Aztec Odyssey

by Jay C. LaBarge

  “Let’s get to your lover, señorita. He awaits you at Cibola.”

  Miguel flashed his light again, and the party headed over toward it, slowly picking their way along the unknown route. They kept in single file, not wanting to leave any more of a trail than necessary. Eztli heard the faint whirring of the drone fly high over them, his eye in the sky, ensuring no surprises. Over the comm system in his earpiece the drone operator said, “All is clear, except for some type of large animal circling the perimeter, probably a wolf.”

  No worries there, Eztli thought. Target practice.

  They all scrambled up the loose scree to the entrance of the hidden cavern, tucked so discretely under the mesa. Eztli wasn’t sure they could have even found it at night without the signal from the flashlight.

  Miguel embraced Eztli, overjoyed at what he had seen. “It is real brother, I have seen it with my own eyes,” he exclaimed. “The comm system doesn’t work in there, the walls are too hard, the cave too deep.”

  Eztli pondered that, a wrinkle in his planning. He wasn’t one to take unnecessary chances. “Let’s post two men here, they can talk with the men at the trucks and up on the ridge. The rest of us will go in, we can use runners to communicate back to here if needed. How long to get there?”

  “Eight or nine minutes if you hustle, there is a lot of climbing up and down through small spaces,” Miguel replied, still sweaty from his own exertions

  Two men were left stationed at the entrance, while the rest of the group started into the tunnel, Soba and Charlie carefully guarded in the middle of the group. The air was dusty, the space confining, and there were false fissures off the sides. Miguel had already been there and back and led the way. Soba and Charlie bumped their heads several times, having no head lamps and standing taller than the others. Miguel squeezed through the last outcropping and stood on the steps, Eztli emerging immediately behind him.

  Without waiting for the others, Eztli wandered down the steps, spellbound, mouth agape, taking in the enormity of what his mind struggled to comprehend. He almost tripped over Nick, sitting at the bottom, his guard standing at attention to the side.

  Nick was pulled out of the way, and Charlie and Soba were herded over to him, two guards now watching them, while a third stood as a lookout above. Eztli, Miguel, and Javier walked around the cavern as if in a stupor, the cavern silent except for the relics rattling as they grabbed them and showed each other.

  Soba looked at Nick and Charlie for some type of signal, even fear, but their faces betrayed nothing.

  After ten minutes of exploration and disbelief, Eztli walked over and stood before Nick, smiling widely.

  “I underestimated you, gringo. I hoped if we possessed this one,” he said, glancing at Soba. “We would at least give you incentive to try your best. I don’t know if I truly believed you would ever find it, or if it even really existed. Yet here we are, and I have you to thank. Tell me, what’s your professional opinion of all of this?”

  Nick stared hard into Eztli’s eyes, his voice firm yet composed. “It defies belief, but I have had a day longer than you to get my mind around it. It’s not just the value of the precious metals and objects, it is the historical significance of everything here. The history of the Aztecs, in their own words, are in those codices. That alone is priceless. This is all more complete and better preserved than anything ever found in ancient Egypt, Mesopotamia, or China. No looters ever touched it, the desert air perfectly preserved it. They meant it as a time capsule to be found eventually, a microcosm of their entire heritage. And that is the great Montezuma in the center, the other mummies are his forefathers, all escaped destruction at the hands of the Spanish. It is truly a treasure for the ages.”

  Eztli listened with interest, this was the view the outside world would have, and it played into his plans perfectly. “Very well said, I will have to use that in one of my future speeches. But unfortunately, it’s time for you to join your father, and for us to get to work.”

  Eztli motioned to the guards, who pushed Nick and Charlie away from Soba and leveled their guns. Miguel walked up behind her and grabbed her forcefully and looked around the cavern for a private place away from the prying eyes of the others, where he could satisfy his lust.

  “Kill us,” Nick said in the same controlled tone, “And you’ll miss out on the greatest treasure of all.”

  Eztli held up his hand and nodded to the guard, who roughly forced Nick to his knees. The Boss of Bosses felt his blood suddenly start to boil, could feel the heat rising in his face. On the cusp of his greatest accomplishment he was being disrespected and delayed by this Americano, by this mere academic. He grabbed Nick firmly by the hair and sputtered at him. “What treasure?”

