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

In a weird way, his reasoning sounded logical. But the idea of traveling to South America with my father’s boss to rescue my father from kidnappers was just about the dumbest thing I had ever heard. “You’re kidding, right? I’m in high school. Tonight’s my prom. What am I going to do in South America? Run through the jungle like I know what I’m doing?”

“Haddie, this is serious. Something your father found, whether he knows it or not, was valuable enough to get him kidnapped. We have to find it because if they have him it means whatever it is they want was not with him when he was taken. So, it’s either somewhere in Colombia or… it’s here.”

Here? That’s when it hit me. The secret compartment under my father’s desk. “Wait, wait, wait. I think I might be able to help.”

I raced to my father’s study with Waters following close behind. Papers littered the floor. Books ripped off the shelves lay strewn haphazardly on the floor. And the drawers of my dad’s desk had all been yanked out and tossed aside. But the hidden compartment had not been opened. I put down my phone, reached under the drawer, and felt around for the little lever. “My dad isn’t one who usually keeps secrets but I saw him put something in here the other day.” I pushed the button and the hidden compartment popped open. I reached in and pulled out his battered leather notebook covered in coffee stains – the one my dad was reading when we bought my prom dress which happened to be lying across my bed waiting to be put on.

I shook the book triumphantly. “This has got to be it.” I held it tight with both hands. “It’s the only thing he’s ever hidden.” As I looked at his notebook, the story of El Dorado, the Golden Man, popped into my head. Suddenly the idea that my dad might be in real danger struck me like a ton of bricks because I knew my dad believed that somewhere, maybe in the jungles of Colombia, there was a valuable artifact that people would kill to get their hands on.

Waters looked visibly relieved. “Fabulous work, Haddie. Let me see it.”

I clutched the notebook to my chest and let out a heavy sigh not believing what I was about to say. “No, Dr. Waters. You’re right. I think I should go with you. This is my dad’s work. And if you’re right about his notes, you need me to figure them out.”

Waters smiled and sighed with relief. “Excellent. There’s a flight leaving in three hours. If we leave… now we’ll have time to go through security and get on board. How quickly can you be ready to go?”

“Give me ten minutes.” My passport and international inoculations were current since we go overseas every summer, so I ran upstairs and crammed my passport, wallet, extra cash, and a couple of changes of clothes into my backpack. Catching a glimpse of myself in the mirror, I got a sickening feeling in the pit of my stomach. Chance. I’m going to miss my senior prom with the greatest guy in school. I can’t just go without telling him something.

I wanted to call him, but time was of the essence so I wrote a quick note and taped it on the front door figuring I’d try to call from the plane. I took my hair down and let it flow over my shoulders. Pulling my pink jogging shoes on as I hopped out of my room, I ran downstairs and checked my father’s study one more time. As I left the room, I grabbed a picture from his desk. It was the three of us, Mom, Dad, and me in front of Big Thunder Mountain Railroad at Disney World. That was the summer before my world crashed down around me. I couldn’t let anything happen to my dad. He was all I had left.

It wasn’t until were racing through the lazy Saturday traffic that I realized my phone was on my dad’s desk. I begged Dr. Waters for his cell phone. But he said he wanted to keep the line open in case the kidnappers called. When we arrived at the airport, he slid the credit card the university gave the faculty to secure valuable items at auctions, through the parking gate machine to allow us access to ‘close-in parking’. He smiled at me and said, “I’d better keep the receipt. Although, I suppose explaining two tickets to Colombia and whatever else bills I incur might cause more of a fuss with the Board than paying an exorbitant amount to park fifty yards closer. But it doesn’t matter. Your father is far too valuable to squabble over money.”

I guess Dr. Waters likes my dad and respects the work he does. And he said if anyone could find a treasure it was my father. After all, he did write a couple of books on discovering treasures through research. His most popular book is Hitler and the Lost Ark: The Nazi’s Search for Ancient Treasures. If any treasure was halfway famous or had mystical powers, Hitler wanted it in his collection.

