Disclaimer: This story is purely a work of fiction for personal enjoyment. The story does NOT describe real events and the characters are fictional. Any resemblance to real events or persons is coincidence.
In keeping with its fictional nature, the events and activities described in the story may not be legal, ethical or safe. This site does NOT endorse or recommend their enactment.
Note: This one is a bit different. I was aiming to do something in the classic ‘adventure’ genre, or at least of low-rent pastiche of that kind of story. Beyond the standard disclaimer, I feel like I should mention, at no point whatsoever does this story try to characterize or portray any real groups. It’s intended to poke fun at the sort of broad-strokes characterization you see in pulpy adventure stories. That said, please enjoy.
It took four energetic swings of the machete to hack the patch of vines apart, and the arm doing the work was in no mood for it. Lena Kessler sheathed the tool and paused, catching her breath before pushing on. In her late twenties, pale, dark-eyed, and raven-haired, Lena was wirily muscular and light on her feet. She wore heavy boots, tiger-stripe-camouflage trousers, and a white tank-top under a tough black vest, her long hair coiled up beneath a Panama hat. She was surrounded on all sides by a wide variety of verdant vegetation and air laden with moisture and the primordial scent of loam. Between the din of insect activity, the riot of birdcalls, and all the other talkative fauna, she could barely hear herself think.
Lena pushed the white hat back on her head and wiped the sweat from her brow. It was hot and humid, but all things considered, pleasant weather for the Amazon. While she waited for her companions to catch up, she fished the GPS unit from one of the many pockets on her utility vest. The little high-end device managed to inform Lena that she was in fact tramping though the rainforest; more detailed information was seemingly beyond its befuddled circuits. Fitful rustling, from farther back on their hand-hewn path, told Lena the Professor was approaching.
Professor Hillary Bishop was an academic, far out of her element in the field, but much too engrossed in her research to notice. Young for a tenured professor, she was in her mid-thirties, and an attractive woman, if slightly severe in a scholarly sort of way. The Professor was dressed sensibly, if archaically, in full khaki kit, complete with bush jacket and beige pith helmet. The clothes were baggy on her smallish frame. Slender with green-eyes, her nose was just a bit beaky, and her helmet sat atop a neat rust-colored bob.
The Professor had a habit, infuriating in Lena’s opinion, of hiking along, juggling her attentions, face buried in three small notebooks which she could barely manage to balance all at once while standing still. It made progress agonizingly slow, as Lena constantly had to stop and confirm their route with the distracted archaeologist. She did so once again, as the Professor nearly walked into her.
“Oops! Sorry Lena! Why have we stopped? Have you spotted it?”
The veteran jungle guide sighed. When the Professor approached her about this expedition, she had been lured in by the thought of unearthing priceless relics while some university footed the bill. That was the thing about treasure hunts; often they turned out to be wild-goose-chases, and then you were in the hole the cost of the trip. So bare minimum, she would be getting paid for her trouble, at least. And at the end of the day, that was Lena’s primary point of concern. Though she would never say as much herself, Lena was aware that her skill set, along with her strong monetary motivations, placed her firmly in the “mercenary” camp, compared to others who took similar jobs. Yet, the Professor still insisted on treating her like a student along for extra-credit…
“Is the ‘it’ you’re looking for a tree? Then yes. If it isn’t, then the answer is no. Of course, I’d like to remind you, yet again, that I am not an anthropologist, nor a historian, nor any other sort of egghead. As such, I haven’t the foggiest idea what it is we’re supposed to be looking for out here.”
The Professor lifted her head, wide-eyed for a moment. Her gaze narrowed slightly and her mouth folded into a small frown. It was the sort of expression one might level at a negligent pupil. Their guide-for-hire seemed to only pay her any attention when she discussed the potential rare and valuable artifacts they might find. Lena Kessler had come highly recommended, though with the clear caveat that the woman was a bit of fortune-fiend and had somewhat malleable morals.
“Well, someone hasn’t been paying attention! I suppose I can explain once more:
“This particular part of the Amazon River Basin was once home to a native tribe, known as the Glueca. Though smaller than many of the more widely-known tribes in the region, they were very highly advanced, both in terms of societal structure and scientific advancement. Rather suddenly, centuries ago, the Glueca vanished. Many of their accomplishments have been lost to the sands of time…
“However, my research indicates the one of the Glueca’s most important temples may yet remain, undiscovered and undisturbed. The sheer potential archaeological significance, can you imagine? Doubtless, I had to pursue the possibility. The evidence is scarce, as is all information relating to the Glueca, but it does exist. As a matter of fact, I believe I am the only scholar currently in possession of a functional understanding of the Glueca’s writing systems. Mind you, I’ve devoted a great deal of time and effort to these studies.
