Moon Mask

by James Richardson

  19:

  Escape from Xibalba

  Xibalba,

  Sarisariñama Tepui,

  Venezuela,

  King led the way at gunpoint through the ruined city, moving fast and keeping low. Fury bubbled inside of him and he struggled to contain it. He had told everyone not to trust Nathan Raine but as usual, no one listened to jealous, paranoid Benjamin King! Now, he was the one aiding and abetting what was obviously a wanted felon in his escape from U.S. authorities.

  “So what did you do, Nate, if that is your real name?” he demanded as they turned off of a wide plaza and jogged down a narrow alleyway. Both men’s eyes and ears were peeled for the Americans, though for different purposes. King wanted to find them so they could arrest this son-of-a-bitch, while Raine did everything he could to avoid them. They zigzagged their way through the city, the fire glow diminishing and stretching long, ghoulish shadows across the Mayan hell.

  “It is,” Raine answered part of his question. “And it’s complicated.”

  “You a terrorist? Murderer? Traitor?”

  “All the above,” he replied lightly. “Stop here.”

  King halted at the end of the alleyway. A six-foot wide cobbled path lined the edge of the aqueduct. They would be out in the open now until they reached the tunnel.

  “Face the building, place your hands on the wall,” Raine instructed him. King did as he was told but craned his neck to watch as Raine crouched down and leaned out of the alleyway, scanning the open space with his stolen rifle. King’s confiscated Norinco handgun was tucked into the back of his kidnapper’s waistband, just out of arms reach.

  He felt his pulse quicken as he evaluated his options. Raine was faster than him, stronger than him, and definitely more brutal than him.

  “It gets easier every time,” his flippant response to death came back to haunt him.

  If he did nothing and simply allowed the criminal to use him as a hostage, sooner or later he was going to kill him, take the mask and escape. And as they got nearer to the tunnel and freedom, King knew that moment was fast approaching.

  In the blink of an eye, he made his decision.

  He spun and threw himself at Raine, but the other man was faster. He wheeled about on his haunches and rose to his full height, slamming King back against the wall and pressing the muzzle of his rifle under his chin.

  “Don’t be stupid, Benny!” he snapped angrily, blue eyes smouldering. “I told you I won’t hurt you if you do as I say.”

  “You expect me to believe that?”

  There was a flicker of emotion on Raine’s face. “It’s the truth. As soon as we get to the tunnel, I’ll let you go.”

  King laughed bitterly. “And take the mask? That’s what you’ve been after all along, isn’t it? The potential to make a tachyon bomb. Fetch a tidy price in Iran or North Korea I bet.”

  “I don’t give a damn about the mask or about tachyon bombs. I just want to get away from the Americans. If I left you in the pyramid, you would have told them where I was going. Now,” he relaxed his grip and stepped away, keeping the rifle levelled at his chest. “Let’s pick up the pace.”

  They ran out onto the riverside path and followed its course west, crossing a crumbling bridge to the far side. Occasionally their path would take them away from the aqueduct and back into the ruins, but each time Raine led them back to the water.

  Finally, the grotesque visage of the snake’s open mouth loomed before them. Where all the city’s water supplies met, a large churning pool of white water frothed and broiled before rushing with surprising speed down into the monster’s stony gullet. The six-foot wide path on either side narrowed to little more than a foot of slippery, crumbling stones, vanishing into darkness.

  “I guess this is goodbye, Benny,” Raine said to him. He backed up along the path to where it vanished into the tunnel entrance, keeping his weapon trained on him at all times until, finally, he had to turn to watch his footing.

  He kept his word, King realised with surprise.

  A red dot appeared on the back of the escapee’s head.

  He didn’t know what possessed him, what sense of betrayed camaraderie that had developed during their flight to Xibalba forced him to do it but, one moment he was watching the targeting laser fix itself on Raine’s skull, the next he ploughed his shoulder into the man’s back!

