Chapter 3

CHAPTER 3

Resigned, he closed the map once more and connected the car reverse gear. He returned about one hundred and fifty feet along the dusty road until he eventually reached the last intersection, where he had chosen the wrong course for the tenth time. The road, not much more than a path bordered by high vegetation, actually had crossed during a couple of hours a largely uninhabited area. Every now and then the profile of some miserable shack or some small cultivated field could be guessed surrounded by frond, but Marcelo, for safety reasons, hesitated to stop and ask questions there.

Marcelo Ferrand had left Buenos Aires a week ago heading to Cancun, to attend an annual meeting of his company, a consultancy business of U.S. origin, in whose Latin American area worked the young man. The meeting had ended the day before noon, after which Marcelo had been quick to put on a pair of jeans, sneakers and a worn jacket, had rented a Volkswagen, the cheapest model of the series in a second-tier Agency, and had thrown with a map to visit the States of Quintana Roo and Yucatan. He had already undergone Chichen Itza, and was now heading for other ruins to the interior of the peninsula. The maps were made more uncertain as he went away from the main routes, and he finally recognized in his inner self that he was lost. He was only in search of a town looking as it offered guarantees to stop, rest, and ask for guidance. He drove the vehicle for another extra hour, until he began to suffer the Sun heat inside the car cabin. He then stopped by the road, under some trees and removed from his backpack some food that had purchased before leaving Cancun, as well as a bottle of soda that once was cold; he found that, as it often happens in the tropics, he was more thirsty than hungry. After the frugal lunch he decided to rest a couple of hours, to allow the Sun to move a little by the firmament and relieve the heat. He sank in the driver's seat, cursing for having rented a car so narrow, but in long tours already had happened to him having to snooze threaded and had survived, although with some occasional lower back pain. He locked the doors of the car, opened a few inches each of the Windows, threw the hat over his eyes, so strong light will not unveil it and got ready for a snap. However, thoughts circulated by his mind without control and kept him awake for awhile. He felt a kind of deep satisfaction that seldom had had occasion to experience, to be wandering by natural environments, with a few days available before returning to the big city and his work.

Marcelo Gastón Ferrand was born twenty-eight years earlier in Pigüé, town in the Province of Buenos Aires, where his paternal grandparents had migrated from Aveyron, in France, who along with fellow countrymen had founded the town. As a boy he had had many opportunities to roam the vast prairies of the Province of Buenos Aires along with his father, agricultural engineer, as well as visiting their maternal grandparents in a rural settlement in the Province of La Pampa for prolonged periods, and with whom he had even lived some years. Completed the secondary school, he had moved to the city of Buenos Aires to study at the University, where had graduated as a Licentiate in Computer Science. The possibilities for contact with nature were now limited to fifteen days of holidays, that should also include visiting his parents in Pigüé.

Any chance to wander without direction or time limits as in his childhood was then exploited to the maximum, and this was the case in which he was aboard his VW. Eventually, despite the pleasant thoughts, sleep overcame him.

He awakened hamstrung from acting and sweat, and after doing some energetic movements to keep blood circulating again, he poured water on his head and despite his inner resistance to continue driving, resignedly decided it was time to continue his journey, so the darkness could not find him in the middle of nowhere.

He drove a long way by the new route until to his relief; huts began to appear more and more frequently, predicting the emergence of a village or something greater.

Marcelo stopped his vehicle against a sort of ill-looking hotel located at the entrance of the village, with the purpose of buying some fresh drinks and to ask about the path to follow. One of the particularities of this trip was that he didn't have a route with precise destinations where to go, but that rather chose to ask at each stage on what were the sites where he could go as a next step.

Sitting in a kind of porch of the hotel, in order to capture the light breeze that ran at that time, he enjoyed the first beer since his departure from Cancun, while he watched the desolate spectacle of the village, with its modest houses of varied materials in irregular clusters, in which alternated buildings with small cultivated plots.

