Life Blood ---XX---Page No--66



They all returned uncomprehending looks, then glanced
quickly at each other in confusion. Or at least that was how I read their faces.
"Sarah," I said, pronouncing the name slowly. "Sarah Crenshaw."
"Sara," one voiced, then others. They backed away and
immediately began a heated dispute, which eventually involved all
the women. Well, one thing was for sure: They damned well knew
who I was asking about. But why were they so upset? Next,
several of them grew testy, pointing at me as they continued to
argue.
Finally the two I'd first approached turned and began urging
me to leave, gesturing at me with their hands as though sweeping
me out of the compound. Yes, there was no mistaking. I was
being dismissed. And I detected an odd nervousness as they
glanced around, seemingly worried somebody might catch me
there with them. I got the feeling they'd finally decided they didn't
want me anywhere near them, since they kept pointing down the
thoroughfare in the direction of the pyramid.
I've blown it, I thought. They must have figured out I'm here to get her and decided they no longer want to have anything to do with me. What did that mean?
And now what do I do? As I retreated back out to the main
walkway, I felt a growing sense of defeat. Then, looking down it, I
realized I'd literally been going in a circle. It was actually a large
oval that curved back to the main square and the pyramid, where
I'd started from.
God, what a nightmare. I obviously had to rethink my game
plan, find a way to communicate. And on top of that, I was dying
of thirst.
I fished out the almost-empty plastic container from my
backpack, then walked across the square and settled myself on
the first step leading up the steep front. As I drew on the bottle,
my mind still swirling, I happened to notice an upright stone slab
off to the side, like a tall, thin tombstone, with a bas-relief of a
Maya warrior on it, next to some kind of two-headed serpent god—
probably Kukulkan, one of the few Maya deities I knew. And then,
down the side, were rows of lines and dots. I studied them a
minute before realizing it was the classical Mayan number
system, telling precisely when things happened to the ruler shown
there: born on such and such a date, assumed the kingship, won
great battles, etc., all carefully dated as career high-points. I knew





that dots represented single years, horizontal lines the number
five. The Maya loved numbers and numerology, so . . .
        That was when I glanced up to see a group of women
approaching slowly across the square, with a bunch of the men
watching from the forest arbors beyond, and they were huddled
around something they were carrying. Whatever it was, they
seemed to be delivering it to me. Then I realized they were the
same ones who'd just kicked me out of their compound. What
next? Are they coming to drive me from the plaza too? Should I
try and forcibly search all the huts?
But then they set down their load—it turned out to be a crude bamboo-and-thatch palanquin—and stepped aside as they
beckoned me forward.
For a moment I just stared, disbelieving. I felt like I was
seeing someone I didn't want to recognize, perhaps because that someone looked so much like me.
"Morgy, they told me a new one was here, and I hoped it was
you." Sarah was swinging her skinny legs off the side, her voice
bright. Her face was drawn, but her hair was neat and her eyes
were radiant. "Isn't Baalum the most wonderful place you've ever
seen?"
She was wearing a white shift that reminded me of the blue
hospital smock she'd had on the last time I saw her, except here it
seemed more like something that had a special significance, like
the robes of an acolyte. Her shoes were soft brown slippers that
looked brand-new, and around her waist was a braided leather
band. As I stared at her, I wondered if she was really as
transformed as she looked. She was undeniably stronger than two
days ago, in spite of what that bastard Alex Goddard and his
Guatemalan Army cronies had done to her to get her here. But
still, she had to be half dead. Thank God Lou couldn't see her
now.
"Sar, oh, Sar." I rushed over and threw my arms around her. She'd been freshly bathed and perfumed—a fragrance like
chocolate—but she felt like a bag of bones. "Are you okay?"
        "I was afraid Baalum was all just a dream." She hugged me
back, then started rising to her feet. God, could she walk? "But now I remember everything."
"Sar, I've come to take you home." I grasped her hand, warm
and soft, to help her stand—though it wasn't necessary. "You're
not safe—"

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