiver, you will find the final key, the secret to raising Paititi.’”

“The ‘table where hearts do quiver’ has to be the altar!” I said, using everything Mom taught us in our Interpretation of Poetry class.

“And ‘within’ has to mean ‘inside’!” added Beck, because her talents are way more visual than verbal.

(Fine. Beck says my breath is extremely visual, too, especially when I’m being verbal. Look for stink lines and gas clouds in the next illustration.)

Beck and I ran our hands along the stone table, feeling for a loose stone or large seam.

“Here it is!” I called out.

“Does anybody have a screwdriver or something?” said Beck. “We need to pry it out.”

“How about a bayonet?” asked Dad.

“Perfect!” said Beck.

“It’ll help us scare off some of these fuzzy spiders, too!” I added.

Dad removed the bayonet from the rifle he was carrying and handed it to Beck. She used it to shoo away the spiders and wedge out the slightly tarnished golden rectangle we had discovered inside the bottom of the altar.

Speaking of bottoms, that’s what seemed to be carved into the piece we’d just found.

I gave it to Storm.

“You earned it, sis,” I said.

“Thanks,” she said with a smile, putting the golden belly in a pocket of her cargo shorts.

“Now we all have gold medals,” joked Beck. “You, me, Bick, and Tommy.”

When she said that, we all dropped our heads.

“Poor Tommy.” We almost whimpered it.

“Chins up, Kidds!” said Dad. “If we’re lucky, they won’t hurt your big brother until sunrise, when they perform their sacred rites.”

“But they probably need the golden piece we just yanked out of the stone,” I said.

“Well, we’re not giving it to them!” said Beck.

Dad was focused on the carved map. “If I’m reading this correctly, Paititi is less than five kilometers away. An easy walk. Are you guys up for a family hike?”

“Yes, sir!” we all replied. Because this was the hike we needed to take to put our family back together.

And so we took off.

Into the jungle.

In the dark.