  They tumbled into the churning water as the bullet spat off the tunnel wall. Shocked, Raine thrashed about, a flash of anger replaced by gratitude when he realised that his hostage a moment ago had just saved his life.

  A splash of reptilian bodies turned King’s blood cold.

  “Get out of the water!” Raine bellowed at him but as they both hauled themselves up onto the path, the stonework was shredded by a barrage of machine gun fire. They both instinctively fell back into the water.

  “We’re U.N. scientists!” King yelled at their hidden attackers.

  “I don’t think they’re here to help, Benny!” Raine shouted back at him. The churning vortex of the converging waterways spun them about. Raine fired wildly in the direction of the hidden enemy, causing their own weapons to silence for an instant. It was all Raine needed to grasp King’s shirt and throw him bodily up onto the path.

  More bullets. He turned and fired back. Another pause.

  “Nate!” King warned, seeing a giant black shape shooting like a torpedo through the water. He reached down with both hands and grasped Raine under the armpits, hauling them both backwards just as the enormous Orinoco crocodile breached the surface, jaws agape, teeth gnashing. The reptile propelled itself six-feet out of the water and landed with half its body of the path. It whipped around its head, jaws mere inches from Raine and King’s feet. Together, they kicked it once, twice and, a third time, with all their strength. The crocodile, perched precariously, lost its balance and rolled back into the churning water.

  More bullets chewed up the ground. “Come on!” Raine jumped to his feet, firing the last of his own bullets and manhandling King down the throat of the stone snake.

  “I’ve had enough of being shot at!” King complained.

  “You get used to it!”

  The narrow, manmade path grew narrower and the ambient light from the city faded to little more than a flickering glow. Footsteps echoed behind them as their attackers gave chase, following them around a sharp U-bend. A beam of red laser light pierced the gloom, hitting Raine’s back-

  The ancient path collapsed under their combined weight and they hit the fast moving water just as it crested the top of a series of underground rapids.

  The freezing spray stung King’s eyes and the rocks of the tunnel scraped his skin as he was hurled over one rapid, the current dragging him under. He breached the surface, looked about, and saw Raine take the full brunt of an impact to the chest. He went under and didn’t surface before King hit the next series of rapids. These were longer and steeper and despite thrashing his arms and legs, he could not control his angle of descent. He cried out in terror as the blackness took him. He felt his skin slice open on razor sharp, jagged teeth of rock.

  Instinctively, he reached out and grasped an outcrop, ignoring the pain as it tore his flesh and then pounded him against it.

  The ping of a bullet whip-lashed off the rock only an inch from his hand. He released his hold and was swept away once more. Spinning in the eddies, he saw Raine surface and fire wildly up the tunnel. Through the light of his muzzle-flash, King saw another humanoid figure being swept towards them. A barrage of bullets answered his challenge, super-hot metal striking sparks off the walls.

  “We’re not gonna make it!” King shouted.

  Raine grasped him by the shoulders and swung him around. “Don’t be such a pessimist!” he scolded and pointed ahead down the tunnel.

  King saw the most welcome sight of his life. A single stream of golden sunlight piercing the gloom up ahead.

  They had made it.

  Almost.


  The torrent of water swung them around another bend in the tunnel. The light faded, returned. Then they dropped again, a six-foot high fall, sending King’s stomach up into his throat. They both went under, surfaced-

  The black-clad soldier was there, struggling in the maelstrom of frothing, churning liquid. The glassy face-plate of his helmet turned towards King, then looked down at the pink purse he still carried, the Moon Mask within. He lunged at King just as they hit another rapid. King was hurled over the rocks, clear out of the water. The impact sliced through his clothing and his skin, causing him to cry out. He rolled down them, splashing back into the water-

  The soldier’s hand grasped the purse and ripped it from his body, the straps snapping. King lunged at him but the butt of his rifle slammed into his chin.

  Stars exploded behind his eyes as he fell backwards. The cold water brought some sense back to him, as did the lungful of liquid which he vomited out.

