On Tenterhooks (46 page)

Once they were all together again,
they passed the bus,
and
Steve noticed that it was still devoid of any passengers
.
For just one fleeting moment, he had an urge to grab the whole group and shove them back on the bus and force them to go all the way Chetumal, as if that would resolve their demonic predicament. He gritted his teeth and paced them into the parking lot.

“Shotgun!” called Abby
,
as they closed the trunk
,
now full with luggage and
groceries.

No one argued
.
Steve handed Martin the keys and gave Abby the complimentary map that came with the rental. He climbed in
to
the cramped back seat with
Veronica
. Martin started the car
and pulled it up to the exit of the parking lot
.
Abby consulted her notes for Biker’s instructions
,
and then she unfolded the map.

“Around the circle and take that road right past where the tour bus is
.
Drive
to the first
crossroad
, which
should be Federal Highway 307
,
and it’ll take us right out of town
toward
Majahual.”

Martin followed Abby’s instructions
, and once
again they were traveling through the green lowlands of Mexico’s east coast.
Traffic was light
,
and the early afternoon sun radiated waves off the blacktop ahead of them.

Conversation was light and airy, a stark contrast to the apprehension that grew as they closed in on their destination. Abby spent her time reading and re-reading her notes. She frequently consulted the map, despite the fact that the road was straight
for
50
miles
in front
of
them
.

Steve was content to watch the countryside roll by
.
Lush rolling hills
in the distance,
dotted with cattle and extensive lengths of undeveloped land, acre after acre
.
He was thankful for a chance to take the back seat
.
It was
downtime before what felt like
must inevitably be
the final leg of their journey
.
Their destination was in sight
,
but what would happen when they got there was a game of high-stakes guesswork that gnawed his gut like a rat on
a rotting radish
.

Almost an hour out of town,
the road forked and they exited the highway onto a smaller road marked with a
road sign
for Majahual
.
M
oments later,
Abby announced the
second and final turn of the journey.

“There it is
.
L
ook!”

The land was so flat and the greenery so low to the ground that they saw the large rock outcropping Biker had instructed them to find two miles
before they reached it
.
It stood out like a giant brown
fist
breaking
through the skin
of
the earth
.
As they reached it, they saw the non-descript dirt road across
the way
.
There was no sign, but they knew that they were in the right place. The road around them was empty
,
and Martin made the quick turn to hide their
trail
.

As they traveled down the dirt road, small foothills began to do
t
the landscape around them
.
The scrub trees and brush closed in on the road
,
and it would have been hard to pass an oncoming car. But the likelihood of seeing another vehicle seemed remo
te
.
The road itself was overgrown
. T
he tires and bumpers
flapped
through giant leaves and weeds
, and
l
arge puddles, ruts and an occasional branch or stone made it obvious that they were getting more desolate with each passing minute
.
Martin
had to take it slow around the blind corners
,
and
they all
watch
ed
for
obstacles
.

After traveling for about 40 minutes, they came to the “campsite” Biker told them about
.
It was more a dead-end to the road than what Steve had envisioned as a
campsite
.
There were no signs, nothing man-made
.
With a glance around, he didn’t even see any litter
.
Martin stopped the car and they got out and stretched
.
This was remote
.
There were no signs of the highway, no sounds of industry
.
The place
smelled of
flowers, trees,
and
moisture
.
Birds and bugs chorused in the distance
.
A slight wind bent the small branches of the nearby foliage
.
All in all, it
was peaceful and inviting.

The group spread out and wandered the small circle.

“I found the trail!” said Abby
.
“It’s here
—
looks a little overgrown.”

The others joined her at the edge of the clearing
.
They saw a small, winding and overgrown path.

“Good,” said Steve. “Now we
just gotta ditch the car
.
”

“Yeah,” said Martin
.
“I think I saw a good spot across the way there.”

“Al
l
right,” said Steve
.
“
Veronica
, Abby, why don’t you guys scout this trail a bit and make sure it leads somewhere
.
I’ll pile our bags up here
,
while Martin hides the car.”

“Do you think that’s a good idea?” asked
Veronica
.

Steve scanned the clearing.

“Yeah, I think we’re fine
.
We’re definitely alone
.
Besides, Biker said he wouldn’t drop the defense
s
until tonight
.
We
’ve
got several more hours,” he said, looking at his watch.
“
And
, Biker was pretty confident that Preacher skulked away yesterday
.
I think we’re clear for a little while at least.”

Veronica
nodded. Abby was already several steps down the path
,
waiting for
Veronica
to catch up.
The men went back
to the car
,
Martin unlocked the trunk
and
Steve unloaded the bags onto the ground
.  Then he watched Martin
maneuver the car
into a single small opening in the heavy brush
.
“Great spot,”
h
e remarked to himself.
Although the car was less than 10 feet from the clearing, it was almost impossible to see.

That morning they ha
d each packed a small bag o
f extra clothes and necessities to take to the cabin
.
They left everything else in the car.
Steve took the small bags and as many grocery bags as he could carry across the clearing to the path’s entrance.
Martin picked up the rest of the bags and joined him
,
as Abby and
Veronica
returned
from their cautionary examination of
the path
.

“It looks good,” said
Veronica
.
“No sign of anybody
.
It goes somewhere, but I don’t think it’s been used in a long time.”

“Good,” said Steve. “That’s what we’re looking for.”

The
y
distributed the
bags
for the hike and left the clearing behind them
.
Their car and the clearing disappeared
,
as they climbed through the thick
underbrush
.
The path was narrow, too narrow in most places for walking in anything other than single file
.
Steve took the lead, with
Veronica
behind
him
.
Abby was next
,
and Martin
brought
up the rear
.
Although it was a pathway, it was not easy going
.
Long grass hid sharp stones and jutting roots
.
The earth dipped in places and rose up in small hills
.
This
was no casual stroll
.
The mid-afternoon heat was bearing down hard
,
and the low trees offered little to no shade.
As they pressed on, Steve was glad th
at
Veronica
had thought to bring some bottled water with them
.

“You know,” called Martin from the back
,
“
i
sn’t this like some kind of marathon or something?  I mean, we’ve traveled in one day by boat, bus, car
. . .
and now foot!”

“
Just need a
train!” said
Veronica
.

“Or a plane,” said Steve.

“A
t
this point, I’d just settle for a nice bench!”
Martin
called back.

“Yeah, good call Martin,” said Steve
.
“No bench here, but let’s take five.”

He dropped his bags and his backpack on the ground and settled in to take a breather
.
The others joined him.

“Woo!” said Martin, easing himself
onto a small boulder,
rubbing the small of his back. “It is
hot
!  How long’ve we been walking anyway?”

“A little over an hour,” said
Veronica
.

“And we’re still looking for the campo tree or whatever it’s called?”

“Campechy, yes,” said
Veronica
. “It’s taller than these, with small yellow
flowers .
.
. when
it’s in bloom.”

“Well is it in bloom now?” asked Steve
.

“What the hell do I look like, an arborist?” asked
Veronica
.

“No,” Steve replied
immediately
. “You look
—and sound—
like a stereotypical hot-tempered New Yorker who doesn’t want to be here.”

“Well
,
al
l
right
,
then
.
”

“You know, if this thing isn’t in bloom,” said Martin
,
“
how
are we gonna find that next path he told us to look for?”

“It’s there!” squealed Abby, taking her earbuds out
.
“Look!”