“And so, if my research bears any fruit, right at this moment we should be less than a mile from the location of perhaps the last viable primary source regarding one of the last great lost cultures. We’re close, so close I can feel it!”
The Professor snapped shut one of her notebooks, brimming with excitement. The sudden noise startled Lena, who had been staring at a line of ants marching up an enormous tree trunk.
“That, Miss Kessler, is what brings us to your neck of the woods, and why we require your services.”
“Ah. Yeah. Ok. But, one more time now, what is it I’m supposed to be watching for?”
“You know, I’m beginning to think I’m talking to myself out here! We are looking for an ancient temple, or some similar structure, which according to all accounts, was built into the side of a rise in the earth. Of course, this was long ago, and the forest will have since reasserted itself. So in effect, we are looking for a suspicious variance in the terrain.”
Lena glanced around; the lush, densely covered forest floor rose and fell with abandon, creating crests and valleys every few hundred feet.
“Right. So we’re searching for a hill…”
The Professor beamed, pleased with her progress.
As they spoke, the third and final member of the party tramped up behind them, lugging a large external-frame backpack brimming with supplies, gear, and archeology tools.
Loaded down by the backpack was the Professor’s graduate student and aid, a blonde girl named Georgia Jones. Georgia saw it as her personal duty to constantly prove how eager she was to be assisting Professor Bishop with her work. So firm was her devotion, that she accepted every burden with a smile, though it was a blow when her absent-minded instructor occasionally called her “Gina.”
She wore round wire-frame glasses in front of blue eyes, and her blonde hair, tied back from the heat, was a frizzy bird’s nest of neglect. Her milk-white complexion was flecked with small freckles and her quiet, bookish nature made her seem smaller than she was. Lena, admittedly rather vain herself, noticed that the pretty girl’s figure was in fact quite shapely, though she seemed to have no idea what to do with it. Today she was wearing a too-big white canvas blouse and khaki shorts. Still, there was something smug about Georgia, beyond academic pride, that made Lena suspect she might be more aware of her looks than she let on.
The young woman carrying the lion’s share of the equipment was clearly tired, and plodded heavily as she approached the others.
“Have you found something Professor? I knew it was just a matter of time. The coordinates you deciphered must’ve been more precise that we thought.”
“Oh no no, Miss Jones, nothing yet. I was just having a chat with Miss Kessler. Taking a breather, if you will. But I think that’s plenty of time spent gabbing. Let’s press on.”
The simpering student forced a smile.
“Ah. Yes, let’s.” she agreed breathlessly.
Lena grinned slightly, as she drew the machete, and continued parting a path through the thick undergrowth.
…
After another twenty minutes of trekking slowly through the tropical forest, the Professor let out a triumphant cry which rivaled anything the birds were offering.
Lena stopped in her tracks and Georgia took advantage of the opportunity to make up some of the ground she’d been steadily losing. The excitable educator clapped and snatched the machete right out of Lena’s hand.
Wading through the forest a few meters off the path, she started chopping and slashing at some unassuming plants. The area looked like just another jungle thicket creeping up the side of just another large rocky hill. But as the Professor pared away the tangled mass of greenery, a distinctly oblong hole in the stone grew clearer.
Joining the woman beside the hole, Lena grabbed back her machete while Georgia gasped and fluttered her hands.
“Oh! Professor Bishop, is this…? Do you think it could really be…?”
“Yes, Miss Jones, indeed I do! I believe what lies before us is an entrance to the legendary ‘Amuza Koto Defio.’”
“To the what? Run that one by me again.” Lena interrupted.
“Amuza Koto Defio. The precise translation is long lost, but it is the name of the Glueca temple we’re searching for. I believe we’ve just found it.”
“I see… Now before we get ahead of ourselves here Professor, you mentioned that this tribe of yours vanished suddenly? Should that worry us?”
“I should think not. It’s a widely supported theory that the Glueca tribe simply stopped existing of its own volition; the members just spread out and assimilated into other regional tribes. There was no cataclysmic downfall, only a parting of the ways. Which is why bits and pieces of their language have survived, despite no major archeological finds having ever been made.
