At the End of the World

by Mark Macpherson

  Michelle examined Yax K’in as if she was waiting for a detailed explanation. He kept his eyes downcast and fixed on the bundle as if he was wary of it and it required constant watching.

  Michelle relented. ‘Let’s open it here. Then we can decide,’ she said.

  Arthur gently moved the bundle. He and Michelle knelt while Jim and Pep’Em Ha shined lights for them. Arthur, with precision and gentleness like he was a surgeon, unrolled the ancient paper. It contained a stingray barb and two worked shards of obsidian. They were still razor sharp. The contents and their wrapping were unremarkable, there were no markings.

  Arthur rolled the paper again, lifted it like it was a folded flag at a military commemoration and presented it to Yax K’in, who immediately passed it to Jim.

  ‘Thank you,’ he said. ‘And the other object too.’

  Arthur examined a god-pot. It had never been used and had distinctive markings but no glyphic writing. He was reticent to let it leave the chamber.

  ‘Why do you want this?’ he asked.

  Yax K’in held out his two hands and sighed with relief, when Arthur reluctantly gave it up, as if an explosive had been diffused.

  ‘This,’ Yax K’in raised the god-pot so that it was level with his eyes, ‘was made by the hand of Hachakyum. It is part of what is to come.’

  ‘What is to come?’ Arthur asked but was glad that Yax K’in ignored him and left the chamber. Jim and Pep’Em Ha followed.

  Chapter 4

  Arthur and Michelle began a quick survey of the walls of the cavern, after summoning a small, select group to help. They started side-by-side and wound their opposite ways around the cave walls. They met up again, on the far side of the cavern, immediately before dawn. Arthur’s next task was the precise mapping and image recording of the writing on the walls. But first, he needed sleep.

  Arthur emerged from the tomb into the pre-dawn morning like he had successfully completed a tour of the underworld. The last and strongest of the stars were all that were left. The horizon was a dark shade of blue. He stretched his arms skyward and yawned as if he was saluting the approaching sun. It was an attempt to wake his body, although his mind was calm and serene.

  He placed his hands on his hips and smiled. But he did not smile for long. The headlights of a car jiggled up and down as the car bumped its way along the access track. When it stopped behind the other cars, a door opened and was then slammed shut. Arthur heard the voice of a Spanish speaker raised in anger.

  He sat down on the topmost step resting his forearms on his knees. Arthur, with a sunrise beginning behind him, and alone, watched the dark shape of the mountains disentangle from the night. He thought he could see the beginnings of color in the expanse of maize.

  Roberto would discover his location and would then climb to him. Arthur waited.

  Chapter 5

  ‘Roberto, you have come.’ Arthur greeted him wearily, in Spanish, while he remained seated.

  ‘Of course,’ he said. ‘What else could I do when I can’t reach you and you surprise me like that? You made me travel all night,’ he said vehemently.

  There was sufficient natural light that Roberto’s expression was visible, while Arthur’s was hidden with the new day beginning behind him. His eyes were downcast, he was an older man wearied by years of administrative hassling.

  ‘The Director is not happy,’ Roberto said.

  ‘No, I guess he wouldn’t be,’ Arthur said as he stood. He placed his hands on his hips, for somewhere to put them. ‘Are you here to fire me?’

  ‘Not yet,’ Roberto replied.

  Arthur opened his arms and made to guide Roberto down the steps to the tomb.

  ‘Let me show you what we’ve found.’

  ‘It’s not what you’ve found, Arthur. It’s how you found it that’s important.’

  Arthur led Roberto down the passageway. They progressed easily, the steps had proved themselves sturdy. Arthur called Roberto through the small entrance and presented the sight of the tomb with a flourish, like it was a newly discovered wonder of the ancient world. Which it was. Roberto silently gazed at the cavern interior. It was eerily illuminated by the cold lighting used for the cameras, like it was an alien environment. The lights reflected sharp and silver from the camera tripods and the metal equipment boxes. A few people worked quietly and reverentially as if the years could be disturbed by too much movement and sound.

  Roberto immediately understood the advantages for the Museum. He would have to decide if that advantage would be shared with Arthur.

  Michelle was euphoric after a night of rewarding work. She stopped work and traced a path across the uneven cavern floor to the ledge where Roberto and Arthur stood. She greeted Roberto enthusiastically.

  Roberto did not like Michelle. She could not be bullied because she did not work for the Museum and she was too confident and strong willed. Roberto believed her greeting was contrived but he responded graciously.

  Michelle had begun the detailed imaging of the walls. Every square centimeter would eventually need to be mapped. She refused to recognize her tiredness, like she intended to stay working in the cavern for the months it would take to complete that work.

  Michelle returned to her work.

  ‘There is still a problem,’ Roberto said once Michelle had reached her destination.

  ‘Even with all this? Do you think?’ Arthur said.

  ‘Of course,’ Roberto turned slowly to examine Arthur. ‘There is always a problem with the authorities, even when things are done correctly.’ Roberto gave a supercilious smile. ‘And this was not done correctly.’

