The Deadly Curse of Toco-Rey Read Free Page A

always was Ben Cory’s style: Just blast away and get the treasure out, never mind the historical value of the site.” He closed the lid gently, with great respect for what the chest held. “Let’s have a look in that tent.”
    The tent had half-fallen. Dr. Cooper found a long stick near the firepit and stuck it into the tent to prop up the roof.
    â€œWe’ll have to gather up all these notes,” he said, indicating the papers scattered on the floor. “We need to know everything the Corys knew.”
    â€œCareful!” Jay cautioned, pointing to another poison dart that poked through the tent.
    Lila picked up one of the sheets of note paper. It was heavy, sticky, and stained red. “Euuughh.”
    â€œI told you there would be blood,” said Tomás from outside where he nervously stood guard. “The Corys were slaughtered in this tent.”
    There was blood, all right, spattered on the floor of the tent, on the clothes, work boots, and gear. The Corys had died violently.
    Jacob Cooper kept his tone calm and even. “Lila, I think we need one more set of eyes and ears outside. We don’t need any surprises.”
    Lila welcomed the idea. Her face pale, she quickly ducked outside.
    Dr. Cooper drew a deep breath and spoke to Jay. “Let’s do it.”
    He and Jay began gathering up the notes, drawings, charts, and maps from the tent floor, separating them from the shirts, socks, bottles, and boxes lying everywhere.
    Jay spotted a small notebook partially hidden under some wadded up rags. He reached for it then jerked his hand away, his heart racing. “Dad!”
    Dr. Cooper’s hand went to his gun. “What is it?”
    Lila poked her head in. “What is it?”
    Jay backed away from the pile. “There’s something under those rags.”
    The rags were wiggling and heaving.
    Lila stifled a cry of fear, pressing her hand over her mouth as Tomás stuck his head into the tent. “Qué pasa?”
    â€œI think we’ve got a snake in here,” said Dr. Cooper. “Stand back.” He found a piece of broken tent rod and extended it toward the rags, prodding them slightly. The motion stopped. He slowly lifted the rags.
    They saw a fluttering, a flash of dull yellow and heard a tiny, shrill scream!
    Lila screamed as well, and Jay and Dr. Cooper ducked. A strange, fluttering, flapping shape shot from the rags and began banging and slapping against the walls of the tent like a trapped bird.
    Tomás hollered, “Get back! Get back!” and plunged into the tent, swinging his machete. The thing continued to fly, land, leap, bump against the tent, and flutter over their heads. Lila jumped away from the tent; Jay and his father dropped to the floor. Tomás kept swinging.
    SPLAT! The machete finally made contact and the animal landed on the tent floor, fluttering like a wounded bird, flopping about like a fish.
    Jay and Dr. Cooper got to their feet. Tomás stood over the thing, machete only inches from it, venting his supercharged emotions in rapid, coarse Spanish. They started to approach.
    Tomás shot his hand out toward them. “Stay back! Wait!”
    The thing finally stopped flopping and Tomás relaxed, breathing in deep breaths of relief. He beckoned to them, and they approached as Lila stuck her head back into the tent, eyes wide with curiosity.
    Tomás pointed at the thing. “ Caracol volante. We call them carvies. A flying slug.”
    â€œA what? ” Jay exclaimed, still trembling a bit.
    â€œAmazing!” added Dr. Cooper, bending for a closer look. “I’ve heard such tall tales about them! I never thought they were real!”
    â€œThey are not seen very often,” said Tomás. “They are rare and only come out at night.” There at Tomás’s feet, a loathsome little creature lay dead. It looked like a big garden slug, about six inches long, with a yellowish, slimy hide.