Incarnate: Mars Origin "I" Series Book III (11 page)

Tikal, Guatemala

“Follow
the Corn.” It was about the third time I had repeated the phrase. Each time my
voice got lower and lower. I looked at Logan and said it again. “Follow the
Corn.”

“Can
you stop saying it and tell me what it means.”

“How
am I supposed to know what it means?” I sat down in the desk chair and turned
sideways so I could see Logan. “And for it to be written in English, someone
must have been trying to tell someone something.”

“You
think?”

I
looked at my child and my eyes said watch your tone. “What’s wrong with you?” I
asked.

“Nothing.
I just thought you might know what it was supposed to mean.”

“I
don’t know anything about what it could mean. How would I?”

“Didn’t
you have to figure out stuff like that in what you found?”

“No.”

“Really,
Mommy? That’s all you got?” She plopped down on the bed.

We
had made it to my hotel room. Logan had booked me a suite in Tikal, Guatemala,
about fifty miles from her dig site. I hadn’t even had a chance to settle in
before I seemed to do what every mother does to her child – even when they’ve
asked for help – upset her. Logan had called me and asked me to come and her words
– “Please hurry.” Even with all that was going on at home, I couldn’t say no.
But right now it didn’t seem like I was much help. But to be fair she wasn’t
giving me much to go on.

“I’ll
be honest, Logan, I don’t know how to do ‘clues.’ I can’t figure stuff like
that out.”

“You
figured out the Voynich Manuscript. So you say.” She rolled her eyes my way.
“You figured out the – what do you call them? AHM Manuscripts. Why can’t you
figure this out?”

“For
one thing, I didn’t have to follow clues. I just had to translate manuscripts.
Translations I can do. And to figure this out, and mind you, I’m not saying I
can. I’d need more information.”

“Oh
my goodness.” She fell back on the bed and spread out her arms.

“I’m
sorry, little girl.”

Logan
was far from a little girl anymore, even though she was the baby of my
children. She was twenty-eight with a Ph.D. in anthropology and history. And
she was beautiful, even if it’s me that was saying it, it was true. She had
skin the color of honey, and just as smooth. She was toned - flat abs, muscle
tone in her arms, with rounded hips and shapely legs. She certainly didn’t
inherit that figure from me. Still when she dealt with me, she acted like a
child – spoiled, inpatient and all.

She
lifted up her head off the bed, twisting her neck she looked over at me. “Why
aren’t you unpacking? Finish up here and we can go so I could show you the
stone.”

“I’m
not unpacking. I’m staying with you at the trailer. No need to take out all
this stuff just to have to put back in my suitcase when I go over there with
you.”

Logan
popped up off the bed, eyes wide her voice went up an octave. “You can’t stay
with me.” She held her hands as if pleading with me. “Ma!”

“What?”

“You
can’t stay with me.”

“Why?”

“Because
someone might see you.”

“Who?”

“Ma.”
She stood up. She apparently was annoyed that I could even think such a thing.
“I only told one person that you were coming and that’s the liaison between me
and my benefactor. And I told him that you were coming to visit. Not to help.
And I certainly didn’t tell my team members you were coming. And . .  .”

“And
what?” It seemed as if she wasn’t telling me something.

“And
nothing,” she said.

I
hunched my shoulders and held my hands up. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me
coming to help you.”

“Mommy.
I told you the letters that I got sounded like they knew all about you. What if
they think you’re doing that alien theory stuff? What if they see you there?”

I
wasn’t sure if that was the real reason she was having a problem with me
staying with he at the site, but I didn’t have anything else to go on. “I don’t
know,” I said. “What if they see me there? So what?”

“I
don’t know why I thought you could ever help me figure out clues, you don’t
have a clue about anything.” And with that she plopped back down on the bed.
Letting out a sigh as she landed.

“Look,
Logan. If you feel the need to hide me, that’s fine with me. You just need to
let me know what you’re thinking. And I really don’t know how much of a help I
can be, this isn’t my side of the world. I don’t speak the language and I don’t
know the history. I’m a biblical archaeologist.”

“I
know that. But I can’t figure this out by myself and I just thought . . .”

