The Time of The Cat 38
Juan
I was correct, for once. When we’d stumbled our way out of the structure, I could see the main pyramid, El Castillo, a few hundred yards over to one side. Looking back on the building we’d exited, I realized it was the Caracol or Tower of the Snail. It was an unusual structure since it was spiral in shape rather than the more standard, pyramidal form.
I knew that Chichen Itza is a large pre-Columbian city built by the Maya people of the Post Classic period. The archaeological site is located in the municipality of Tinum, in the Mexican state of Yucatán. I’d been there previously, in another life, almost. It was when I was a kid and my parents took me to Cozumel on a dive trip.
We’d taken a couple of days to visit the site. I remember being impressed by all of the skulls carved on the stonewalls. The guide had said they represented people killed in battle. It made me think that the Mayans were pretty bloodthirsty. I also remembered how hot and humid it was. That hadn’t changed. The jungle was still there and I could hear the screech of parrots and the sounds of other birds in the trees surrounding us.
Liz and I stood in the hot shade, occasionally batting at the insects that were attracted to us. The humidity was so high, it was like we were underwater. That was compounded by the temperature, which was easily over one hundred degrees Fahrenheit. Liz tried to look like a tourist while I unfolded the map.
A brief study convinced us that the only way out was through the transporter we’d come in on. One of the two buttons returned us to the Carlsbad location, but the other went to a location in Nebraska. We wanted the Carlsbad location, obviously. Nebraska didn’t seem to have any advantage.
We knew that from Carlsbad we had arrived in Chichen Itza rather than Estes Park. Just to make sure of our understanding, we crosschecked the original map with the hand-drawn one and both agreed. The other link from Carlsbad definitely went to Estes Park. Once again we’d been unlucky and ended up at a destination that was forcing us to backtrack.
Liz observed, “You know it would be really convenient if we could read their script. That way we wouldn’t have to keep guessing about destinations.”
“Well, let me know if you find a Rosetta Stone,” I retorted. “There’s just no way... No, wait! Look at the Estes connections – they do have the same final squiggle marked beside each of them. I’m willing to bet that could be the clue.”
I hastily looked at the Wichita location and the Loveland location on the original map. The squiggle was on both, although it wasn’t really necessary because the destination could be also seen from the connecting line. I guess the mapmaker felt that he was being complete when he double-marked each transmitter link. It was irritating; if we’d been able to read the whole message by each box, it might have said more than just the destination, but we couldn’t read it, and speculating wasn’t worthwhile.
“Come on, let’s go back inside and check the buttons to see if they have the same mark,” she was eager to get going.
I remembered that some, but not all of the buttons that I’d seen were marked. It wasn’t like the Pugs had any sense of standardization. Sometimes their lack of systematic organization made no sense, however, it did seem to give us an advantage. If we worked on the problem logically, we might keep ahead of them. I didn’t know if they operated more or less randomly, had a penchant for allowing chance to intervene in their affairs, or used some form of alien logic that only made sense to them. It was a continual puzzle that bothered me. How could they be so dominant across numerous solar systems without systematic thinking?
We had been gathering up and resettling our kit while I thought. Jefferson was sitting at Liz’s feet. He’d shown no interest in exploring or running off. It was as if he knew we’d be leaving quickly and wanted to be sure to stick close to us.
I turned to Liz and helped her arrange the eraser gun strap across her shoulder. It was a little inconvenient to carry since the shape was not quite what humans would have designed. I finished and said, “OK. We’re ready.”
She was looking around at the ruins in the distance with apparent interest and replied, “This place looks amazing! I’d like to come back someday and take my time to see it all.”
A voice came from behind us, “That’s what many people do, Senorita.”
We turned to see an impeccably dressed man standing there. He was shorter than me, but he had a brilliant smile that carried a considerable amount of presence.
“You realize that you’re in an area where tourists aren’t supposed to go? The archaeologists are studying this part right now and don’t want any disturbance,” he explained.
“Well, we, ah... That is...,” I fumbled for a suitable and convincing explanation.
“We’re trailing some evil creatures and we must go back into the building,” Liz interjected. She’d obviously decided that the direct approach was best. I put the map away, so my hands would be free if I needed to move rapidly.
“Ah!” he exclaimed. “I, too, have an interest similar to yours. Both my fiancee and my sister are archaeologists and both have disappeared. They’ve been missing for nearly a week now. I’m not supposed to be here either, but I’ve narrowed my search to this part of the ruins.”
