CHAPTER TWO. Paco

The jungle was hot. Big news. Tyler was not enjoying himself. There were a lot of bugs. He kept slapping himself with more force than he'd expected. Apparently this dude was hench, whoever the hell he was. Joe something. He couldn't rightly ask for the dude's last name. Some things can be excused by tequila. Not everything.

But there were a few things he wanted to know. Tyler was no slouch, at least in the fiction department. Came of being an aimless lazy ass most of his life, sure, but he enjoyed things. One of those things was adventure serials, like Indiana Jones or the earlier King Solomon's Mines. Whatever the genre was called, he had absolutely fallen in love with it years ago. But there was nothing particularly special about it to him, it was just something he liked and would watch when it was available. Action-adventure stuff was good mindless entertainment, and for Tyler, whiling away the hours while conversing with the flowers was pretty much the only thing he was good at so far in life, and he'd found countless ways to move time forward.

Only now he was kind of regretting that, because he kept thinking of all the stuff he could've done before. Spent more time with Trixie, for instance. She really needed to improve her basketball game and he was always too busy. His mom usually wanted him to hang up the Christmas decorations with her but he found excuse after excuse. His dad...well his dad spent too much time in front of the tv, according to his mom, so he supposed the apple didn't fall too far from the tree.

And now he didn't know if he was ever going to see them again, or his own stupid house in their stupid wonderful small town and the weird old lady who had twenty cats that all looked healthier than her and he and Trixie had long suspected they were actually aliens from another planet disguised as Persian cats slowly draining her life force. 

Tyler had a little attack of the sniffles, and got his head back into the game.

"Señor, are you sure you're all right?" asked Paco, looking at him with more concern than Tyler expected from a probably-traitorous sidekick. 

He'd seen the movies. He knew. The sidekick was always the one betraying the hero, and Tyler was pretty sure he was the hero in this story. Not that he was in any way prepared to be one.

And he wasn't going to be all The Man Who Would Be King about it, either.

"Tequila," he managed to croak, over the lump that had apparently taken up residence in his throat. He coughed a little. "So tell me, Paco. How'd we meet?"

Now Paco was really giving him the old once-over.

"You know that," he said. "You must remember."

"Entertain a man with a hangover, willya?" asked Tyler.

Paco shrugged, in a why not humor the white man? kind of way, and went back to hacking through the jungle.

"Well, you were playing cards at the cantina, and Maria was hanging all over you, only to pick your pocket, you understand, she's a married woman after all," he explained sagely.

"A virtuous kind of girl," commented Tyler.

"Exactly. Now. Of course, when José came in, he didn't understand the score at first and drew. He shot at you. But I knew you to be a good man, and I took a bullet for you."

Now Tyler stopped short.

"Holy shit," he said. "That was good of you."

"Yes," agreed Paco. "It was. Well, you felt so bad that you said you wanted to hire me. To do what? I asked. You said it was a secret. We don't have much truck with secrets around here in Aguascalientes - "

"Mexico?"

"No, Ecuador. We're in Ecuador. You are in Ecuador, amigo, did you fall and hit your head? Anyway. I'm your girl Sunday. But not a girl. You know. And when you paid me, I saw the money was good, and I thought, hey who gives a shit what this gringo's got going on, it's cold hard cash, right?"

The parrots were really having the time of their lives, up in the trees shrieking and croaking like it was going out of style. They were getting on Tyler's last nerve, and making it hard to concentrate on what Paco was telling him, which might be the only thing standing between him and sudden death, depending on how suspicious Paco found his hungover-from-tequila act.

"Right."

"Of course, I was going to have Maria steal your money and clothes and leave you naked on a hill of fire ants if you double crossed me," said Paco.

Tyler felt the blood freeze in his veins.

"Sounds reasonable," he said.

"But it's been a year, and so far, it's been good," he said. "We're best friends now, or I think so, anyway. Remember, though, Maria's got a real sharp knife."

"I'll keep that in mind."

"So of course I thought this dumb gringo must be wrapped up in something to do with drugs or God knows what. But no. He's an adventurer. An explorer. Dumb gringo, maybe, but I was a lot less worried about my skin after that. So we've been following this ridiculous treasure map of yours for ages. Never found a thing. But hey. It's money, and now my wallet is leather, and I got a best friend out of the bargain, so I think I made out pretty well, and I think you did too. I'm the only honest man in Aguascalientes."

"Is that so?"

"Sí, amigo. I'll stab you in the front."

He looked over his shoulder, and grinned.

Ah, shit, thought Tyler. Classic mistake. Now I like Paco.

"You'll find the treasure, one of these days."

"Do you really believe that?"

"Absolutely not. But I tell you the same thing every day."

"So you're the Sancho to my Don Quixote?" asked Tyler, proud of his knowledge of historic literature, at least, although he suspected that during its time, that book was the equivalent of Indiana Jones.

"Are you calling me fat?" Paco asked, then laughed raucously.

"So, this lost civilization, or treasure, or - why do I want it so bad, do you think? Like. Am I out for money or glory or what's my motivation?"

"Sound like you want to play yourself onstage," said Paco. "What's my process? That kind of thing. You know. I've never really known. You tell me. You're an enigma wrapped in a mystery, or however they say it. Motivation has never been very clear. You obviously have more money than any man needs, so it can't be that."

Score.

"You're popular with the ladies. Handsome - hey, I don't make the rules, and I have eyes. So that's not it either. Maybe it really is fortune and glory, or whatever drives these foreign men to come to the jungle in search of something lost. Perhaps to find themselves. I don't know. It holds little interest for me. The money, though. That needs no explanation."

Paco paused, and Tyler was glad for the break. Hacking through a jungle with a machete was sweaty work. He understood now why this guy had such awesome muscles.

"But if you ask me what I think?" he said slowly. "I think Professor Joseph Mulcahy is a man in search of adventure, and that's really the point. Lost treasure? Sure. Forgotten ancient civilization? Why not. But..."

And here Paco turned around, and faced him, the machete at his chest.

"...I know Joe Mulcahy, we go back a long time and a lotta jungles, and you are not him," said Paco.

Tyler stuttered, but could come up with no good argument against this sudden turn of events. If he'd been quicker on his feet, maybe he'd have a cover story, but he was completely out of his depth as well as his element, with only his knowledge of old adventure serials to guide him.

"Like I said, Joe's my good friend," said Paco. "Little bit of a drunk, little bit too fond of the ladies, but a good man. And I'd know him anywhere. And he'd know that story I just told you was an absolute basket of lies. So."

And Paco placed the point of the machete against Tyler's bare upper chest.

"Who are you?" he asked.

So the act wasn't convincing at all. Good to know.

"That's - that's impossible," Tyler finally found his voice. "I mean. How can I be someone else? I gotta be Joe, right?"

"Oh, as if this is our first rodeo with some supernatural creature!" said Paco, rolling his eyes. "I'm not going to fall for that innocent I'm not a monster act. We know that stuff is real. Possession, monster mimics, all of it. So you can take your oh but that's impossible and shove it. I'm asking you again. Politely. For the last time. Who the hell are you?"

Then he winked.

"I'd really think about your answer," he said cheerfully, and then flashed him a grin. "Remember. I stab in the front."