The Chalupa Conundrum

by Lyle Christie

“Well, in both golf and gardening they use a rake-like object to either smooth or make patterns in the sand, and this area almost looks as though it’s been smoothed out, and, if so—why?”

  Alessandra got down on all fours and placed her head low over the ground and looked for herself, inadvertently giving me a very complimentary view of her backside, which seemed to be peeking out from under her short shorts. It brought on a very real stirring in my loins, and, while I wanted to look away in the hope of maintaining a gentlemanly demeanor, it was just too amazing of a sight to ignore.

  “You’re right. That’s interesting, though there’s a chance the archaeologists were done with this area and wanted to return it to its pristine state,” she said.

  “Maybe, but then I would have expected to see more sections like this around the rest of the ruins.”

  “Good point,” she said, as she stood back up and turned to me.

  There was something in her eyes, that told me she knew that I had been staring at her formidable buttocks. Fuck—first it was her boobs, and now it was her butt, but, thankfully, she smiled.

  “So, is looking at my ass as equally soothing as looking at my boobs?”

  I decided to man-up and answer truthfully.

  “Afraid so, as in addition to having spectacular boobs, you also happen to have a stunning rear end, and, while I half-assedly thought about trying to look away, I just couldn’t.”

  She laughed.

  “Well, Tag, to be perfectly honest—appreciating the opposite sex is built into our biological programming, so I would be a bit of a hypocrite to give you too much shit about it, because I too have spent a fair amount of time appreciating the opposite sex.”

  “Interesting, and would any of that time spent appreciating the opposite sex have included me?” I asked.

  She looked at me a moment then smiled and looked a little embarrassed.

  “Well, since we’re being honest—yes it would, as I was just admiring your ass while you bent down to inspect the sand,” she said.

  “I’m not surprised, as I’ve been told I have a powerful buttocks.”

  We shared a little laugh, then had a moment of quiet discomfort as we realized we had just exchanged some mildly risqué compliments.

  “So, are you and your powerful buttocks ready to continue exploring,” she asked.

  “Yes, we are.”

  Alessandra and I walked around the entire base of the pyramid, and I noticed that there was a fountain at each corner, and, while these all had the same two life-sized statues of a man and woman, they didn’t have the dual catch basins. Instead, they had one large pool, and I couldn’t help but wonder why they were different from the fountain at the base of the stairs.

  “Interesting—the fountains at each corner are all identical to each other but different from the one in front of the stairs,” I said.

  “Yeah, and it’s something we have yet to fully understand.”

  “Do you mind if we go look at that fountain again?” I asked.

  “Not at all, Professor Jones.”

  We returned to the fountain, and, as I looked more closely at the individual water basins, I saw that the male one had distinct wear from years of liquid flowing down and into its basin, while the female one had very little evidence of erosion. Still, it did have the subtlest hint of a line where the water used to be—kind of like the high tide mark on a beach where debris tended to remain after the ocean receded.

  “Do you see these faint lines on the female side’s catch pool?” I asked.

  “Yeah, which means that it had water at one time.”

  “Exactly, so I wonder why this side is now dry.”

  “Perhaps it fills up during rain storms.”

  “Yeah, but why build it to look identical to the other side if it’s not functional?” I asked.

  “It could have been for symmetry, or perhaps the channel inside the pyramid changed course after all the years of flowing water and erosion.”

  “I suppose it’s possible, but the separated basins make it unique compared to all the other fountains.”

  “Good observation, Indiana. Maybe you should have been an archaeologist.”

  I examined the openings where the water emerged and saw that each was a perfect circle, but the male side had a carved out spherical notch several inches larger than the main hole. The lack of symmetry was troubling, but it likely had something to do with the water flow and perhaps allowed greater volume during rainstorms—which wasn’t exactly an uncommon occurrence in this part of the world. I decided to step back and look at the area as a whole, because there was definitely something here that was making my scrot-sense tingle. Unsure what it was, I decided to turn my attention to the stone wall behind the fountain.

  “Do you think the wall there looks like a giant door?” I asked.

  “Yeah, and, as a matter of fact, we’ve had at several teams trying to figure out if there’s a way to open it, but, so far, it just seems to be a big sheet of stone.”

  “I suppose, though it’s strange that the fountain in front of it is so different.”

  “Yeah, so I can only imagine it might simply be that the separate basins are simply symbolic of something—kind of like the male and female statues.”

  “Any thoughts on what would that symbolism might be?”

  “That would depend on the culture. If these are indeed Chalupan, they would represent several things, with the most obvious being the bond between men and women. Chalupan culture was unique in that there existed very little sexism, as both sexes had equal power and standing in the home and society as a whole.”

  “And what about the water?”

  “As you’ve probably already guessed, water was central to Chalupan culture and ultimately represented prosperity—though more in terms of quality of life and security rather than a measure of monetary wealth.”

  “Which is a little different from most cultures where prosperity is all about the money.”

  “No shit.”

  “Well, I suppose we should go take a similar look around the camp’s perimeter,” I said.

