2040 Revelations (35 page)

‘
Won’t
let me?’ Sarah said, each word loaded with defiant incredulity.

Jason couldn’t help but notice the tone of the discussion had taken an ominous turn. ‘Look, it won’t hurt, will it, Trish? There’s loads more of these things and what we’re discovering is almost out of this world. I’m sure we can dig out the stone and then replace it again, right, Sarah?’ he said, almost pleadingly.

Sarah didn’t say anything as she locked eyes with her friend.

‘Fine, take her side as usual!’ Trish shouted at him. ‘I’m having no part of this.’ She switched her light off and walked back to camp without another word.

‘I don’t always take your side, do I?’ Jason said, watching Trish storm off.

Sarah ignored him. ‘Put your light back on here, will you?’ She collected the pick, drew it back, and then sent a shuddering blow thumping into the stone carving.

This time a large chunk fell away at her feet.

More strikes rained in as she went to work, breaking into the interior of the statue.

‘I don’t think we’ll be able to repair that,’ Jason said looking at the mess on the ground.

Sarah didn’t hear him as she’d swung once more; this time a metallic impact was heard as the pick end struck a different type of material. Breathing hard now, she swapped over to a flat-ended mallet, which she used to beat the area at varying intensities for a few more minutes until most of the metal was revealed. She then discarded that tool and took up a hammer and chisel.

As dusk turned to night, Sarah finally managed to pry out the object she’d seen revealed on the scanner. With care she pulled it clear, limestone dust and debris falling off its surface as it came. Jason brought the light in nearer so they could get a better look.

Measuring just under a foot wide and nearly the same in height, it felt quite heavy as Sarah hefted it. The metal, as that’s clearly what it was, had a matte, almost beaten, look. Its thickness was about the width of Sarah’s finger, which accounted for its weight. She stroked its coarse un-worked surface, before turning it over to inspect the smooth reverse which had been etched with fine lines. Tilting it, indistinct markings glinted in the torchlight. No circle or letter-like symbols adorned it; however, dusting it off further revealed hieroglyphs surrounding a single line.

‘This isn’t like the other things we’ve found,’ Jason said at last.

‘No,’ – Sarah continued examining it – ‘it’s a Mayan design, although I don’t think I’ve heard of anything like this being found before, have you?’

Jason shook his head.

‘I felt sure it was going to be something like our other finds,’ she said, disheartened. 

‘Me too; but perhaps it’s still linked to them in some way. The symbols on this statue and this metal plate must be connected somehow; it can’t be coincidence, surely.’

‘Can you read it?’ Sarah said, suddenly hopeful.

‘No, but Trish should be able to.’

Sarah sighed. ‘That’s if she’s still talking to me.’

It soon became apparent that Trish wasn’t talking to either of them, although after many apologies and much pleading she eventually came around.

‘Give it here, then,’ she said irritably, holding out a hand.

Sarah passed the metal plate to her and, under the powerful glow of a lamp, Trish angled the object so she could read the glyphs.

The seconds ticked by as she analysed it and Sarah felt her impatience grow.

‘I’m not an expert in these by any means,’ Trish told them.

‘Just tell us what you can,’ Sarah said.

Trish assessed it for a while longer and then laid a finger near the start of the line. ‘These hieroglyphs stand for Oxwitik, which is probably what the Maya called Copán. These ones here,’ – she pointed further along the line – ‘are the place name for Holtún, the lost city discovered late in the twentieth century in Guatemala. These I’m not so sure about.’ She indicated inscriptions higher up. ‘But I think one might be El Zotz, another Mayan city. It’s some kind of map, yet operating in a linear format rather than a typical two dimensional one. At the end of the line there is something quite interesting. These glyphs appear to represent the words
large peoples
or perhaps a better translation would be—’

‘Giants,’ Sarah said in hushed excitement.

Trish looked down at the mysterious relic which gleamed in the half-light. ‘Yes,’ she said, unable to contain her wonder, ‘giants.’