  Arthur’s euphoria evaporated, he was overcome by tiredness. His excitement and concentration had kept his weariness at bay but, quite suddenly, he felt like after a drug had worn off. Intrigue and petty battles could wait. He watched Michelle work, simply wanting Roberto to be gone.

  ‘I don’t care anymore,’ he whispered, not realizing he spoke out loud.

  ‘Someone has to. And that someone, I’m afraid for you, is me.’

  Arthur was shocked that Roberto had heard him, like he had read his thoughts.

  Roberto ostentatiously expressed his tiredness by stretching and yawning, like an imperfect actor rehearsing a scene.

  ‘I’m very tired, Arthur,’ Roberto said once his arms were again by his side. ‘Your escapade, the all night travel, has wearied me. I need to rest. I suggest that you rest also. You will need your strength. We can discuss your predicament later.’

  ‘There is a predicament, is there?’

  ‘Oh yes,’ Roberto said. ‘There is most certainly a predicament.’

  Arthur stayed on the ledge. He heard Roberto’s voice echoing down the passageway and knew that was not a good sign. He was on the telephone as soon as he was outside. Arthur wanted Michelle to come back to the village with him. He felt anxious, tender and alone like he had been bullied by an older sibling.

  He suggested that her tiredness may compromise her work. She disagreed.

  ‘The tomb’s been here,’ he said. ‘For more than a thousand years, Michelle. It won’t disappear overnight.’

  She began to unscrew the camera she had been using from its tripod.

  ‘What are you doing?’

  ‘You’re probably right, I do need a rest but I can work while I’m resting. I may as well get started on these images,’ she said. She tucked the camera under her arm and set off, letting Arthur follow if he wished.

  Arthur did not argue that a change of work was not rest. They returned to the village, where no-one had seen Roberto. Arthur headed enthusiastically to his waiting hammock. Refreshment was to take second place to sleep.

  Chapter 6

  Arthur settled into his hammock and hoped to sleep forever. He was shaken awake. He thought he had slept for minutes.

  ‘What? What!’ he said angrily.

  He opened his eyes and saw it was Jose, one of his Mexican team members. The angle of sunlight in his hut had changed, he had slept
until mid-afternoon.

  ‘I’m sorry Arthur. I had to wake you,’ Jose said in Spanish.

  ‘It’s all right.’

  Arthur sat up in his hammock. He felt better than the morning, his tiredness was from a disrupted sleep cycle not from the lack of sleep.

  ‘So,’ Arthur said trying to sound bright. ‘What’s the news?’

  ‘You must come out to the site. Now.’ Jose was urgent.

  At the turnoff into the access road to the site there was a parked police car. Two burly, sour-faced Mexican policemen dressed in black stopped Arthur and Jose, machine guns were slung over their shoulders. Their demeanor and suspicion was a scary proposition when their attentions were personal.

  Arthur was admitted only because Jose accompanied him.

  The shanty huts had been commandeered by the police and people Arthur had not seen before. His team members were sheepishly congregating around their camp site. An acre of maize was in the process of being cut down and more tents erected in the bare field. The site was an ostentatious hive of activity. The change was miraculous, as if Arthur had slept for days not hours.

  Jose directed Arthur to one of the huts but did not follow. He had a shamefaced, apologetic look in his eyes.

  ‘Ah, Arthur. Thank you. You’ve saved me a trip.’ Roberto sat behind a small, makeshift table. It was covered in papers. There was a fold-out chair before the desk. Roberto indicated that Arthur should sit down.

  Roberto was condescending and spoke with false compassion.

  ‘I’m very much afraid that I have shut you down,’ he said. Arthur was not surprised and did not argue.

  ‘Your tenure, here, finished when your budget ran out. You know how these things work, as well as I. I am running this now, out of my own budget. It is a great pity Arthur,’ Roberto emphasized Arthur’s name with a smile, ‘that you did not have the foresight to plan this excavation correctly. Especially, as I have discovered, that you expected something like this. Bad planning is inexcusable.’

  ‘Only Mexican nationals will work here from now on,’ Roberto commanded. ‘That is until after we do a complete survey and have catalogued what we have here. Then there will be a consultative process and the Museum will decide who are the best people to work here on a continuing basis. It may well be you Arthur,’ Roberto sounded as if he would severely resist that option. ‘It could even be Michelle. Who knows until I have that report?’

  ‘Until then, the site will be out of bounds to you and Michelle, all of the non-Mexicans on your team and, most especially, any KulWinik natives. We can’t have untrained people wandering over this site. Regardless to their claims of ownership,’ he said. ‘Do they claim ownership, Arthur? I have not had time to query that.’ Roberto shuffled among his papers as if the answer may lie in an official form.

  ‘I don’t know. You’ll have to ask them,’ Arthur said in a clear and strong voice. He was not angry yet, he was able to think clearly.

