The Deadly Curse of Toco-Rey (2 page)

Dr. Cooper had to prod him to continue. “Go on.”

Mr. Stern gave an awkward chuckle and tried to shrug off his words even as he spoke. “He says his men found the treasure, but they all went mad, became like raving animals, and killed each other. He barely got away alive and left the treasure behind, convinced there was a curse on it.” Mr. Stern chuckled and shrugged again. “So the treasure is still there, untouched for centuries.”

“And guarded by a bizarre curse?”

Mr. Stern leaned over the table, lowering his voice. “Dr. Cooper, we both know this will be no picnic. Of course there are dangers: thick jungle, poisonous snakes, hostile natives. The area is remote, and we can expect little or no government assistance or protection. And . . . well, who knows? Kachi-Tochetin was a fierce, marauding warrior. He conquered peoples and cities all over ancient Mexico and Central America, sacrificing and slaughtering thousands. His treasure is undoubtedly the loot he stole from those he conquered. So maybe the tomb
is
booby trapped somehow. As for a curse . . . well, I understand you are a man of prayer, so I assume you aren't bothered by such things.”

Jacob Cooper smiled. “I've run into more than my share of curses and hexes and magic spells, and my God has been greater than all of them.”

Mr. Stern drew a deep breath. “Dr. Cooper, you are our last hope. Can we count you in?”

“Welcome to Basehart City,” said the handsome, white-haired man in the white shirt and broad straw hat. He could have been a wealthy plantation owner or an English gentleman, so refined was his manner. “This is without a doubt the finest vacation resort in the entire jungle—excluding all the others, that is. I'm the founder, Dr. Armond Basehart.”

Dr. Cooper climbed out of the jeep and shook Basehart's hand. “Dr. Jacob Cooper, and this is my daughter, Lila. That's my son, Jay.”

Lila Cooper, thirteen, got out of the jeep and stretched. Removing her straw hat, she wiped a slick mixture of sweat and mosquito repellent from her brow. Like her father and brother, she was wearing light clothing. She'd braided her long blond hair to keep it off her neck. Even so, the tropical jungle felt hot, sticky, and uncomfortable.

And Basehart City was nothing to admire. Within a small, tight clearing surrounded by a solid wall of jungle were three travel trailers parked in a U shape. A large blue tarpaulin stretched between them. Two native huts with stick walls and thatched roofs and two mud-spattered trucks completed the encampment. It had taken the Coopers a full day's journey to get here, riding over miles and miles of bumpy, muddy road through jungle so thick they could only see a few feet into it. They were a day's journey from the nearest flushing toilet.

Lila smiled a tired smile.
This is going to be better
than I thought.

Jay Cooper, fourteen, was still working on being tall like his father, but he was already strong. And he had his father's sandy blond hair and piercing blue eyes. He took a moment to study the surroundings, feeling the curious stares of the native workers. One was butchering what looked like a pig, another was building a lean-to, and the third was burning trash in a small fire. Directly above, the treetops formed a tight, dark frame around a circular patch of blue sky. Brightly colored birds perched in the branches, screaming at one another in voices continually alarmed about something.

Adventure,
he thought.
I can just feel it!

Armond Basehart took them to the dismal-looking trailer that faced his own across the small, makeshift courtyard. “This is our special guest suite. You'll have running water from the trailer's supply tank—Juan and Carlos will keep it filled for you— and a limited supply of electricity from the trailer's batteries. Please try to conserve it. There's an outhouse behind this trailer, but check it for snakes before you use it. As you can see, we provide only the best accommodations for our guests.”

Dr. Cooper looked around the inside of the trailer. It was a twenty footer, with a small kitchenette, dinette table and benches, a closet-sized shower, and beds for at least four. Everything looked old and well traveled. But in this rugged country, these
were
luxurious accommodations. He set down his duffel bag. “We'll take it.”

They got settled, and then Dr. Basehart filled them in. “Ben Cory, his brother, John, and their associate, Brad Frederick, had a camp set up about a half mile farther into the jungle, closer to the ruins. I chose to stay here in the main camp with the supplies, the workers, the vehicles, and my lab, of course. Besides serving as the team doctor, I am also doing a little private research, collecting and categorizing some of the local fungi.”