We relaxed and explained a little bit about the Pugs. As we talked I could see his expression become grim. He frowned, “You will, therefore, please, allow me to accompany you. I must rescue them or assure myself they are beyond succor.”
“This has been very dangerous so far. They’ve been doing their best to kill us,” I warned him.
“I have nothing to live for now that my fiancee is missing,” he assured me.
“Do you have any combat skills? Have you been in the military?” I wanted to know if he would be an asset.
“I am a black belt in Brazilian Judo and, while I’m not ex-military, I can shoot well. Regardless of my qualifications, you must either take me or kill me, because I will not accept you leaving me here.” He was resolute and it showed in his face.
The discussion continued for a little longer. He agreed to follow orders from either of us and we divided up the load in order to lighten the weight that Liz was carrying. I gave him my .45 and told him that we’d get him a splinter gun at the first possible opportunity.
We were finally ready and entered the ruin. Only then did we get down to the basic social amenities.
“I’m Liz and this is Dec,” my beautiful companion performed introductions as we walked through the columns. “This is our cat and advance-warning, alien detector. His name is Jefferson.”
“I am charmed to meet you all. My name is...” he paused, thinking. “But, let me shorten it to just the two names that would be more common in your culture. I’m Juan Cruz. My ancestors are both Mayan and Spanish and both parts are calling out for vengeance upon those who have taken my dear ones. You see, I’d first thought that their disappearance was related to the drugs.”
“Drugs? You mean cocaine?” I asked.
“Si, cocaine. The cartels have been bringing a lot of shipments in here and from this point, no one knows where it goes. My fiancee told me that she had been threatened not to say anything and to leave the deliverymen alone. Whenever they came, she would busy herself with paperwork and stay away from this tower. Now...” He paused since we had arrived at the transporter.
Juan seemed puzzled. “I’ve never seen this here before.” He shook his head, “Is this where the cocaine could have gone?”
“They may have only just installed the transporter, but some of the things seem to have the ability to come and go or perhaps simply camouflage themselves,” I explained as we entered through the portal.
Juan looked down and then stiffened to attention as he noticed a small bit of plastic in the corner. He bent and picked it up to show me that it had a distinctive mark. “This is the mark that the drug-lord places on all of his packages.”
I looked at Liz and she nodded her head, “This looks like a link to the drugs that have been coming into New York. The quantity and quality are enough to destabilize the market and law enforcement is being pushed to the max to try and counter the flow. It’s not something I was directly involved in, though.”
“Just another thing we have to thank our alien friends for,” I said, fondling the handle of my splinter gun.
Liz had been examining the two buttons and turned to me with a disappointed look. “The stupid Pugs! Neither of these two buttons is marked at all.”
“We’ll just have to guess again,” I sighed. “If we end up in Carlsbad in the restroom, we’ve got a problem with a dead body and someone may have found it by now. The good news is, we’ll recognize the janitor's closet and we can push the second button and go directly to Estes.”
She interrupted me with distress in her voice, “I don’t remember which I hit to bring us here. What if those two aren’t marked also?”
“No, wait! You labeled that one on the map,” I remembered.
“No I didn’t,” she cried. “You grabbed me right then and I forgot to actually write it down.”
I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Alright, let’s see. If we end up in the restroom closet, we hit a button and we’ll either come back here or go to Estes. If we come back here, we go back to Carlsbad and hit the other button. If we don’t end up in the closet, we’ll most likely be somewhere in Nebraska and then we can come back here and try the other button. Does that sum it up?”
She nodded. Juan simply looked at each of us in turn with his eyes wide. I guess that it was a bit much for him to suddenly try to come up to speed. His confusion wasn’t helped by the fact that neither of us was a good teacher, being about as confused by the transporter system as he was, despite our traveling experience.
“Wait,” she said. “Now that there are three of us, let’s prepare a little better.”
I agreed and traded Juan my splinter-gun for the Sig, holstered it, and then took the anti-matter weapon from Liz’s shoulder. I positioned myself between them, as Liz briefed Juan on how to activate the splinter-gun, cautioning him on how deadly the splinters were.
“OK. Now, which one are you going to push?” I asked her.
She hovered her finger over the two and waved it back and forth, then more or less randomly pushed the left button. The door slid shut and the disorientation came and passed quickly. Juan looked definitely pale.
“Is it always the case that you feel dizzy when these things operate?” he asked.
I nodded and then the destination door popped open. We weren’t in the janitor closet in Carlsbad.