The Maya Prophecy, a novel - Propogue

Lost in the bottom of a hole in the Yucatan, Professor Kate O'Hara wonders how she got here. And what is more important will anyone find her here? Will she ever get out . . alive?

The Maya Prophecy

Prologue:

June 25, 2011

12.19.19.17.7,  4 Manik, 10 Mac ⁽¹⁾

Yucatán Península, México

 

    I open my eyes, but can’t see anything.  I’m in total darkness.  My head hurts. I feel groggy and sick to my stomach. I feel confused and frightened.   I realize, with a start, that I don’t know where I am and I can’t remember how I got here.

      I raise my hand and gingerly touch the side of my head.  Something warm and sticky coats my fingers.  I probe a lump the size of a golf ball at my temple.  The area is very tender and obviously bleeding.  That isn’t the only thing that hurts.  The simple effort of lifting my arm makes me aware that every inch of my body hurts.  It seems to be covered with scrapes and bruises. What has happened to me?

     My head begins to clear and I take stock of my surroundings.  Wherever I am, it is dark and still.  It smells of rock and earth, dry and dusty.  I can’t hear anything, no wind or bird or animal sounds, nothing beyond the sound of my own breathing.  My eyes become accustomed to the dark and I can see a faint lightness directly above me.  “I seem to be in a hole,” I say out loud into the darkness.  I stretch out my hand and encounter a wall to my left, only inches away. No, not a wall, but rough stone. Yes, I seem to be in a small, deep hole, a cave.  I reach to my right and can feel nothing. I seem to be perched on a narrow ledge of some sort.  A wave of nausea comes over me making me unbalanced... I begin to slip sideways and grab out frantically, just managing to grasp hold of a small protrusion in the rock face beside me. My head swims and I feel faint.  The confusion deepens and I’.m on the brink of unconsciousness once again. As I begin to fade, I think, “Have I fallen down the rabbit hole?”  

       I become aware of my surroundings again some time later and wonder how much time has elapsed. I still can’t remember anything beyond waking here in the dark.  “Okay,” I think, “I don’t know where I am or how I got here. That’s what I don’t know.  What do I know?  I’m alone, hurt and bleeding, and probably have a concussion.   My name?  Of course, I know that.”  It takes effort but the information comes to me slowly.  “My name is Kate, Kate O’Hara,” I say out

 

(1)    This is the Mayan date: 12.19.19.17.7 from the Long Count Calendar indicates 12 Baktun, 19 Katun, 19 Tun, 17 Winal, 7 Kin.   And  4 Manik from the Tzolkin Calendar and 10 Mac from the Haab. For further explanation see readers notes.

 

loud, “and I’m a college professor, a college professor of anthropology.” I think again.  “I’m an American.  Okay, so far.”  Some clarity comes rushing back.  I’d been looking for something, hadn’t I?  But what?  I shake my head as if that will clear the cobwebs, but it just makes my head throb.  I still don’t know where I am or how I got into this predicament, literally stuck at the bottom of a smelly hole.

      I rest from thinking for a moment. It’s too hard. I close my eyes, but the possible consequence of my situation nags at me.  I am alone and hurt.  There doesn’t seem to be anyone else around, no sounds of activity.  What if I can’t get out?  What if no one finds me? What if I die here?  Panic sets in and quickly takes over.  I do the only thing I can think of doing.  I scream.  “HELP ME!”

          No response.  The only result of my efforts is another wave of nausea and pain in my temple.  I’m shaky and sweating from the exertion. I need to get out of here.  My heart is pounding, my breath short and rapid.  The awkward position I’m lying in, only makes everything worse.  I gingerly test the movement of my limbs. Nothing seems to be broken, at least.  I move cautiously in an attempt to sit more securely on the narrow shelf.   I feel something, the impression of something hard underneath me. My cell phone, I realize.  My cell phone in my back pocket.  I reach my hand back to extract the phone, but in my excitement, I move too fast and nearly fall again.  I regain my balance with effort, but in the process dislodge a piece of rock from the cave’s wall.  The stone falls into the crevasse and I wait to hear it hit the bottom to see just how far down it goes.  I wait. I’m surprised. I hear nothing.  My first thought is that the cave has no bottom, a bottomless pit.  “Ridiculous,” I chide myself.  “No, the more logical explanation has to be that the stone has landed on something soft, probably soil or vegetation that has fallen into the hole and accumulated in the bottom.