Dr. Cooper spotted a narrow, new trail leading into the jungle. “Is that the trail to the Corys' camp?”

“It is. I can have Tomás take you there now if you like.”

Jacob Cooper reached into the trailer and pulled out his gunbelt. “Jay! Lila! Let's go!”

Dr. Basehart touched him on the shoulder. “Uh, Dr. Cooper . . . you may not want your children to go. As you probably know, the Corys died violently.”

Dr. Cooper considered that as he checked his .357 and slid it into the holster at his side. “Where are the bodies now?”

“We buried them not far from their camp.”

Jay and Lila emerged from the trailer, ready to get started.

Dr. Cooper reassured his host, “My kids haven't seen everything, but they've seen enough in our travels. They'll be all right.”

Dr. Basehart accepted that, then he called to one of the workers. “Tomás!”

“Sí, señor.” Tomás came running.

Dr. Basehart introduced them. “Dr. Cooper, Jay, Lila, this is Tomás Lopez, my assistant.” Tomás shook their hands, grinning a toothy grin, happy to be of service. “He'll take you to see the Corys' camp and answer any questions you have.”

Tomás's smile vanished, and he looked wide-eyed at his boss. “Señor Basehart . . . is that such a good idea?”

Basehart became quite impatient. “Tomás, I will not have this discussion again with you! There is nothing to be afraid of!”

“But—” Tomás got a cold glare from his boss and cut short his protest. “Muy bien.”

Dr. Basehart told the Coopers, “When you return, I'll show you the video tape the Corys made of their findings. It will give you an idea of what they were doing and possibly give you some clues to follow.”

Dr. Cooper nodded. “I'll definitely want to see that.”

Tomás eyed the holster on Dr. Cooper's hip. “Ah, you have a gun. That is good. Come with me.” Tomás stopped by his hut to grab a rifle and a machete, then he led the Coopers down the trail into the jungle. The thick vegetation closed in around them, making them stoop and push branches aside. The thick canopy overhead choked out the daylight.

Tomás was upset. For several minutes he muttered to himself in Spanish, and then he shared his thoughts with the Coopers in English. “This is not a safe place! It is magic, you know.
Bad
magic. We should not even be here!”

They journeyed farther into the deep jungle, surrounded by noisy birds and cicadas, until finally they saw a bluish glint ahead. Tomás slowed his pace and crouched as if sneaking up on something. The Coopers instinctively crouched as well and followed.

“There,” Tomás whispered, gesturing toward a small clearing with his machete. From the edge of the clearing, they could see the ragged tent and blue tarpaulin lean-to, the camp where the Corys had been ambushed. “Before we go farther, I will warn you: You will see blood inside, and terror, and signs of Kachaka magic. The Corys came this far, and now they are dead.” He looked directly at them. “There is a curse on this place. If you go farther, you may end up dead too. So decide!”

TWO

T
he Coopers were cautious but not afraid. With firm resolve, they stepped into the clearing, moving carefully, observing every detail. Tomás followed behind, sticking close, eyes wary, the rifle and machete ready.

The camp was a disaster area with camp chairs knocked over, the tent half collapsed, the camp stove overturned on the ground, food and supplies torn, scattered, and spilled everywhere. It had been a mess to begin with, and now scavenging animals had made it even worse.

Jay found a small, thin reed stuck in a tree trunk near the tent. “Dad.”

Jacob Cooper went over and examined it without touching it. “Poison dart.”

Tomás nodded warily. “The Kachakas. They use poison darts and blowguns. The poison kills in seconds.”

Lila noticed the overturned vase and scattered orchids. “I bet these orchids were beautiful before they wilted.”

Tomás smiled crookedly. “Americans. They would pay lots of money for such flowers in their own country. Here, we see them everywhere.”

“All the tools are still in place,” Dr. Cooper observed, checking the collection of shovels, picks, brush hooks, and metal detectors near a tree. He found a large wooden chest, eased the lid open, and whistled his amazement at the contents.

Jay came to look. “What is it?”

“Explosives,” said his father. “That always was Ben Cory's style: Just blast away and get the treasure out, never mind the historical value of the site.” He closed the lid gently, with great respect for what the chest held. “Let's have a look in that tent.”