“Terrific. That’s a load off my mind. So, if this is their temple, and we do go inside, will there be traps? Because I’m telling you right now, I don’t do traps.”
“Certainly not! The Glueca were renowned in their day for being exceptionally peaceful. And this isn’t that sort of temple. In fact, ‘temple’ is an unfortunately insufficient translation. My own research indicates that Amuza Koto Defio was not a place of worship, but rather a gathering place. A central location for the Glueca, where they preformed elaborate ceremonies and rituals. It’s a somewhat difficult concept to translate, and specific information about the activities is beyond sparse. Which is precisely why finding this place is such a coup…”
“Yeah, yeah, great,” Lena interrupted again, fearing another endless lecture, “bottom-line, it shouldn’t be especially dangerous, right?”
“Correct, Miss Kessler. However, there is only one way to know for sure!”
Without another word, the Professor gripped the top of the opening and hopped right through the hole, vanishing in an instant.
Lena groaned. Never again would she take bookworms out into the wilderness.
Georgia looked nervously at the guide, then at the hole. She gently dropped her backpack though the opening. Then with a gulp, she followed after it.
Lena considered the hole, it was about three-and-a-half-feet wide, apparently cut into the stone centuries ago. Contrasted to the bright tropical sun blaring overhead, the interior of the hidden structure was dark and mysterious. A cool breeze wafted out and smelled slightly musty. Flicking on a small but powerful flashlight, Lena shrugged to herself. Sometimes you just have to take a leap. And it would be well worth it, if it meant claiming her share of whatever loot lay within. She took a deep breath and slid through the hole.
….
As it turned out, the flashlight was unnecessary. The drop from the hole to the stone-block floor was less than six feet, and Lena landed gracefully. The other two women were standing a few steps deeper into the cavernous room they’d uncovered, gaping in awe.
It really was quite a sight to behold. High above them, a large gap in the stone let in ample sunlight, illuminating the place more than enough for the explorers to get their bearings.
The ‘entrance’ they had stumbled over was in reality more likely a rudimentary window, as there were three identical openings along the same wall, also choked with plant life. The chamber proper was enormous, and appeared to have once been nothing more than a natural hollow in the stone. Prescient architecture and ancient craftsmanship had modified and refined the cave, adding level floors, walls, and numerous other habitable details. Here and there, persistent flora sprouted up, sinking roots and spreading leaves; however the interior of the temple hall was remarkably well-preserved.
“Can you believe this, Professor? No one has been in here for ages!” Georgia kept polishing her glasses, as though suspicious they were deceiving her eyes.
Professor Bishop ignored her, as she was too focused on examining a section of glyphs carved into the far wall, jotting hurriedly in one of her notebooks. In fact, barring the floors, most of the flat surfaces in the room were engraved with elaborate shapes and symbols.
Lena let out a low whistle, listening to the echo bounce around the rectangular expanse. The room was set up something like a modern day amphitheater, with a floor that sloped gently up to a big arched doorway in the back. Along the way up there were stone benches, shiny from repeated use a very long time ago, laid out in curved rows. Down at the front of the space, there was a large raised platform, which took up about a half the area of the room. At the very back of the room, there were three large alcoves carved into the wall. These, unlike the rest of the walls, were curiously plain smooth stone.
And yet the most peculiar feature of the chamber, which given its context and history was very peculiar to begin with, was a set of strange stone furniture. There were three big, intricately carved… things lined up on the central dais. Two of them looked sort of like chairs, but the third, the one in the middle, was just a tall pillar carved out, exquisitely, with a wide variety of rainforest flowers. The monoliths faced the benches, or Lena thought they did at least, and they definitely looked like they were the focus of the room. But she couldn’t imagine their purpose, nor did she care to. She was more concerned with what she didn’t see.
“Uh, hey, Professor? I thought you said this place would be packed to the brim with tribal riches? I’m pretty sure you said almost exactly that. But I’m not seeing anything which fits that bill…”
Georgia gave her a haughty, how-dare-you-worry-about-something-so-petty-as-money-at-a-time-like-this glare, which Lena answered with a sneer.
Professor Bishop, having torn herself away from the writing on the wall, shook her head.
“Actually, you’re right. Near as I can tell, Amuza Koto Defio was famous for being a place where ‘wonderful gifts are bestowed upon the worthy.’ Or something to that effect.”
