Mesa of the Time Lost

James Abraham Carter

Jack Carpenter gripped the controls of the Sikorsky H-19 Chickasaw, the roar of the helicopter’s engine a noisy contrast to the calmness of the Amazon rainforest far below. The emerald canopy of the jungle stretched as far as the eye could see, an untouched wilderness that whispered secrets to the wind. He was flying over the Vale do Javari, a place of unparalleled biodiversity and home to the world's highest concentration of uncontacted tribes. The Brazilian government had tasked him with mapping the region, a mission both thrilling and daunting.

Beside him, Matthew Boyce, his copilot, shifted uncomfortably. The man was a constant thorn in Carpenter's side. They were polar opposites, brought together only by the need for a paycheck. Carpenter, a seasoned pilot with a passion for exploration, saw the beauty and importance of the task. Boyce, a man driven by greed, saw only dollars.

"How much longer, Carpenter?" Boyce grumbled, his voice laced with boredom and thinly veiled contempt. “Can’t you make this rust bucket fly any faster? The sooner we’re done, the sooner I’ll get my money.”

"Just a couple more hours," Carpenter replied tersely, his eyes scanning the horizon. “Keep your eye on the cartographic camera. Make sure the film keeps rolling. The sun will set soon, and I don’t want to lose a minute of good daylight.”

Suddenly, the engine sputtered, coughed, and then began to whine like a dying beast. Warning lights flashed on the instrument panel. Carpenter's blood ran cold.

"Dear God, an engine malfunction!" Boyce gasped in fear, his face pale.

"Keep your focus on the instruments," Carpenter said grimly, already fighting to maintain control. "We're losing power fast."

Below them, the impenetrable jungle offered no respite. A crash landing in that terrain would be fatal. Carpenter desperately searched for a viable option. In the distance, a peculiar formation caught his eye – a massive mesa, its sheer sides rising like a fortress from the green chaos. Its eight-mile-square flat top, partially clear of trees near one edge, offered a sliver of hope.

"Hold on!" Carpenter yelled, banking the helicopter sharply toward the mesa. He coaxed every last ounce of power from the failing engine, the machine shuddering violently as it plummeted. He could feel the heat radiating from the straining engine and smell the acrid stench of burning oil.

The faltering helicopter was failing fast. The engine died completely just as they skimmed over the mesa's edge. The Sikorsky plunged the final few feet, slamming into the ground with bone-jarring force and then toppling on its side. They had barely made it with just a few feet to spare from the precipitous drop.

Miraculously, both, though battered and bruised, were alive. The helicopter, however, was a wreck. The landing gear was mangled, the rotor blades twisted, and the radio was dead. They were stranded.

"You idiot!" Boyce roared, scrambling painfully out of the wreckage. "You almost got us killed! This is all your fault! You didn't even bother to make sure this heap of junk was airworthy!"

Carpenter, shaken but in control of his emotions, ignored the accusation. He knew the helicopter was old, but he'd done his best to maintain it. Besides, Boyce’s attitude wasn’t helping. "Save it, Boyce," he said, his voice tight. "We need to figure out a solution to our predicament, not waste time in a useless blame game."

But Boyce was beyond reason. Unbeknownst to Carpenter, the man was suffering from psychosis and had hidden his condition from the aviation medical examiner. He needed this job badly, and he was damned if he was going to be grounded.

He lunged at Carpenter, fueled by fear, resentment, and delusional thinking. A wild fistfight erupted, an irrational act of aggression in the face of their precarious situation. Boyce came at the pilot in a whirlwind of savage blows. Carpenter avoided most with good footwork, but the ones that landed jarred him to the core. He struck back, hammering his wild opponent with precision strikes that left ugly welts and bruises on the copilot. The fight was brutal but short. It ended when Carpenter slipped Boyce’s right cross and landed a solid blow that sent his opponent sprawling onto the dusty ground. Carpenter, although younger and in better shape, had barely managed to gain the upper hand.

Boyce glared up at him, his face contorted with rage as he wiped the blood from his lip. "You'll pay for that, Carpenter," he spat. "I swear, you'll pay."

