William Doonan

I write books and stories.

The Mummies of Blogspace9: Chapter Twelve

with 2 comments

June 17, 2011

Magdalenade Paz, Peru

Cavalcante          http://www.diggirl.blogspace9.ex

Bruce, I don’t know who is more scared right now, you or me.  We’ve had a rough night, and it sounds like you have too.  Cyrus just tried calling you but the phone line is out.  The router and the modem are both down.  The generator is kaput.  And yet Blogspace is still up.  I can’t explain it.  It must have something to do with these computers they sent us.  I still don’t know what kind they are because the logo is in Chinese.

If you’re there, baby, please get online.  Sure, being locked in the archive isn’t fun, but I’m hoping that it was just a fluke, that the police came and got you out.  Cyrus says he’ll go into town in the morning, to call the consulate in Seville if we haven’t heard from you.  We’d go into town tonight, except that we have a dead body out by the pool.  Well, it was out by the pool a little while ago.  Erdulfo moved it.  More on that in a minute.

Leon swears that he did not send you those Latin messages.  And since I was out at the site with him all afternoon, I’m inclined to believe him.  But this is an encrypted system, so it’s not clear how someone managed to get in and post something.  If you asked me two hours ago, I would have said it was probably a hacker, or someone goofing around.  But after what happened here tonight, I’m not so sure. 

I didn’t mention this, but yesterday morning we found a jug of liquid up the pyramid.  Kim had climbed up top to have a smoke, and she found it sitting against the wall.  Probably some kids left it there when they climbed up to smoke pot.  That was my thinking.

But Leon, being Leon, tasted it.  And he said it was that mescaline drink that shamans make from the San Pedro cactus.  Now, we know that the shamans still do their occasional ceremonies on top of the larger pyramids, but I haven’t seen them out here on our piddling, crumbling mound.  So I don’t know what to make of it.

Needless to say, Leon has been nipping at this beverage throughout the day.  On one hand, this is good because it gives him almost super-human strength.  We opened up three 2×2 meter excavation units today behind the church, and we already have them down ten centimeters.  He works like a demon.

On the other hand, this is bad because Leon is now super-paranoid, and convinced that the world is coming to a harrowing end.  He’s nearly catatonic, just sitting by the fireplace, rocking back and forth.  Cyrus finally took the jug away from him, and had a few tots himself.  So I’m not sure how much use he’s going to be tonight.

It was windy this afternoon, so we came back to the house early.  Kim wanted to get back to work on the scans; we haven’t been able to do much with them because of our electricity issues.  So we came back.  I fell asleep and didn’t wake up until dinner.  And just as we were having desert, Erdulfo’s dog lunges at the door, cracking the glass.  It scared the crap out of me.

If you remember, this is the nicest dog.  Old and completely docile, but she was howling in panic.  Cyrus let her in, and she ran into the kitchen.  We all followed to see what was up.  The dog crawled under a chair in the corner, and Erdulfo was trying to get her out, but she was shaking.

Flora was at the sink washing the dinner dishes, and she started yelling at Erdulfo, but it wasn’t in Spanish, it was in Quechua.  Did you know that our caretaker and our cook speak the language of the Inca?  I did not, but now I do. 

Then Leon started moaning like some kind of banshee, waving his arms around.  I’m thinking this was a result of copious mescaline intake, or demonic possession, possibly both.  Finally Cyrus slapped him a couple of times and he calmed down.

It was at this point that we heard a whistle from in the dining room.  So we trundled back in, and we found Segovia standing by the open door.  He was wearing this little robe he walks around in (it’s barely long enough to cover his butt), and he was pointing one if his guns out into the yard. 

Cyrus started yelling at him, and then Erdulfo started yelling at him, and we all went over to the window to see what was up.  And what was up, Bruce, is that there was a man standing in the yard.  He was out back by the wall.  You couldn’t see him clearly because of the bushes, but you could tell he was there.

Leon started moaning again, and Erdulfo told everyone to stay in the house.  But Segovia walked right out into the yard, holding the gun in front of him, stopping only to light a cigarette.

Erdulfo got right in front of him, but he pushed him aside.  And at that point, the man by the wall started to come forward.  And I swear, Bruce, it was the scariest moment of my life.  There was something wrong with his face, I could see that right away even with just the moonlight. 

Erdulfo said something in Quechua, but the man kept coming.  He was unsteady, moving like a drunk, but he came right at Segovia.  I don’t know how, but suddenly it got very dark.  I turned around and saw that the fire had gone out in the fireplace.  But when I turned back, the man was right in front of Segovia.  If he had eyes at all, I didn’t see them.  He opened his mouth to scream, I could see that much, but nothing came out.  Then, faster than you would have thought possible, he clawed at Segovia’s face.  Then Segovia shot him in the chest.

For at least a minute, nobody moved.  Then the man, the thing, came at him again, and Segovia shot him again and again, and then again, until he fell.  He would pull the hammer back before taking each shot.  I think it was because his guns are kind of old-fashioned.  I’m not sure why I noticed that detail. 

Cyrus went out to look at the body, but Kim and I weren’t going anywhere, and Leon didn’t move from the couch, didn’t even look up.  When Segovia came back inside, you could see he had a big scratch on his face.  It was bleeding, so Kim went to help him get it washed.  When I looked back at the yard, I saw Erdulfo dragging the body behind the utility shed.

And one more thing, I was cold, shivering cold, unnaturally so.  I still am.  I don’t know what I’m more shocked by, the fact that I watched a man being killed, or my near certainty that he was already long dead before he walked into our yard.  What the hell is going on, Bruce?

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Written by williamdoonan

January 16, 2012 at 4:52 am

2 Responses

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  1. I
    pictured los pistolas as flintlocks.

    William T. Rozell

    January 18, 2012 at 6:08 pm

  2. I had a picture of them on my screen as I wrote that section. I think flintlocks might be too old, but let me think about it. Thanks for reading!

    williamdoonan

    January 18, 2012 at 9:09 pm


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