She pointed to the barren alcoves.
“See, these, right here! They should be full of riches and documented wisdom… I don’t understand… Unless…
“Ah-ha! Of course! That’s what that meant! Oh, in which case…” The Professor was suddenly in her own world, amending her notes and scratching out new ones, muttering to herself.
Georgia hovered around her would-be mentor, doing her best to look willing and able to help, should she be needed. Lena, having seen one-too-many ancient dwellings to be too impressed, sat on one of the benches and let her mind wander. She began making a mental list of all the things she would do with her share of the fortune… if they ever managed to actually find one.
….
Lena wasn’t sure how long it had been when Georgia jostled her out of her daydreams. Long enough for the Professor to figure something out, apparently, as the woman was now bouncing on her toes like a kid on a trip to the zoo.
“I’ve got it! Well, most of it. But certainly enough for our purposes! You see, the inscriptions carved all around are sort of instructions. My problem was that the Glueca used a very peculiar writing system, which relied on both syllabic and pictorial elements to…”
“Please, Prof, you’re killing me here. Could you maybe cut to the chase?”
The Professor was too pleased to mind the rudeness.
“Yes, yes, indeed. Anyway, I’ve cracked it! The instructions placed here are the key. They explain a ritual we must perform, a sort of physical combination to unlock the mechanisms which conceal the artifacts. It’s pure genius, really. And eons ahead of anything we attributed to the Glueca.”
Lena rubbed her hands together, indulging herself in a stereotypical gesture of greed.
“Then by all means, let’s get to it! What exactly do we have to do? What kind of mechanisms are we talking about?”
“That’s the rub, I’m afraid. Between my linguistic limitations, and what I suspect to be intentional evasiveness on the part of the original authors, I can only guide us generally through the process…
“The carvings reveal that, back then, there was a member of the aristocracy present at every event, whose job it was to lead the proceedings and facilitate the ritual.”
“Like some kind of high priest,” Georgia chimed in.
“Rather, more like a master of ceremonies,” the Professor corrected.
“You say potato…” Lena waved them off. “Let’s not waste any more time, eh? What’s the first step, to the best of your knowledge?”
Professor Bishop walked over to one of the chair-looking monoliths.
“This. This is the first step.”
The hulking stone object was seemingly carved from one piece of rock. It featured a slightly concave slab, smooth like the benches, suspended at the top of a plinth. The slab overhung what seemed to be a small fountain.
Carved from the base of the monument, below the slab, there was a wide, round pool. The water filling the pool was crystal clear, though patches of vibrant green algae blotted the edges. From a small crevice, just inches above the lip of the stone rim, water burbled out in a slow but steady trickle.
The Professor examined the curious object with reverence.
“You see this? There is a little natural spring located inside the rock. The Glueca built this device around the spring, presumably to keep this pool filled. We can only guess at what significance it must have held for them…”
Georgia nodded in sage agreement. Lena was growing impatient.
“It’s lovely. Now what are we supposed to do with it?”
The Professor, consulting her copious notes, carefully checked the carvings nearest the pool-chair.
“It seems… Yes. Someone has to climb up the back, here. And seat themselves on this slab, here. Then… well something will happen.”
“What will happen?” there was a worried note in Georgia’s voice.
“That’s a good question Georgie, why don’t you hop on up there and find out?”
“Oh, no… Oh I couldn’t… I… shouldn’t you…?”
Lena offered the pretty blonde graduate student a cat-like smile.
“Nope. Not happening.”
Georgia turned to her Professor with a concerned expression. Professor Bishop didn’t provide the solution she wanted.
“Yes Miss Jones, just go sit there for a minute. I’m dying to see what happens.”
With a weak nod and a weaker smile, Georgia climbed up the back of the plinth and sat herself on the slab looming over the pool. As soon as her weight was settled, the slab sank down half an inch.
There was a heavy thump from inside the bizarre object, and from a narrow gap running down the side of the stone, a thick wooden arm sluggishly descended. It stopped at a forty-five degree angle to the plinth and featured a rounded chunk of flat wood lashed to the far end of the stick.
“Amazing!” The Professor returned to unraveling the carved instructions.
Georgia did not share her teacher’s enthusiasm for the mysterious Glueca ingenuity and she looked quite skittish sitting on the slab.
The Professor, examining the floor, found a specific notch in the stone. She stood there and called Lena over.
