Maybe not.
What if she said no? Feisty didn’t begin to describe Professor Selena Moore. It was just possible her answer might cause irreparable damage to his ego. Maybe better if he just forgot all about it and took the ring back. That sounded like the safest play.
After another quick scan of the instrument panel he peered outside and gazed at the endless rainforest passing beneath them. Belize was long gone now, replaced by the breadnut and mahogany forests of Guatemala’s Maya Biosphere Reserve. This was a full fifth of the small country and over twenty thousand square kilometers.
He’d read some time ago in a National Geographic about it becoming one of UNESCO’s biosphere models, a special program designed to improve the relationship between mankind and the ecosystem. He was wondering exactly what that meant when Selena walked into the cockpit and slid into the first officer’s seat.
“It’s a beautiful night,” she said, staring out at the ribbon of violet painted across the horizon.
“Sure is.”
“How long until we’re at Flower Mountain?”
He glanced at the instrument panel again, checking the airspeed and then his watch. “Not long. If this tailwind keeps up, maybe less than an hour.”
A few minutes of silence stretched out between them. Selena yawned and peered through the window. “It just goes on forever. You can see why we’re still finding ruins and lost cities.”
Decker said, “I wonder how many more surprises there are out there, still, just waiting for us to discover them.”
“A lot, I would think. At least, I hope so! Without anything to discover I wouldn’t have a very interesting job.”
He laughed. “I guess not. I don’t have to worry about that. Being a pilot always means a new challenge, a new place to fly. I’m not the type to settle down. I like a life on the road, but in my case, it’s a life in the air.”
Selena closed her eyes and pushed back in the seat. “I wanted to talk with you about the future, Mitch.”
He sat up. “Oh yeah?”
“About the future of the Avalon crew.”
And slid back down again. “Oh, right.”
“Actually, I have a bit of an announcement about the Avalon team’s future.”
“An announcement?”
“Yes, but when we’re all together.”
“Sounds ominous.”
She paused, and closed her eyes. “I do wish your aeroplane were quieter, Mitch. I can’t sleep.”
“I’m so sorry. Would you like me to switch the engines off for an hour so you can get some shuteye and then wake you when we’re there.”
“Stop being facetious.”
“C’mon! What else can I do? The damn plane needs power to get lift, Lena. Even you know that.”
“What do you mean, even I know it?” She opened her eyes and glared at him.
Decker reached over to the instrument panel where he had set his hat and now picked it up and wore it, pulling the brim down over the right side of his face to block her view of him. Next thing he knew, she had pulled it right off again and tossed it behind their seats.
“Hey!”
“Oh, sorry! Was that rude?”
“Yes.”
“Then looks like we’re even.”
He hid his smile. “The lady has spirit.”
“You bet I do! And I would be much happier if the pilot was actually looking at all these gauges and doing things with them instead of playing around with big hats.”
“And what is wrong with my hat?”
“Well, nothing…”
From behind in the cabin, Charlie leaned his head against the seat and said, “I’m getting some sleep.”
“Good idea,” Selena called back. “We should all do that.”
“Looks like we’re late to the party,” Charlie said. “Take a look.”
When she turned and looked through the cockpit door down the cabin, she saw the rest of the crew were already fast asleep in their seats. Glancing back at the silhouette of Decker in the cockpit, she smiled and closed her eyes. “Get some sleep, Charlie,” she said. “I’m going to keep Mitch company.”
15
Lacandon Jungle, Chiapas State, Mexico
The chopper swooped over the Lacandon Jungle, so low its skids almost brushed the tops of the tropical canopies. When the Spanish conquistadors first arrived, the Lacandon tribe took one look at them and vanished inside this immense jungle. Most of them stayed hidden within it until the twentieth century arrived, but today their lands have been slashed away by logging and mining operations right across Chiapas state.
The Chiapanecan bush pilot Tarántula had hired expertly located the clearing, invisible to everyone else, and lowered the collective, bringing the helicopter down below the tree-line and gently touching down on the uneven ground. “Bienvenido a Laguna Miramar.”
Tarántula unbuckled his seatbelt and stepped out of the chopper. The Snake King had already exited and was standing at the edge of the clearing, staring up at the moon. On his face, the terrifying jade mask glinted in the moonlight as he mumbled an ancient mantra to the gods.
Tarántula watched him raise his hands into the air and release a desperate, hoarse scream into the night. It echoed across the jungle and triggered a cacophony of cries from the legion of monkeys and birds within it.
“Is he all right?” Carlos said.
Tarántula turned his eyes to his old friend. “He knows what he is doing.”
The heat and humidity worked together to make it feel like someone had thrown a hot, wet blanket over him. As most of the rest of his team exited the chopper, he took a breath of the hot, sticky air and wiped his forehead. “Where is the seal?”
“Here,” Diablo said, hefting it from the top of his pack.
Carlos swatted a mosquito on his arm
