He points to the drawing of the Nazca pyramid. “This symbol is the key to finding the hidden entrance into the Kukulcan pyramid. The animal is a jaguar, the symbol inverted to indicate descent. The ancient Maya considered the jaguar’s open mouth to be linked to both terrestrial caves and the Underworld. The closest caves around here are in Balancanche. My parents and I spent years searching them, but found nothing.”

“What about this pattern of concentric circles?”

“That’s the part of the equation I’m still struggling with. At first, I thought the pattern might symbolize a subterranean chamber. Identical circles can be found carved in all of the ancient sites my parents explored. I even went back to the Balancanche caves when I first arrived, but found nothing.”

Dominique removes the map of Chichén Itza from her back pocket. She stares at the layout of the ruins, the photographs taken from high above the ancient city. “Tell me more about this Mayan Underworld. What did you call it?”

“Xibalba. According to the Mayan creation myth, the dark rift in the Milky Way was Xibalba Be, the Black Road to the Underworld. It’s written in the Popol Vuh that Xibalba is where birth, death, and resurrection take place. Unfortunately, the words of the Popol Vuh require a bit of interpretation. I’m sure most of the original meaning has been lost over the centuries.”

“Why do you say that?”

“The Popol Vuh was written around the sixteenth century, long after the rise and fall of the Mayan civilization and the disappearance of Kukulcan. As a result, the stories tend to lean more toward mythology than fact. Then again, after what I saw in the Gulf, I’m no longer sure.” He looks at her, uncertain as to whether he should continue.

“Go on, I’m listening.”

“With an open mind, or is this just part of my therapy?”

“You said you needed a friend, well here I am.” She squeezes his hand. “Mick, this alien you claim communicated with you—you say it spoke to you in your father’s voice?”

“Yes. It deceived me, baited me into moving closer.”

“Now, don’t get upset, but in the Popol Vuh’s creation story, didn’t you tell me the same thing happened to, uh, what was his name?”

“One Hunahpu.” His eyes widen.

Excellent, he’s recognizing the origins of his own dementia.

“You still think I imagined this whole thing, don’t you?”

“I didn’t say that, but you have to admit, it certainly is a strange parallel. What happened to One Hunahpu after the Underworld gods deceived him?”