Chapter Twenty

A bright new glistening morning greeted Sarah the next day, and while their search hadn’t found any primary evidence of Homo gigantis, the metal plate with its obscure reference to giants was perhaps the next best thing. It also posed a number of interesting questions, both about ancient human civilisation and that of Homo gigantis. With modern day technology moving archaeology into a new golden age, ground-breaking discoveries were being made across the world in many fields. Sarah’s own breakthrough in the last few weeks, however, might prove to be the greatest in human history.

She inhaled a deep breath of fresh mountain air, soaking in the mystical vision that was the Copán Ruins at dawn. Rays of sunlight glittered on tiny water droplets that had accumulated on surfaces overnight, while sluggish mists slowly eddied around the Mayan buildings and caressed the statues, stelae and carvings that adorned and surrounded them.

It had been decided the previous night that further exploration of the site would prove fruitless, given the tools and manpower available to them and not forgetting that they didn’t even have permission to be there in the first place. No, it would be wise to move on to pastures new and to determine the location at the end of the map depicted on the metal Mayan tablet. The underground chamber that lay so tantalisingly close would have to be recorded and investigated at a later date through proper channels.

They had attempted to repair the stela that Sarah had literally defaced, but without the expertise of a stonemason it had been an impossible task. Instead, they’d put the interior debris into one box and the pieces containing the artistic detail in another. Sarah was confident the surface of the carving could be restored to its former glory, although she had to admit it would be a painstaking job. Using her computer, Trish had found the location of the visitor centre for the ruins, due north of their camp and a short walk away, and she’d personally taken the boxes to the building and deposited them outside the main entrance, along with a note of apology.

With reparations complete, their attention returned to the mysterious final location on the metal tablet, but before they could find it they needed to translate all the hieroglyphs. Trish had suggested they visit the renowned Mayan university in San Benito, Guatemala; however, after some research on her computer, they deduced that no rail lines ran north across the Honduran-Guatemalan border. Traffic crossings had been blocked by the Guatemalan government to prevent the Honduran rebels entering their territory, and taking a boat ride from the Honduran Atlantic coast to enter Guatemala was also restricted, by coastguards from both nations carrying out GMRC control orders.

That left them with one of two options: travel on foot for five miles across unforgiving mountainous jungle terrain and then catch some form of transport within Guatemala’s borders to cover the extra two hundred miles to San Benito – a journey they simply weren’t geared to tackle – or alternatively, take a plane. The choice was an easy one. Trish had quickly found that Santa Rosa de Copán, where they were staying, had an airport. Although it resembled a field more than anything else it suited their needs, as all they wanted was a small plane to take them across the border and on to San Benito and the university.

With a plan in place, they stowed their kit and made their way back to the bus stop they’d arrived at a few days earlier; making sure to stay back from the road itself in order to hide their presence from any rebel patrols. As they waited for their transport a handful of hours came and went, and they spent their time chatting and sitting in quiet contemplation until Javier arrived in his bus. No local townsfolk waited to be picked up, but quite a few disembarked when the coach finally came to a halt nearby.

‘Did you find what you were looking for?’ Javier asked them when they boarded.

‘We did,’ Sarah said, ‘but we weren’t able to get to it. We’ll have to come back another time, I think.’

‘That’s a pity,’ he said with genuine sympathy.

‘You live in such a beautiful place, Javier, you’re very lucky,’ Trish said, a tad sycophantically; most likely out of guilt that they’d just defaced a priceless local monument, Sarah assumed, her own shame lying heavily upon her.

He smiled. ‘Thank you. It is nice, but like anything you get used to it and if you’ve grown up with it you know no difference. It is home, though, and I try to appreciate its good points over the bad.’

Once they got back to the town they quickly packed up their belongings, paid their dues, and asked Javier if he could take them to the airport. After boarding the bus once more, a short five minute journey to the airstrip had the three explorers ready for the next leg. They thanked Javier once again, gave him something extra for his troubles despite his protestations, and went into the small airport office to arrange a flight.

Due to the rebels not enforcing some GMRC protocols, air services were still operating, and even flights across the border were available, albeit for a much greater fee.

After Sarah had handed over the money, the universally accepted U.S. dollar, she realised her finances had finally run short.