Calm, heat and light air forced squinting his eyes overcome by the drowsiness, when suddenly a sudden movement at the edge of his vision field caught his attention; it was coming from the sector where the path entered in the village in the opposite end to that which he had entered. He scowled, to filter the sunlight that came from that direction. Despite the glow he distinguished a human figure which moved haltingly toward the town. It thought that it was some drunkard heading back home after a spree, but the movements were different to those who were to be expected in this case. No one else was in the dusty street at that hour, so he rose moved by some solidarity feeling not exempt from suspicion. As he approached he could discern that it was a female figure of light texture. The woman, with obvious signs of exhaustion, stumbled upon a stone in the road and fell heavily to the ground. Marcelo ran toward the fallen body, and taking her by the shoulders turned her face up; he realized that she was semiconscious. He raised her easily in his arms and took her to the porch where he had been sitting, and deposited her in a chair; the woman breathed a sigh but gave no signals to recover her senses. At the time the hotel owner appeared. The man quickly took charge of the situation and without saying a word came into the room and reappeared carrying a jug of cold water. After a few moments also showed up a woman who Marcelo assumed was the bartender wife, with a wet towel that she immediately put on the faded woman's face, while they placed on her lips a glass of water. Lifetime inhabitants of these desolate landscapes, they undoubtedly had realized that the woman was with a principle of dehydration that had to be addressed immediately.

With hair and dust-free face, Marcelo could glimpse what seemed to him the face of a beautiful young woman, although somewhat pale no doubt by the circumstances that she was crossing. The three stood expectantly to check her subsequent reaction. After a while the girl revived, opening her eyes, at the start flashing. There Marcelo was captivated by two beautiful black and huge eyes, with a strong Arab look. He noticed the fact that his interest in the young woman had increased from the moment that he had collected the body on the trail.

When he saw that the girl was already able to speak, the hotel owner asked her with great discretion about her identity and what had happened to her.

“My name is Teresa” – she replied “and I'm an archaeologist. I was doing a scan in an area quite far away from here, and I was assaulted by a group of outlaws, who stole all my equipment in my camp. Then I was tied up and blindfolded and moved for hours in a truck along rudimentary roads. I've been walking for hours without direction. The worst have been thirst and tiredness. When I saw the village in front of my already was on the verge of my strength.”

The hostess discreetly questioned it about if had suffered some kind of physical abuse, including implicitly sexual violence.

“No, I have not been touched, that was not what they wanted.”

“I am alarmed for what you are telling us” said the innkeeper “this has been a quiet spot so far. We had no news of bandits in the surroundings.”

Marcelo, who so far had remained in the background quietly asked the young woman what she intended to do now, alone, in a place where fate had thrown her with no resources of any kind. She looked at him for the first time, and after hesitation a moment replied.

“Well, as you can imagine, I have not thought about it so far. All I wanted was to reach a populated place and drink some water. But yes, right now I have to deal with that.”

Marcelo glimpsed from time to time the girl asleep in the passenger seat as he was driving along the rugged path, full of scattered stones, mounds, fallen logs and other obstacles that required his full attention. Yet he could appreciate the very feminine forms of her small body, its pronounced breasts, her thighs and her well-formed knees, and the perfect features of her brunette face, framed by a cascade of black hair. The sight caused him both pleasure and curiosity indeed.

“What drove this beauty to walk alone through the jungle? Was she just driven by a thirst for knowledge? As far as I knew, the archaeological expeditions are usually formed by numerous people from different specialties”

In his thoughts and senses co-existed a certain moral admiration with the physical attraction for the girl.

The car trembled when passing on a particularly deep hole in the road. The woman woke up, looking around her somewhat perplexed. No doubt she had slept profoundly. She immediately took charge of her situation and dedicated a smile to Marcelo.

“Well, seems that you were really needing a break” he said, with the purpose of starting a conversation “by the way, I do not be even know your name. I am Marcelo Ferrand, from Argentina.”

“That already I realized” she answered a bit too quickly, so she then added as an unnecessary explanation “by the accent, is clear. I am Teresa Cifuentes, from Mexico DF. As I think I already said at the Inn, I'm an archaeologist by profession and I'm doing some studies on the Maya civilization” she paused “And, tell me, what are you doing in this region?”

The question made sense in an area away from the tourist circuits. Marcelo was happy for the natural course acquired by the conversation right from the beginning, and jovially answered.

“Weekend adventure tourism. It has always attracted me everything related to the Mayan cultures and being in Mexico so I decided to get to know it. Not from a professional point of view though.”

“And what attracts you to the Mayan culture, coming from so far away? You have had important indigenous civilizations such as the Inca in Peru, much closer to your country.”

