It was the last day of his trip,
a mix of tours and treks which had sped by in an amazing five weeks. Mark
had made it to Teotihuacan, half a day before
his bus was to leave for Mexico City. He
was spending a relaxed morning joking with the merchants as they set up to sell
their wares in the quiet, tree lined square.
One native bloke who had just
arrived was probably a thief Mark decided.
In a questionable attempt at legitimacy the guy had thrown a tattered
blanket over couple of planks at the edge of the market. From
behind a mask of sweaty black hair he nervously darted glances around. Each item he placed as if hoping no one would
recognise it. Mark was attracted by the
quality of the pieces but concerned by their questionable provenance. As each treasure was released from the filthy
back pack to be displayed on the blanket, the sunlight would glint off their metal
and sparkle from the faceted stones. Mark
got the even clearer impression the ne’er-do-well was laying out stolen goods. He decided to walk on by but the villain reached
out with the lightening speed of a pickpocket and touched his arm.
“Ah special Mister” he
croaked in an almost theatrical aside, “I have a treasure especially for you. ” He turned his hand and displayed a small Inca
calendar disk firmly held between his black rimmed fingernails.
Mark had to consciously stop
his jaw from dropping. Ever since he was
a kid he had been studying the Aztec’s predictions, their amazing calendars and
celestial maps. Here was a beautiful
disc, better than any he had researched.
Without thinking he saw his hand extend and the golden treasure fall
from the dirty claws into his palm. The
detail was exquisite, the clarity of the carving unbelievably crisp and clear. It
rested on his skin, its weighty authenticity vibrating to the pulse of Mark’s
being. Mark could read many of the
symbols and letters and knew it was an excellent representation of the ancient artifacts that he had devoted so much study to.
“Mister, this is real one,
Yes?” enquired the thief. Mark tore his
eyes off the disc to stare into the dark face of the man. Stained teeth smiled under a broad nose separating
two of the deepest, blackest eyes Mark had ever stared into.
“It is a very good copy” Mark
demurred, transferring the disc to his left hand to see its other side. The relief was even more intricate and Mark
was desperate to translate the message.
“Ah, no, Special Mister” the villain
crooned. “This is real one from the
ancients. It is for you, this real one
is for you” “The ancients, they tell me give it to you this day. You take now,
You must take now”
Mark glanced again at the
small golden plate as his brain interpreted part of a date. It was sometime in this year. Obviously a fake copy then, but looking
again, the disk had the look, the weight of gold, so it may be worth the price of
a souvenir. Still captivated by the design Mark asked “So how much to the ancients tell you they
want for it?” He turned the piece over and bought it closer to study more of
the detail. Fake or copy, it would still reveal some sort of story once he had time
to translate it. And it would give him
something to do on the plane.
The villain did not reply.
Mark looked up to re-phrase
his question, but, the villain was nowhere to be seen. The tatty rug was piled in a dusty lump, the
two planks kicked in dirt and the trinkets, in fact all evidence of the thief had
disappeared. Mark asked the stall holder
behind him where the thief had gone and the stall holder said he’d left hours
ago. The disc was still in Mark’s palm,
it felt wonderful, it felt real. But time had warped, Reality had shifted. Mark
was standing in a busy marketplace.
People were dodging around him.
His bus was parked up and the driver was loading bags into its
belly. Mark regained his composure and rushed
over to join his fellow passengers to the airport.
Helen was relieved. When you travel alone out of Mexico you never
know who you will end up sharing the next nine hours of your life with. He had introduced himself as Mark, he seemed
nice, smelled well traveled, you now, bathed but not able to clean your
clothes that well. Not unpleasant, sort
of musky masculine. And he was
interesting too. Been trekking and had
found an artifact, was researching it on the way home. It looked gorgeous. Gold.
Lots of little circles and shapes like birds and forks. Anyway he was quiet and absorbed so she could
read books and watch a movie without more than the occasional interruption.
“Jesus! It’s today’s bloody date” was one such outburst
which he followed with an apology and explanation of how the hieroglyphs
translated into a wormhole or some such tosh.
“Fuck me! We’ll be flying right over this place!” was the final vocal interruption Mark made into
to her reading.
As he sat there cross-referencing
the coin and his book, occasionally peering over her to see out the window, he began
to toss the coin thing between his hands .
It looked like it was getting hot. He sat back and put the coin on his
book. It began to fume and burn the
cover. Helen stared at the coin. it rose
in the air. The man sitting behind Helen kicked her seat “ Hey !
No smoking on the plane fuckwit!”
Helen spun around “Piss off, something really weird’s happening! “ As
she turned back her nice smelling companion grabbed the coin and vanished.
Helen screamed. She has not traveled since.