  “The mask of Montezuma.”

  It all suddenly dawned on Eztli, that in the original photograph Nick had sent him of the cavern, the mummy in the very center was wearing a magnificent mask covering his face and torso. He turned and stared at the mummy, regal in pose, now covered only in some type of linen shroud, golden greaves on the arms and wrists, one hand holding an ornate golden dagger, the other a codice. He hadn’t noticed the missing mask in the excitement of seeing everything else piled throughout the cavern.

  Nick saw the look of realization on Eztli’s face. “Check my phone.” Eztli grasped it, the home screen immediately showing a close-up of the mask laid out on a sleeping bag on the ground, stunning in its craftsmanship and grandeur. It was a singular piece encapsulating the essence of the Aztec civilization. If he were to rally all of Central America to his banner, this would be the iconic centerpiece, a tangible reflection of the glory that had been, and would soon be again.

  Miguel dragged Soba back over and threw her to the ground next to Nick, tearing out an earring in the process, and pushed his brother aside and held Nick’s head between his shaking hands.

  “First I’ll kill your brother, then I’ll rape and kill her before your eyes, and then I’ll take you apart piece by piece until you tell us where it is. We will get that mask, and you will tell us where it is.”

  Eztli forced himself to breathe deeply, trying to regain his composure, and motioned Miguel to the side. This was a time for rationality and not emotions to rule, the clock was ticking, for the first time against them.

  “My brother speaks the truth. There is no way you will ever leave here alive, it is simply an impossibility, a loose end I cannot allow. Tell us where it is, and your deaths will be quick, merciful. I will even kill her first, to prove she won’t suffer,” Eztli said, looking at Soba.

  “That’s not what we agreed to,” Miguel fumed at Eztli, unable to control his rage. “We dictate what happens here, not bound peon captives!”

  Eztli sadly shook his head and glanced at Charlie, and then stared hard at Nick. “You know this can only end one of two ways, quickly or painfully. But in the end, we will get what we want.” He nodded to Miguel, who pulled out his pistol.

  “The choice is yours, but we begin now.”

  Up on the ridge, two men sat on an outcropping with a panoramic view of the valley and the mesa across the way, one playing with the sniper rifle he had found next to the dead Apache, the other looking at a screen and controlling the drone with a joystick. He zoomed in the drone camera on the two guards standing outside below the entrance to the cave, one pulling down his pants and flashing him a moon.

  “Ha, good one, I’ll have to get him back,” he said, laughing and showing the screen to his companion.

  Suddenly that man yelled, pointing frantically at the screen. He clicked his earpiece and screamed a warning, but it was too late for the men at the cave. At nearly the same time two of the men guarding the trucks heard the warning in their earpieces and reached for their guns, a third one having wandered off to relieve himself, unaware anything was happening.

  From up on the ridge they could see the flashes of gun shots near the trucks, going off in crazy directions, the sound delayed, distant across the valley floor. Distracted b
y the firefight below and trying to communicate through their earpieces, neither realized that the hunters were now the hunted, stealthily being stalked, until a large white animal leapt at the man holding the rifle and ripped his upraised hands apart until he dropped it. The second man let go of the bright screen and reached for his pistol just an instant too late, the powerful jaws clamping down, crushing his windpipe and severing the carotids. The pitiless nighttime eyes of the large canine then locked onto the screaming figure frantically trying to crawl away, paced back and forth while emitting a deep primeval growl, then leapt again.

  Just moments before, Ahaiyuta lay buried under desert sand and gravel, carefully controlling his breathing through a reed. His two Zuni companions were similarly hidden nearby, enduring the same fate. The heat from the afternoon sun had dissipated, relieving the suffering of his temporary tomb. His mind had focused back on times of his youth on the Zuni Reservation, and the kind guidance the elder Lonan had always provided him in the ways of his people and their traditions, and of the discipline to control his mind over his body, despite physical pain and discomfort. Lonan had been a good man, a credit to his people. And he had been brutally murdered right on their sacred land. Not just killed, but had his heart brutally cut out. Ahaiyuta came out of his trance like state, alerted by footsteps nearby, felt the earth vibrate slightly, and heard muffled laughter. He felt the cold steel of the knife handle in his palm, and unconsciously gripped it hard. The time for vengeance was at hand.

