Wake

This story is by Miguel A. Zamora and was part of our 2025 Fall Writing Contest. You can find all the writing contest stories here.

The chopper bucked and groaned; its rotor blades sliced the air into a thick, percussive thumping that vibrated throughout.

From his vantage point, Santiago could see nothing but a swirling, green blur. The only thing in focus was the face of Isla sitting across from him—or rather, her reflection in her aviator sunglasses.

“Santi, you with me?” came the crackle in his ears, distorted by the static.

“Sorry?” He shouted, but the noise swallowed the word.

Santiago leaned closer.

“You sent in a three-man team, and they were just there for recon, right? Because this site could change everything.”

“Yes, why?” she asked. “It’s just another Aztec site.”

He leaned back and looked out the window. The radio silence was filled only by the rhythmic, deafening drum of the rotors.

“It’s not Aztec, it’s Maya. It shouldn’t be here.”

A sudden lurch sent a shiver through the cabin, and the chopper shifted, tilting heavily to the left. Santiago’s hand instinctively grabbed the doorframe.

“Is it worth all the trouble to get to the site and hold it? I’m sure the cartels aren’t happy you’re here,” he said.

“Of course. I would think you would love the chance to unearth something historic.”

“You know, for the ancient Maya, cenotes were considered sacred. They were seen as the entrances to Xibalba and were used for rituals. Precious objects and even human sacrifices were offered to the gods in cenotes.”

“Xibalba?”

Santiago pinched the bridge of his nose. “The underworld.”

Isla rolled her eyes.

“It’s a sinkhole.”

“They are things in this world that can’t be explained.”

“If you say so.”

“You just photographed …  you didn’t remove anything, right?”

She hesitated.

“Of course not. Just photos.”

Santiago shook his head.

“Look, I’m not a tomb raider. I preserve the truth, nothing more. I will know if you’re lying to me.”

“Why would I lie. I just need to know what happened to my men.”

Santiago sighed. “How far are we out?”

The pilot’s voice crackled in.

“Twelve minutes, sir.”

“Thanks, when we get to the site. Hover at twenty feet above the cenote.”

“Rodger that,” the pilot said.

Isla started to talk.

Santiago didn’t hear as he pulled off his headset. He grabbed the jaguar tooth that hung around his neck and rubbed it.

The chopper came to a hover as he slid open the chopper’s door and stepped onto the skid.

He leaned back and pushed off. He plunged downward into the crystal-clear abyss. The wind roared past as the water rushed up to meet him. Santiago cut through the surface of the cenote. The noise of the chopper was gone, replaced by the sudden, muffled silence.

*****

He descended to the cave entrance 300 feet from the surface. He examined the entrance and noticed the tool marks.

He placed a blue chem light at the mouth of the cave and entered. Santiago broke the surface of the water as he emerged into a large cavern. He swam to a rock ledge and propped himself up. He stood and looked at the vertical sheer rock wall in front of him. Strangler fig roots hung down from the ceiling into the water. The night vision of his mask helped him plot his way up. He pulled on the roots and meticulously climbed up. Midway up, he felt a breeze.  He separated a few roots and found a tunnel. He pushed his way through the roots and into a tunnel. The walls of the tunnel were wet and rough.

Santiago inched his way down on his belly. The sides of the tunnel pulled on his wetsuit, slowing his progress. He took his dive knife and cut away a root that blocked the opening. He snapped two more chem lights and tossed them out of the opening.

“My god.”

*****

Santiago forced himself through the tight opening. He couldn’t help but smile as he worked his way onto a landing halfway down.

The chamber was massive, with vegetation, and the air was muggy, the humidity thick. Dim light filtered down from cracks in the ceiling. Like the hour just before dawn when the light of day starts to creep in. In the center before him stood a stepped pyramid, with a flat terrace and a monumental staircase.

He snapped pictures and made his way to the ground below and found a path heading to the pyramid.  He crossed a bridge, and on either side were murky pools with tall grass and sludge. He wrinkled his nose at the smell of methane.

