Jungle Stakes (SHORTLIST Open Novella Contest II)

Chapter 3

Her skin broke out in goosebumps as she descended from the hot, jungle air to the cool of the underground chamber with the floodlight in her hand.

She stood on the threshold, observing the room. Dust motes gently whirled in the flourescent light she held. The multicoloured jars they'd cleaned off yesterday stood silent. The lid of the tomb half-hid it's ancient occupant in shadow. The chamber was as quiet as the surrounding jungle.

Nothing was disturbed. She gave a nervous laugh at the thought. Not that she expected it to be, of course. But the hairs on the back of her neck stood up as she crossed the room and stopped two feet from the tomb.

"Stop being a wimp," she chastised herself. She drew in a fortifying breath, then took the last two steps and looked in.

The corpse was just as surreally beautiful as yesterday, if not more so. Starting at the feet, her eyes swept up his length, taking in details like the weave of the fabric and the tiny stitches that held the clothes together. She gave a shiver when she examined the pale toggle that held the trousers closed. It reminded her of finger bones.

The cream-coloured shirt lay open as yesterday, exposing the broad chest and strong neck. The strings still lay neatly arranged from where they were loosened so many, many years ago. She fought the urge to clear away the small pile of collapsed stake. It seemed someone as regal looking as this wouldn't want a pile of dust on their chest.

She saved the face for last. Normally she went for chiselled cheekbones and straight noses, but she hungrily ate up the sight of his oblong face with its strong chin, round cheeks and broad nose. Would his closed eyes be a dark brown or black or an improbable shade like blue or gray?

She clenched the stone side to stop herself reaching out to stroke his skin.

It wouldn't hurt to get a bit closer. She pushed herself up on her tiptoes. Just to look. Her ponytail swung forward and brushed over his cheek. His full lips were beckoning to her. If she just leaned a bit farther in she could reach them... "You're so beautiful," she said.

"Who are you talking to, Helena?"

"Argh!" She yelled and fell backwards off the tomb where she'd managed to get up and perch on the side. She blinked up at the edge of the tomb from the floor. She shook her head to clear the cobwebs. She must have hit it on the way down. When and how did she climb up there anyway?

Fitzy came in looking better, but still weak. He looked around. "Talking to yourself?"

She stood and dusted off her trousers. "I was just trying to get a closer look." Heat flamed her cheeks at the thought of her attraction to the strange corpse. She had wanted to kiss it. God, it sounded so sick. But there was something...alive... about the body.

She leaned over the tomb to hide her face and said, "So you feel better?"

"Yeah, almost everyone is. Must've been just some 12-hour bug."

"Hmm," She looked closer at the face, and her heart skipped a beat. She'd had a good look while taking detailed pictures yesterday, and she'd bet her left hand that the skin was slightly less wrinkled today. "Fitz, does anything look different to you?"

He came to stand beside her. His brows drew down in a frown. "Do you think someone's been tampering with things?"

"I'm not sure. It's just a hunch. But something is different." How could she explain that a dead guy might be plumping up?

"You took pictures. We can compare those. I'll run back and get the camera."

"It's here. I brought it just in case I needed it." She pulled the digital camera out of the bag. They flicked their eyes back and forth as she scrolled through the shots.

"You're right. It's the hair. Here, here, and here." Fitzy pointed to where his sharp eyes, trained to pick up slight changes, saw places where the braids were in roughly the same place, but not exactly. Someone had moved them.

"And the stake. Look at the picture from yesterday. See how it's heaped up here? Now look." Fitzy pointed at the clearly different shape of the crumbled wood.

Helena chewed her lip. He didn't mention the slight change in the skin. It definitely had less wrinkles today.

She started taking pictures of all the changes they had identified so far. "Let's look for anything else. We need to report this to the professor."

"He's going to be pissed."

"I don't think it's any of the locals. They won't even come near the entrance to this place."

Fitzy raked a hand through his short, red hair. "Only you, me, Jake and the professor have been down here. We know we wouldn't touch it."

Helena lowered the camera. "You don't think the professor would have...?"

"He almost did yesterday when the stake collapsed. Remember? And the door. He just ran up and starting fondling it."

"He knows he screwed up. He's been adamant not to touch anything since then. He's even waiting on the jars until we can get a portable ultrasound here. Guess he wants to minimise any more damage to the site."

Fitzy put his fists on his hips and looked around at the numerous multicoloured jars that they'd carefully brushed off yesterday. "That must be why he was asking about how much gas we have for the generator. I'd better order more just in case. When's the ultrasound supposed to arrive?"

"With our first supply drop on Tuesday. He got lucky and found one at a university in Lima. He hasn't been so lucky finding a translator, though." She handed over the camera to Fitz.

"Bet he's tickled pink about that."

"Well, he definitely knows some good swear words," she said. "Judging from his muttering, it seems he's being very selective about who he calls. He made a list of people and was ranking them according to favours they owe each other, and who he doesn't like because of this reason or the other. He actually ranked someone lower because he said they had bad breath, and he didn't want to share a workspace with them. Like seriously, who does that? Isn't it about the science?"

"My sister's boyfriend is doing his PhD in business. He said some programs can be cutthroat. Helena, look at the toggle." She looked at the screen he held out to her then at the body. The large knobby end of the toggle was clearly the other way.

Their wide eyes met. "Could there be someone lurking around camp? Thieves or something?"

She shook her head. "But nothing is missing. Just the body has been moved around a bit." And healthier looking. She took the camera back and duck-walked along to carefully compare the jars to the pictures. "The jars haven't been opened."

"Are you sure?"

"Not a hundred percent, but everything lines up on the shots. That dust was annoying but it would've been helpful in this case, huh?" She shrugged and stood up from where she'd squatted beside the last jar. "We need to talk to Jake before the professor. We need to set up a perimeter and scout for intruders."

Fitzy nodded and they headed directly to Helena's tent. Jake was sitting on the side of their bed, rubbing his head. Helena sat down beside him and felt his forehead. "Jake, how do you feel?"

"Like death warmed over." He looked up and caught the tension radiating off Helena and Fitzy. Sick as he felt, his training kicked in, and he instantly snapped to attention. "What happened?"

They quickly explained and showed him the pictures. "Let's do a walk around before we talk to the Doc. But I could eat a horse. So food first."