The Jaguar Queen

by Betsey Kulakowski

  “I hope you’re right,” Lauren said, shaking her head.

  “Come on,” Bahati said. “Let’s get back to the office. Rowan needs us to help him with research and script development. I’m sure he’ll call soon. What could possibly happen?”

  Chapter 2

  Rowan sat with his back against the adobe wall, his knees drawn up, his head down on his chest. It had gone from 105 to what seemed like freezing overnight. Now, it was sweltering again. He found himself wondering how he was going to be able to explain all this to Lauren, presuming he lived long enough. Less than twenty-four hours in Mexico, and he was already locked up in a filthy, run-down Mexican jail.

  Still, he was optimistic. He hoped two things would happen. First, he hoped Jean-René and the team were working to get him bailed out. He also hoped no one had told Lauren.

  This was all a stupid misunderstanding. He’d been filming a couple of introductory shots in one of the markets in a village outside Mexico City. He stopped to try on a sombrero when the shopkeeper took exception to him and the camera crew. He took off the hat and returned it to the owner. The man demanded that he pay for it, but Rowan’s Spanish was lacking, and he misunderstood, thinking he wanted him to leave. “Okay, okay, I’ll leave,” he said, but when he did, the man called over the local policia, and the next thing Rowan knew, he was being arrested. He’d been here all night, and half of the day. He had no food or water. He didn’t even get a phone call. He was feeling especially sorry for himself. Panic was setting in.

  He flinched at the sound of a rattling key in the door against the metal bars of the cell. Before he could gather his wits, he was dragged up and hauled out to the street. The light blinded him. He had barely gotten his feet under him when he was shoved out onto the sidewalk. He landed on his hands and knees. The police officer spat at him in Spanish as he collected himself. He yelled something and threw his hand up before turning around and going back inside, leaving Rowan to wonder what the hell had just happened.

  “Rowan!” Jean-René was at his side, helping him to his feet. “Thank God!”

  “What the hell was that?”

  “We have an hour to get out of town,” Jean-René said, his accent more pronounced than usual. “He said if we were still here when the sun set, he’d have all of us arrested.”

  “How did you ...?”

  “Don’t ask questions, Boss.”

  “Did you pay ...?” Jean-René locked his eyes on him and made a noise that told Rowan to zip it. What he didn’t know wouldn’t get him in trouble with his wife.

  “Oh.” Rowan finally steadied. “In that case, let’s get out of here.”

  “I couldn’t agree more,” Jean-René said. “I’ve got the team packing everything up. I finally got a hold of the professor from the University of Mexico. He has agreed to meet us at Chichén Itzá.” The professor had stood them up for their meeting the day before, which is why they’d ended up in this little town in the first place.

  “Well dammit,” Rowan pursed his lips, his brow clamping down over his eyes “We could have flown into Mérida, Progresso or heck, even Cozumel.” He shook his head. The meeting with the professor in Mexico City had dictated their travel arrangements. It was a much longer drive from Mexico City than it would have been from any of the other cities in the Yucatán.

  Jean-René held his hands up in surrender. “We did what we could, Boss.”

  “Good work,” Rowan said as they hurried along. “I can’t believe all of this is over a stupid hat.”

  “He thought you were making fun of him,” Jean-René said. “He didn’t like being mocked.”

  “But I wasn’t ...” Rowan shook his head.

  “It doesn’t matter now.” Jean-René had him by the arm as they crossed the street.

  * * *

  The team drove for hours, stopping for gas in Villahermosa. Rowan stayed close to the Spanish-speaking members of the team. Jean-René and Alejandro were his best buddies from then on.

  That night, they camped on the beach. The weather was pleasant, and the moon was full. Rowan felt much better after a dinner of fresh-caught fish, cooked over the roaring bonfire. Someone had the foresight to fill a cooler with sliced limes and Mexican beer. The party lasted well into night. Rowan, however, turned in early, and slept through all of it.