  We walked back to the camp and started a detailed circumnavigation, and, like the dig site, there were numerous tracks, but none led off into the jungle. As we reached our starting point, I noticed something I had missed the first time. The small open expanse we had crossed on the way to the ruins, like the area below the pyramid, was devoid of tracks. Well—other than the ones Alessandra and I created about forty-five minutes earlier when we walked across it. This was yet another interesting anomaly and made me wonder how it was it that a team of scientists mysteriously disappeared without managing to leave a single track in any direction let alone leave any along their commute route between their camp and their work location.

  “You see what I see?” I asked Alessandra.

  She looked down at the ground.

  “Yeah—another area without tracks. Maybe the rain washed them away,” she said.

  “Doubtful, if it had been the rain, then it would have washed away the other ones, as well.”

  “True. Good thing you’re the detective.”

  “Yeah, but all this is starting to worry me, because it doesn’t make any sense. How in the hell did these people disappear without a single trace? Before we got here, I honestly expected to find some kind of evidence—tracks, broken branches—something, but, seeing it all now, it’s as if the earth opened up and swallowed them whole, or, worse still, King Chalupa and his half-man, half-beast minions snatched them up.”

  “There has to be a reasonable explanation,” Alessandra said.

  “I certainly hope so.”

  “Me too.”

  “Oh well, I suppose it’s time to get out and meet the neighbors and see if they have any clue about all this,” I said.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Loving thy Neighbor

  WE CLIMBED INTO Alessandra’s FJ Cruiser and continued east along the same dirt road, only now we were heading deeper into th
e jungle and towards the nearby Chalupan village. The road made a gentle S turn, then, about a hundred yards farther along, there was a building off to our left. It was large, modern, and, judging by its clean exterior, appeared to have been built fairly recently. It was enclosed by a chain-link fence, but the gate that led to its gravel covered parking lot was open. In front of the main entrance were three vehicles—two Range Rovers and a fairly new Jeep Wrangler with a removable soft top.

  “What the hell is that place?” I asked Alessandra.

  “One of Von Träger Pharmaceutical’s outlying laboratories.”

  “What kind of work do they do there?”

  “They comb the rain forests for new plant species in hopes of finding the ingredients for the next wonder drug to cure things like cancer or Alzheimer's.”

  “There’s a lot of money in that if they find something.”

  “Yeah, and from what I hear, they’ve had pretty good luck so far.”

  Just beyond the laboratory, we came to an intersection where another dirt road went left towards the north. A few feet in on the right side was a sign with a warning written in both English and Spanish that read Private Property, violators will be prosecuted.

  “Why the sign? I thought this was all government land.”

  “It is, except for that direction. The road we’re on partially borders the southern edge of Von Träger’s land. In fact, that road back there is the one we’ll take when we go meet him tomorrow.”

  “I didn’t know he already owned so much land up here,” I said.

  “Pretty much everything you can see from here to the north is his private property.”

  “It’s certainly nice to be a billionaire.”

  “It is—kind of like your Larry Ellison buying the Hawaiian Island of Lanai.”

  “Yeah, though I might lean a little more in favor of the Lanai purchase, as there aren’t any poisonous snakes or insects.”

  “Or plants that’ll become the next multi-billion dollar wonder drug.”

  “It’s a tough choice, but I’d still take no poisonous bugs over billion dollar drugs.”

  We continued on for another five minutes then saw a number of small dwellings spread out around an ornate village center. The main road had been paved with stones and resembled the one from the ancient ruins of the city, though this area appeared to be regularly used and maintained. We parked off to the side and went the rest of the way on foot and entered the town square, which had a rather spectacular fountain at it’s center. In the middle of a great circular pool were two large statues identical to the ones from the pyramid. In this case, however, water sprayed upward from only a single hole between the figures.

  “Quite a fountain,” I said.

  “Yeah, and it’s all gravity fed, the pump action is created by channeling water from the nearby rivers.”

  “Amazing. It kind of reminds me of the fountains at that famous villa outside Rome.”

  “The Villa d'Este?” she asked.

  “Exactly! I take it you’ve been there.”

  “I have, and I’ll admit it’s a bit more spectacular, but you have to keep in mind that this place predates the Villa d’Este by at least five hundred years.”

  We walked around the square and noticed that the people of the village were leaving the area and disappearing in different directions.

  “So, I’m getting the feeling that you were right last night when you said that they don’t like outsiders,” I said.

  “This is unusual behavior, as they’re generally polite and will at least greet newcomers before running off and ignoring them.”

  “I suppose showing us their backs is the more polite way of telling us to fuck off.”

  “Interesting—I guess we’ll have to knock on a few doors if you want to speak to anyone.”

  We walked around the town center and past the surrounding buildings, and I saw identical canals to the ones I had seen back at the main city.

  “I see they have the same plumber,” I said.

  “They do, and if you look around, you’ll see that all the buildings and farms in this area are all serviced by aqueducts, just as they were a thousand years ago.”

  “Amazing, and if you put in some solar panels, they’d be self sufficient for another thousand years.”

