Remi was photographing the pot, which was painted with Mayan scenes that seemed to be about one man—eating, wielding a shield and a war club, kneeling to a fearsome-looking deity that seemed part feline and part troll.

Sam said, “I wonder what was inside.”

“Whatever it is, it’s probably still there. The lid seems to be stuck on it with some kind of seal—like glue. We’d better not try to open it or we’ll damage it. Get out of the frame. I want to send these pictures to Selma before my battery dies.”

“Good idea.” Sam stepped out through the hole in the lava curtain, used his phone to take pictures of the entryway and the mountainside above and below him. As he shot downward toward the trail and the chunk of worked stone that blocked it, he saw the rest of the volunteers coming along. “Hey!” he shouted. “Up here!”

The column of people stopped and looked up, and he waved his arms so they would spot him two hundred feet above them. They hesitated for a moment and then began to climb toward him.

While Sam was waiting for the others to arrive, Remi came out of the shrine’s entrance onto the surface where he stood. “What are you doing?”

He pointed down at the others. “I asked them to come up to take a look.”

“I suppose we couldn’t keep this to ourselves.”

“Not even for a day. Not with that carved doorpost lying on the trail down there. We’re going to need their help to keep this place safe until we can turn it over to the authorities.”

“You’re right,” she said. “This could be an important find. I’m not aware of any other mummified Mayans.”

In a few minutes, Christina and Maria, the Mendoza brothers, and José Sánchez joined them. Christina looked around her. “What is this place?”

“We’re not sure,” said Remi. “It’s a Mayan ruin, and it seems to have been buried in a lava flow. We think it’s a shrine or holy place, probably dedicated to the mountain. The Mayans also had lots of gods that lived in the sky or the interior of the Earth. On a volcano, I suppose it could be either. I remember one called Bacab who did both.”

Maria looked at the entrance. “Can we go inside without damaging it?”

“We’ve been inside,” Sam said. “It should be okay as long as you don’t touch anything. There are the remains of a man in there. He’s been mummified—not intentionally but by the conditions. The altitude and the dry air up here probably preserved him the way it preserved the mummies in Peru and Chile. At some point, a lava flow sealed the entrance, and that probably made a big difference.”