Burial Ground

VIII

1:02 p.m.

Leo's heart pounded so hard it felt as though it might break through his chest. Sure, a good measure of it was due to his age and the exertion at the high altitude, but the better part of it was anticipation of what was to come. They were so close now. The stream they now crossed on a series of staggered boulders wasn't on their LandSat map; however, by extrapolating its course farther to the southwest, it appeared as a hazy indentation beside one of the sections of data loss at the edge. Somewhere on the face of the mountain that reared up into the clouds directly in front of him was the point where the satellite magnetometer indicated the presence of an enormous vein of gold ore.

Soon, God willing, he would learn the truth about his son's death.

He needed to know. The uncertainty was a cancer eating him alive from the inside out.

With each step, they drew nearer a fortune in gold, and yet all he could focus on was what it had cost him. He remembered reading the parable of Midas to a four year-old Hunter in a candlelit tent in Honduras. Never in a million years would he have thought it would prove prophetic.

Colton had been unusually quiet all morning. At first, Leo had assumed that it was the cowardly desertion of one of his men that had him in a dour mood, but they had worked together long enough for him to know better. He had never seen Colton like this. There was definitely something of a much direr nature consuming him.

He hopped from one slick rock to another. The rain bludgeoned him, attempting to drive him down into the racing stream and over the edge. Beyond the cliff to his right, he could see only clouds through the rain. The rumble of the falls echoed like a stadium filled with angry spectators shouting for blood. He slipped on the wet boulder and thrust his foot down into the cold water, but managed to scrabble back on top of it and lunge to the next.

When he reached the far bank, he doubled over, hands on his knees, and attempted to catch his breath while the others crossed the rapids. Colton paced beside him, unfazed by the effort. When Leo looked up, their eyes met momentarily before Colton averted his stare.

With a great sigh, Leo stretched his back and turned toward the jungle that covered the steep hillside to the west. A wall of greenery swallowed the thin path and reached upward into the ceiling of churning clouds.

He glanced over his shoulder at Colton.

"Walk with me."

Colton fell hesitantly into measured stride beside him as they scaled the sloppy bank and stepped under the protective canopy, out of the worst of the rain. Vines sagged across the trail and branches grabbed at them from either side, but they were able to duck and sidle their way through. Once Leo was confident they were out of earshot and that the crunching sounds of their passage would mask their words, he finally spoke.

"Give it to me straight."

Colton crashed through the underbrush behind him. He made no immediate reply.

"How long have we been working together?" Leo asked. He slowed to skirt a slender green viper dangling from a branch in imitation of a vine.

"Long time," Colton said. Leo heard the whistle of a machete and knew the snake was no more.

"Do you remember the first time? That Mayan ruin in Guatemala?"

"Of course. We hauled out enough gold, jade, and artifacts to fill the cargo hold of a Handymax bulk carrier."

"And we argued over every little logistical matter. By the time we set sail, I could have strangled you."

Colton chuckled.

"But I've never known you to hold out on me," Leo said. "Until now."

They stumbled up the steep, muddy path. A trickle of water carved a trench in the middle. Leo had to use his hands to haul himself over a snarl of shoulder-high roots. Colton dropped down on the other side behind him. Leo turned and looked him directly in the eyes.

"I'm not holding out on you," Colton finally said after a long, uncomfortable silence.

"You can't bullshit a bullshitter," Leo said. He offered a tired smile.

Colton opened his mouth as if he were about to say something, then closed it again. He sighed. Leo noticed the man's rigid posture, how his right hand never strayed far from the sidearm in the holster beneath his left arm. His gaze darted from one side of the trail to the other. Finally, he glanced back toward the empty path, and spoke in little more than a whisper.

"Rippeth didn't desert us. I found what was left of him in the forest."

Leo wished the news surprised him. Perhaps this wasn't exactly what he had expected, but with the way they had prematurely broken camp in such a hurry and Colton's intensity throughout the morning, he had suspected something serious. He braced himself for the answer to the question he had to ask.

"What do you mean, 'what was left of him'?"

"He'd been ripped apart." Colton didn't blink when he spoke. His lips remained tight over his teeth. "There was blood everywhere. All over the ferns and the trees, dripping from the leaves overhead. Broken bones were scattered around the path, still wet, flesh gone, except for patches of skin here and there."

"Are you sure it was him?"

"I recognized his backpack and rifle."

"You didn't see his face?"

"I didn't go looking for it."

"And you haven't shared this with any of the others?"

Colton's stare grew hard. Leo matched it, and within read his answer.

"Good. Not a word to anyone until we figure out what happened. This doesn't change anything. We're still several days' travel from the nearest town. Panic will only work against us." Colton nodded his agreement. "So who do you think ambushed him? The natives?"

"There's no way the natives could have inflicted that kind of damage. Whatever attacked him was some kind of animal, and there had to have been several of them. His remains were nearly identical to those of the jaguar we found. And the alpacas that had been tied to that tree. Whatever they were being fed to killed Rippeth and consumed him. Maybe an eighth of a mile from where the rest of us were asleep in our tents."

"He obviously armed himself beforehand. For Christ's sake, he had an automatic rifle and a pair of grenades."

"But he never got the chance to use them. The rifle was just laying there on the ground."

"We need to decide exactly how we intend to handle---"

Footsteps crunched on the other side of the tangle of roots. Leo fell silent.

Galen appeared down the trail, swatting at the branches in his way. His look of determination under the hood of his poncho was almost comical. Lines of water poured from the plastic. He hitched his pants when he saw them and climbed over the roots.

"We need to talk," he said as he dropped down between them. He slipped in the mud and somehow managed to catch himself before he fell.

"Now isn't the best time, Dr. Russell," Colton said.

"This can't wait."

Leo again met Colton's stare and gave a single nod. They would continue their conversation later. The portly ornithologist had his panties in a bunch. And knowing Galen, it had probably taken him several hours to work up the courage to confront them with such conviction.

"Is there a problem?" Leo asked.

"I know what killed those alpacas back by the camp," Galen blurted. "And if I'm correct, we need to head back to safety right now."

Leo caught Colton's glance.

Galen held up two feathers, one in each hand.

"Do you remember that golden skull back in the burial chamber?"