“Not even for a day. Not with that carved doorpost lying on the trail down there. We’re going to need their help to keep this place safe until we can turn it over to the authorities.”
“You’re right,” she said. “This could be an important find. I’m not aware of any other mummified Mayans.”
In a few minutes, Christina and Maria, the Mendoza brothers, and José Sánchez joined them. Christina looked around her. “What is this place?”
“We’re not sure,” said Remi. “It’s a Mayan ruin, and it seems to have been buried in a lava flow. We think it’s a shrine or holy place, probably dedicated to the mountain. The Mayans also had lots of gods that lived in the sky or the interior of the Earth. On a volcano, I suppose it could be either. I remember one called Bacab who did both.”
Maria looked at the entrance. “Can we go inside without damaging it?”
“We’ve been inside,” Sam said. “It should be okay as long as you don’t touch anything. There are the remains of a man in there. He’s been mummified—not intentionally but by the conditions. The altitude and the dry air up here probably preserved him the way it preserved the mummies in Peru and Chile. At some point, a lava flow sealed the entrance, and that probably made a big difference.”
The volunteers all took their flashlights and went in one at a time. As each one came out, another entered. When they had all been inside, they stood on the flat entry, hushed and looking awed.
“What do we do about him?” asked Paul Mendoza.
José Sánchez said, “We get the news out. Then people will pay to come up here.”
“No,” said Maria. “We’ve got to get the authorities up here. The archaeologists—”
“The archaeologists can’t do much right now,” said Christina. “The roads are closed, and, when they’re reopened, it would be wrong to evacuate a corpse first when there are people down there waiting to be transported to hospitals.”
“He’s not just a corpse,” said Sánchez. “He’s a national treasure.”
“Whether he died yesterday or in 900 A.D., the point is that he’s dead,” said Maria. “He’s not in danger, like a patient who needs a transplant. If we make sure he’s preserved, that’s all we can do for him.”
Sam held up a hand. “Please, everyone. It never came up before, but Remi and I have some experience with this kind of find. We’ve been on archaeological expeditions in different parts of the world. We don’t know when this man came to the shrine yet. But he has an obsidian knife and nothing that’s made of iron or steel. The site looks like the classic Mayan period, which means it’s probably from between 300 and 900 A.D. You saw he has jade jewelry, which places him in the highest social class. He was probably either a priest or nobleman. Scientists can learn from him. We’re not aware of any classic Mayan remains that are so well preserved.”
“What do you think we should do?” asked Paul Mendoza.
“Normally, we’d say to seal the entrance up again and call in archaeologists,” said Remi. “But we’re in the middle of a disaster area. It will be a while before they’re able to get here. And there’s no way to hide the site with that carved pillar on the trail.”
Sam said, “I think we’ve got to try to stand watch over the site for the night. Then, we can get the mayor of the last village to understand the importance of this site to the people so he can persuade his neighbors to help. Other parts of Mexico and Central America have benefited economically from archaeological sites. People will want to come and study this one and possibly do some excavating. But if we tell outsiders about it now, advertise it widely before the scientists can study it, then it will be destroyed. Looters and pot hunters will come and dig everything up in all directions before scholars can get here.”
“You’re pretty sure of everything, aren’t you?” said Sánchez. He was angry.
“Of that much anyway,” said Sam. “We’ve seen it happen. Priceless artifacts were taken before they could be indentified, walls undermined and broken, human remains thrown aside and exposed to the elements.”
“And what if it did happen? We own it, not you. Anything from the old days belongs to the people of Mexico. It’s ours by law and by moral right. These people were our ancestors.”
“You’re absolutely correct,” Sam said. “Every Mexican citizen owns one hundred thirteen millionth of what we found. We’d like to see those citizens all get their share, and that means turning him over to the Mexican authorities.”
Christina said, “José, don’t be a donkey. This is a piece of Mexican history. Of course we’ll preserve it.”
“You’re awfully friendly with Sam Fargo, aren’t you? That ride on the yacht must have been very pleasant.”
Sam said, “The doctors came with us because the roads were out and they needed to get here to help the injured. Please don’t insult them by implying it was anything else.”
Maria said something very rapidly in Spanish through clenched teeth.
José Sánchez looked shocked and a bit ashamed. “I’m very sorry I said that. Please accept my apologies, all of you. I’ll go along with everyone else and do my part to preserve what’s here.”
“Thank you, José,” said Remi. “What we need to do now is set up a camp for the night. It should be a bit away from this site so nobody sees it and gets curious.”
“I’ll look for a spot,” said José. He walked off alone, exploring the plateau. After a minute, he disappeared around the curve of the mountain.
The Mendoza brothers looked after him, seemingly tempted to follow and have a say in choosing the site.
“I’d leave him alo