  * * *

  Rowan was the first one up. He collected all the beer bottles and rekindled the fire before he went to the water. He caught some more fish for their breakfast. He had the meal ready when everyone else finally rolled out of their tents. Rowan sat on the beach watching the sunrise, eating fish off a roasting spit, appreciating his freedom.

  “Has anyone called Lauren since we got here?” He’d been dreading the thought of having to explain to her what had happened.

  “No,” Alejandro said. “We didn’t think it wise to worry her.”

  “Before we get too far into the jungle, I should stop and call her.”

  “Everyone’s already been sworn to secrecy about what happened,” Jean-René said, pulling Rowan aside. “All the video has been destroyed.”

  “Thanks, man.” He slapped Jean-René on the back. “You are a good friend.”

  “Lauren would kill me if I let anything happen to you,” Jean-René said.

  “Kill you? She’d kill me.”

  “She’d kill us both,” Jean-René said. “You getting killed by your wife is one thing. But I didn’t do anything wrong. I’m certainly not going to get myself killed.” He rose and tossed fish bones back into the water. “Come on, we have a long way to go.”

  * * *

  Lauren spent all day with Bahati, driving around looking at houses. They were no closer to finding the Pierce family a new home. She was tired, but she was also worried about Rowan.

  Sitting around with nothing to do would make it worse. With several hours of daylight left, she put on her bikini. She tied her sarong around her expanding waist, slipped into her sandals and headed for the beach. She made a place for herself on the sand, letting it and the sun warm her through and through. The baby stirred. Her belly quivered as it rolled inside her. She sat back on her elbows and watched in awe. She smiled and lay back. She turned her sunglasses towards the sky. Her body turned to putty as the sinking sun warmed her soul. Giving into the sand and salt air would be the healing balm she needed, and she let it work its magic on her.

  She had a banh mi on a crusty French roll she picked up at the nearby Asian market. She’d become a fan of the popular street food on a trip to Vietnam a few years ago. The pickled daikon radishes and carrots accented the grilled pork and jalapeños, which were cooled by the slices of cucumber. As she sat munching on it, her cell phone rang. She set her sandwich aside and snagged her phone from her bag.

  “Hello beautiful.” His voice sent a wave of relief through her. “What are you doing?”

  “Thank God, Rowan.” She sat back on her elbow. A silent prayer joined her relief. “I’ve been worried sick.”

  “Sorry, honey,” he said. “We had some car trouble outside of Tepito. We got stranded overnight. I couldn’t get to a phone. I didn’t want to call you on the satellite because I was afraid you might think it was an emergency.”

  “I would have, too.” She sat back up. “Where are you now?”

  “We spent the day driving and we just got settled in Mérida. We’re headed to Chichén Itzá tomorrow morning. The professor is meeting us at the Maya ruins,” he said.

  “I thought you were meeting him in Mexico City.” She crossed her legs.

  “After the car broke down, we missed our appointment,” Rowan said.

  “Other than car trouble are there any other issues I need to know about?”

  “Nope,” he said, maybe a bit too fast.

  “Really?”

  “Jean-René has been suffering from Montezuma’s revenge. That’s why we’re so late getting in. Other than that, everything is okay.” She could hear his smile.

  “Poor Jean-René.”
>
  “What are you doing?”

  She smiled to herself. “I’ll give you two guesses.”

  “Oh. So we’re playing games?” Rowan asked. “I only need one. It’s about 4:30 on a Saturday. You’re sitting on the beach, probably having bahn mi.”

  “Correct.”

  “Any luck with the house hunting?”

  “I found a beach-front bungalow for 5.3 million dollars on the Pacific Coast Highway today,” she said, picking a carrot off her sandwich, nibbling on it. “It was a fixer-upper, too.”

  “Ouch.”

  “Exactly,” she said. “Maybe we should consider relocating. The cost of a house here is just ridiculous.”

  “I’ll watch for houses here,” he mused.

  “Let me know what you find,” she retorted.

  “We most likely won’t have a cell signal, so we’ll be out of contact for the next few days. Please don’t worry if you don’t get a phone call any time soon, okay?”