  Ahaiyuta emerged out of the ground shrieking like a demon, both to scare his enemy and to alert his comrades to join him, and saw a man staring wide eyed at him, disbelieving, his pants down around his ankles. He plunged the blade deep into the startled man’s heart, a single powerful thrust, and saw the other two Zuni run down another man, both of them manically slashing him before he could even bring his gun to bear.

  At nearly the same instant at the parked trucks, two of the cartel men were puffing cigarillos, the red tips the only thing visible in the dark landscape under a carpet of stars and a slowly arcing moon. They had taken their night vision goggles off to enjoy a quick smoke, their companion still wearing his so he wouldn’t trip as he went to take a leak. Abruptly panicked yelling came over the comm system, and they instinctively looked toward the alcove in the face of the mesa. They both grabbed their Uzi’s and hurried to put their night vision goggles back on. The first man heard something whiz by his head and land with a sickening thud in his partner, whose cigarillo cast sparks as it spun about in the air, his gun firing wildly as he fell. He glanced at what had hit his companion, some type of long arrow or spear sticking out of his chest and turned and began firing before he even got his goggles on, blinded by his own muzzle flashes. He heard something whoosh by him, missing him, and then heard the same hollow sound that had struck his partner, and heard it again, staggering backward, firing blindly into the sky as he collapsed to the ground.

  Fifty yards away the third guard squatted down, and knew an ambush was unfolding. The firing was brief and wild, then abruptly stopped. At least one intruder had been hit, he heard the cry of pain, the fall of a body. Hell, his cartel brothers had almost shot him in their panic. His heart pounding, he carefully glanced around with his night vision goggles, and saw men creeping toward the trucks, toward his compañeros. He only had a pistol on him, but knew he had back-up on the ridge above, and circled around hugging the earth to ascertain how many there were. He whispered on the comm system, but there was no reply from anyone, just static.

  So be it, if he had to do it himself, he would. He had trained for this moment his entire life, if he pulled it off he would be richly rewarded. If he didn’t, he was as good as dead anyway. He now had the advantage of surprise, and crawled closer. He saw there were three men, he could take one down with the first shot, charge and shoot the second before he could react, then take his chances with the third. He drew a bead with his pistol, but something was in the way, a large cactus. He carefully inched to the left to get a better angle for his shot, his nerves steady. Without warning he suddenly felt himself airborne, his pistol spiraling away, a snare around his ankle, the tightly sprung cottonwood flinging him heavily into the cactus, a hundred needles impaling him upside down. His goggles still on, he watched as a lone figure walked slowly toward him, the glint of a blade in his hand. He tried to call out but couldn’t, the fear caught in his throat, until he was grabbed by the hair and the knife sharply sliced his scalp away.

  Outside of Atlatl Cave, in the timeless landscape of Chaco Canyon, the quiet of the night was broken by the victory chant of a Navajo warrior holding a grisly trophy aloft, and the haunting howl of a lone wolf in reply.

  Nick was frozen with indecision, he had to buy time before they started pulling triggers. Javier didn’t seem to have the stomach for any of this and was discretely working his way up the stairs. Nick glanced quickly around, one guard on the stairs with Javier, two guards behind him, Charlie and Soba, and Eztli and Miguel right in his face.

  “Enough!” Miguel said aiming his pistol at Charlie, and pulled the trigger and shot him, Charlie reeling heavily to the floor from the impact. “I killed your dad. I will kill your whole fucking family. It will be as if you never were!”

  “Last time, easy or hard?” Eztli asked.

  Miguel aimed the gun at Nick and made sure he noticed as he looked at Soba and licked his lips. He then stared back at Nick, tapping the trigger.

