COMPLETE! The Wasteland. A woman screams in the night. Spotlights flash on a pile of dust in the desolate patch of land that lay just beyond the tall crosses that picket the boundary of Encampment R-34. A group of curious students leave their bunkho...
DRACULA INDEX_0028 >>Morley//encrypted text <00.03.1915>
Coded diary of Sylvanus Griswold Morley Late March 1915
There is no heat like that in the bush. My eyeglasses are oily with sweat. It drips down to the paper as I hide drawings of activity along the coastline within false Mayan glyphs. The topography is not much better. Almost every trail is inaccessible. Even my mule abandoned me. I wish my years at Harvard would have better prepared me for international travel, because I cannot build a proper shelter and my shins are riddled with tick bites. I am food to the little monsters here. With luck, I'll find some thin reeds to mend my torn mosquito net. A thorough wash would also do me some good.
I see Chichen Itza in the distance. The site is immense, and yet so remarkably hidden. It will be comforting to take shelter there because I'm beginning to feel that someone is tracking me. Perhaps I will climb to a height on the pyramid to keep watch and photograph this individual, as they may be part of a German campaign.
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