The Expedition

Chapter One

There was a knock on the door. A bundle of dark green blankets shuffled in the tiny hotel room. Silence. The knocking persisted. The blankets flew at the wall and a young woman in a nightdress, with hair that looked something like tumbleweed, hobbled over luggage to get to the door. Standing on tiptoes didn't cut it for looking through the peephole, so she floppily dragged over a thick leather suitcase and stepped up, putting her eye to the glass. The face of a man, mostly nose, took up her entire vision. She fell back with a squeal, a bump, bang and a couple curses.

A muffled voice behind the door called: "Everything alright in there?"
"Yes, yes, I'm doing just swell!" She said, standing and straightening out her nightdress. "Is it time to go?" she asked, a jolt of adrenaline hitting her in the gut.
A laugh, "I would never give a lady such short a notice!" She rubbed her eyes, flung open her suitcase and started getting dressed as he spoke, "Anyway, I was just coming to let you know that the caravan is leaving in a half hour and we're going to be eating breakfast downstairs, if you care for that sort of thing,"
"Thank you Edgar; you are Edgar, right?" She said through hairpins, frantically brushing her hair.
"Close, ma'am; Edwin,"
"Right, sorry about that, Edwin." She stuck the last hairpin in the bun at the base of her neck, she could see the hairs that fell in front of her eyes but left them, brushed her teeth, and got her luggage ready for departure.

A couple locals sat in the corner sipping from white coffee mugs. Other than that, the only other humans were found at a table near a window flooding the place with light. Morning chatter and the clinking of dishes wandered about the already warm room. The place smelled of bacon, black coffee and cigars, the smoky haze far less concentrated than the night before.
"Ripley," a blond haired man at the window table called out, motioning for the lady who'd just come downstairs to have a seat. 
"Good morning, Brook," She said, sitting beside him.
"Excellent, we're all here," Edwin said, he cleared his throat and rubbed his hands, "Well, all the gentlemen have been introduced; everyone, this is Ripley. She is the second archeologist I told you about, she and Brook will be working together. Ripley, you know Brook; allow me to introduce you to Mr. Clement Black. " He motioned to one of the others at the table, a big man with pale skin and a blond mustache, "He'll be funding the expedition. And this," he turned now to the last man, probably a local, "Is Alejandro Ramirez, our guide and translator, he grew up in a village just south of here." 
"Pleased to meet you all," said Ms. Ripley, "Edgar-"
"Edwin,"
"Edwin, I apologize if you were just about to explain this, but would you care to tell us; what exactly are we here for?"
Edwin shifted in his seat, tapping his coffee mug with his index finger. There was a pause. Dust particles swam lazily in the thick stream of sunlight falling on their table, the air warm and heavy.
"In order for Ms. Ripley and I to work best, we need  to know what we're dealing with," Brook explained.
Edwin nodded, "Yes, I understand." He leaned forward, elbows resting on the table. His fingers drummed on the mug. They stopped. "I found something," all eyes were glued to him, silence. "Here, in South America. Well, I found this in the States, but you know what I mean," He reached into his trouser pocket and produced a yellowed sheet of parchment. He unfolded it and spread it on the table, pressing down the moth-eaten edges. Ripley and Brook leaned in. Scribbles, lines and symbols lay scrawled on the sheet, some looked like Aztec, but nuances of Latin peppered the designs.
Ripley's brow furrowed, "Some of the characters look Aztec, but they're not. Not quite,"
"And these," Brook traced his finger over the letters, "They're like Latin, but mixed up. Why would Latin and Aztec be in the same place? I'm particularly intrigued by these lines, is it a map?"
Edwin carefully folded the parchment and hid it away in his pocket, "I think so, yes. I had it examined by an old friend back in the States after my great uncle whom I've never met passed away. When he looked at it, he wanted to tag along on the expedition, but like I said, he's an "old friend"," Edwin chuckled but quickly stifled it with a forced cough, "Anyway, what I'm trying to get at is, the map isn't a fake. I think my great uncle had really found something. I think it's the map of a city, lost in these jungles, undisturbed by man! Well, except my great uncle, but imagine what this could be worth to the Society of Archeology! If this really is a map, this place is dense, deep, just filled to the brim with potential archaeological discoveries!"
The table went quiet again. Edwin's eyes bounced expectantly from person to person.
"How do you know this map is for South America? Why not anywhere else?" Brook asked, paying no attention to the glasses slipping down his nose.
Edwin snapped his fingers, giving Brook and Ripley a start, "I found out my uncle made several trips here, which was really quite difficult because he payed for all the train tickets and such with quiet cash,"
"But how did you..?" Ripley muttered.
Edgar looked into his coffee mug like there was a beehive inside. "Well, that is a, er-"
"Quite frankly, it doesn't matter," said a low, almost rumbling voice. It came from Mr. Black who had been sitting back in his chair, clearly constructed for a smaller person, his arms crossed in front the entire time. "I'm funding the expedition, so if things go wrong, I'm paying for it. I'd appreciate it if everyone kept a cool head and professional mindset, no lollygagging or secret keeping, understood?"
Everyone nodded. Edwin's eyes were glued to the table, his hands still for once.