I
put my hands up as to surrender. “Whatever you need me to do, I’ll try to do
it. Okay? Just give me a heads up.” I stood up and grabbed my suitcase. I
opened it up and started to put away my things.” So tell me. What have you
figured out so far?”

“Nothing.”
She got up and went and sat in the chair I’d just vacated. Watching me move
around the room, she said, “I can’t make anything of it.”

“It
might be just that, Logan. Nothing. Just something someone found and defaced.”

“That’s
what was said about your AHM Manuscripts. A hoax. But I have a feeling about
this. Haven’t you ever just had a feeling about something?”

“Yeah.”
I nodded my head. I understood just how she felt. “Okay. So let’s think about
this. Tell me about the Maya.”

“They
first appeared in the Yucatan Peninsula around 2000 BC or so it had been
thought until now. Recently relics have been found that are much older. They
lived here in Guatemala. In fact Tikal is one of the largest, and most
important Maya communities.”

“So
why aren’t you digging here?”

“Caracol
is important too, especially since it hasn’t been fully excavated. It’s so
fascinating because it had lay hidden until 1938. Covered up by the jungle.

It’s
got numerous pyramids, royal tombs, dwelling and a surprisingly large
collection of Maya art. An archaeologist’s dream spot. But, more than that,
this isn’t my show. I dig where I’m told.

“Now
let’s see – more about the Maya.” She tilted her head and let her eyes roll up
to the ceiling. “You probably know that the Maya developed a system of math,
hieroglyphics, and as everyone now knows a pretty extensive calendar.” She
looked at me and nodded. “Like the Egyptians they built elaborate cities and
temples. At its peak, in around 100 BC to 250 AD, the Maya numbered somewhere
between eight to ten million people.”

“Really?
That large?”

“I
know, right?” There was a gleam in her eye. “The population density of the Maya
are one of the highest of any ancient culture.” She looked at me. “Aren’t you
going to ask me what happened to them?”

“I
already know that.” She gave me an eye. “Whether it fits in with what I’ve been
obsessed with for nearly the last two decades or not, it happened,” I said.
“The Maya disappeared. Walked into the forest and were never seen again.”

 “The
Maya still exist today.”

“Like
I say, I don’t know much about this part of the world, its people or culture.
But I do know if the Maya still exist it is not the same ones that built those
pyramids that you are excavating. They, like the Olmec and Incas, disappeared.”
By the end of my spiel I could tell she didn’t want to have that conversation.
So I changed the subject. “So, what is the significance of corn in Maya
culture?”

“Mommy.”
She shook her head as if taking pity on me. “You’re right saying you don’t know
about the culture. This whole part of the world is about corn. They eat it
every day. Breakfast, lunch and dinner in some form or another. They have corn
festivals. Corn gods. One of the Maya myths is that man was created from corn.
It’s everywhere. And every culture that ever inhabited these parts has
worshiped the stuff.”

“Oh
wow,” I said with sarcasm in my voice. “That really narrows down the meaning of
your little inscription.”

She
gave me a look.

“Okay.”
I stood up. “Let’s do this the scientific way.” I found my satchel and dug out
my laptop. Placing it on the desk, I connected it to the hotel’s Wi-Fi, opened
up a browser and typed “corn + mayan.”

“You
should type ‘Maya’ not ‘Mayan.’ She had walked over and stood behind me and was
leaning over my shoulder watching me type.

“Oh.
Okay . . .” I backspaced, took off the “n” and hit Enter.

“You
should only use ‘Mayan’ when you’re talking about the language. Even if you’re
speaking of more than one, you still say ‘Maya’ and not ‘Mayas.’”

“Okay.
Logan. I’ll remember that. Now let’s see what we’ve got.”

“That’s
why I didn’t correct you before. You said ‘Mayan hieroglyphics.’ It was right
because you were talking about the language.”

I
chuckled. “Here’s something.” I said, trying to move past her correcting
me.  She evidently liked the idea that she knew something I didn’t. I read
off the first entry of my search and clicked on the link. “The Maya based their
calendar on the cycles of planting and harvesting corn.”

“Yeah.
I know that. Do you think it might have to do with the Mayan Calendar?”