But before the fight could escalate further, wild figures burst from the undergrowth’s concealment. Six men armed with spears, alerted by the sound of the crash, had come to investigate. They were dusky, powerfully built fellows, clad in loincloths and adorned with vibrant feather headdresses. They quickly surrounded the two airmen.

Resistance was clearly futile. Carpenter and Boyce were quickly overpowered, their hands bound with rough thongs. They were captives of the patrolling warriors.

“I know we’re not friends, Boyce,” said Carpenter, stoically, as the natives searched both of them for weapons. “But under the circumstances, I think we should put aside our differences and work together. Who knows what these fellows have in store for us.”

Boyce, his mood not improved by being captured, grunted noncommittally.

The party moved out, the patrol forcing the airmen along a narrow, hidden trail that snaked through the jungle. After about fifteen minutes, the track opened into a large clearing, revealing an astonishing sight – a city. Buildings of intricately carved stone stood tall and proud, their architecture strangely reminiscent of the Mayan civilization. But this wasn't a ruin; it was a living, breathing city, with a population of just under two thousand. Carpenter stared in amazement. He had expected a collection of simple huts. But this was a lost race, a people untouched by the outside world for millennia.

The metropolis consisted of rectangular stone buildings whose roofs were thatched. The homes of the plebeians were single story affairs while the wealthier citizens inhabited houses of two stories in height, ornamented with intricately carved friezes painted in reds, yellows and blues. These buildings were arranged around a large plaza of packed earth, with an imposing stone structure that had been built on a stepped platform at the far end of the square.

As they were led through the city streets, the natives stared at them with a mixture of curiosity and suspicion. The impressive building on the other side of the plaza seemed to be their destination, and Carpenter correctly deduced that this was the palace of the ruler. He steeled himself as best as he could for whatever fate awaited him. The pilot glanced at Boyce. The man’s eyes were wide and darting everywhere. He had all the look of a trapped and dangerous beast, and Carpenter hoped he wouldn’t try anything foolish.

Shortly, they arrived before the impressive edifice. The warriors and their captives ascended the stairs and passed through the entrance of the palace, its huge portal guarded by imposing stone statues and fierce-looking warriors. Inside, against a wall carved with intricate bas-reliefs, was a dais, and on that dais sat a young woman upon a throne carved from a single block of jadeite. A lightly built young man stood at her side. Both possessed a regal bearing, their features a striking blend of Indigenous and Caucasian traits.

The woman was clad in a short red loincloth embroidered with gold thread. Her firm breasts were bare, and a huge emerald pendant hung between them. Her skin was a lighter shade than that of the natives, as was the young man standing beside her. Carpenter guessed her age to be no more than eighteen. He was instantly drawn to her, but the perilous nature of his circumstances inhibited a full exploration of the emotion.

The woman spoke; her voice was clear, and she was surprisingly fluent in English. "Greetings," she said, her eyes assessing them with intelligence. "I am Mayuna. This is my twin brother, Xochon. Who are you, and why have you trespassed on our land?"

Carpenter introduced himself and Boyce, and then explained his mission and the malfunction of the helicopter, unsure if she would believe him. “We mean you no harm,” he concluded. “We are stranded with no way of returning home and beg for your aid.”

Mayuna nodded. “I will tell you a little about myself, so you know I am familiar with the outside world and, therefore, not ignorant. My father was a pilot who crashed his plane on this mesa twenty years ago. The natives, never having seen an aircraft or a European before, believed him to be a divine being descended from heaven. They made him their king. The previous ruler had died earlier that same day, and my father’s arrival was considered a sign from the gods. He married Qillaya, the former king’s daughter. My mother is still alive, but my father died last year, and I have inherited the throne with my brother as co-ruler of Uchan, our city.

"Your arrival presents a problem," Mayuna continued, her expression hardening. "You have also come from the heavens, and when my people deduce this fact, you will also be divine beings in their eyes. Now, the heavy responsibility of sacred kingship transformed my father; it made him a better man. But will it do the same to you, or will you exploit these people and turn them into slaves?"

She paused for a moment, looking hard at Boyce whose demeanor didn’t inspire trust. Mayuna then spoke to the guards in their native tongue, “Take these strangers to the dungeon and imprison them. I will give further orders after I have decided what their fate will be.”

"Wait!" Carpenter protested as his captors laid rough hands on him and Boyce. "We don't want to cause trouble. We want to be friends. We could work together, learn from each other."