The tent had half-fallen. Dr. Cooper found a long stick near the firepit and stuck it into the tent to prop up the roof.

“We'll have to gather up all these notes,” he said, indicating the papers scattered on the floor. “We need to know everything the Corys knew.”

“Careful!” Jay cautioned, pointing to another poison dart that poked through the tent.

Lila picked up one of the sheets of note paper. It was heavy, sticky, and stained red. “Euuughh.”

“I told you there would be blood,” said Tomás from outside where he nervously stood guard. “The Corys were slaughtered in this tent.”

There was blood, all right, spattered on the floor of the tent, on the clothes, work boots, and gear. The Corys
had
died violently.

Jacob Cooper kept his tone calm and even. “Lila, I think we need one more set of eyes and ears outside. We don't need any surprises.”

Lila welcomed the idea. Her face pale, she quickly ducked outside.

Dr. Cooper drew a deep breath and spoke to Jay. “Let's do it.”

He and Jay began gathering up the notes, drawings, charts, and maps from the tent floor, separating them from the shirts, socks, bottles, and boxes lying everywhere.

Jay spotted a small notebook partially hidden under some wadded up rags. He reached for it then jerked his hand away, his heart racing. “Dad!”

Dr. Cooper's hand went to his gun. “What is it?”

Lila poked her head in. “What is it?”

Jay backed away from the pile. “There's something under those rags.”

The rags were wiggling and heaving.

Lila stifled a cry of fear, pressing her hand over her mouth as Tomás stuck his head into the tent. “Qué pasa?”

“I think we've got a snake in here,” said Dr. Cooper. “Stand back.” He found a piece of broken tent rod and extended it toward the rags, prodding them slightly. The motion stopped. He slowly lifted the rags.

They saw a fluttering, a flash of dull yellow and heard a tiny, shrill scream!

Lila screamed as well, and Jay and Dr. Cooper ducked. A strange, fluttering, flapping shape shot from the rags and began banging and slapping against the walls of the tent like a trapped bird.

Tomás hollered, “Get back! Get back!” and plunged into the tent, swinging his machete. The thing continued to fly, land, leap, bump against the tent, and flutter over their heads. Lila jumped away from the tent; Jay and his father dropped to the floor. Tomás kept swinging.

SPLAT!
The machete finally made contact and the animal landed on the tent floor, fluttering like a wounded bird, flopping about like a fish.

Jay and Dr. Cooper got to their feet. Tomás stood over the thing, machete only inches from it, venting his supercharged emotions in rapid, coarse Spanish. They started to approach.

Tomás shot his hand out toward them. “Stay back! Wait!”

The thing finally stopped flopping and Tomás relaxed, breathing in deep breaths of relief. He beckoned to them, and they approached as Lila stuck her head back into the tent, eyes wide with curiosity.

Tomás pointed at the thing. “
Caracol volante.
We call them carvies. A flying slug.”

“A
what?
” Jay exclaimed, still trembling a bit.

“Amazing!” added Dr. Cooper, bending for a closer look. “I've heard such tall tales about them! I never thought they were real!”

“They are not seen very often,” said Tomás. “They are rare and only come out at night.” There at Tomás's feet, a loathsome little creature lay dead. It looked like a big garden slug, about six inches long, with a yellowish, slimy hide. But instead of feelers, it had tiny, black ratlike eyes. On either side of its soft, gooey body, glistening skin extended outward to form winglike fins, much like those of a stingray. Tomás used the tip of his machete to snag a fin and extend it to show the Coopers.

Lila came in and peered over everyone's shoulder. “Wow . . .”

“Not a slug, actually,” Dr. Cooper explained to his kids. “But it
is
a member of the mollusk family— and one of the strangest.”

“Don't touch it!” Tomás warned. “The slime is deadly poison, the same the Kachakas use to tip their darts.” He glanced quickly around the tent. “See? There is slime on the tent fabric and on some of the clothes. Be very careful. It will burn through your skin and kill you.”

Without having to be told, they all backed carefully out of the tent and then checked their clothes for any traces of slime.

“Most of it has dried up, which is good,” said Tomás. “It has to be fresh to burn through your skin.”