Finally, after what felt like several hours, they caught up with the others. They had come to a dead stop at a clearing in the brush.
When Andy saw what lay in front of them, all thoughts about spies and loyalty and betrayal fled his mind, and a sudden rush of terrible, crippling dread washed over him.
The gigantic skeleton was about thirty feet tall. Its jaws were open and its teeth were bared in a hungry, vicious smile. Fortunately, it was made of stone. But the mere sight of such a forbidding statue made Andy’s knees turn to water.
This can’t be good.
“Well, my friends, it looks like we’ve arrived at the location mentioned in the ancient manuscript Cedric discovered. Want to take it from here, Ced?” said Rusty.
Cedric, now clothed in a safari outfit and wearing his usual tribal mask, nodded. “Righto! The manuscript Ned and I discovered was hidden in a tomb that once held an important artifact—the Spear of Quetzalcoatl. We retrieved the spear long ago, but it wasn’t until recently that we thought to look inside the shaft of the spear itself for clues. It turned out to be hollow, and contained clues to the Golden Paw. According to the legend on the manuscript, the great king Quetzal-Ra was so worried about someone finding the Golden Paw that he created an elaborate security system to protect it. If what I’ve read is true, only he knew how to safely navigate the obstacles that would keep thieves away from the temple in which it’s hidden.
“The tunnel in front of us is supposed to lead to the temple. Its name can be roughly translated as the ‘Death Maze.’ There are few records of people trying to navigate it, as almost none lived to tell the tale. Very few explorers that have gone inside have ever returned, and some say that the maze itself is haunted with their spirits.”
He glanced up at the huge skeleton. “The statue placed in front of the cave entrance shows us that we’ve found the right location. It’s meant to serve as a warning not to proceed.”
Bartlemore, who had been walking behind the group, stepped forward, beaming his usual annoying smile. “Make sure you get all this, Charlie. Keep rolling!” he said over his shoulder. “We’re going to make a million on this, mark my words.”
Rusty scowled at Bartlemore. It was a look of such loathing and hatred that it seemed to Andy that, had it been able to, Rusty’s gaze would have killed Bartlemore on the spot.
Charlie gave Bartlemore a thumbs-up and kept turning the crank on the side of his camera, as if he were advancing the film inside. “Got it, J.B.”
Andy couldn’t help feeling uneasy as he watched Charlie point the camera at Rusty. Knowing that there wasn’t any film inside, but rather a dangerous weapon, made him look at the entire situation differently. The conflicting emotions about whether or not he should tell Rusty about its being a weapon rose again. His indecision, coupled with discomfort at the giant skeleton rising in front of him, made his stomach lurch.
“Are you all right?” Abigail asked with a worried expression. “You look really pale.”
“I’m fine,” Andy managed.
But he didn’t feel that way.
Cedric continued with his speech. “If one can navigate the three gateways inside, the temple is supposedly at the center of the maze. And if the intelligence gathered by Ned is correct, then we haven’t much time before our enemies are upon us, so we’d better get cracking.”
“How do we know that those scalawags are behind us?” demanded Rusty. “They could already be inside for all we know!”
“Ah, but we can tell,” Cedric said proudly. “Follow me over here, if you please.”
The thin Englishman led them to a cave opening not far from the statue. Above the rough-hewn entry was a stone lintel carved with ancient symbols. Andy studied the creepy images of skulls, bones, and some kind of demonic thing with fangs. He tried to swallow but found, without surprise, that his throat was dry.
Cedric pointed at a stone with the impression of a human hand on it to the left of the entrance. Upon closer inspection, Andy saw a small hole at the tip of the pointer finger.
“Entering the maze requires a blood offering. According to my research, this small hole actually conceals a needle. Anyone who wishes to go in must put their hand here and allow their finger to be pricked. The few accounts we have say that once the blood drips down to the base of the palm, the door opens.”
For emphasis, Cedric knocked on the stone wall just behind the entryway. It sounded as solid as it looked.
“Since there’s no fresh blood on the stone, I believe that we can safely assume that we’ve beaten the Collective here. Now then, who wants to go first?”
Andy definitely didn’t. He tried to look as inconspicuous as possible as everyone exchanged nervous glances.
After a long moment, Rusty cleared his throat and, with a loud grunt, pushed Cedric out of the way. The beefy man slapped his hand down on the stone. “Do your worst!” he exclaimed.
They all held their breath. After a moment, Rusty let out a bark of surprise as something pierced the skin of his pointer finger. Seconds later, a trickle of blood flowed down the finger of the hand to the bottom of the palm impression.
At first, nothing happened. And then, with a mighty groan, the heavy stone wall began to roll backward into a hidden recess. Andy watched, openmouthed, as the door moved away. He was amazed at the skill of the ancients—that they had been capable of creating such a thing. How did it work? Was it the moisture of the blood?
It’s ancient technology, Andy thought. I’m sure that there’s a simple scientific explanation for it.
In spite of all he had seen, Andy clung to the notion of scientific explanation. The truth was, the scarier implication that the door was moved by something