“Not only in Peru, the Northwest corner of the Argentina was part of the Tawantisuyu, the Inca Empire. But the Mayan culture has an aura of special mystery, above all by the disappearance of the population, and the findings of cities in the dense jungle.”

“Nothing as romantic as a lost civilization. “ replied the woman “But the population has not disappeared, is dispersed in all the villages and the surrounding countryside, where they are still talking quiche dialects, engaged in some syncretistic rites mixing their traditional religion with Christianity and respecting their customs. I myself have some Maya blood.”

Marcelo stopped the car a moment, as he watched carefully the map.

“We should find a secondary road nearby, which, according to the map, would save us a few miles. I hope that it is in an acceptable state.”

In fact, ten minutes later, partially hidden among the tall trees of the surrounding forest they saw a side exit to the left of the road, heading northwest. With some hesitation, Marcelo turned the car toward it, a decision that he was soon to regret.

It was a narrow path without any maintenance, probably with very scarce traffic, so the forest invaded the road in many sections. The car constantly jumped as it was stepping on rocks and branches and keeping passengers in permanent suspense. The young woman spoke incessantly, product surely of the nerves, while Marcelo was trying to stay focused on the driving. At one point, he realized that she had suddenly shut up; he briefly observed her without removing his attention from the road. She was staring, forward, clinging hands among them and slightly trembling. Marcelo thought first in any phenomenon produced by terror, or a seizure of some sort, and mused on whether to stop the car. However, Teresa then broke her silence, speaking with a tone of urgency that Marcelo had not expected:

“Pronto! You must leave this route now.”

“What? Why should I leave it?”

“Just do it! Then I will explain to you.”

In a small clearing away from the road, the man drove the auto inserting it between the bushes, not knowing what there beyond them. The bush soon covered the machine, whose engine stopped.

“I hope I can start it again, cried the man.”

“Silence!” Ordered Teresa, even in imperative tone.

Marcelo paid attention to the whispers of the surrounding forest, singing birds, small mammals grunts and noises of small legs on the foliage. Suddenly, everything was silent. After a few moments of total silence the couple perceived the unmistakable sound of approaching engines. Influenced by the girl´s fear, Marcelo made an absolute silence. Soon he could see among the dense vegetation the silhouettes, blurry at first and then sharper, of two trucks with armed men sitting in the rear part holding rifles, preceded by a jeep, with four crew members also armed.

The whole sight was worrying, and Marcelo could not leave his surprise, both by the presence of this sort of militiamen in a conflict-free zone, and the unusual anticipation that Teresa had made of their presence. Vehicles moved away and the sounds of the engines faded out, returning the usual forest noises. They remained in total stillness for several minutes, after which and upon seeing that there were no more events, the young man started the engine again happily without problems, and laboriously receded among the bushes to the road which they were coming through.

“Well” thought Marcelo “when we get to Cancun little Teresa will have to explain me a couple of things”

The conversation continued excitedly, as if nothing had happened, until they came to the outskirts of Cancun. In this way the young couple exchanged experiences, knowledge and even some thoughts of quite intimate nature.

Marcelo had moved out of the hotel in which the Convention he had attended took place, to another much cheaper. He had invited Teresa to occupy a room in it, in order to take a shower and rest; the girl, with no other option at least in the immediate time, had accepted without much problem.

Marcelo stopped the car in front of the hotel, telling Teresa to descend and wait for him in the lobby, while he was going to park the car. When the woman descended he could not help admiring the erect and well-formed girl buttocks.

“ She's really perfect in every sense” he thought.

Already in the hotel lobby, he consulted the Concierge about the availability of a free room for Teresa, receiving a negative response.

“We just received a contingent of Brazilians, and the city is full with tourists.”

“Well” said Marcelo to the girl “you can use my room. If you want, I'm going for a ride while you get a shower.”

“No way; you've been driving for many hours by now and also need rest. We will share your room.”

Upon reaching the room, Teresa asked permission to use the hotel phone to communicate with her family.

“They haven´t received news from me in several days and must be anxious.”

“Hola! It´s Teresa” no answer came on the other side, although loud voices could be heard in the background. Marcelo guessed those were relief cries of family members to hear the voice of the young woman after a period of uncertainty.

“Yes, I'm well... I was assaulted and kidnapped by armed people, for several hours...No, outside the scare nothing happened to me, but I have run out of money, documents or credit cards. In addition I lost all my camp gear and the clothes I am using are tattered and dirty.”