I
glanced at her and back at the computer screen “I don’t know. Let’s look it
up.” So I opened up a new tab and typed in ‘maya + calendar. No “n.”

“It
can’t be any of that doomsday stuff, Mommy. The world didn’t end and I don’t
think the Maya had any supernatural, clairvoyant abilities. They didn’t know
when the end of the world was going to come about.”

“I
didn’t say anything about that. I just said let’s see what the Internet has
about it.”

“I’m
just saying. No alien stuff.”

“Okay.”
I took in a breath. “Jeesh!”

I’m
sure she was alluding to me finding a similarity to the Maya disappearing and
my theory. And I’m sure she knew that my theories included Indians. And the
Maya were Indians. What I had translated from the AHM Manuscripts was that
Indians were the first race of people that came here from Mars.

Difference
breeds hatred
.

Those
were the first words I had learned about the manuscripts. And it took me months
to find the source of those words, to translate it and understand what that
meant.

But
I dare not say anything like that to her.

I
also had a theory of why entire groups of Indians – including the Maya,
disappeared from time to time – our ancestors still on Mars came back and got
them.

I
could see her lips moving as she read the information I had pulled up on the
screen. So I stopped thinking about my theory and used my brain power to help
her come up with one.

We
spent the next hour and half learning about the Maya calendar and corn in
general. We looked at corn in ancient art, learned that a Maya creation story
describes how man was created from corn. Still, we found nothing that could translate
to a reason to “follow the corn,” whatever that meant. Or, for that matter, how
to follow it.

I
did learn that corn can’t reproduce by itself, which I found interesting. It’s
a domesticated crop. Unlike wheat or barely that falls to the ground and grows
new stalks, corn can’t do that. Its thousands of years old and somebody had to,
way back then, cultivate it. Now how did that happen? Logan, however,
immediately dismissed that as not having to do with anything we needed to know.

I
moved on to another search.

At
some point, I just couldn’t digest anything else about Maya culture. With my
photographic memory, and so many entries in our search just repeating the same
information, my brain became frazzled and my body grew weary and hungry.

I
got up and stretched. I sat down on the bed and reached for the phone.

“I’ve
got to eat. Do you want anything?”

“No.
I don’t need to take time out to eat.”

I
ignored her. I ordered room service and then called home to let Mase know that
I had made it in okay.

Logan
and I hadn’t made any progress on our “Corn Quest.” So since we couldn’t find
anything on the Internet that helped us, while I ate, we caught up on family
stuff, about my “kidnapping,” and I told her about Micah’s stellar performance.

“So, if he
didn’t want ransom money, what did he want?”

“He wanted me
to give him all the information I had on the Mars migration.”

“He knows about
that?” Her jaw dropped and her eyes got big.

“Big brother
and all.” I took a big bite of my bacon cheeseburger and had to grab a napkin
to wipe the juice that ran from it down my arm.

“Yeah, but why
would ‘big brother’ have you on their radar? Who are you?”

“Thanks.” I
wiped my mouth and chewed on the bite I had packed in my jaws. “Glad you’re
proud of your momma.”

“I didn’t mean
it like that.” Logan gave me an I’m-sorry-I-said-that-look. “Weren’t you
scared?” she said.

“I did try to
stay brave – initially. But the longer I sat in that room the worse it got. I
just started praying. And then when Senator Cook walked into the room I could
have messed myself. I figured he wouldn’t kill me, but the government after you
– well that’s just as bad.”

Logan laughed.
“Probably worse.”

I opened up the
fifth salt packet and sprinkled it on my French fries.

“Mommy, you shouldn’t
eat like that.”

“Awww, so nice
to have my children worry about me and my health, when I thought all you cared
about was the insurance money.”

“We worry about
that, too.” She smiled. “So Micah became a fighting machine when someone
threatened his mommy, huh?”

Her question
made me laugh. I had to swallow hard so I wouldn’t choke on the food. I wiped
my mouth with the napkin. “Oh my goodness, Logan. You should have seen him. I
don’t know when he learned to fight like that.”

“He’s always
been a good fighter.”

“Really?”

“Still lots of
things you don’t know about us, Mommy.”

