MAYA COSMIC NUMBER PUZZLES, VOL.501 MAYA COSMIC NUMBER PUZZLES, VOL. 501 | Page 11

five men who had deserted days before. He was face down and his left leg was missing. Terror ran
through the men. How had he died? It looked as if an animal, perhaps a large cat, had been feeding
on him recently. They stopped and buried the remains in a shallow grave. They now knew why the
burro had returned.
Thomas began to wonder. Why, with his adventure nearing its end, was it turning sour now? He
wiped his sweaty head on his sleeve. Was he feeling sick? Was it the dead body of one of his men
that was causing his upset stomach? The group continued to press on through the jungle. Juan
and Jorge were also troubled with the unexpected dead man turning up. They asked themselves,
why did the group of five men leave one of their own dead at the side of the trail? Why had he not
been buried? There was no machete lying around and the blood seemed confined to the point of
severance. That suggested to the group there had been no fight. Each man knew the jungle can kill
you in many ways-some fast, some slow. Thomas started to think back to the days in the jungles
of the Pacific Islands. The dead man brought back memories of that horrid war. Now, it seemed
they were in a war with the jungle itself. Keep focused, Thomas reminded himself. Keep moving
forward to the edge of the jungle, only a few more days to go. He remembered the last little home
he had seen. It would look like a castle when he saw it again. Guillermo was slowing them down;
he, too, looked overheated. He assured Thomas he was feeling fine, even though he looked sick.
Thomas felt Guillermo’s forehead and found he was burning up. “Drink more water,” Thomas told
him, “and take some of these aspirin.” At the next stream, Thomas ordered the men to make camp.
They still had a couple hours of daylight remaining, but everyone needed the early rest. The stout
burros looked fine, better than the men, even though the burros were the ones carrying the heavy
loads.
Daylight brought an ominous gift. Three more of the stolen burros arrived, walking towards
camp. More dread and despair gripped everyone. What black evil was happening on the trail up
ahead? Thomas heard the men talking about unseen Maya demons. Two more hours of trekking
on the trail, where it was steep on one side and a sheer drop on the other, there, right in the middle of the narrow trail, were the reasons the burros had rejoined the pack. Three more bodies lay
scattered within twenty meters of each other. Their machetes lay close at hand, but there was no
blood found on them. The bodies, too, were clean. Thomas almost wished that they had wounds.
He could kill something that had claws and teeth. He ordered the dead men buried. Each of the
survivors knew the dead and hard questions needed answers, which the jungle is slow to give. The
question on everyone’s mind was what bad thing was going to happen next? Hours later, further
along the trail, the last burro the deserters stole was found eating some vegetation. Twenty minutes after that, another body was discovered next to the trail. Once again, no marks were found
on the corpse. This time the men wanted to go on without burying their friend, but Thomas made
them do it. As he learned during the war, hard work keeps fear at bay.
Tired and confused, the men drove themselves to walk forward towards civilization. Exhaustion didn’t matter when fear gripped your soul. Family and friends beckoned in the men’s minds,
pushing them to march even with their eyes glazed, feet hurting, and backs straining. They traveled up one hill, down another, hacking away at anything covering the trail towards home. Guillermo thought he was reliving the past once more. Would he make it back to Oaxaca, his home,
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