  “No problem.” She swallowed hard.

  “But if I find a Maya temple with three bedrooms and two baths for under a million, I’ll call you,” he joked. “I’ll charge the sat phone tonight, if you should need to reach me.”

  “Be safe,” she said stoically.

  “I promise.”

  Chapter 3

  Lauren hadn’t expected to feel so lonely with Rowan gone. She spent the entire evening scrolling through the real estate listings trying to find a house. The demand for single-family homes in San Diego was so high that it was hard to find one. They sold almost as fast as they went on the market, and the demand ran the prices up. Bidding wars often erupted, which had been the case with the house they lost. She found herself day dreaming about a home on the Big Island.

  At three in the morning she was still looking at beach front cottages and mountain-side bungalows from Kona to Hilo. Houses were cheaper on the islands than they were in Southern California, but not by much. She could only imagine the cost of living on a remote island would be much higher, but it didn’t hurt to dream.

  Rowan was from Colorado, so when she ran out of options in Hawaii, she started searching around Estes Park. The passing thought of spending their summers in the mountains, hanging out with the local Bigfoot population—if they were still there—had a certain appeal.

  She wondered about The People often. But Tsul’Kalu had been silent for months. She had a nagging feeling that something was wrong. The bond they shared was unique and inexplicable. Normally, she could hear him in her head even when they were hundreds of miles apart. She’d grown accustomed to it. It was a comfort to have his counsel. His abrupt absence made her heart ache.

  She never quite figured out how many of the Bigfoot had fled from the volcano’s minor eruption. Besides Tsul’Kalu and the white female, she guessed there might have been at least thirty she had seen. How many others had been living in the lava tubes beneath Mt. St. Helens? Where had they all gone?

  It would help to have someone to talk to. She didn’t. She had told Rowan the truth, but Lauren was certain he did not believe her. Some days, she wondered if she’d been hallucinating. Maybe she’d had a mental break. Maybe it was the results of the head injury she had sustained. Still, she was convinced. She knew what she’d seen. She knew the truth. It was a truth she could never tell.

  It used to bother her that they rarely found anything. Especially when her brother, Michael, gave her grief about it. But it wasn’t like they weren’t trying.

  In all the years of doing the show, they had made some interesting discoveries. There were the possible Yeti tracks in Nepal. The unidentifiable DNA from the corpse in Peru was provocative even though all the tests had been inconclusive. They’d sent the results back to the government escort and there had been some discussion about having the team return to Peru to do additional research. They’d even nabbed a diamond thief and won praise from the FBI for their role. The US Forestry Department and FBI turned over the evidence against the surviving accomplice, but also recommended the DA dismiss the case, which she did. Instead, they found a nice place for Billy to go live in Tacoma. The half-way house helped him get a good job and last Lauren heard, he was doing quite well without his lousy cousin.

  Their episode on Bigfoot left everyone with more questions than answers — well everyone but Lauren. The Bigfoot had spoken to her, and only her. It was a secret she kept close to her heart. She still struggled with how to explain what she knew and her ability to understand the ancient All-language she couldn’t possibly know.

  The thought sent shivers down her spine, and she glanced up, realizing it was nearly morning. She yawned and put down her iPad. Lauren rose, stretching out her sore back. She walked out onto the balcony and watched the western sky lighten as the pink of dawn stretched to reach the sea. Rowan and his team would be getting up soon and would be on the road to Chichén Itzá. She went back inside and crawled into bed. She was fast asleep before she knew it.

  For the first time in months, she dreamt of Tsul’Kalu—finally. The shaman of the Ancient Tribe of Bigfoot had been kind and wise. Old beyond measure, he smelled of wood smoke, and beast, but his presence instilled a sense of peace. He sat across the fire from her, the light of it flickering in his dark eyes. He spoke with his hands, and a voice that filled her head, but not her ears.

  “Truth Seeker is troubled,” he said in the ancient All-Language. “Tell me, what worries you?”

  “You have been gone,” she said.