“I see. Well
Micah kicked butt. All in vain it seems. Senator Cook told me that they
wouldn’t have ever hurt me or my son. And I could ‘rest assured’ that no one
harmed Micah after I left. When he said that I shook my head and thought, ‘No
wonder he was winning. No one was fighting back.’”

We laughed, but
I could tell the seriousness in Logan’s voice when she said, “Still they should
watch out, when it comes to ‘kicking butt’ as you call it, Micah ain’t no
joke.”

“While we are
‘watching out’ for people, tell me about this mysterious benefactor of yours.”

The smile faded
and she lowered her head. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Why? What
aren’t you telling me?”

“Nothing to
tell.” She paused, looked at me and then looked away. “There’s nothing to tell
because I don’t know anything about him – or her. It might even be a ‘they.’”

“Did you try to
find out?”

“No.”

“You just took
the money and the job? No questions asked?”

“Yep. You have
to understand it was a way to get into the field. And not only that, this place
is a literal gold mine.”

“Gold mine?”

“I don’t think
I’ll find any here, but yes the Maya’s hid their gold here.” She laughed. “But
wouldn’t it be something if I did find gold?” I didn’t say anything. “Don’t
worry though, I’m all about business. There is so much we don’t know about the
Maya. So much to learn. The language, their culture. Why they dispersed. Why
they disappeared. Maybe this could be
my
niche. You know?”

I frowned up.
“They disappeared?” I teased her. “Didn’t you just tell me that the Maya were
still around?”

“Yes. Some of
their descendants are still around. Just like I said. But . . .” She looked at
me as if giving me a warning. “Some of them did disappear. I don’t disagree
with that. But no one, Mommy and I am emphasizing those words –
no one
knows how or why they disappeared. No definitive proof.” She looked at me. “And
it wasn’t on spaceships, Ma. So don’t even think about that.”

I held up my
hands. “I didn’t say anything.” I picked up my drink and took a sip. I wasn’t
saying anything - not because I didn’t want to, but because she was being so
defensive.

Still I
thought, maybe it was a good thing I was here to help her. I might could find
out more about the Ancients. More about why they placed people here on this
planet and then took them back. Then I could have more information for Senator
Cook. I looked at Logan. Still I thought it best to change the subject.

“Be careful of
working for people you don’t know,” I said. “They might have a different agenda
than you.” She didn’t say anything. “How did you get the permission to dig
there anyway?”

“I don’t know.
Someone just called – out of the blue - and asked for me. Said that I should
get a group together because they were coming here to excavate and they wanted
me to lead the group.”

“Someone? I’m
sure you asked for a name.”

 “Of
course I did. I spoke to someone in the Office of ----. They couldn’t give me
much information. Only that the Belize government had issued permits for the
dig.” My brow creased with concern. “Really, it’s not so strange. There has
been a lot of excavations here. They dig here practically every year.”

“Yeah, but why
did they pick you?”

“What’s wrong
with picking me?” She stiffened her body. “They are keeping control over it. I
was told that I would get credit for the dig but that they wanted first rights
on putting things in the museum here. I could choose where I wanted to have it
examined, but someone from their office had to accompany me. They’ve given me
the latest and most expensive equipment in field and a team of really smart
people to work with.” I opened my mouth to speak, but before I could she
started again. “I’m a big girl, Mommy. This is all legit. No worries. No one
that’s criminal would be so high tech and concerned about history.”

“If you don’t
know who you’re working for, then you don’t have any way to verify that.”

“I know for a
fact that this is okay.”

“For a fact?
And you don’t know who’s running the show.”

“I’m sure I’m
not supposed to mention this. But from what I’ve seen, the U.S. government is
backing this.”

My head snapped
up. The government? Now that really gave me pause. It was a member of the U.S.
government that kidnapped me. Although in the end I wasn’t in danger and I
agreed to help, it taught me that they weren’t beyond illegal means to get what
they want. I don’t know why that hadn’t been obvious to me much earlier.

 “The
government? The United States cares about what goes on in a Belize jungle and
what happened to the Maya people? That really seems hard to believe.”

“Why do you do
this, everything I try to do you try to knock it down.”

I definitely
didn’t know where that came from. And I didn’t want to either. Again I changed
the subject. “How about if you show me this stone slab you found?”