“Alright. According the carvings, we are supposed to stand back here, and throw something to try and strike that circular bit of wood over there. Of course, whatever we’re supposed to throw is long gone I’m afraid. Do you have anything with you that might do the trick? Once we strike that target, we’ll be one step closer to unraveling the secrets of this place!”
Lena sighed wearily. She walked right over to the arm hanging beside the pool and plinth, and flicked the round wood firmly.
There was crunching sound, like stone rubbing stone, and the slab supporting Georgia dropped away.
The girl’s shriek filled the whole chamber for a mere moment before she hit the water. The spring-fed pool was plenty deep, and Georgia briefly disappeared beneath the surface. She burst up, flailing and sputtering, soaked to the bone. One hand flashed to her face, barely keeping her glasses in place. Her ill-fitting blouse hung at odd angles and her wild hair was plastered flat, tamed by the cold spring water.
She paddled to the side of the little pool, along the way collecting clumps of clinging algae on the side of her face and the top of her head. As the sloshing subsided and the shock wore off, Georgia noticed Lena standing over her, offering a hand and absolutely beaming.
As the soaking student was hauled from the water, Professor Bishop was making diligent notes. Georgia stood beside the pool, shivering slightly for several long second before the Professor acknowledged her.
“Ah, oh. Miss Jones. I apologize, I suppose I didn’t expect you’d end up in the pool… It wasn’t too much trouble was it?”
“N-no! It was nothing! Not humiliating at all!”
Lena thought the sopping girl was trying as hard to convince Bishop as she was herself.
“In fact, it was actually sort of refreshing, you know, the tropical heat and all…” Georgia trailed off, as the Professor was no longer paying attention.
Instead, she was over by the alcove directly behind the pool. Placing a foot firmly in a specific spot, she gestured to the alcove with a flourish. Empty seconds passed.
Just before Lena started cursing, there was a loud grinding noise from the back of the chamber. The entire alcove was turning. The section of wall rotated, revealing an identical alcove; except this one featured carved decoration, and a prominent pedestal. On the simple stone pedestal sat a small necklace made of beaten gold and set with polished obsidian.
It was a trinket really, a low-value bauble that wouldn’t be worth much at all if it hadn’t come from an ancient lost tribe. But for Lena, the value wasn’t in the piece itself, but rather in what it represented. The necklace was proof of concept; there WAS wealth to be found here. Her enthusiasm for the expedition suddenly increased in voltage. Lena let out a whoop.
The Professor was pleased, if not as thrilled as her guide. Artifacts like this were nice, and certainly important for museums and exhibits, but the novelty of the reveal-mechanism interested her far more. This was shaping up to be a truly extraordinary site.
Even Georgia managed a smile, in the middle of wringing out her clothes and trying to pick pond scum from her hair.
“Alright Professor, what’s next!”
The archaeologist was glad to see Lena finally showing a sincere interest.
“I’ve got that nearly solved too. The next step, is this thing over here!”
Professor Bishop walked over to the other monolith somewhat-resembling a chair.
This one was constructed of large stone blocks, and didn’t have a water feature. Instead, there was a low seat underneath an overhang. A short set of chiseled stairs led up the back of the thing, to the top, where there was a smooth empty basin, roughly above the seat. From a small hole on the side of the weird chair, a thick cord of braided vines dangled.
On a hunch, Lena gave the rope a tug. There was no give, and nothing happened.
“Is it broken?” Georgia sounded more hopeful than she intended.
“No, I don’t think so…
“The inscriptions about this stage are quite vague… And I’m having trouble translating some of the words. However, I do know we need to put… something in that bowl on top. The basin has to be at least half full.”
“That’s hardly helpful… What do you put in a bowl built into a chair? Is this some kind of riddle?”
“Be patient, Miss Kessler! I’m getting to that. The instructions are non-specific. The substance we put in has to be thicker than water, but still fluid… There are some recipes here, but I can’t decipher the native ingredients…”
“Ah crap, it is a riddle! Of all the… What are we supposed to do now?”
Lena started pacing, while the Professor scrutinized the carvings further. Georgia interjected hesitantly.
“Oh, um, actually, I have an idea, maybe…”
“Come on then, out with it!”
The soggy blonde went over to her backpack and rummaged around. She came back with an armload of small shiny foil packets.