  Raine tore up out of the frothing chaos, having been dragged in the current from the mini-waterfall. Propelled against a rock, he slammed into the soldier before he could aim his rifle. King saw both men go under, limbs thrashing. He swam towards them, saw the purse, reached out-

  His back smashed into a large outcropping of rock. He spun around and was blinded by the intense glare of sunlight streaming in through the tunnel’s exit. Below, he saw a flash of emerald green- the jungle canopy.

  That meant they were high.

  Very high.

  Raine and his opponent surfaced just in time to see the deluge of water pour over the lip of the tunnel and drag all three of them down.

  “Not again!” Raine called out as they were tossed like flotsam and jetsam, spewed out of the innards of the enormous monster that was Sarisariñama.

  20:

  Resting Place

  Jaua-Sarisariñama National Park,

  Venezuela,

  Benjamin King felt consciousness tickle at the corners of his mind an instant before he awoke in a fit of coughing, spluttering foul tasting water over the undergrowth. The distant roar of cascading water impacting a lagoon echoed over the other noises of the jungle; the whoop of monkeys, the cries of colourful parrots, the hiss of reptiles and the buzz of insects.

  He suddenly became very aware of the dangers around him and quickly scrambled out of the narrow channel down which he had been swept.

  Wiping water out of his eyes, he surveyed his surroundings. He couldn’t see the pool of water in which he must have landed and realised the current had swept him, unconscious, several hundred yards downstream. The thick canopy of trees obscured much of the pounding rain as the storm continued to rage overhead, but as the sun began to set, red streamers of light cut horizontally through the jungle, setting it aglow.

  His hand instantly went to his side where the purse containing the Moon Mask had been for most of his insane adventure. He remembered the soldier ripping it from him, Raine desperately trying to tear it free.

  But, where was it now?

  Nathan Raine broke the surface of the pool at the base of the Sarisariñama tepui. He coughed to clear his lungs and quickly took in his surroundings. A channel of water snaked away from the sheer face of the mountain, cutting deep into the rainforest.

  There was no sign of King but, as he swam quickly to the edge of the pool and clambered ashore, he saw a black-clad soldier lying, arched impossibly backwards, over jagged rocks at the base of the cascade.

  Clutched tightly in his hand was the strap of a pink purse.

  The Moon Mask.

  The rain splashed in the water of the pool as King followed the river’s course back to the base of the tepui. He scanned the darkening jungle, searching for any sign of Raine, the soldier, or the Moon Mask.

  He found the soldier sprawled across the rocks, his outstretched hand empty. The Moon Mask was nowhere in sight. Neither was Nathan Raine.

  His eyes absorbed all the details of the sheer mountain face, peering up to the cloud-wreathed summit. Once again, he thought about Sid, wondered about her fate. But he knew he had to focus on his task. If what Nadia had said was true, he couldn’t let the mask get into the wrong hands.

  He pushed into the Venezuelan jungle, the enormous leaves of the world of giants casting a gloomy shadow on the world below. He was tired, his body desperately needed a break. His skin was slashed and bruised, his bones aching, but he continued on, wandering aimlessly.

  A noise froze him!

  Another made him swing his head around.

  But there was nothing but the green prison of humongous leaves and snaking vines. Then, some distance away, he saw the underbrush swaying, heard another crunch of foliage beneath heavy boots.

  He was being stalked.

  Hunted.

  But by who? The Chinese? The black commandoes?

  Raine?

  He spun around and would have yelped in surprise had not Raine’s hand suddenly clamped around his mouth, silencing him. He dragged him to the ground and hid beneath the giant leafs. For a moment, he resisted the attack.

  “Shhh,” Raine hissed, a finger to his lips. He wasn’t trying to hurt him, but protect him.

  “I thought you’d left,” King whispered accusingly.

  Raine shrugged. “Couldn’t just leave you to the natives now, could I,” he replied. “Here, you dropped this.” He dropped the pink purse containing the Moon Mask into the archaeologist’s lap.