Boyce remained silent; his eyes narrowed, radiating a quiet, simmering anger, with the situation also fueling his delusions of persecution. Greed was there also as his shifty, lustful eyes gazed at the huge emerald that nestled between Mayuna’s naked breasts. The glittering gem must have weighed at least 30 carats.

But his lewd and avaricious observations were cut short as both men were quickly hustled out of the room. By contrast, Carpenter, as he was dragged away, felt bitterly disappointed that the girl didn’t trust him. From the room, the captives were manhandled through passageways, then down a flight of stairs to a dungeon beneath the palace, where they were thrown into a dark, damp cell. As the heavy door slammed shut, Boyce began to pace silently up and down the cell in a state of nervous agitation. Carpenter observed the man, increasingly worried about the state of the copilot’s mind. He decided to keep a watchful eye on his companion, but otherwise leave the man alone.

It was late in the evening when Boyce suddenly stopped his restless pacing and turned to Carpenter, who was sitting against a wall, wondering how the hell he could get himself and his companion out of this predicament.

"I'm getting out of here," Boyce hissed, his face a mask of simmering fury, out of which his wild eyes glared. "The palace will be asleep, and now is the time. But I need my hands free. Gnaw through the thongs around my wrists, and then I’ll do the same for you. As you said, we need to work together."

It took about ten minutes to accomplish the task, but at last, it was done, and both men were free of their bonds.

To Carpenter’s surprise, Boyce produced a set of lock picks from his pocket. He worked quickly and efficiently. The ancient mechanism, almost identical to those used in Pharonic Egypt, soon yielded to his skill. Within minutes, the cell door creaked open.

Carpenter was grateful to be free, but nonetheless he felt a surge of suspicion. Where had Boyce gotten those lock picks and the knowledge of how to use them? This wasn't the behavior of an ordinary man. He had always felt that the fellow was hiding something. A shady past, perhaps?

"Where did you get those?" Carpenter asked, his voice low.

Boyce ignored him. "Come on," he said, his tone urgent. "Let's find Mayuna. We need to talk to her. I’m sure I know who her father was. About twenty years ago, a fellow named Richard Thorpe stole a fortune in precious gems from a vault in Rio de Janeiro. He made good his escape in a light aircraft. They never found him. He must have crashed here like we did.

“Don’t you see what this means, Carpenter?” excitedly continued the copilot. “We make deal with the girl. She provides native guides to get us back to civilization, and in exchange, we find a fence who can discreetly sell the jewels; then we split the money. She is half white. I can’t see her wanting to live among savages when the lights of Paris beckon.”

“Now just a moment, Boyce,” said Carpenter, sternly. “I don’t mind you taking the lead in our escape, but I’m not going to blindly follow. Those jewels are stolen property. They must be returned to their rightful owners. If we receive a reward for doing so, then that’s the only money we can take. There is no room for debate here. Understood?”

“Sure, sure” replied Boyce smoothly, keeping the cunning expression on his face well hidden. “What I mean is that we tell the girl whatever story is necessary to save our necks. Now, come on. This building appears to follow the plan of the palace of the Mayan king Pakal, which I visited in Palenque. I’m confident I can find her rooms."

Carpenter, his doubts about Boyce unalleviated by the copilot’s smooth words, but seeing no viable alternative, agreed to the desperate plan. Although free from prison, they were still trapped on the mesa. Ill prepared as they were, they couldn’t flee into the hostile wilderness. Nor could they hide in the city. Friendless, every hand would be turned against them, and who knew when they would be rescued, if ever?

By now, it was almost midnight, and under the cover of darkness, they crept through the sleeping palace, avoiding the guards. Boyce seemed to know exactly where he was going. They reached Mayuna's bedchamber without being detected. Security was not as tight as it could have been; being isolated on the high mesa, these people faced very few threats. A single sleepy sentry was on duty at the door to the queen’s bedchamber. 

Carpenter placed a restraining hand on Boyce’s shoulder as both peered around the passageway’s corner. “This is far enough,” he whispered firmly, his initial unease about the plan having grown with further thought. He liked Mayuna despite what she’d done to him, and didn’t want to make an even worse impression on her. “We can’t barge into the queen’s bedchamber in the middle of the night. We need to find a deserted room and wait until daylight before approaching her.”