A chill ran down his back. He stopped and looked around. Santiago knew he was being watched. It was impossible, but someone or something was stalking him.

He removed the top of his wetsuit, exposing his scarred body and rune tattoos on both inner forearms.  He continued to the base of the temple.

Santiago jumped as a loud booming voice yelled. “Oko’ol!”

He muttered to himself. “Oko’ol…thief?… No intruder.”

The ground underfoot seemed to vibrate slightly, and then he heard a low, guttural grunt as a sound of heavy air being forced from a massive chest. He smelled the rotting flesh before the eyes appeared from the shadows. Three decaying jaguars crept out.

He heard squelching and sucking sounds as limbs pulled free from the mud.  His attention was drawn to the marsh as figures broke the surface of the black water. The fallen warriors surrounded him. Slime and black mud dripped from their decaying bodies.

“Etail… Friend,” he said.

A dead warrior charged and swung a large, wooden sword with an obsidian blade. Santiago blocked the blow and disarmed the warrior. He decapitated the warrior with his sword. He flung the sword, and it impaled another warrior. He fended off three more warriors and avoided spears that were thrown his way. He caught a spear and ran another warrior through,

Santiago swung the spear in a wide arc to create distance from the dead army surrounding him. A jaguar attacked and pinned Santiago to the ground. He forced the spear handle into the jaguar’s mouth. The jaguar bit the spear in half and clawed Santiago’s face.

He kicked the jaguar off and rolled to his knees. Blood ran down Santiago’s face as he smiled. As his arms glowed yellow, he curled up in pain.

Santiago’s bones in his hands cracked and shifted as his fingers and nails grew long and sharp, becoming thick, catlike claws. His body convulsed as he transformed.

He let out a scream as he rose to his feet. Santiago’s face took on catlike features. A feral and ruthless predatory instinct took over, and he leaped towards the warriors.

Santiago ripped and clawed at a warrior.

“Parada!” A booming voice yelled out.

The warriors and the jaguars stopped and backed away. Santiago stopped and looked back towards the temple. Black blood dripped off his claws, and his eyes glowed yellow. Santiago sniffed the air and let out a growl.

He stood up straight as a hooded figure appeared on the top of the temple.

The figure descended. The decaying corpse of a man approached Santiago. Its eyeless skull-shaped face stared into Santiago’s eyes.

“Ah Puch,” Santiago said. The figure gave him a nod.

He stared at the Maya god of death and ruler of Xibalba. Ah Puch licked his bony index fingers and grabbed Santiago’s head.

Ah Puch placed his index fingers in his ears and spoke.

“You are a Jaguar knight… but I don’t know you.”

Santiago understood Ah Puch.

“I’m the last Aztec Jaguar Knight, protector of my people, and guardian of the gates of Mictlan.”

Ah Puch laughed. “Your people’s underworld.”

“Yes.”

“Why are you here?”

“I’m looking for three men who came here.”

“The thieves. They’re mine, and you crossed over; you can’t leave.”

“I don’t belong here, and you can’t keep me.”

“Trade.”

Santiago reached into his rucksack and removed a sealed bag of cocoa beans.

“Fair, now go, honorable warrior.”

“The thieves?”

Ah Puch tossed Santiago three sets of dog tags.

“Leave and don’t come back. I will not be so understanding next time.”

Santiago bowed his head. He lifted his head, and Ah Puch was gone, and the dead warrior sank into the marsh. The jaguars bowed at him and then climbed up the step of the pyramid. He smiled and left the way he came.

*****

Santiago broke the surface of the cenote and swam toward Isla, who was waiting on the edge of the cenote.

“I was getting worried,” she said.

“Why? I was only gone for two hours.”

“It’s been four days.”

“Four days?” She helped Santiago out of the water.

“My team.” He handed her their dog tags.

“Can their bodies be recovered?”

“Sorry, no. They belong to Xibalba, and you need to seal the cave.”

She looked at him with a puzzled expression.

“Why, Santi? What did you find?”

“A gateway.”

“To where?”

“Hell.”

Santiago walked toward the chopper. Isla stared at the cenote.