Todd Pitts - The Serpent Passage

They continued on for another hour until they came across a small cenote, about thirty feet in diameter, along the side of the trail.

Betty jumped into the lake with a big splash, drinking from the cool water while swimming in place. After the crocodile incident, William took a moment to survey the area for any dangers. Drenched with sweat, and itching from the mosquito bites that he had endured along their hike, he also plunged into the refreshing lake.

After satisfying his thirst, William climbed onto a rock and examined his feet; they throbbed with pain.

“Doesn’t look too good, Will,” Betty said, noticing the cuts and blisters on the bottom of his feet.

“Doesn’t feel too good either. How are yours?”

“Oh, don’t worry about my footsies. They’re hard as a rock,” she said, lifting a foot out of the water in his direction. “I’ve been hoppin’ around these parts without shoes for some years now. But you… we’re gonna have to do something about your feet.”

While William sat at the cenote’s edge with his feet soaking in the water, Betty went ashore and plucked several thick leaves from a nearby bush. She removed her shirt and walked topless over to the cenote. William’s eyes popped open, getting a good look at her figure. He turned away before she caught him staring. Betty grabbed a rock near the water’s edge and cut the bottom half of her shirt loose. She put the top half back on and tore the remaining pieces of fabric into thin strips. She sat beside William and snatched one of his feet from the water, putting it onto her lap. She laid a piece of the shirt over the bottom of his foot, followed by several layers of leaves, and secured them with strips of the torn-up shirt.

As he watched Betty occupy herself with his other foot, William couldn’t help noticing what great shape she was in. Although slender, with a nice figure, she also had firm well-defined muscles. He recalled how she had kept up with him on their long hike, and she seemed to have even more stamina than he did.

Betty finished wrapping his foot and looked up. William’s eyes jumped up to meet hers. “Everything okay?” she asked.

“Er, uh,” he blushed, removing his foot from her lap. “You’re doing pretty well through all this, for a woman your age,” he said, trying to say something to excuse how he had been staring at her body.

“A woman of my age?”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean…”

Betty laughed. “Don’t worry. I’ll take that as a compliment. How old are you?” she asked.

William got up and walked around, trying out his makeshift shoes. “I’m… almost eighteen,” he said, lowering the pitch of his voice when he spoke.

Betty smiled. “I remember when I used to say almost .” She stood and brushed the dirt from her shorts. “My next almost has a big four in front of it!”

“No way!” William said. “I figured you were in your early thirties.”

“Yeah, nice try,” she said with a raised eyebrow.

“No really, you look great.” He found it hard to believe that she was even older than his mom.

“Well, thank you for that. I guess it’s because I go swimming every day. It keeps me young,” Betty said, brushing back her hair in an exaggerated way, like she was pretending to be a model posing at a photo shoot.

They snacked on some papayas they discovered near the cenote and resumed their journey up the jungle path. It occurred to William that he could no longer hear the drum beat that he had heard before, and he assumed that it meant the restaurant had already closed. He checked his watch, which read 10:03. “You know my watch is way ahead for some reason. What time do you think it is?”

Betty peered through the thick canopy of palm and mahogany trees overhead. “Hard to say… maybe four or five.”

“That’s what I’d guess too,” William said. Yet he recalled that is was almost 4:00 when he first went after Betty. He had been with her for five or six hours, which would mean that his watch was correct. As they plodded forward, he contemplated the time issue with a perplexed expression frozen on his face, recalculating the hours again to try to make sense of it.

A short distance ahead, the trail took on a groomed appearance. The jungle had been cut back, widening the path. Large rocks lined each side of the trail that extended far ahead. They stopped and hugged each other in celebration. William was certain that they would soon be back at the Cenote Azul.

Although exhausted, the excitement of the improved trail quickened William’s pace. He marched on with renewed energy to reach the end of his adventure, with Betty whistling a happy tune beside him.

After hiking another ten minutes or so, a paved road intersected the trail from their left. “A street!” William said, rushing to the man-made path. He stopped to examine the white road, reaching down to touch its unusual surface.

“What’s the matter?” Betty asked, noticing his look of concern.

“I’ve never seen a road this white before. It feels all… chalky,” he said, rubbing his fingers together. “Well, a road’s a road,” she said.

The white path had two options to travel. After a moment of hesitation, William chose to continue in the same direction that they had been heading. A pleasant smile crossed his face as he thought about how he would soon be back at his grandfather’s estate, in his airconditioned room, soaking his feet in a tub of cool water, and sipping on an ice-cold soda.

Upon rounding a bend in the trail, William’s happy mood dropped with the swiftness that venetian blinds shut out the light. Ahead of them was a horrific sight.

“What the hell!” Betty said, throwing her hands up.

“This… this can’t be real… can it? This must be some sort of bizarre tourist attraction, right?” William asked.

Along the side of the paved trail, William stared at a long pole sticking out of the ground, with what appeared to be, the decapitated head of a man; blood dripped and splattered onto the road below. William reached up and touched the tongue protruding out of its mouth. He snapped his hand back as though it bit him. “It’s real,” he said with certainty. He staggered, feeling dizzy.

“Are you okay?” Betty asked, grabbing his arm to support him.

William took some deep breaths until the lightheaded feeling passed. “I’m fine. I don’t do too well with…” he looked up again, wincing, “rotting decapitated heads on sticks!” he said, fighting off the urge to throw up.

Betty did a double-take at the trail ahead. “Oh, my God. William, look!” she said, pointing down the path; it was lined with dozens of heads on either side of the trail. William continued on, glancing up at the impaled heads above him, smelling the stench of rotting flesh in the air. The heads were of Mayan men; their foreheads sloped back, with scars and tattoos on their faces. Some had even sharpened teeth.

Vultures pecked away at the flesh. One bird glanced down at them as they passed, and then plucked out an eyeball, gobbling it up.

“Maybe this isn’t such a good idea,” Betty whispered. “I think we should go back.”

“There’s something up there-in the clearing,” William said, pointing ahead. A huge red building was visible at the end of the trail through the foliage.

Betty tugged at William’s arm. “Whoever did this probably lives over there. I don’t want to be added to this collection!”

“We have to see what’s going on here. We have to notify the authorities about this!” William insisted.

When they reached the end of the plaster road, William gawked at the structure ahead. “It’s a Mayan pyramid,” he said in a confused tone.

“It’s painted all red! I say we leave,” Betty said, trying to pull him back.