The conversation lasted a while yet, during which Marcelo went out to the hall to allow a bit of privacy for the woman. When he heard running water of the shower, he decided to go down to the lobby and read some newspapers. None made mention of the disappearance of Teresa. He returned to the room a half-hour later, hit the door with the knuckles, and inside Teresa replied that he could come in.

Entering he saw the girl with a towel knotted around his body, his hair was wet and the curves of her body could be guessed under the cloth. Marcelo could not avoid a fleeting erection.

“No need. In the archaeological expeditions we not always have privacy. I'm used to moving in the midst of men and women without false modesty while maintaining decorum.”

“And what was the reaction of your family?”Marcelo changed the subject.

“They were very nervous. Apparently some farmers found my camp looted and stirred, and gave alert the authorities. As I had some college papers, they were able to identify me as the camper, and called my family. I spoke with my grandfather; he will send his driver for me tomorrow morning.”

“How long will it take him driving from Mexico DF?”

“He is not going to come by car, but in a private plane” when she saw the expression of surprise in the man´s face she added with a smile not without pride “My grandfather is a man of many resources, even though the plane is not his.”

Teresa approached one of the beds, where she had left her clothes before taking a shower. Indeed, they was a shirt and pants, both made out of rustic fabric, full of tears and dirt when she was thrown from the truck to the ground, and by wandering through the jungle for about six hours according to her calculations. She shook the shirt in order to remove dust and with the vigorous gesture unwillingly opened the towel that surrounded her torso, exposing briefly her breasts, abdomen and back. The young woman quickly wrapped up again the towel while she blushed. Marcelo suddenly stood up like a spring and for an instant existed between both a current of attraction that they were barely able to master. Without adding anything, Teresa returned to the bathroom with her clothes in hand, leaving the man free alone with his fantasies.

That night Marcelo invited her to dinner in a typical cantina not very far from the hotel, where both tested all kinds of Mexican dishes selected by the female, sprayed by several Margaritas. Marcelo could barely discern if the fire was in his mouth, throat or stomach, and if it was due to alcohol or tacos.

As they returned to the hotel Teresa began to sing boleros and some Mexican melodies, accompanied by the man, who barely knew some parts of the lyrics. Marcelo placed his left arm around the waist of the girl, who willingly accepted the gesture. As they were approaching their destination, the songs ceased while he constricted his embrace bringing both bodies closer, until their hips touched. In front of a public square, Teresa pointed a full moon that stood as a giant coin above the tops of the trees. There they remained in silence, enjoying a few moments in silence in the warm breeze.

They went the staircase up to the top floor, always keeping the silence. When entering the room their bodies touched unintentionally. The man shut the door, took Teresa´s face between his hands and kissed her on the mouth. The woman gently hugged him. When he checked her favorable reaction, Marcelo started passionately caressing her. Each one began to unbutton the clothes of the other, and the contact of flesh over flesh unleashed long repressed hormones. Marcelo removed her shirt with certain brusqueness, kissed her erect nipples and sank his face between her perky breasts. Then he descended patting kissing her belly, as he got his hands inside her pants and panties, caressing her buttocks. Finally they fell on one of the beds and proceeded to take off the rest of the clothes. Marcelo kissed her thighs focusing on their inner side; Teresa began to moan and grabbed his head between her legs.

Fiercely, they joined with a mixture of joy and pain to achieve together a vigorous and liberating orgasm. Only then they realized that despite the air conditioning they were soaked in sweat. The anticlimax lasted several minutes, after which they re”-launched the caresses, now with less heartburn and more pleasure, recognizing their bodies with delicacy and thoroughness. That night they joined several times, ending fully exhausted and asleep in the pleasant climate of the room.

Despite his tiredness Marcelo woke up startled. He opened his eyes in the midst of the darkness of the room, the air conditioning was still running silently, and the man wondered about the origin of the sound that had awakened him. After a while without further news, the sleep again invaded him and he was already yielding to it, when he clearly heard strange words, and this time he could clearly discern the source. Teresa, lying completely asleep by his side, pronounced isolated words in an unknown language. Somewhat restless, Marcelo paid attention to understand the terms to ask its meaning to the woman when she was awake. At last he could understand diffusely two words, which he sought to remember. The girl shook and turned her head to left and right; for her gesture, it was clear that she was going through a nightmare, so Marcelo decided to shake her slightly, taking her by the shoulders. Teresa gave a sigh, her frown distended; she then turned towards her right side and went on sleeping, this time calmly.