  Nick was about to speak when the guard on the steps above fell to his knees, swatting at his neck. Foaming from the mouth he tumbled down the steps, landing with a sickening thud. All the cartel members immediately looked around with raised guns, but there was no movement anywhere, the prisoners all zip tied and on their knees except for Charlie, who writhed in pain on the floor.

  One of the guards behind Nick now reached for his neck, pulled out a small dart, and examined it with curiosity until his eyes rolled into the back of his head and he collapsed.

  Eztli knew a trap was being sprung and leveled his gun at Nick and fired. Nick saw it coming and attempted to roll away, the shot hitting him squarely in his arm. Miguel quickly grabbed Soba as a shield, and looked around for something, anything, to shoot at. He instinctively sought cover and dragged Soba in front of him over to Montezuma’s mummy on the throne in the center, backing against it for protection.

  In taking the bullet Nick fell and rolled his legs around hard, knocking down the other guard behind him, who fell on top of him. Nick wrestled with him for his gun with tied hands, while Eztli fired at them both, not caring who he hit, and heard the satisfying thud of at least two rounds hitting flesh. Eztli’s attention was then suddenly distracted as the three mummies in the back, Atsa, Yas and Tahoma in disguise, dropped their blow guns and started firing back with their own pistols, the sounds filling the cavern with gun blasts and ricochets.

  Javier dodged a shot and sprayed fire with the Uzi he picked up off the top of the stairs, hitting Tahoma and forcing the others to dive for cover. Nick rolled the dead body off him and took careful aim at the distracted Eztli and shot him in the stomach, knocking him to the ground. Miguel leaned against Montezuma, one arm choking Soba, the other aiming at Nick’s head, about to pull the trigger. That was when he felt the arm of the mummy behind him suddenly move and draw the gold handled obsidian blade deeply across his throat. He fell to his knees, shock on his face and grasping at his neck while choking on his own blood, as Montezuma arose from the throne and looked down upon him. The last thing Miguel saw as the life gushed out of him was Soba leaning into Montezuma’s shoulder, Bidzii removing the mummy’s shroud and holding her tightly. As he breathed his last, Soba glared at him and rolled him off the throne’s landing with her heel.

  Nick slowly got to his feet, holding the gun shakily with both his zip-tied hands, and walked over to Eztli, who was doubled over and holding his gut. Eztli saw movement off to the side with his peripheral vision, and stealthily reached over for his own gun. Just as he
was about to grasp it, a boot stepped firmly on his hand and ground it into the dirt of the cavern floor. Nick then kicked the gun away, cocked his own trigger, and pressed the still warm barrel against Eztli’s temple.

  “Like you said, to leave here alive would simply be an impossibility.”

  Seeing there was no hope in the cavern, Javier fled down the tunnel. He tried his comm earpiece, but no response, damn the walls. He just needed to reach the entrance, gather the men together, regroup. After all there was only one way in and one way out. He had seen Eztli and Miguel go down, probably killed. If he played this right, he would now be the Jefe de Jefes, the Boss of Bosses. No one knew the operation better than he did, he practically ran it while Eztli played collector and politician. He alone knew all the finances, had set up all the offshore accounts, and laundered the money. If anyone knew the inner workings of the Texcoco cartel and was prepared to run it, it was him. Just rally the troops, kill everyone in the cave before morning, and come back another time, live to fight another day. This could work, it will work, just get to the entrance now.

  He looked up, finally concentrating on where he was. This part of the tunnel didn’t look familiar, he pointed the flashlight around, he must have taken a wrong turn somewhere. He turned around, would double back, and work his way out. With one hand on the wall he stumbled forward, the flashlight beam toward the floor, so he could be sure of his steps. The walls narrowed and he raised the flashlight, and jumped back, stifling a scream, aghast. Staring at him was the face of a mummy, stuffed into the crevice. He stepped back and laughed at himself. This is what the gringos did with the actual mummies, when they cleverly substituted assassins in their place. Turning he paused, and heard a deep growl echoing down the tunnel, toward him. He reached for his gun, fumbled for it in the confined space and dropped the flashlight, which went black as it hit the floor. The ominous growl was much closer, and he thought he caught a glint of two reflective eyes bounding toward him as he fired, again and again.