“The extra rations. I knew I packed too many. They’re dehydrated, but with water from that spring, well, they might just do the trick.”
“Well done Miss Jones! Exemplary. Please, proceed with your plan!” The Professor went back to her glyphs.
Revitalized by the rare praise, Georgia set about preparing the freeze-dried foods. She used a small pail from the equipment and started mixing the packets one by one, and filling the mysterious basin.
To get the stone container just over half-full took two packets each of potato curry, porridge, and tomato bisque, along with single packets of coffee and creamed corn. There were nearly three gallons of the resulting slop in the basin when Georgia was finally finished. The mixture was pungent, lumpy, and an odd shade of livid yellow-orange.
As soon as the student was finished with her cooking, Lena tugged on the vine-rope again. She got the same results.
“Hold on!” the Professor shot her a scathing glare, “That’s not all! Much like last time, someone needs to be seated, right down there… Then… some other things are supposed to happen, I can’t really establish what. But what’s important is that the pull-cord there will only work once somebody is seated.”
Georgia immediately gave Lena an expectant look, but was surprised to see both Lena and Professor Bishop directing the same back at her.
“Wait! Now hang on! I did the last one!”
Lena just smiled coolly and jerked her head toward the carved stone seat. The Professor was no help either.
“Really Miss Jones, now is hardly the time to fret over proper turn taking! Besides, I’m certain what happened last time was a fluke, these machines are quite old mind you…”
Georgia looked almost ready to argue, but at the last second she clenched her jaw and very daintily sat below the basin. Lena took the glasses right off her face.
“I’ll hold these, you know, just in case…”
The smirking guide stepped back and tugged on the rope for a third time. For a third time, nothing happened.
“Oh come on, this is getting ridiculous!”
“Hmm…” the Professor was poring over her notes, “Ah, that would make sense… Yes…
“I see the problem. The instructions seem to stipulate that the same person may not be used to activate more than one device… It appears this one won’t work with Miss Jones.”
“What? That’s insane! You’re telling me that a this lump of old rock somehow knows that blondie was the one who sat on that other lump of old rock a little while ago? Give me a break, I thought you were some kind of scientist!”
The Professor bristled slightly.
“Well, Miss Kessler, I’m simply delivering the message left behind by our long absent hosts. Surely, after everything you’ve seen thus far, you don’t doubt the breadth of Glueca ingenuity? Is it really so far-fetched that a clever system of weights and pulleys, disguised and interlinked in the room around us, might be able to differentiate between two unique individuals? The Great Pyramids were built without the aid of computers or modern tools, so surely this isn’t beyond the realm of possibility.
“And anyway, as I wasn’t around when they built this place, I can only draw conclusions based on evidence present. So if you’re prepared to give up on this expedition due to your engineering incredulity, then I guess we’d better pack it in…”
Lena’s eyes kept darting back to the glinting gold necklace, still displayed on its pedestal. Things could only get better from there. Sometimes, you just have to take a leap. Lena undid her vest and set it aside.
Georgia, who had been grinning from ear-to-ear since the beginning of this exchange, leapt to her feet.
Wearing something akin to a pout, Lena lowered herself onto the seat Georgia vacated. She wasn’t certain what was going to happen, but she could make an informed guess. With a groan, she felt the seat settle a fraction lower, with a small click.
Suddenly Georgia ducked under the overhang. The damp academic aid lifted Lena’s hat, and she felt her glossy black hair tumble free, falling around her shoulders.
“I’ll hold this, you know, in case…” Georgia smirked and pulled away.
Lena was just about to angrily grab for her hat, when a thought struck her mind like a lightning bolt.
“Wait!” she shouted, “We can trick it! We can just have Georgie hold the backpack on her lap!”
Wisely, the blonde girl chose that moment to give the braided vines a sharp tug.
Almost instantly, the re-hydrated field rations came pouring down over Lena’s head, from a previously overlooked spout in the rocky overhang. The stream of chunky, creamy stew landed on her crown, splashing across her front and running down her back. Much like the spring water that had reinvigorated the powdered foods, the slimy mix was cold. Lena was shocked stock still.
Only when the last hunk of boiled potato plopped onto the mass of gunk on her head and slid off, was the accidental-archaeologist able to muster a movement. She used both hands to scoop as much of the unpleasant amber slop as possible off her hair and face. Lena couldn’t decide which odor was more overpowering, the curry or the coffee; right there she swore off both.