  King stared at him for several long moments, his face a mask of puzzlement. “You’re a difficult man to work out, Nathan Raine.”

  Raine ignored him. “The Americans, the real Americans, will be here anytime now. We’ll find somewhere secure for you to hide until they arrive. Then I’m out of here.”

  King studied the hard lines of the other man’s face. Whatever he had done in his past, there was no denying that he had saved his life more times than he could count in a matter of hours. He could have taken the mask and vanished forever, but instead, he had come back to ensure the mask got into the right hands. To ensure that he was safe.

  King nodded his agreement.

  They waited until the rustling in the leaves was gone, and then Raine led them in the opposite direction. They kept low and moved fast, trying to disturb the undergrowth as little as possible.

  The jungle grew darker as the blood-red rays of the dying sun sank below the western horizon. The rainforest grew more alien, the noises more terrifying. Then again, he had just survived a rollercoaster ride through hell so he wondered if he could ever be terrified again.

  After some time, Raine slowed, holding out a hand to stop him. After checking the vicinity for signs of the enemy, he crept forward again.

  “What the hell is that?” he whispered in the gloom.

  King peered beyond him at the odd construction in the jungle.

  Encrusted with snaking vines and draped in a blanket of rotting vegetation was an alien shape.

  King recognised it instantly. “It’s a ship,” he gasped.

  To call it a ship was an exaggeration. In truth, little remained of the ocean-going vessel, merely a handful of metal fittings, pulleys and fallen canon, all encrusted with vegetation. The towering masts and their massive sails had been claimed by the jungle, as had much of her wooden hull. But, before her body had rotted away in the humid damp of the rainforest, the jungle had grown over her, encompassing her hull. Vines had snaked and coiled and wrapped themselves around her masts, the undergrowth had, in turn, decayed and rotted upon her hull, leaving behind a hollow, crusted shell.

  A glint of tarnished metal reflected up from the jungle floor not far from the stern of the vessel. King ran to it.

  “Benny,” Raine warned, but he ignored him, picking up and rubbing the plaque clean. Beneath the centuries of jungle muck, crude, engraved letters could still be seen.

  Hand of Freedom.

  “This was Kha’um’s ship,” he realised.

  “Bit of a
leap, isn’t it?”

  King shot him an angry look. “I can’t explain it . . . I just know this was his ship.”

  “But I thought Nadia said our bony friend was Caucasian?”

  King’s mind worked it all through, pulling the pieces of the jigsaw together. “He was a competitor,” he realised. “Someone else after the Moon Mask too. He followed Kha’um here, they fought-” Then it hit him. “It was Pryce! The remains that we found. He must have defeated Kha’um, found the Xibalban mask but got trapped in the tunnels and died.” Then he realised something else. “If Kha’um’s body is still on this ship, it would prove everything!” He turned and ran around the vessel’s hull, excited as a school boy.

  “Benny,” Raine called after him, trying to keep his voice low. “We’ve got to keep moving.”

  But it was no use. King found a crack in the crusted shell of the ship and squeezed inside. Almost all of the wood had rotted away over the centuries, including the dividing decks. Before it had done so, however, the jungle had claimed the wreck, clawing out with snaking limbs to coat the entire structure with plant life. By the time the ship’s hull had rotted away, a carbon-copy shell had replicated its shape. It reminded King of making paper mâché models of the earth by plastering the paper mâché over a balloon. Once the paper mâché set hard, the balloon was pierced with a needle, popping to leave behind only the outer shell.

  The undergrowth squelched beneath his feet as Raine pushed inside behind him.

  “Ben,” he whispered but King ignored him. A scurry of small mammals, insects and reptiles hastily evacuated, disturbed by the intruders as King switched on his torch, bringing the muted details of the interior into stark focus. The carpet of plant-life swept like a meadow over the fallen rubble of the ship, metal cannons and tar-hardened barrels presumably filled with loot and other less-degradable materials.