The stench of stale water felt heavy in his lungs. The chanting above them had stopped while a growing round of applause erupted from the crowd of onlookers now gathered at the lip of the cenote. Even the dancers were smiling down at them, laughing. “What? This was all for show?” KC spat, flinging a trail of moss from her shimmering neck. A long rope ladder was thrown over the edge, its end plopping into the algae clinging to the limestone edge of the pool, beckoning them. Neither argued. KC took the ladder first, scrambling out as though escaping a cesspool of flesh-eating acid. Peet followed, the water dripping off of KC’s body patting him on the head. The crowd was slowly disbursing to more interesting sights by the time KC scrambled over the rim of the cenote. As Peet approached the top himself, a familiar voice stopped his breath. “You stepped into the chalk ring, didn’t you, Dr. Peet.” Peet snapped his head up to find two people hovering just above him. The first was a stout little Mexican man Peet had never seen before.
