Marjorie Thelen: The Hieroglyphic Staircase

Another round of rain pelted them and even Elena had trouble finding safe footing. The steps were slippery from the rain and soft moss that grew on the stones.

She looked back. They had gotten higher up than Jorge in no time. Between trying to see through the rain and get his big, boot laden feet on the steps he had fallen behind.

“Stop.” He waved the gun at them. “Stop or I’ll shoot.”

They stopped.

“Wait up for me.”

Elena calculated the distance Jorge would tumble if she pushed him now, but decided he hadn’t advanced far enough to do permanent damage. Just a little further, Jorge, she said in her mind. Just a little further.

His progress was at a snail’s pace because his booted feet would not fit the steps even when he tried to walk sideways, crab fashion. Elena was glad he was having so much trouble. She sneaked a glance at Miguel when Jorge had his head down. He had a little smile. Elena motioned with her hand for him to go up a few more steps, and he moved two more before Jorge raised his head.

“Don’t try anything.” Jorge screamed the words, his face contorted into a nasty grimace. “I should kill both of you now.”

Elena sat down on a step. “Then you won’t know where the hiding place is. What’s hidden that is so important you’d kill for it?”

Jorge stopped, trying to catch his breath. “Millions of dollars. Millions. I’ll be set for life. I’ll be rolling in money.”

Elena doubted that millions of dollars would be in a hiding place here, but there might be something worth millions of dollars. She wondered what it was and where it had come from. One thing she hadn’t figured out yet was where the exact hiding place was in the row of glyphs on the fifty-second step. Jorge might throw every glyph down the side of the pyramid looking for it.

When Jorge caught up, she turned and started up the steps again. The rain had let up. Soft gusts of wind caught her from time to time. Water made tiny puddles in the uneven surface of the steps. Elena was tired beyond caring, motivated only by the hope that Miguel could get away when she pushed Jorge. He’d have to stay up with her to do that, and they still weren’t high enough.

C’mon, Jorge, move those big clumsy feet up the steps.

“Don’t go so fast,” Jorge called. “Slow down, you stupid bitch.”

If he called her stupid bitch one more time ….

Now Miguel was at least ten steps higher. Jorge didn’t seem to notice. Elena waved Miguel higher. If he could get high enough to get out of range, he could run for it. The back side of the pyramid was rubble, sloping to a grassy area. If Miguel could make it up over the top and be gone, Jorge wouldn’t be able to shoot him.

C’mon Jorge, just a little higher. Elena waited while he took step after laborious step.

“Why don’t you take off those boots?” she called to him.

“Why don’t you shut up, bitch?”

She was going to slam him so hard when he got a little higher, he would regret the day his mother gave him birth.

The sky lightened steadily, as the dark storm clouds tired of their fury and moved off to the northwest. Gray clouds scudded across the sky and gave up more rain, but gentler now. The storm picked up speed, tiring of Copan Ruinas and its inhabitants, eager to terrorize another community.

Elena turned and inched up another few steps. Her muscles ached, especially the leg he had kicked, and she couldn’t see out of the injured eye. But those pains seemed minor to their fate if they could not get away from Jorge.

“Wait,” called Jorge. “How much further?” He sat on the step where he was and twisted around to keep them in sight. “Tell the kid to wait up.”

Elena called to Miguel, and he stopped and sat down.

Jorge’s as tired as I am, thought Elena with warped glee. None of them had had any sleep or anything to drink or eat, except rain as they could catch it. She was beyond pain and exhaustion. She was high on adrenalin.

“I’m going ahead of you,” Jorge said, as he rose to continue on.

Damnation, thought Elena, we aren’t high enough. I’ll have to chance it. It was the perfect opportunity to trip him up as he went by her.

He heard her thoughts.

“Move over.” He barked the command. “Don’t try anything funny when I pass. You know what will happen.”

Elena smiled a sweet, lopsided smile as half her face was puffy. “I promise I won’t try anything but remember you still don’t know which step.”

He stopped before her and pointed the gun at her head. “There aren’t that many left. I could just tear out the whole top of the pyramid.”

“That would take a long time.” She maintained her false smile. “It’s a little further up. Why don’t you go on? When you get to the step I’ll tell you.”

Jorge studied her, trying to guess what her game was.

She waited, not sure what he would do.

Without comment, he turned and went around her, giving her wide berth. The steps were more fragile and uneven toward the center of the stairs, and large gaps existed between some glyphs. She prayed he’d lose his footing.

He didn’t. And he was far enough away she couldn’t reach him. Elena calculated how long she could delay in telling him where the correct step was.

Miguel watched from his perch on a step higher up. Jorge was now midway between the two of them. He had miscalculated. It would be impossible for him to keep the gun trained on both of them at the same time. That thought must have occurred to him in the same instant because he stopped climbing and looked down at her.

Miguel saw his opportunity and bolted. Running up the rest of the stairs like a nimble mountain goat, he disappeared over the top of the pyramid.

When Jorge jerked around to see what Miguel was up to, Elena flew into action, lunging up the stairs, grabbing the man’s left ankle, and yanking with all her might. His fast swivel to see Miguel had changed his center of balance. His weight was on the right leg, and when Elena yanked his left, his footing faltered. In one instant he was on one leg in a poor imitation of a ballet pirouette. In the next instant he was airborne, flapping his arms in a wild try to right his balance, to keep from keeling over backward.

The surprise on his face changed to anger when he realized what was happening. He pointed the gun in Elena’s direction and fired.

In the same instant Elena plastered herself against the steps. She could hear the whistle of the bullet, as it zinged past her ear. Then she scrambled, not waiting for the next shot, catching an image of Jorge twisting and crashing backwards down the steps. She reached the top steps of the pyramid, jumped over the rubble, and looked back to see what had happened to Jorge.

He had landed in a sprawl at the bottom, arms askew. She couldn’t tell if he was alive or dead. She hoped that Miguel was on his way back to town for help because she was giving out fast.

Dominic and Paco had almost reached the end of the trail to the ruins when Miguel came barreling from the direction of the Archaeological Park.

“Miguel,” cried Dominic, when he realized what was flying at them. “Wait up. It’s me, Dominic.”

The child stopped before him, panting hard, looking like a pack of jaguars was chasing him.

“Help, please help,” Miguel said between breaths. “Elena is at the Staircase with that man, and he has a gun. I heard a shot. He is going to kill her. I ran for help.” He pulled Dominic’s hand in the direction from which he had come.

Dominic broke into a run to keep up with Miguel, throwing all his effort into running as fast as he could. He could hear Paco’s footsteps pounding behind him.

They reached the clearing, and Miguel stopped.