‘We’ve got a serious cash flow problem, guys. We’ll need to get some more in San Benito.’

‘Do they have a British Embassy there?’ Jason asked her.

‘I doubt it, but they should have a local office, and they’ll hopefully be able to see us right until we reach a bigger city.’

The plane they waited for – a tiny single propellered craft – was due to depart in an hour. As the time neared they organised themselves and their baggage, putting most of it onto a couple of trolleys. All was calm until a speeding car approached outside the departure room. They heard it skid to a stop on the loose gravel and moments later Javier burst in, a look of desperation on his face.

‘You must leave right now!’ he shouted at them.

‘We were just going to get onto the plane,’ Jason said in surprise, ‘what’s the rush?’

‘
Los rebeldes están llegando
!’ he yelled, lapsing into his native tongue.

They looked at him blankly.

‘The rebels,’ he said, ‘they’re coming!’

‘Coming for who – us?’ Trish said.

‘
Si, si!
They found the statue you smashed. They are coming! You must go, NOW!’

‘Jesus Christ!’ Jason looked like he was going to be sick.

‘I told you we shouldn’t have touched it,’ Trish wailed.

‘Now’s not the time!’ Sarah said, as they grabbed their things and rammed them in the trolleys.

Rushing outside, all three ran as fast as possible towards their plane, the trolleys bouncing and rattling over the uneven grass. At the front of the craft the pilot was running some final checks.

‘Start the plane!’ Jason shouted at the man as they drew closer.

Startled the pilot looked up to see the stampeding wild-eyed foreigners bearing down on him. ‘We depart in five minutes, waiting for clearance, okay?’ he said, nonplussed at their frenetic state.

‘No time for that,’ Jason said, as they careered to a halt next to the plane, ‘we have to go right now!’

‘
Peligro, la milicia
!’ Trish screamed at him as she threw their belongings into the plane.

Sarah heard a noise behind them; she looked back in horror to see in the distance three militia-laden pickup trucks tearing down the road towards the airport.

‘Hurry up!’ she said.

‘Start the damn plane!!’ Jason bellowed at the pilot.

Eyes widening at the sight of the rebels’ vehicles, comprehension dawned and he traced the lines of a cross on his chest, swore, and ran to the front of his plane. With a couple of powerful pulls he got the propeller going. Jason and Trish scrambled into the plane alongside their gear and slammed the door shut. The pilot ran to his side and Sarah to hers, both jumping in.

Sarah looked back. The cars were onto the airstrip, now, and had stopped at the buildings. Armed men swarmed inside.

The small plane was positioned at the correct end of the landing strip for take-off, and the pilot had hardly lined it up when the rebels reappeared outside. Sarah watched as one of the men pointed in their direction. Guns were raised and shots fired into the air.

‘I think I’m going to throw up,’ Trish said, as fear increased its grip and squeezed.

‘I think they want us to stop, no?’ the pilot said, clearly terrified. The plane, which had been accelerating, slowed as his hand dropped back on the throttle.

‘That’s not an option.’ Sarah grabbed his hand in a vice-like grip and whacked the lever full ahead. The plane’s faltering engine note surged into a high-pitched whine. Some of the militia had seen that they weren’t stopping. Two vehicles cut across to block their escape. The plane remained glued to the runway as it struggled to get airborne and Trish cried out as the cars slid to a halt in their path. The aircraft, its speed, now too great for it to stop, ploughed onwards. The flight yoke inched backwards as the pilot wrestled with it. Cars loomed large before them. The rebels dived to safety on either side just as the aircraft lifted from the ground. Sarah shut her eyes tight, waiting for the inevitable impact. Shouts and cries of fear came from inside and out. Two loud bangs reverberated through the fuselage and then … nothing.

Sarah cracked open an eye; they were airborne, soaring into the sky above! Looking back she saw the rebels getting up off the ground and looking after them as they flew off into the distance. She half-expected to see their landing gear embedded in the cars, but the sound must have been the tyres impacting on the vehicles’ rooves as they scraped over them. She let out a deep sigh. Jason whooped in joy and Trish had her head in her hands.