Skull of the Zipa PREVIEW CHAPTERS by Chuck Chitwood (best book club books for discussion .txt) 📕

“Maybe that’s the point, Dad. Science can’t explain all things. Love. Laughter. Lady Gaga’s whole career.”

“Who?”

“No one. So you’re looking for these skull cups?”

“No. I’m only looking for one of them. We know there were three conquistadors executed. And two of the golden skulls are in a museum in Colombia. But the third is lost to history. Or so we thought up until a couple of days ago.”

He kept talking as he put a rubber band around his notebook to keep all the loose papers from falling out. “Sir Walter Raleigh’s son, Watt, wrote about a third skull in his diary from his 1617 expedition up the Orinoco River. The expedition was a disaster and only a few pages of his diary survived. But the pages that did survive are valuable and I think they might lead to the third skull.”

I then watched my dad do something I have never seen him do this before; he reached up under his desk drawer, pulled down some sort of panel and hid the notebook under a false bottom. Wow, my dad has a secret hiding place. He might not be Indiana Jones but for the first time, my dad was totally cool.

He pushed the drawer closed and smiled. “Can’t be too careful with such valuable information.”

“Are you afraid Nazis are going to come to New Providence and steal your notebook, Dad?”

He didn’t answer. “I think that the third golden skull is only the first part of what they were looking for.” He started straightening papers on his desk and filing things away. “Say, don’t you have an appointment to get your practice run for your hair done?”

“Shoot! I’m late.” I jumped up and gave dad a kiss on the cheek. “I’ll be back in a few hours. I’ll grab lunch with Stacey and Morgan after we get our hair done.”

“Have fun.” As I left the room my father called out to me, “Hey, could you drop me at the airport on your way downtown? I don’t like to leave the car parked in the lot there.”

“Sure, Dad. Anything for you.” I raced upstairs to call Stacey to let her know I would be late.

With dad on his way to South America and my hair all ‘planned’ I spent most of Friday, ignoring my teachers and instead day dreamed during class. My mind was planning for the prom. What do I say? How much should I eat? Should we learn a dance so we can break out into a tiny flash mob during the prom? Don’t be stupid, Haddie, that would take days to coordinate.

When Saturday finally came, I went on my morning run and when I was done, I didn’t even remember actually running because I was so excited. But somehow, I wound up at my house all sweaty. So I’m pretty sure I actually did go on my run.

I showered and made my way to meet Stacey and Morgan. I waited for them to finish getting their spray tans and was oddly happy I looked naturally tan. Then we went through hair teasing and curling (for me I had to have my hair straightened with a flat iron), eyebrow plucking, and other forms of benign torture. After which we wrapped up our morning of beauty by chowing down on Chinese food at the Golden Panda because Morgan said we should eat a lot of food now, so we didn’t look like pigs at dinner later with our dates. It was a dumb premise and yet it made perfect sense. Besides, I ran five to six hours every morning, so I can pretty much eat whatever I want and I was starving.

The last item on the list was getting mani/pedis at the mall while sipping on mocha Frappuccinos. I considered pointing out that our coffees probably had more calories than our lunch did. But, ignorance is bliss. We must have looked like freaks walking through the mall to go back to my car.

There I was in khaki cargo pants, pink flip-flops, and my favorite Ramones T-shirt with my hair all done up and wearing make-up like a movie star stepping on the red carpet. Fingernails and toenails bright pink. And to top it all off, my new blinged out earrings dangling from my ears. Lots of people smiled and said, “Have fun tonight.” What can I say? Prom night is a pretty big deal in tiny New Providence.

After dropping off Stacey and Morgan at their houses, I pulled in the driveway and noticed the front door was slightly ajar. But I was pretty sure I had closed it and locked it, too.

I looked around the neighborhood. People were jogging, walking their dogs, and washing their cars. Nothing out of the ordinary, and yet I had that electric tingle that runs up the back your neck when something bad is about to happen. Uncle Ami calls it my sixth sense and told me to always listen to it.

I walked slowly up to the door and looked in the windows. Everything was in place. Maybe I did forget to shut the door. No… I would never do that. I pushed the door open a little more and a thought crossed my mind. What are you going to do? What if it’s a burglar or something? You don’t even have a weapon. Then I remembered what Uncle Ami taught me: SPAT – Scan, Patience, Assess, Think.