  Alessandra pointed at the roof of one of the buildings.

  “Take a look,” she said.

  “They have solar power?”

  “Yeah, and hydroelectric thanks to Von Träger. He really takes care of his people.”

  Up ahead we saw a middle aged woman tending her garden. She was small in stature, pretty, and had dark brown hair and eyes, and her features were indicative of the native inhabitants of Central and South America. She was too preoccupied to notice us, and it allowed us to reach her before she could disappear inside her dwelling. Alessandra smiled and spoke to her in an unusual language I’d never heard. The woman seemed surprised then responded back in the same language, and they continued speaking for a moment before the woman looked around warily and gestured for us to come inside.

  “What language was that?” I asked Alessandra.

  “Mostly Chalupan.”

  “You speak mostly Chalupan?”

  “Yeah, mostly, but only because it’s related to Maléku Jaíka, which is a Chibchan language spoken by the indigenous Maléku people.”

  “Ah, the Maléku people—a humble people—a people of the soil and speakers of Chibchan.”

  “You’ve heard of them?” she asked, sounding legitimately surprised.

  “No—nor do I speak a word of Chibchan, but, I am fairly decent with the romance languages. Do any of the Chalupans speak Spanish?”

  “These days, nearly all of them, but they’re generally more willing to talk if you do them the courtesy of speaking their native language first.”

  “Professor Hot Sauce, you are a silver tongued master of diplomacy.”

  “And you, Tag Finn, are a silver tongued jackass.”

  We stepped inside the house and found it was well-kept and actually more modern than I’d expected. The floors were bamboo and dotted with throw rugs, and, as we entered her living room, we took a seat on some fairly nice contemporary furniture.

  “My name is Pili, How can I help you?” the woman asked in surprisingly presentable English.

  The two of us looked completely surprised.

  “You speak English?” Alessandra asked the woman.

  “I do, as I was one of a few of the villagers who actually attended college, and now I am the primary teacher for the entire area, and that includes classes from grammar school all the way up through college.”

  “It’s nice to meet you, Pili. My name is Alessandra, and this is Tag.”

  “So, how did you manage to get out of here to go to college?” I asked.

  “Von Träger, of course.”

  “Lars Von Träger?” I asked.

  “No, his father Thomas. I was one of the lucky ones who were awarded a scholarship,” she said.

  “That’s pretty nice of him,” I responded.

  “He was quite a generous man—especially when it concerned Chalupa.”

  “And how about his son Lars?”

  “He’s also very generous and is carrying on the work his father started.”

  “It must be nice when a billionaire has your back.”

  “It is, actually.”

  “So, as a native Chalupan and the local teacher, you’re obviously very familiar with the area and the people,” I said.

  “Yes, I am, but I suspect you’re here because of the missing scientists.”

  “Yes, indeed.”

  “Well, unfortunately there really isn’t anything more than what I’ve already told the authorities. No one here seems to have the slightest clue as to what happened. In fact, the people of the village only found out they had disappeared when the government men arrived to investigate.”

  “So, it’s unlikely that any of the people here saw anyth
ing?”

  The woman looked as though she wanted to say something but remained silent. A moment later, a stunningly beautiful girl walked in who was probably around twenty, and I was guessing she was either one of Pili’s students or perhaps her daughter—most likely the latter, judging by the resemblance. She certainly had her mother’s deep brown eyes and full lips, but her jawline and height seemed more European. Her figure, meanwhile, was spectacular, and she had a pert, round backside and lovely full breasts that would make excellent use of a bikini, though her current outfit, which consisted of short shorts and a low cut tank top, was doing an excellent job of showcasing her physical assets. Better still, and unlike the Chalupans we had seen in the village, she seemed rather pleased to have visitors, though I couldn’t help but notice that Pili looked oddly uncomfortable at the girl’s sudden arrival.

  “This is my daughter Bachué.”

  “Hello, nice to meet you,” the girl said, in excellent English.

  “I’m Tag, and this is Alessandra. It’s nice to meet you too, Bachué. Is your name Chalupan?” I asked.

  She gave me a flirtatious smile as she answered.

  “No, Bachué is an ancestral Chibchah goddess, and the name literally translates as big-breasted one.”

  I, of course, couldn’t help but smile like an idiot as I considered her unusual name.

  “Seriously?” I asked.

  “Yes,” she said, as she smiled and shrugged in such a way that inadvertently pressed her breasts out taught against the fabric of her shirt.

  Annoyingly, or actually more like embarrassingly, my eyes were magnetically drawn to her large breasts, and I noticed that her bra was incapable of concealing her rather prominent nipples. Fuck—now I was in double jeopardy, for I faced both her nicely tanned cleavage as well as her pokey bits. I therefore had to put a lot of effort into redirecting my gaze and maintaining proper eye contact.

  “Well, then all I can say is that your mother had a lot of foresight when she named you,” I said.

  The big-breasted one herself, Bachué, laughed, but Alessandra, on the other hand, looked mildly embarrassed, and Pili just stared on, apparently oblivious to our conversation.