Boyce contemptuously knocked the pilot’s hand aside. “We’ve only got one chance,” he growled, “and I’m not forgoing it. For all we know, that half-breed chit might order our execution at any moment.”

Before Carpenter could stop him, Boyce ran forward with the swiftness of a racing tiger. The sleepy guard jerked to full alertness at the sound of running feet, but before he could do anything, the hurtling man slammed into the sentry with a brutal shoulder charge. Both men crashed against the door like a battering ram. It flew open with a crash, and the copilot burst into the room. Before Carpenter could react, Boyce clamped his hand over Mayuna's mouth. The girl had been awakened by the noise, and he quickly stifled her scream.

"What the hell are you doing?" Carpenter exclaimed as he leaped over the unconscious guard and raced into the queen’s bedchamber, horrified by Boyce’s brutality. “We’re here to talk, not to attack.”

Boyce ignored him. He dragged the nude and terrified queen from her low sleeping platform, his cruel grip as tight as a vice.

"Let her go, Boyce!" Carpenter stridently demanded, stepping forward, his hands clenched in raw anger.

Without warning, Boyce spun around and slammed his blocky fist into Carpenter’s jaw. The lightening fast blow landed with stunning force, sending the younger man crashing to the floor, unconscious.

**********

Carpenter awoke, groaning. He was surrounded by armed guards. Xochon stood over him, his face a thundercloud, a sword pressed against the pilot’s throat.

"Villian!" Xochon roared. "You have invaded my sister’s bedchamber. I should slay you now."

Carpenter, his head throbbing, stammered an explanation, telling Xochon how Boyce had attacked Mayuna, how he had been knocked unconscious while trying to stop him.

“I swear, if I had known he was going to do what he did, I would never have helped him. I was a fool to trust the man,” Carpenter concluded with heartfelt sincerity.

To his surprise, Xochon lowered his sword. He studied Carpenter's face, searching for any sign of deception. Finally, he seemed to believe him.

"Boyce has kidnapped my sister," Xochon said, his voice filled with fury and anguish. "He is forcing her to take him to the stash of gems that our father brought on the plane.

"The jewels are hidden in a sacred site," Xochon continued. "It is the Temple of the Sun, a place where only Mayuna and I can go. The natives won’t enter it. To them, it is taboo. I need your help, Carpenter. I can’t save my sister on my own. It irks me to admit it, but I’m no match for that powerful brute."

Carpenter, still reeling from Boyce’s treachery, nodded grimly. He had no love for the man to begin with, and now his feelings had turned to bitter hatred. He couldn't stand by and allow him to harm Mayuna.

“I’m eager to make amends for my stupidity,” he said grimly. "Lead the way.”

Xochon took a sword from one of the guards and gave it to Carpenter, and then grabbed a loincloth for his sister. Together, they hurriedly left the palace and raced through the city streets to the jungle, their way lit by the light of a full moon. The rainforest closed in around them, dark and forbidding as they sprinted along a narrow trail toward the sacred temple. It was a treacherous journey. Most of the moonlight was filtered out by the jungle canopy; the path was overgrown and riddled with hidden trip hazards. Carpenter stumbled several times, nearly falling. But they pressed on, driven by urgency and desperation, each fearing for the safety of the girl.

They reached the temple, a crumbling stone structure concealed deep in the rainforest, a shaft of pale moonlight illuminating its pyramidal form. Swiftly, the two men ascended the steep stairway. Stealthily, Carpenter and Xochon approached the entrance to the sanctuary at the apex of the building. A woman’s scream rang out. Carpenter went cold with fear. He rushed forward and peered inside. Within, a towering idol stood against a wall, its crystal eyes gleaming dully in the dim light. At the foot of the idol and part of its plinth was a stone box overflowing with a cornucopia of emeralds, rubies, and diamonds worth millions of dollars.

Boyce was there, pinning Mayuna to the ground, his intentions brutally clear. He had tied her hands behind her back. He was kneeling between her thighs, forcing her legs apart, and was in the process of unzipping his fly, his actions driven by hot vengeance and burning lust.

