Three Years Later

Boulder, Colorado

The morning started out sunny and pleasant, but as I gazed out my office window, I saw snow falling once again. Winter semester began a few weeks ago, and I'd rather be up at Eldora Mountain Resort skiing than working. The snow was too wet for fine powder ending up on the ski slopes, so I had no desire to run out the door right now.

Young students trekked through my office all morning begging for extra credit since they either were too drunk or lazy to study for their first examination. There were times I liked teaching but teaching first-year students ruined any love I found in the classroom. For some unfathomable reason, CU required me to teach one freshman level class every year.

My attention was snapped back to my office when my office phone rang. I sighed and picked up the receiver. “Dr. Haws, how can I help you.”

“Hello, John?”

The world froze as I recognized a voice from the grave. I hesitated at first, but with barely a whisper I asked, “Francisco?”

“It’s been a few years.”

“You think? I thought you were dead.”

“They let me go after you.”

“You didn’t call? Your wife never answered my calls, never responded to my emails. What the hell, Francisco? I thought you were dead!”

“I’m sorry. It’s been hard.”

Memories of the imprisonment flooded my mind and panic rose up before I regained control over my emotions. If his experience was anything like mine, I could understand.

“John?”

“I’m here. Sorry. Got lost in thought for a few seconds.”

“Yeah.”

“Well, I’m glad you’re alright. Even if I think you’re an ass for not calling.”

“Thanks.”

Neither of us spoke for a few minutes. “Francisco?”

“Si.”

“Why are you calling?”

“Right. I have a job I’m working, and we need a linguist.”

“I can give you a few names. You looking for anything specific?”

“John, I’m looking for you. I’d like to offer you a job. We’ve already spoken with CU and gotten their permission to fly you down here.”

“Whoa! Wait. I don’t do the field any longer. I’ve got a kid.”

“I know. Hear me out.”

“Forget it. I went missing for three months. Three months, Francisco.”

“You’re not the only one, John! I know what you went through.”

“You don’t have a damn clue what I went through. I almost died and left my daughter an orphan!”

“I know. I read the file.”

“What file?!”

“That’s not the issue here John. The issue is that we have a need for your expertise and we’re privately funded this time.”

I started to laugh. “Oh, that’s just great. Congratulations, Francisco. Maybe now you can buy some decent coffee.”

“It’s not like that. We’re talking serious money. They’ve offered your university one million if we can get you to come.”

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That stopped me cold. “A million?”

“And you’ll be paid a hundred thousand if you can work for six months. I’m telling you, John, it’s different this time. I’ve hired security, and you’ll be glamping not camping.”

“Francisco—”

“John, you’re daughter graduates from high school soon, yes?”

“Yeah—”

“Bring her down as soon as she’s done. Give her an internship.”

“Francisco—I—I’ll think about it.”

“What’s to think about? It’s a win-win.”

“Send over the proposal.”

“Already did. Check your email. Is five days enough time to get everything together?”

“I never said I’d do this.”

“Stop being a calabaza! You agreed on the second you asked for the proposal.” He started laughing. “It’ll be good to work with you again. Sorry about not calling sooner. I’m glad you made it out.”

“Um. Yeah. I’ll think about it. I still have to talk to my kid.”

“I’m sure she’ll be thrilled to work in the Jungle.”

“Yeah…Where is this project?”

“Yucatan. You’ll be safe. Trust me.”

The line disconnected before I could point out he used that same phrase on me three years ago. What the hell has he been doing for the last three years? I unlocked my computer and pulled up Google and searched in vain for any mention, work, papers, or mentions of Francisco. Nothing. I thought I was a recluse after Guatemala, but apparently, he did a better job at disappearing.

His email arrived, so I sat at my desk and reviewed a proposal from The National Autonomous University of Mexico or UNAM, on the project in the jungles of Mexico. A 12-year-old kid from Canada spending far too much time looking at Google Earth had convinced others of a Mayan temple buried at this site.

The odds of a temple being at the location were slim, but for reasons beyond my comprehension, UNAM received a large anonymous donation to excavate. My longtime friend, Dr. Francisco Alvarez, presented my name to the board, and the rest was history, as the saying goes. Colorado University’s compensation was high enough they didn’t even bat an eye, to get rid of me. It seems awful for the students who signed up for my classes, but they'll live through the disappoint of not having to continue listening to my drivel.

My cell phone buzzed, and I glanced down and saw the picture of my daughter on the screen. Crystal will attend here next fall, but she registered as an art major, thus dashing my hopes she'd follow in my steps.

The phone buzzed a couple more times before I answered it. "Hello, Gorgeous. I tell you how much I love you yet?"

“Dad, you’re so awkward.” I could practically hear her eyes roll.

“Only the best for my daughter. What’s up?”

“I got the scholarship!”

“In art?”

Crystal screamed in my ear, and I could see her bouncing up and down. “Yes! Yes! It’s only two grand a semester, but it’ll cover the books and fees.”

“I’m happy for you.”

I worked at CU and it tuition costs were not one of our greatest concerns, but she was happy she accomplished something on her own. We spoke for a few minutes, and before she could get off the phone, I brought up that Francisco called.

“I thought—”

“Me too.”

“But—you can’t go. I graduate in June.”

”Who said I'd take it?"

“Dad, I know you. If Francisco asks for you to take out his trash, you will fly to his house to do it.”

I shook my head at her over exaggeration.

"Only if his garbage contained a few artifacts in it. Do you think so little of me? I have my standards. I'm hurt."

"Whatever."

She was right about my willingness to help Francisco with anything he asked, but this was a different situation. I may have done that three years ago, but the bastards been dead all this time. Well, I guess not as dead as I thought.

“It’s for six months.”

“Dad—”

“I know, but we’ll have professional security this time. They’re throwing a lot of money at doing it right. Plus…,” I let the rest of the sentence trail off.

“Plus what?”

“He said we could hire you on as an intern once you’re done with school.”

“I don’t want to be an archeologist,” Crystal whined.

“I know, but what if you worked as an artist? I usually draw all my sketches, but on bigger projects, they grab graduate assistants. If they’re spending the kind of money, Francisco hinted at…I’m sure I could justify the expense.”

“Auntie won’t be happy you’re going back out in the field.”

I sighed. “Look kiddo. They’re paying CU a lot of money for my help. Our budget needs every nickel we can scrap up. You’re practically an adult. Come out for spring break. If you like it, come back for the summer.”

“And if I don’t like it?”

“Then you’ve lost a week and gained resume material.”

“How much?”

“What?”

“How much will I get paid?”

I smiled and glanced up at my wall clock. I had class in a few minutes. “I don’t know how much we’re budgeted for, but I’ll pay you $1,000 out of my own pocket for a week of your time.”

“Gee, Dad. That’s cheap labor.”

“Don’t get greedy, kiddo. It’s more than you make in a month.”

“I don’t have a job, Dad.”

“Exactly.” I chuckled and looked at the time again. “Look, Squirrel. I gotta get to class. Think about it. We’ll talk tonight. I love you.”

“Love you too, Dad. I’ll do it. But, only for a week.”

“Great. Gotta go!”

“Bye.”