their
civilization. Nevertheless—
“How
can I help you find something if I don’t know what I’m looking for?” he
pressed.
Father
Ruiz relented with a sigh. “All I can tell you is that the cross is old, but no
less important. It is with urgency that we find it and return it to the
cathedral.”
Peet
couldn’t possibly predict the value of a reliquary cross, not one that comes
from a cathedral riddled with crucifixes of all shapes and sizes and in
practically every form imaginable. There had to be something special about this
cross in particular. Perhaps it was made of gold or some other precious metal. If
not, then Peet guessed there was some spectacular history behind it, something
that the oldest cathedral in the Americas would take stock in.
Even
as he considered the reliquary cross, he couldn’t help but ponder on the goal
of all religions, perhaps even the goal of Matt Webb’s experiment—to gain more
believers.
“What
harm would there be if the cross ultimately converted a Mayan New Ager or some
doomsday seeker?” Peet quipped. “Just think. If whatever everyone expects to happen
on December 21st, doesn’t happen, there are going to
be a lot of disenchanted people looking for a new religion.”
Father
Ruiz shook his head adamantly. “Removing this cross from the cathedral is not
going to produce converts. More likely the very opposite will
result.”
Peet
frowned. “I don’t understand.”
Father
Ruiz suddenly darkened, his light features instantly falling into a somber
tone. “It is not for you to understand.”
Peet
was taken aback by the sudden shift. “Can’t you at least explain how the cross
will have a negative affect?”
Father
Ruiz turned back to the window. “All I can tell you is this—”
He
paused, as if debating over his words. His eyes held to the great expanse of
blue sky just outside his window. When he spoke again, it was with a measured
breath.
“The
cross is too dangerous if it falls into Mayan hands.”
Chichen Itza
Mike
and Gabriella waved goodbye as Lori avoided the line of tour busses snaking
around the filling parking lot. A large wall overshadowed by the lanky palms
behind it caught her attention. In large, eye-popping letters the wall read CHICHEN ITZA.
Finally!
She’d arrived.
She
fell in behind a tour group, contracting their eager energy as they followed a
bricked walking path complete with shallow, concrete steps that landscaped the
journey toward the hidden ruins beyond. Embraced by the welcoming span of the
contemporary visitor center, it occurred to Lori that she was perhaps the only
visitor who wasn’t coming for the ruins. Ironic, considering it was archaeology
that brought her there in the first place.
As
the tour group continued through, passing up the bookstore and the tantalizing
aromas of the restaurant for the ruins awaiting out back of the building, Lori
took a detour toward the information counter. Just above the heads of the
attendees hung a banner that read in both Spanish and English: CHICHEN ITZA : A NEW SEVENTH WONDER OF THE WORLD!
Lori
spotted a young woman who had just finished assisting another visitor. She
smiled at Lori, the morning too fresh yet to allow the day’s influx of visitors
to dull the sparkle in her large brown eyes. According to the name tag on her
shirt, her name was Rosa.
Lori
stepped right up to the counter and cut to the chase. “I’m looking for an
archaeologist that’s been working here,” she explained. “His name is Dr. Matt
Webb.”
Rosa smiled with a nod and jabbered
something in Spanish.
A
blush warmed Lori’s cheeks as she shook her head. “I’m sorry. My Spanish is
terrible.”
Rosa glanced at her English-speaking
co-worker, but he was too busy helping another visitor to notice. “Senor Webb,”
Rosa said, thrusting a finger over Lori’s
shoulder. “Webb. Senor Webb.”
Lori
turned to spy a handsomely dark-complected man standing near a
civilization. Nevertheless—
“How
can I help you find something if I don’t know what I’m looking for?” he
pressed.
Father
Ruiz relented with a sigh. “All I can tell you is that the cross is old, but no
less important. It is with urgency that we find it and return it to the
cathedral.”
Peet
couldn’t possibly predict the value of a reliquary cross, not one that comes
from a cathedral riddled with crucifixes of all shapes and sizes and in
practically every form imaginable. There had to be something special about this
cross in particular. Perhaps it was made of gold or some other precious metal. If
not, then Peet guessed there was some spectacular history behind it, something
that the oldest cathedral in the Americas would take stock in.
Even
as he considered the reliquary cross, he couldn’t help but ponder on the goal
of all religions, perhaps even the goal of Matt Webb’s experiment—to gain more
believers.
“What
harm would there be if the cross ultimately converted a Mayan New Ager or some
doomsday seeker?” Peet quipped. “Just think. If whatever everyone expects to happen
on December 21st, doesn’t happen, there are going to
be a lot of disenchanted people looking for a new religion.”
Father
Ruiz shook his head adamantly. “Removing this cross from the cathedral is not
going to produce converts. More likely the very opposite will
result.”
Peet
frowned. “I don’t understand.”
Father
Ruiz suddenly darkened, his light features instantly falling into a somber
tone. “It is not for you to understand.”
Peet
was taken aback by the sudden shift. “Can’t you at least explain how the cross
will have a negative affect?”
Father
Ruiz turned back to the window. “All I can tell you is this—”
He
paused, as if debating over his words. His eyes held to the great expanse of
blue sky just outside his window. When he spoke again, it was with a measured
breath.
“The
cross is too dangerous if it falls into Mayan hands.”
Chichen Itza
Mike
and Gabriella waved goodbye as Lori avoided the line of tour busses snaking
around the filling parking lot. A large wall overshadowed by the lanky palms
behind it caught her attention. In large, eye-popping letters the wall read CHICHEN ITZA.
Finally!
She’d arrived.
She
fell in behind a tour group, contracting their eager energy as they followed a
bricked walking path complete with shallow, concrete steps that landscaped the
journey toward the hidden ruins beyond. Embraced by the welcoming span of the
contemporary visitor center, it occurred to Lori that she was perhaps the only
visitor who wasn’t coming for the ruins. Ironic, considering it was archaeology
that brought her there in the first place.
As
the tour group continued through, passing up the bookstore and the tantalizing
aromas of the restaurant for the ruins awaiting out back of the building, Lori
took a detour toward the information counter. Just above the heads of the
attendees hung a banner that read in both Spanish and English: CHICHEN ITZA : A NEW SEVENTH WONDER OF THE WORLD!
Lori
spotted a young woman who had just finished assisting another visitor. She
smiled at Lori, the morning too fresh yet to allow the day’s influx of visitors
to dull the sparkle in her large brown eyes. According to the name tag on her
shirt, her name was Rosa.
Lori
stepped right up to the counter and cut to the chase. “I’m looking for an
archaeologist that’s been working here,” she explained. “His name is Dr. Matt
Webb.”
Rosa smiled with a nod and jabbered
something in Spanish.
A
blush warmed Lori’s cheeks as she shook her head. “I’m sorry. My Spanish is
terrible.”
Rosa glanced at her English-speaking
co-worker, but he was too busy helping another visitor to notice. “Senor Webb,”
Rosa said, thrusting a finger over Lori’s
shoulder. “Webb. Senor Webb.”
Lori
turned to spy a handsomely dark-complected man standing near a
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