     I return to the chore of getting at my phone without following the stone into the pit.  I work very slowly this time and finally remove it from the pocket of my jeans.  I hit the connect button and the phone lights up.  The screen tells me it is June 25, 2011, 7 PM.  Okay.  I look closer at the phone and my spirits plummet.  No bars, meaning no service here.  So much for summoning help that way. I feel the panic rise again and I do what comes naturally, I scream.  “Help.  Somebody help me!”

     Again, there’s no answer.

     Suddenly my attention is caught by a sound.  Is that someone or something outside?  The sound comes again and I realize it’s coming from below me, not from above.  It’s coming from within the cave, not outside.  I think shakily, “Something is here, in the cave with me, but what?”  I don’t want to think about the possibilities, none of them good.  A wild cat or a bear come immediately to mind and then, even worse, the thought of a giant snake or lizard grips me.  A feeling of terror returns, but this time I don’t dare scream out for fear of alerting whatever shares my cave.  I hold my breath and listen.

     Nothing!  And then, another sound, this time a moan, definitely a moan, a very human sound.  Someone else has fallen into this hole with me.  I am not alone.  Then the sense of the situation comes to me fully.  I am not alone, but my companion is hurt, hurt worse than I am, probably severely injured and possibly dying.  I need to think.  I need to come up with a plan to get both of us out of here, and soon.

     I try to think and slowly the fog in my brain seems to clear a little.  Who can the other person be?  The thinking makes me dizzy, makes my head hurt, makes me tired.  I close my eyes again and drift. 

     A woman approaches me, a girl really.  A girl dressed in a bright, yellow skirt and loose fitting blouse,.  bBoth ornately embroidered with designs I recognize as those of the Maya.  The figure shimmers in the darkness, ethereal, ghostly.  Seated on her shoulder is a large emerald and gold bird, with a long plumed tail and brilliant scarlet beak.  The girl comes closer, reaching out her hand to me, in comfort or in supplication? I do not know.  She smiles at me and I feel calm and safe. 

     I start awake.  A dream?  A hallucination?  An omen?  Suddenly, memory floods back to me. “Eduardo,” the name comes unbidden. And I remember.  “Eduardo is missing.  We were looking for him.”  The pieces fall into place, one after another.  I am in the Yucatan, in Mexico. I came to an archeological dig of an ancient Mayan village and a colleague, Eduardo, had gone missing.  I. . . we, others had been with me, had been searching for him.  I had gone off by myself. I was on a hill and had been startled by a shriek and I had fallen.  There was a bird, I think, a huge green and gold bird, whose harsh cry had frightened me and I had fallen.  I can remember nothing after that.  Is the other occupant of the cave Eduardo?  I reach my hand down into the hole but cannot feel anything.   “Eduardo, I’m here, hang in there. They’ll find us,” I say into the darkness.  Only a moan comes in response.    

      My head is clearing slowly.  So there are others.  Daniel and the rest, I remember, are out there, somewhere, looking for Eduardo and, probably by now, looking for me, too.  “I need to attract their attention if . . . when… they come close enough to hear,” I tell myself.  So I call out loudly, not in panic but with purpose.  “Help.  Help.  Over here, down here.  Help.”  I repeat the call over and over again, for what seems an eternity, without results.  My voice grows hoarse.  “I don’t know how much longer I can continue,” I whisper.  Then I hear another noise, a sound from outside this time, not the moaning.  I wait, breath held, for the sound to repeat.  Minutes pass.  Was I dreaming again? Then I hear it once more. 

     “Kate,” comes a voice from a distance.  “Kate.”

     “I’m here,” I croak, and then louder, “Over here.  Over here.”