The Lost Tomb of Ometeotl
Dave Wilson stretched out a striped paw to brush away the cobwebs covering an ancient mural on the cave wall. He took out a worn notebook from his jacket pocket and flipped through the pages, finally stopping on a page adorned with a miniature version of the painting he stood in front of. Not too much further now, if I'm correct, he thought. Slipping the notebook back into his jacket, he padded onward down the dank cavern path, his walking stick thudding against the hard stone floor.
Checking his notebook just now reminded Dave of just how much effort he put into this particular job. Many believed the tomb of Ometeotl simply didn't exist; a myth set up by the ancient Aztecs to occupy the Spanish Conquistadors of old with a wild goose chase. Dave knew better, though. Years of rigorously studying ancient texts and maps finally told him where this fabled tomb might be. His colleagues around the world scoffed at him when he announced his next planned job was to delve into the Mexican jungles and search for Ometeotl's resting place, but he didn't care. He knew he was right about it. He was known as the best treasure hunter in the world for a reason.
A light breeze emanated from deep inside the cave, getting stronger as the passageway narrowed. Dave's flashlight flickered and died. He struck at the shoddy device a few times and the light flashed back on. I've gotta replace that when I get back home, he thought. That river must've done more damage than I anticipated. He sat down to check through his pack and make sure the river didn't damage anything else. His orange and black striped tail twitched as he thought about the possibility of his more important gear being damaged by the trek through the water.
After a thorough inspection, his pistol, compass, rations, cell phone, rope, repelling gear, and crowbar all seemed to be in working order. A grin spread across Dave's short feline muzzle. Usually his luck didn't last this long on an excursion. He got up and continued padding down the narrow tunnel, looking for more clues to how close the tomb might lie.
Soon, he found himself at a dead end, save for a small hole in the wall, which appeared to be the source of the eerie breeze. Dave checked the hole, which looked about big enough to fit an arm into, then pulled out his notebook to look at his notes before proceeding. Sure enough, he found an entry in his small, cramped handwriting about the entrance of the tomb being similar in design to what lay before his eyes. The other part of the entry mentioned a trap connected with the device somehow, but no mention as to how.
Dave checked around the immediate vicinity for places where a trap might be hidden. His searched turned up nothing; at least nothing he construed to be dangerous. He took his flashlight and peered inside of the hole in the wall. It went in about two feet, then ended with what looked like a small protrusion in the back of the hole. Hmm... Dave pondered. Looks like a button...I wonder... He grabbed his walking stick and stuck it into the hole, pushing it back until it hit solid rock. Taking a deep breath, he pushed harder, pressing the button at the end of the hole inward.
A loud, whirring mechanism echoed from behind the back wall. A loud sliding sound shrieked from the hole, and Dave felt his walking stick shudder. He tried to pull it out, but something held it tightly in place. Something must've pinned it down, like a stone slab or something...nice trap. The wall then began sliding open, breaking the stick in two when it slid into the cave wall. Dave shined his flashlight down the newly revealed path and continued onward.
A few minutes later, the pathway began to widen, opening up into a large room. Further inspection revealed dozens of murals along the walls, along with several long boxes. Dave could only guess what the boxes contained. A handful of passage openings awaited him at the end of the room. He pulled out his notebook again and thumbed through it, checking for which passage led to the buried ruler. His notes urged him to take the second to leftmost passage, so the tiger returned the notebook to his jacket once more and started down the tunnel.
A short trek down the path brought Dave to another obstacle. Thick spiderwebs plastered the tunnel from top to bottom with no visible end in sight. He cringed slightly at the thought of going through the arachnid minefield, but the treasure he came here for kept him motivated. Padding cautiously up to the webbing, he checked for where the spiders who built these webs might be. His inspection didn't turn up any results, so he pulled out his crowbar and began swatting the webs away to clear the way forward.
The spiderweb filled tunnel emptied out into a large hall with a sarcophagus at the top of a tall set of stairs. A painting on the cave wall behind the stone coffin showed the image of a man in possession of great wealth and power. This has to be it! Dave thought, tail twitching in excitement as he approached the steps. He shined his flashlight over the area to check for any traps that might still linger, but nothing showed. The absence of any traps worried him a great deal more than finding several traps would have.