Climbing slowly to her feet, she felt a sheet of the yellowish food-disaster fall to the stone floor. When she finally managed to open her eyes, the first thing Lena saw was Georgia, clutching her hat in front of her mouth, doubtless to hide her glee. Unsurprisingly, the Professor had her face buried in one of the notebooks, and had apparently missed the entire show.
While fighting the urge to stuff Georgie into her own backpack, Lena wobbled over and used the spring pool to clean up some. The water really was frigid, and it took her breath away with every splash. She managed to squeeze most of the filth from her hair and got her shirt to the point where it looked like it may once have been white. She feared she would never get the smell completely out of either.
Lena, wet and still yellow-tinted, with her sodden, grainy hair twisted over her shoulder, marched back over to the Professor and tapped the woman none-too-gently on the helmet.
“Good lord! What happened to you?”
“I’m just going to ignore that one. Do your thing, make the wall spin around.”
“Ah yes, of course.”
Professor Bishop located the correct spot in front of the corresponding alcove, and stepped down hard with her booted toes. Once again, the entire section of blank alcove wall rotated, revealing a decorated duplicate and a pedestal. This time, instead of gold jewelry, the pedestal displayed a simple clay pitcher.
Though that wasn’t a fair assessment; it was a very fine pitcher, expertly crafted and bearing a lustrous red pottery glaze that was handsome without being ostentatious. However, Lena failed to appreciate the quality of the jug. Quietly furious, she turned to face the Professor.
“That? You’re telling me I had the camp dinner from Hell dumped on my head for THAT? Some ancient art-class project?”
“Don’t be so quick to judge Miss Kessler! Back when this place was flourishing, a piece of house-ware like that, of that quality, was highly valuable. It was a very enviable possession!”
“And what’s it worth today? How valuable is it at the moment?”
“Oh it’s priceless! I mean, perhaps not in an economic sense, but in terms of the insight it will offer into the Glueca culture…”
Lena turned and headed back toward the window they had entered through. Commission be damned, she was more than ready to leave these nerds in the jungle.
“Wait, Miss Kessler! You can’t leave! We’re not finished here yet!”
“You may not be, but I am. You can keep the pot, and the necklace.”
“But don’t you want to see what’s behind the last alcove?”
Lena stopped. She did. Very much in fact.
“I’ve nearly got it figured out too! This pillar here, in the middle, it’s the central totem for all of Amuza Koto Defio. It’s going to take all three of us to trigger the mechanism…”
Against every ounce of better judgment, Lena stopped and began walking back to the mysterious final mechanism.
Standing off to the side, Georgia spoke up.
“And besides…”
Lena pointed at the girl ominously, silencing her as she passed.
“Ok. Fine. What do we do?”
….
Professor Bishop had spent the better part of half an hour checking and rechecking her translations. At Lena’s behest, she was making absolutely certain that she knew what she was talking about this time.
The Professor had all three of them standing around the stone-flower-covered pillar, equal distance apart. She had them place their feet on specific circles, which sank a few inches under the pressure.
“Alright ladies, this is it! I’ve reviewed the instructions for this stage quite carefully. To unlock that final alcove, we need find three small frogs, carved among the flowers on this pillar. Once we’ve located them, we have to press them each at precisely the same time. I’ve spotted my frog, how are you two doing?”
Georgia, who had since reclaimed her glasses, chimed in immediately.
“I’ve found mine Professor!”
Lena pulled a face. She was having trouble locating the amphibian among all the flowers, leaves, and stems decorating the pillar. At last she spotted it, perched forever motionless on a stone banana leaf. She placed her thumb on the frog’s back, feeling the cool, worn stone.
“Got it.”
“Superb. Alright, on three!
“One.”
Professor Bishop was immensely pleased with the results of this expedition, no matter what happened in the next few minutes. Upon setting out, she told herself and her colleagues at the university that she would be satisfied just to find some evidence that Amuza Koto Defio had in fact existed. To be standing in the place herself, the greatest achievement of the long lost Glueca… Well, it was too much to comprehend!
“Two…”
Georgia was nearly giddy. Granted, the expedition hadn’t been quite what she was hoping for… And the day had taken a few mortifying turns… But everything was looking up now! The Professor would certainly be published, many times over, and Georgia too, if only in foot-note form. Still, she was miles ahead of her classmates moldering away in the library! And on top of all that, at this point, she was almost completely dry!
