Life Blood---XXVIII---Page No 106

bade them a silent farewell, turned, and walked, holding my tears, back through the stone room.

The rear of the pyramid was deserted, the steps slippery and
dangerous, but it was our way out. I began leading Sarah down,
step by treacherous step. Everything had happened so fast I'd
barely had time to think about Steve. Those flames, my God. It
was finally sinking in, truly hitting me. Had he gotten out in time?

Then the slimy Rio Tigre, now swelling from the rain, came
into view. I stared at it a second before I noticed the three young
Army recruits leaning against the trunk of a giant Cebia tree next
to the trail, their rifles covered in plastic against the rain. When
they saw us, they stiffened, shifted their weapons, and glanced up
at the top of the pyramid, as though seeking orders. Neither group
had any idea why the other was there. Sarah and I were an
unforeseen contingency they hadn't been briefed on.
        What are they going to do? They have no idea what just
happened.

"Morgy," Sarah said, gazing blankly at the sky, "the colors are so beautiful. Can we—?"

"Shhh, we'll talk in a minute."

I smiled and nodded and began walking past the young

privates, holding my breath. Then a spectral form emerged out of the rain just behind them.

It took me a moment to recognize who it was. I was hoping it might be Steve, but instead it was a man dressed in white, now covered with mud, and holding a knife, not obsidian this time but long and steel. His eyes were glazed, and I wasn't sure if he even knew exactly where he was. Why had he come down to the river? Had he known I'd come here, too?

For a moment we just stood staring at each other, while the Army privates began edging up the hill, as though not wanting to witness what surely was coming next.

"Why don't you put an end to all the evil?" I yelled at him

finally, trying to project through the rain. "Just stop it right now."

"Baalum was my life's work," he said. Then he looked down at the knife a moment, as though unsure what it was. Finally he
turned and flung it in the direction of the river.

"It could have been beautiful," I said back. Thank God the
knife was gone. But what would he do next? "But now—"
        "No," he said staring directly at me, his eyes seeming to
plead. "It is. It will be again. To make a place like Baalum is to
coin the riches of God. I want you to stay. To be part of it.

Together, we . . ." But whatever else he said was lost in the

cloudburst that abruptly swept over the embankment. In an instant it was a torrent, the last outpouring of the storm, powerful and
unrelenting. Nature had unleashed its worst, as though Kukulkan was rendering his final judgment.

"Morgy, I'm falling," Sarah screamed. The ground she and I
had been standing on began turning to liquid as though it were a
custard melting in the tropical heat. As we began slipping down
the embankment toward him, I gripped her arm with my left hand
and reached up to seize a low-lying branch of the Cebia with my
right.

Then, under the weight of the water, all the soil beneath us
gave way, tons of wet riverbank that abruptly buckled outward.
        Alex Goddard made no sound as the mass of earth lifted him
backward toward the river. His sullied garb of white blended into
the gray sludge of mud and rain, then faded to darkness as the
embankment dissolved into the swirling Rio Tigre.
        "Sar, hold on. Please hold on." I felt my grasp of the tree
slipping, but now the mud slide had begun to stabilize.
        I managed to cling to the limb for a few seconds more, the
bark cutting into my fingers, and then my hold slipped away,
sending us both spiraling downward till we were temporarily
snagged by the Cebia's newly exposed undergrowth. I still had
her hand though just barely, but the torrent of rain and mud was
subsiding, and finally we collapsed together into the gnarled
network of roots.

After a moment's rest, I managed to crawl out and pull her up. "Come on, Sar. Try and walk."

Together we stumbled and slid down the last incline before

the river's edge, then turned upstream along the bank. After about
fifty yards, sure enough, the native cayucos, the hollowed-out
mahogany canoes I'd told Steve about, were still there just as I'd
seen them that first morning, bobbing and straining at their
moorings. In the rain I couldn't tell how usable they were, but I
figured going downriver was the only way we'd ever be able to get
out. We'd have to flee the way Sarah had that first time.
        For a moment I thought they all were empty—dear God, no—
but then I realized there was a drenched figure in the last one in
the row. When I recognized who it was, I think I completely lost it;
all the horror of the last two days swallowed me up. I grabbed
Sarah and hugged her for dear life, feeling the tears coursing
down my cheeks. I literally couldn't help myself.

"They were tied up here just like you said." Steve wiped the
rain from his eyes, then reached to take my hand. His bandaged
nose was bleeding again, and he looked like he'd just been half
killed. "I told those little Army chicos I was a big amigo of el doctor
and they saluted and showed me where these were tied up."

"Thank God you're okay. What happened? Did—?"

"Ramos, the son of a bitch. He came in and ... I guess it was
time to finish me off. But I wasn't as drugged out as he thought."
He was staring at Sarah, clearly relieved but asking no questions.
"I brought along his nine-millimeter"—he indicated the silver
automatic in his belt—"in case we run into problems."
        I wanted to kiss him, but I was still too shaken up. Instead I
focused on helping Sarah in without capsizing everything.
After I'd settled her, I pulled myself over the side and reached for
a paddle.

"If we go with the current," I said, "we'll get to the Usumacinta.
Hopefully the flooding will help push us downstream."
        "Honestly, I didn't think the fire would get away from me like it
did." He shoved off amidst the swirling debris. "Jesus. I heard
them taking you away, and I assumed you didn't get to mess up
his lab. So I figured there was one way . . . I just threw around
some ether and pitched a match. The place was empty, so . . ."
        I looked around at the roiling waters, snakes and crocodiles
lurking, and felt a lifetime of determination. Was Alex Goddard still
alive? I no longer cared. . .

Sunrise was breaking through the last of the rain, laying
dancing shadows on the water as we rowed for midstream.
Someday, I knew, what was real about Baalum and what I'd
dreamed here might well merge together, the way they had for
Sarah. But for now, true daylight never looked better.