Free The Ruins by Scott Smith Page B

them beside the well in the little village. It was the same
man, but he seemed different now. In the village, he'd been
calm and distant, even aloof, with something that felt almost
condescending in his approach to them, a weary parent dealing with
un-mannered children. Now all this had vanished, replaced by an air of
urgency, even panic. His white shirt and pants were splashed with green
stains from riding so rapidly through the trees. He'd lost
his hat, and sweat was shining on his bald head.
     The
horse, too, was agitated: lathered, snorting, rolling its eyes. It
reared twice, frightening them, and they backed away, retreating
farther into the clearing. The man began to shout, waving his arm. The
horse had reins but no saddle; the man was riding bareback, his legs
clinging to the big animal's flanks like a pair of pincers.
The horse reared once more, and this time the man half-fell,
half-jumped to the ground. He was still holding the reins, but the
horse was backing away from him, jerking its head, trying to break
free.
     Amy
took a picture of the ensuing tug-of-war, the man struggling to calm
the horse as the animal pulled him, step by step, back toward the
trail. It was only when she stopped peering through the viewfinder that
she noticed the gun on the man's belt: a black pistol in a
brown holster. He hadn't been wearing it in the village; she
was certain of this. He'd put it on to come chase them. The
horse was too frantic; the man couldn't calm it, and finally
he just relinquished the reins. Instantly, the animal turned, galloped
off into the jungle. They listened to it crashing through the trees,
the sound of its hoofbeats gradually diminishing. Then the man was shouting at them again, waving
his arms over his head, pointing back down the trail. It was hard to
tell what he was trying to say. Amy wondered if it had something to do
with the horse, if he somehow blamed them for the animal's
frenzy.
     "What
does he want?" Stacy asked. Her voice sounded
frightened—like a little girl's—and Amy
turned to look at her. Stacy was holding Eric's arm, standing
a little behind him. Eric was smiling at the Mayan, as if he thought
the whole encounter must be some sort of joke and was waiting for the
man to confess to this.
     "He
wants us to go back," Jeff said.
     "Why?"
Stacy asked.
     "Maybe
he wants money. Like a toll or something. Or for us to hire him as a
guide." Jeff reached into his pants pocket, pulled out his
wallet.
     The
man kept shouting, pointing vehemently back down the path.
     Jeff
removed a ten-dollar bill, held it out to him. " ¿ Dinero ? " he
said.
     The
man ignored this. He made a shooing motion with his hand, waving them
out of the clearing. They all stood there, uncertain, no one moving.
Jeff carefully folded the bill back into his wallet, returned the
wallet to his pocket. After a few more seconds, the man stopped
shouting; he was out of breath.
     Mathias
turned toward the flower-covered hill, cupped his hands around his
mouth. " Henrich !"
he yelled.
     There
was no answer, no movement on the hillside except the gentle billowing
of that orange fabric. In the distance, there was the sound of hoofbeats again, coming closer.
Either the man's horse was returning or another villager was
about to join them.
     "Why
don't you hike up the hill, see if you can find
him?" Jeff said to Mathias. "We'll wait
here, try to sort this out."
     Mathias
nodded. He turned, started across the clearing. The Mayan began to
shout again, and then, when Mathias didn't stop, the man
pulled his pistol from its holster, raised the gun over his head, fired
into the sky.
     Stacy
screamed, covering her mouth, backing away. Everyone else flinched,
instinctively, half-ducking. Mathias turned to look, saw the man aiming
the pistol at his chest now, and went perfectly still. The man waved at
him, yelling something, and Mathias came back, his hands in the air, to
join the others. Pablo, too, raised his hands, but then, when