“Three!”
This was it. Lena Kessler was about to finally hit the jackpot. This whole expedition, which had started out ill-advised, then spiraled into a full-blown disaster, was going to pay-off after all. No more wandering through the jungle with eggheads for her!
As one, each of the three women pressed down on the carvings. The chamber rumbled. They could hear unseen mechanisms shifting, just like before, but louder now.
Lena was staring hard at the last alcove, waiting for it to move, when thick, dark mud began spraying from each and every hand-carved flower on the pillar.
The rich gray-brown ooze was gushing out like a torrential rainstorm. Jets of muck blasted Lena and the others from every height, hosing down the entire area with mud.
Lena clamped her eyes shut and held her breath, once again rooted in place from raw surprise. Around the pillar to her left, Georgia tried in vain to scramble out of the dirty geyser. The prim, pretty graduate student was already wearing a substantial layer of mud, and only managed to slip and land on her rear. She stayed down, sitting in what now looked like an indoor swamp.
Like Lena, the Professor chose not to struggle, accepting the spew with a blend of shock and confusion. The organic sludge skewed her helmet, coated her face, and darkened her clothes significantly.
After what seemed like a century, Lena felt the spray recede. She wiped the mud from her eyes and cracked them open, surveying the mess. It looked like a bog had exploded in the middle of the chamber. Down near the bottom of the pillar, a few of the flowers were still pumping out mud, though weakly and at a fraction of their former volume.
Georgia was trying, and failing, to stand up. The girl, who used to be a pretty blonde, was entirely unrecognizable. She was covered completely from head to toe in gooey mud. Lena herself had fared a bit better, she hoped anyway. The lower part of her back and the backs of her legs had avoided a thorough slopping. Unfortunately everything else wasn’t so lucky.
The Professor come out similarly; her entire front half was slathered in grime. Her pith helmet, though jostled, had remained in place, dutifully shielding her hair and forehead. Valiantly, the Professor pulled a handkerchief from an inside pocket and began dabbing, first at her eyes then at her mouth.
Lena planted her hands in the mud on her hips and cocked her head, staring daggers at Professor Bishop.
“Indeed. I, ah, it seems as though I made a mistake. On second thought, perhaps we should not have pressed the frogs…”
Lena, and even the blob sliding around the floor that was Georgia, took deep breaths, preparing to lay into Bishop. Just then the rumbling started again. Fearing the worst, Lena covered her face. She heard Georgia squeak.
But in fact it was just the sound of the third alcove finally spinning around.
In lieu of a pedestal, there were three T shaped wooden stands; rudimentary mannequins. Draped around each stand, there was an ancient shift dress, made from some roughly woven fabric. Once upon a time, the dresses were probably vibrant, but after years and years, they were now drab and shapeless. Folded at the foot of the stands there were thick, ancient towels, made of the same raw cloth as the dresses.
Georgia, still trying to stagger to her feet in the mire, let out a disappointed moan. Lena felt the bottom drop out of her stomach. On the bright side, she thought bitterly, this dismal day couldn’t get much worse… At least this miserable, muddy excuse for an expedition was finally, authoritatively, over.
“Well! Barring a few slippery surprises, I’d say today has been a huge success!”
The Professor paused to remove her dripping helmet and finished wiping down the last of her face with the stained handkerchief. Her pale skin and reddish hair stood out sharply in the uniformly muddy surroundings.
“Now Miss Kessler, I know you may be feeling a bit down in the dumps, I know you were hoping for a more… material sort of treasure.
“But you simply have to think about the academic value of what we’ve discovered. Just in archaeological terms alone, this is a staggering find which will contribute greatly to our understanding of the Glueca tribe.
“I’m sure you understand, if I led you to believe there was anything of real monetary value to be found here, it was entirely an honest error in translation… You do understand, don’t you?”
Words failed Lena completely. She nodded at the Professor, smiling a bit too widely.
Lena plucked the pith helmet out of the other woman’s hands. Crouching, she held the helmet up-side-down below a beautifully carved orchid, which was still slowly spitting out a healthy stream of mud.
The smiling jungle-guide straightened up and placed the muck-filled helmet squarely on top of Professor Hillary Bishop’s head. She patted it twice, quite firmly. The helmet squelched and mud oozed out all sides. Dark rivulets dribbled down the stunned academic’s face and goopy slime soaked through her hair.
“Translate that.”
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