  “Only for a time,” he said. “I cannot be with you always, but I still watch over you.”

  “But I have missed you; I tried calling out to you.”

  “I am here when you need me. Now, tell me the real reason you are troubled, little one.”

  “The Protector has traveled far without me.” She called Rowan by the name Tsul’Kalu had given him. “I am troubled because I miss him, and I wish I could be with him.”

  “You have a greater purpose here,” the old Shaman said.

  “I’m carrying his child.” Her hand went to her swollen stomach.

  “It is good to have children,” he said. “It is not wrong to make a home and keep a hearth for the Protector and his offspring. There will be a day when you can all journey again together.”

  “I’m not one of these women who are content to bake and sew.” She ran a hand over her brow. “I want to see the world and discover its mysteries.”

  “This is the Truth Seeker I know and care for,” he said with a beatific smile. “Enjoy home while you can. Children grow and leave their parents. Mothers miss their sons and daughters, but this... this is a gift you must treasure.”

  “And I do,” she said. There was a long pause between them. “Tell me how it goes with the People?”

  “We are well.” He seemed to smile. “We think of our friends often and miss you. But now you must rest. There is much work for you to do, and you must do it well.”

  With a wave of his hand, the scene went dark, and her eyes opened. The sun was shining brightly in her west-facing window. She sat up slowly, glancing at the clock. It was nearly two in the afternoon.

  The ever-present urge to pee was the only thing that got her out of bed. She showered and braided her hair before getting dressed. Her stomach growled. She headed to the kitchen to find something to eat. There wasn’t much to be had but she made do with what she found, a grilled cheese sandwich and an apple. Sitting at the table, she made her shopping list as she ate. She had nothing planned for the day. A trip to the store and a drive along the coast was the best she could come up with, and that would be enough.

  * * *

  Bahati was already at her desk when Lauren rolled in, ten minutes late. Lauren was in a foul mood. “You look exhausted.” Bahati got up. She followed the boss into her office. Lauren tossed her purse in the corner. “Are you okay?” Bahati crossed her arms, tilted her head and furrowed her brow as Lauren sunk into her chair.

  “More or less.” She took a deep breath. “I didn’t sl
eep very well.”

  “What? Like a couple of hours?”

  “Yeah,” Lauren said. “All weekend.”

  “I guess it’s getting harder and harder to get comfortable, huh?”

  “Yeah.” Lauren took a deep breath, steeling herself. “It doesn’t help that Rowan isn’t here to snuggle with.”

  “TMI, Boss,” she said. “Can I get you some coffee?”

  “No,” Lauren said. “I’ll get some tea later. I was reading about the Maya’s blood sacrifice rituals last night. I want to dig into that some more.”

  “What’d you find out?” Bahati sat down across from her.

  “Well, Maya society was sharply divided between the elite and commoners. As population increased over time, various sectors of society became increasingly specialized. That prompted the political climate to become increasingly complex,” Lauren explained. “At the core of Maya religious practice was ancestor worship. They would pray to their lost kin to act as a go-between for their living descendants in dealings with the denizens of the supernatural realm. Blood was viewed as a potent source of nourishment for the Maya deities. The sacrifice of a living creature was a powerful blood offering. By extension, the sacrifice of a human life was the ultimate offering of blood to the gods. You can imagine, one of the most important Maya rituals culminated in human sacrifice.”

  “Creepy,” Bahati said.

  “Generally, only high-status prisoners of war were sacrificed. Low-status captives were used for slave labor.”

  Lauren skimmed the article. “In the early days of their culture, decapitation was the standard method of sacrifice, but later on, the heart was ripped from the victim while still alive.”

  “Gross,” Bahati cringed. “I knew about the beheading but not the heart. I mean that’s some serious Indiana Jones stuff right there.”

  “I don’t think I’d care for either.” Lauren ignored the reference to Rowan’s favorite movie. “Look at some of this artwork.” She motioned Bahati over. “The victims were often tortured, beaten, scalped, burnt or disemboweled.”