Dave climbed the stairs, admiring the craftsmanship of the stone columns arranged to the sides of the room. They depicted various Aztec gods, some of which looked quite fierce with the correct lighting from the flashlight. He reached the top of the stairs and ran his fingers over the rough, carved sarcophagus. Shivering with anticipation, he grabbed onto the lid of the stone tomb and pushed with all his might. The lid slid slowly across the bottom, then fell to the floor with a crash. A rotted skeleton in the coffin greeted Dave, a ceremonial headdress still attacked to its skull. The thing that interested Dave, though, lay across the dead ruler's chest, clasped in his decrepit hands.
He eyed the golden, jewel encrusted scepter. It glinted faintly in the dark crypt, almost seeming to emanate a light of its own. His prize lay inches from his eager paws. He reached into the coffin and pulled at the golden rod, prying it from the grasp of the decaying ruler. The second it left the grip of Ometeotl, an unnatural gust of wind blasted through the chamber. A soft shuffling noise echoed from down the tunnel he came from, growing louder and louder with every second. Dave started running down the stairs, but froze in his tracks at the sight that unfolded in front of him.
Spear wielding corpses shambled from the small tunnel opening, pointing their weapons directly at Dave and groaning angrily. Jumping off the side of the stairs, Dave grabbed from his crowbar and wedged it under a nearby column, stamping on it with his footpaw while pushing at it with his upper body. The column began to tip over, finally passing it's center of weight and toppling over and blocking the passage where the undead guards came from.
This bought Dave some time, but he now faced the challenge of finding another pathway out. He shined his flashlight around the room, looking for tunnels or openings that may have eluded him earlier. He soon found a small opening near the back of the room, took a deep breath, and crawled inside. The rough cave wall scraped at Dave's fur, but the annoyance remained minor compared to the rotting corpses that currently pursued him.
The crawlspace emptied out into another tunnel. Dave dropped to his feet and looked around. I must be in another part of the tomb, He thought. He pulled out his compass and checked it, determining to go left down the tunnel. He ran onwards, the scepter still clutched in his right paw. His footpaw touched a raised surface on the ground and pressed it down into the cave floor. A giant stone slab dropped to the ground just behind him; a primitive, but effective, trap. Sprinting further down the path, he finally came to an opening and dashed out into the giant room filled with the large boxes.
At least, it had been filled with large boxes. Several dozen corpses clambered around the chamber, pushing to get into the tunnel next to Dave. One of the rotting guards spotted him and wailed, alerting the others to his presence. They all turned to face Dave, swinging their spears at him. He ducked and slid out of range, making a mad dash for the entrance. A couple of the undead guards emerged from the entrance tunnel, blocking his progress. He spun around to face the rest of the horde, putting the scepter into his jacket. They glared at him through empty eye sockets, but their gaze penetrated him to his core.
A few brave guards rushed forward to attack. Dave sidestepped them, grabbing onto one of their spears and ripping it from the owner's hands. He grinned and faced the mob of corpses, raising a paw to urge them forward. They took the bait, advancing in on Dave. He twisted his feet, obtaining a good, balanced fighting stance, then started swinging his newly acquired weapon with deadly force and precision. Guard after guard fell around him, his spear reducing them to nothing more than mere piles of bones and gunk. Soon, all that remained were the corpses guarding the entrance. He threw his spear at them. The projectile sailed through the air and collided with the guards in the small tunnel, passing through them with great ease. They collapsed onto the ground and twitched a little before going still. Dave padded over to the tunnel and began his ascent into the jungle, stepping gingerly over the fallen undead guards.
About thirty minutes later, Dave emerged from the cave wearing a triumphant smile across his small muzzle. He reached into his pack and pulled out his cell phone, taking a deep breath of the humid jungle air. He flipped the phone open, knowing none of his fellow plunderers would believe him until he arrived back in Portland with the scepter, but he felt a call to assure them of his safety was needed. The speed dial connected him with his good friend, Robert Tennenbaum, who picked up after a couple rings.
"Well, well, if it isn't Dave Wilson. What kind of trouble have you gotten yourself into this time, my dear chum?"
Dave chuckled into the receiver, strolling into the dense jungles and back to civilization. "Rob, my good man, I don't think even you will believe me when I tell you..."