I felt like my heart would explode. So I took a deep breath and tried to lower my heart rate just like before a big race. Then for a second I thought that maybe Dad had come back. But why? To take pictures of me for prom? I doubt it. Besides I didn’t hear the news on the TV. And there wasn’t any jazz music playing in the background. My dad always had ‘noise’ on when he was at home.

I stepped inside. The living room appeared normal. No one had stolen the television. I turned left and looked through the glass French doors into Dad’s study. What in the world? It was a mess. Sure, Dad had stacks of files, but they were somewhat neat. I took out my cell phone, pressed 9-1-1, and held my finger on the ‘send’ button. Of course, I suppose I should have pressed ‘send’ before I came in the house.

I moved into the kitchen and everything looked normal. So far the only indication that anything was wrong was the mess in Dad’s office. Then when I saw that the office had been ransacked. And I really should have pressed ‘send’ after I heard a loud thud come from my dad’s bedroom like a dresser drawer being slammed shut. But I didn’t.

Instead, I grabbed a butcher knife out of the big wooden block on our black granite countertop. All of my training had been controlled sparing in a gym. I never had needed to grab a knife and I wasn’t really sure I’d be able to use it if I had to.

Then I heard footsteps coming towards the kitchen. Whoever was in my house was headed straight for me. Yes, I should have pressed ‘send’ a long time ago but instead, I slipped the phone in my pocket and gripped the knife with both hands. Uncle Ami’s words jumbled in my mind. Assess. No. Scan. Prepare. Plan. No. Shoot!

The footsteps stopped briefly. I threw together a plan in my head. I raised the long knife, ready to bring it down with both hands in one swift decisive plunge. Then after I did that I would grab my phone, press ‘send’ and then run for safety. In theory it wasn’t a bad plan and I’m a pretty fast sprinter.

But then, a long shadow fell across the kitchen floor. In that instant, I froze. Suddenly in front of me was a man who was not my father. Why didn’t I press ‘send’ when I could have?

Standing there with Pablo between me and my escape, I wish I had just grabbed the SAT phone and run into the jungle to call for help. Only I didn’t. Just like I didn’t press ‘send’ when I should have. But I can’t dwell on that now. Great. What now? I’ve only got about thirty minutes to get as far away as possible before the sun rises and everyone wakes up.

I stare at the man in front of me wearing green shorts and no shirt exposing is pudgy stomach with matted hair on his head and chest. I swear I’m pretty sure some of his dinner is plastered to his face with dried drool. Somehow I have to get past this knuckle-dragging caveman and run all out on sore legs at least two maybe even three miles of rough terrain, if I’m lucky, to safety. I hope. I hear Uncle Ami in my head… Remember SPAT Scan, Patience, Access, Think.

Scan.

I look and see Mauricio is still sleeping. There is no movement from the other tents.

Pablo takes a step towards me and smiles. Seriously? Why is he smiling? A good soldier would have immediately called out, ‘The prisoner is escaping!’ And then I’d be surrounded with rifles pointed at me. But Pablo, apparently, is not a good soldier. If he were a kid, he’d be Santiago’s problem child. He also should be mad I escaped my ropes. But he looks entirely too happy to be so close to me with both my feet on the ground and… alone. Ewww.

He touches my left cheek with his bandaged right hand. I can smell the pungent scent of his morning breath mixed with stale beer. Gross. It’s clear to me Pablo wants the other guys to stay asleep as much as I do, but for far different reasons.

I tighten my grip on the SAT phone. It’s heavy like a brick and I don’t think he realizes I have it.

Patience.

I know I need to work on patience. I wouldn’t be here if I’d been patient. But I don’t know what else I could have done. My father was missing. I had to get to Colombia. There wasn’t time for patience. If I get out of this and I find dad, he’ll probably kill me for maxing out my ‘emergency only’ credit card.

Assess.

Okay, Haddie. Focus. Uncle Ami always stressed to me how our brains can calculate thousands of variables in a few seconds. And if I just focus and clear my mind, my brain can sort out any situation just as fast.

I can easily out run him. But if I run, he’ll wake everyone up. If they follow me I don’t know where I’m going so I’ll never be able to outpace them. Or I could go with the damsel in distress option again. It worked earlier and it wouldn’t be much of a stretch. He’s so repulsive. His sweaty, hairy stomach is touching me. I could tell Santiago that Pablo cut me down. Yeah, that’s it.

I push Pablo away keeping the SAT phone behind me; out of his field of