Marcelo decided narrating the episode to his partner the next day, and asked her to explain also the premonition she had on the road, when she anticipated the approximation of trucks with armed militiamen. Finally, and despite the concern triggered by the incident, he fell asleep again.

Teresa woke up by some soft blows given to the door of the room; when she sat on the bed saw Marcelo opening the door to a waitress who entered carrying a tray with breakfast for both. They took the collation quietly in bed, and after that, the woman rested her head on his shoulder, closed his eyes with a pleasant expression on his face.

Marcelo let it stay for a while, after which he whispered in her ear:

“When you feel ready to talk, I would like to ask you some questions.”

Somewhat surprised, Teresa replied immediately:

“Of course, whenever you want.”

“You remember when you alerted me about the presence of the militia on the trail, I wonder how was it that you knew…” he left the sentence unfinished not knowing how to end it.

Teresa delayed her answer; she was debating with herself if she had the degree of familiarity with the man to confide very intimate issues. Finally she decided that after the shared night, she could open to him certain facets of her life.

“I happen to have certain psychic powers for anticipation. It is a... don't know if called gift or a load that... runs on my mother's family, and carriers of this gift are precisely some women of the clan, not all.” She then narrated him how she had found the object submerged in the cenote after one of her intuitions “I believe that the men we saw along the way were related to my captors. That would explain that I have associated the intuition on their proximity to danger.”

Marcelo remained silent; the answer, although unconventional, somehow was satisfactory and consistent with the facts he had witnessed.

“On the other hand, last night you had a very restless sleep; talking "in tongues"” he said using the biblical verbal image.

“What do you mean” in tongues?”

“Using a language incomprehensible for me, only I could retain some words or names.”

“And what were those words?”

“Something like: Shchil and Ushmal.”

The girl had a chill, she remained silent a moment and said:

“Xchil and Uxmal.”

“Then they do make some sense? What do they mean?”

Teresa hesitated a moment, then, resigned, tried to explain something not even she understood.

“It is about some recurring dreams that I have, and up to the point I can understand, are related to my ancestors. One of them, who supposedly introduced in my family the power of prescience was a Mayan Princess of classical times called Xchil, who would have lived in a town called Dzibilchaltun, permanent rival from the great imperial center of the time, Uxmal. I guess that those two words are those that you have heard.”

“So you have Royal blood? Asked rather sarcastically Marcelo, who repented immediately to make jokes with something that for Teresa was obviously real “Sorry, I didn't want to sound irreverent.”

“No problem, I myself do not take it seriously, at least not entirely. Particularly having in account that the Princess is only part of the story.”

“And who else is in the history?”

“Her husband, who, in my dreams, is a kind of... god” the last word came out with difficulty from the girl´s throat “ I know, it sounds as absolute nonsense, but I cannot rid myself of these ideas, and they are linked with the prescience, that is very real.”

At that time someone called again at the door of the room. Marcelo authorized entry to the Concierge, who announced that a certain Mr. Guerrero was looking or Miss Cifuentes at the lobby.

“It is my father´s driver” said Teresa, rising from the bed of a jump. “Come with me. I want to introduce him to you.”

Marcelo accompanied Teresa and Guerrero; who turned out to be an impressive fellow, without a doubt not only the driver but also bodyguards, as well as owner of a very Mexican friendliness.

The woman was preparing to climb to the private flight that would her take back to Mexico DF. The young couple held their hands together.

“And what about our thing, does it end here?” asked she in a helpless voice.

“I hope not, I will go to look for you as soon arrange some things both personal and working in Buenos Aires. Meanwhile we will remain in contact by email and through Skype.” His firm and sincere tone convinced the girl, who simply turned and went to the plane without looking back, so that her tearful face would be hidden.

In mid-flight, despite her efforts Teresa could not keep out of her mind everything that had recently happened. She realized that she was in love for the first time in her life, and didn't want to delve further in those thoughts, to avoid that their dreams would wither when coming into contact with reality. She also thought that she should cut her relationship with Magnus McPherson, which was admittedly empty and formal. Only new love experience allowed her to analyze her previous life in a new light.