Hurricane Gold Read Free

dead, along a road full of treacherous obstacles.’ He pointed towards the second pyramid. ‘If he’s lucky enough to reach the end, he will meet the final god, Hun Came. If he gets past him, he is free to go.’
    ‘How many men have ever made it out?’ said Dum-Dum.
    El Huracán laughed. ‘Only their ghosts get past Hun Came,’ he said.
    The men became excited, studying the dangers in the twisting alleyway below, discussing King’s fitness and bravery, and noisily placing bets.
    In his bleak cell beneath the pyramid, Robert King could hear the sounds of merriment blotted out by a grinding noise as the metal gate slid up into the stonework. As it opened it revealed the long alleyway open to the sky, with walls some 15 feet high. He turned to the blank-faced Indian guards.
    ‘Listen, guys –’ he said, but his words were cut short as one of them jabbed him with the point of his spear. It was a practised move. The blade hardly penetrated his skin, but it stung like hell, and a thin trickle of blood began to flow down his chest. The other two raised their own spears and King backed away, arms raised.
    ‘OK, OK. I get the message,’ he said.
    He moved out into the sunlight. The Indians advanced and the gate slid shut behind them.
    As King walked cautiously down the alleyway he noticed evidence of animals. There were droppings and bits of bones and dried-up scraps of meat. There was a cloying ammonia smell, trapped down here by the high walls.
    He came to a corner and cautiously peered round it, not knowing what he was going to find on the other side.
    No signs of life. But the ground sloped downward into water and he realised that he would have to swim under a low arch in order to proceed.
    The water was scummy and dark green and smelt awful. He could barely see 2 or 3 inches into its murky depths.
    He forced himself onward, wading down the slope until the water was up to his chest. There was nothing for it now. He took a deep breath and ducked under the arch.
    When he came up on the other side, coughing and spluttering, the disgusting water clogging his nose and ears, he opened his eyes to find six other pairs of eyes staring back at him.
    They looked like they were floating on the surface of the water. Round and black and leathery, nothing else of the animals was visible, and, as King watched, they slowly began to move in closer.
    He looked around quickly. He was in a half-submerged chamber. There was light at the far end, another arch like the one he had just come through. He splashed the water to keep the things away and in an instant they had disappeared under the water. He peered down but could see nothing in the murky gloom.
    Where had they gone?
    There was a sudden sharp pain in the back of his ankle as something latched on to his Achilles tendon. A second pain got him in the side, and as he put his hand down he felt a creature biting into the soft flesh at his waist.
    He yelled.
    ‘ Crocodylus Moreletii ,’ said El Huracán. ‘The Mexican crocodile. They are only babies, but their teeth are sharp as needles. They don’t like strangers swimming in their paddling pool.’
    They heard another yell from below and seconds later King came blundering up the slope at the other end of the chamber, a small crocodile hanging from his side by its teeth. He shook it loose and it plopped into the water, gave a flick of its tail and swam away back into the chamber.
    King was a sorry sight, standing there in his ruined shirt and trousers, dripping with filthy water and with a spreading pink stain by his stomach.
    ‘Bravo!’ said El Huracán, applauding. ‘You have passed the sign of Chac, the god of rain. Not that I expected you to fall at the first fence. The crocs were just there to add a little bite to the proceedings!’
    There was laughter from the watching men.
    ‘Are you going to let him do this?’ King shouted up at them. ‘You all feel the same way as me, I know it. You all want out of here. Open your