Another one of his books, Rightful Owners, actually won a prize of some sort. Dad spent years tracking down art and treasures stolen from the Jews as the Nazis rounded them up during World War II. The Nazi leaders kept track of everything including not only the number of people rounded up and killed in each city but also an inventory of valuables and where they were stored. Using these documents, Dad recovered millions of dollars in art and jewels and returned it to the descendants and survivors of concentration camps. Three years ago during our summer in Israel, the government even gave him an award called the Friend of Israel and made him an honorary citizen.

Once we were parked I grabbed my bag and we made our way to the ticket counter. “So what happens when we get to Colombia?”

“We’re supposed to fly to Cuidad Bolivar Airport. From there, we hire a riverboat guide to take us up the Orinoco to a trading post called the El Tigre just below the falls. Then we wait for them to contact us.

I gripped my passport as Waters worked at the ticket kiosk. “Have you done something like this before, Dr. Waters?”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t know. You sound pretty casual about all this. Have you had to deal with something like this before?”

“No, I’m just following their instructions and hoping we get him back safely. Get there, go to the trading post, and await further instruction.” He gave me a reassuring smile, slid his card through the kiosk reader, and we headed to the counter to pick up our boarding pass.

After a couple of hours we were sitting on the runway waiting to take off. Then out of the blue, Waters hands me his phone to call Chance.

Yes! I dialed furiously. One ring. Two rings. Three rings. Come on, pick up.

“Hello? Hello?”

“Chance, hey it’s me. I’m really sorry about tonight…”

“I can’t hear you. You still there? Hello?”

“Chance, it’s me, Haddie…”

I yelled into the phone as if raising my volume was going to make him magically hear me. Suddenly, there was an unpleasant tap on my shoulder. “Ma’am, you need to turn that off now. We’re getting ready to take off.”

I turned on the sad puppy dog eyes I used on my father when I was little. “I will.” Once more, I yelled into the phone, “Chance, Chance. Please…”The flight attendant stared at me intently and folded her arms across her chest. “Fine.” I handed the phone back to Waters knowing my one shot to talk to Chance had just slipped through my hands.

After we were in the airborne and headed towards the Southern Hemisphere, I tried to imagine what would happen next. I had no idea that in just a couple of days I would be running for my life through the jungle.

The red mud is slick and the ruts in the twisting, curvy mountain road present a difficult enough challenge. But running in someone else’s shoes… combat boots, nonetheless, that are a size too big slows me down. Every step is a challenge. I’ve never tripped and nearly turned my ankle so much in my life. Dodging creeping vines hanging out of the trees and jumping mud puddles and climbing over rocks slows me down even more. I was running downhill which normally would be great, but on this road it increased the danger of my slipping, tripping, or tumbling over the edge.

The sun is rising on my left, so I know I’m traveling north. Right? Directions don’t change in the Southern Hemisphere do they? Of course they don’t Haddie. Don’t be silly. The sun rises in the east no matter where you are on earth. The air is so hot and moist it clogs my throat and makes it feel like I’m running in a sauna. I’m pouring sweat. My clothes are drenched. My hair is crazy frizzy. Good grief.

Now I can feel electric jolts of pain from lactic acid buildup in my thighs. Most people would’ve stopped by now. But I’ve been trained to recognize when my muscles start to be deprived of oxygen and try to use strategies to manage the pain. I slow my stride. I try to force my lungs to expand so I can take in more air but this humidity makes it difficult.

I stop and move off the mud road behind the tallest tree I’ve ever seen. Leaning up against the verdant moss, I rub my quads trying to rest them and fight the lactic acid. I can’t stop for long. I listen for any sign of my kidnappers but all I hear is the jungle coming alive.

Birds screech awake. Small furry animals jump from limb to limb. And a blue and yellow macaw just landed on a limb not far from me. I think he’s mad at me for invading his space because his screeching crow sounds like he’s yelling at me. “Sorry, bird. Really.”

After a couple of minutes of massaging my quads and calves, I take off again and look back to see if they’re coming after me. But the road is so curvy I can’t see more than ten feet in any direction so they could be just a stone’s throw away from me. What’s more, I know being out here on the road where I can easily be seen is dangerous.

I step off the road and go maybe three feet into the jungle but I can’t go too far off the road because I have to follow it knowing it has to lead somewhere. Only it won’t be easy since I don’t have a machete to cut my way through. I have to expend more energy pushing aside the leaves and bushes trying my best not get too far from