  ‘Well, whatever the case may be,’ Roberto stopped rummaging among the papers. ‘That is something to be debated by others at another time. I have the absolute,’ Roberto said with slow emphasis as if he expected Arthur to misunderstand, ‘confidence of the Director. Do you understand, Arthur?’ Arthur was becoming annoyed with the repeated use of his name as if Roberto had to make certain to whom he was talking in a crowd of people.

  ‘The difference is,’ Roberto continued, ‘that I have been open and frank with my superiors. They appreciate that. Unlike how you have conducted your recent affairs. It is a pity, it could have been a career changing event for you.’ Roberto smiled superciliously. ‘It may well still be a career changing event for you.’ He became serious again, attempting to be helpful. ‘I would suggest you return to Mexico City and see what you can do to protect what remains of your reputation at the Museum. See if your personal efforts may preserve your position there. I doubt it very much.’

  Roberto straightened his back in his chair, as if he worried about his posture during a long interview.

  ‘I cannot make you leave. You are, of course, free to stay in the village with the KulWinik natives.’ He spread his arms. ‘I don’t know, perhaps, you could take a holiday and remain there.’ Roberto rested his forearms on the papers on his desk as if there could be a breeze and he needed to be ready to stop them blowing away. ‘All your team members are re-locating here. I have taken the liberty of dismissing all the non-Mexicans. I’m sure you will have no objections since, I believe, they have worked for the last few days for no pay. I have informed them that the Museum will not be forthcoming in paying them beyond your original budgeted amount.’

  Roberto changed his tone of voice again, trying to end their conversation in a non-combative manner. He sat up straight again, drawing his forearms closer to his body while they remained on the desk.

  ‘I am not vindictive Arthur. Contrary to what you think. It is simply unfair that you take a position a Mexican national could fill. I grant you, perhaps not as well, but a younger person could grow into your role and be of greater use, long term, to the Museum. Forty years ago you would have been in the same position yourself. In these days, as you are as aware as I am, there is less and less money available to fund your type of position. Go back to the USA, Arthur.’ Roberto thought he was offering helpful advice. ‘There is more money available there. Mentoring roles, as you could most ably fill, are plentiful. Leave our small budgets here to be spent on local people who need it, and appreciate it.’

  ‘Anyway,’ Roberto came to the end of his chat. ‘You may not enter the site again. Passes will be issued and you and Michelle will be specifically excluded.’

  Roberto stood behind his desk. He pushed his chair back and came around the table as Arthur stood to leave. Roberto laid a hand on Arthur’s shoulder and shepherded him outside the hut. They waited, as if only the final pleasantries needed to be exchanged.

  ‘I wish you the best of luck with your future endeavors, whatever they may be.’ He smiled and extended his hand so that Arthur had the choice to shake it or not. Arthur did. He quickly held and released Roberto’s hand.

  Roberto smiled as if Arthur’s gentlemanly behavior had redeemed him, a little, in Roberto’s eyes.

  Roberto called to a waiting policeman. ‘Please ensure that Arthur is escorted out to the main road.’

  He led Arthur to one of the cars, opened the driver’s door for him while the policeman got into the passenger’s side. He struggled a little with his machine gun.

  ‘You see, I am not vindictive. You may take this Museum car back to the KulWinik village.’ Roberto shook Arthur’s hand again and then turned to leave.

  ‘Oh, by the way,’ Roberto added. Arthur had yet to shut the car’s door. ‘I will need all the cameras, images, drawings, notes and everything else you have to do with the tomb. Please assemble those things and I’ll get one of your team members to return them to me. Thank you.’ Roberto shut the car door on Arthur and went inside his office hut.

  Chapter 7

  Arthur drove carefully back towards the KulWinik village. He was in shock. He did not trust himself as he negotiated the Mexican roads and after he had turned through two intersections he pulled the car over to the side. He slumped forward onto the steering wheel and rested his forehead on his arms. Roberto’s kindly malevolence had unnerved him. Arthur raised his head and stared at his hands. They shook. He clasped the steering wheel to stop their involuntary movement. He took a deep breath to calm himself as if he was about to plunge into deep water and then let it release slowly. His side window framed the top of the mound peeping over the maize plants. He had stopped at the place Hamish had first noticed the mound. It was a beacon, attracting him with what he knew lay hidden there. He banged his hands against the steering wheel in anger and frustration. He would have to do something.

  The aftermath of his small display of anger left him feeling old and tired as if it was a new thing. It swamped him, removed his confidence. Arthur gripped the steering wheel fee
ling that living was a too difficult process of habit without purpose. As the anger drained and left him empty, he lost the will to even restart the car. He stared fixedly at the mound and his knuckles became white as he involuntarily strangled the wheel. After such a success, he thought, and then to have it immediately shattered, like an ecstatic night dream turned into a nightmare upon waking. His anger renewed. It gave him purpose and a spurt of confidence, enough to restart the car and return to the village.

  He went to the dining hut. His anger had deserted him and he was again drained of energy. He was hungry and, also, needed companionship. Michelle was there and he was as happy as he had ever been to see another human. She smiled expectantly, but his sickness showed. She frowned with worry. He told the story of Roberto’s intrigue.