In an instant Carpenter took in the awful scene. "Get away from her!" he hotly roared, charging furiously towards Boyce.

Boyce turned, his eyes filled with murderous rage. “She is mine. It's all mine,” he cried with delusional fervor. He lunged at Carpenter, a stolen sword flashing in his hand.

Carpenter struck out with a swift kick, knocking the weapon from his crazed opponent’s grip. He cast aside his own blade, wanting to take Boyce alive, for by now Carpenter realized that the copilot was quite mad. A brutal fight ensued, wild with unrestrained violence. The two men grappled and punched, their bodies slick with sweat as they battled with all the savagery of roaring lions, each trying to hurl the other to the floor. Xochon rushed to Mayuna's side, helping her to her feet and guiding her safely away from the frenzied brawl that had furiously erupted.

Carpenter, fueled by righteous anger, fought with a ferocity he didn't know he possessed. He tore into Boyce with a flurry of vicious blows from fists and feet. Boyce, a skilled street fighter, replied in equal measure. But Carpenter was driven not by greed and lust, by a selfless desire to protect Mayuna from the brute.

Finally, after a desperate exchange of savage blows, Carpenter managed to pierce his raging opponent’s guard. He ducked beneath a wild hook and drove his fist into Boyce’s ribs with all his might. His foe went down, collapsing onto the dusty floor. Carpenter stood over him, breathing heavily, battered and bruised, but victorious.

“Give it up, Boyce,” panted the pilot. “You’re beat.”

It was sensible advice, but to Boyce, it was like waving a red rag at an enraged bull.

The copilot glared at Carpenter, his face contorted with hate and pain, and his mind clouded by the delusional thinking of a psychotic. It was all Carpenter’s fault. If it hadn’t been for him, he would have been the next king. The jewels, the girl, it would all have been his, and now he had nothing, while Carpenter had everything.

The thought was intolerable. Boyce’s mad eyes alighted on the sword that had been kicked from his hand. He snatched it up and, with a wild cry, lunged again, his face a twisted mask of naked fury and derangement. Carpenter swiftly leaped aside. He grabbed his own weapon from the floor where he had cast it, and the fight was on again with even greater violence.

Iron clashed, sparks flew from the striking blades. Boyce came at the sweating pilot with berserker fury, immune to pain and fear. Carpenter fell back before his crazed opponent’s whirling blade until his back was pressed hard against a wall.

Mayuna looked on, horrified. “He’ll be killed! Do something,” she cried to Xochon who was guarding her. But it was too late for the young man to intervene.

Boyce, grinning madly, uttered a wild yell of triumph and lunged. Carpenter, with the agility of a cat, twisted his body, and the thrusting blade rang against hard stone. At the same time, the pilot’s sword darted like a striking cobra. Boyce screamed. He staggered back and slumped to the ground, a look of disbelief on his face as he gazed at the blood gushing from the deep wound in his chest. Then his eyes rolled in their sockets, and he was dead.

Carpenter stood over the body, his chest heaving, the weight of what he had done settling upon him. He had wanted to take the man alive, but it had proved to be impossible. Dropping the bloody sword, he turned away from the lifeless form and approached Mayuna, who was now free of her bonds and clad in the loincloth her brother had brought. The sight of her was like a warm summer’s breeze that blew away the dark clouds of his depressing thoughts.

The queen looked at him, her eyes filled with gratitude and something more – admiration and growing desire.

"Thank you," she said, her voice soft. "For saving me."

"I'm sorry for what happened," Carpenter sincerely replied. "I had no idea Boyce would do what he did.”

She gazed at Boyce's body and then at the plethora of gems. “My father did wrong. Greed is indeed a curse. At least he died repenting for his crimes. But I have also made mistakes. It was unjust to imprison you. You are a friend, not the enemy I feared, and I am truly sorry for what I did."

“It was a natural mistake,” replied Carpenter, diplomatically. “I was a stranger to you then. But I would like to get to know you much better.”

The trio left the temple, leaving Boyce's body behind to be buried decently when the sun rose. Xochon, walking behind them, noticed the way Carpenter and Mayuna looked at each other. He saw the spark of attraction, the growing connection that was starting to form between them. He smiled to himself, insightfully knowing that his sister had found a partner who would stand by her side and help her lead their people into the future.

The End