ALL THAT EARTHLY REMAINS
BY C. C. MACAPP
Rumor said devils lived in the cave.
The truth was even more appalling!
[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
Worlds of If Science Fiction, July 1962.
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
Breathing a little heavily in the Andean air, and still dazed at theurgency with which he had been whisked southward (via jet bomber),Dr. Luis Craig walked across packed earth toward a powerful-lookinghelicopter which, he had just been told, was to take him on the lastleg of his trip. He listened tiredly to the unctuous words of hisescort, a Lieutenant Rabar who wore the uniform of this Latin Americannation's Air Force and who was to fly the helicopter.
Shouts erupted behind them, at the edge of the field. Something snarledat his left ear. The sound was familiar, though not recently so: thecrack of a rifle. He hit the dirt.
Another bullet came searching, but now the shouts got themselvesorganized into crisp Spanish. Sidearms and at least two automaticweapons blatted. There were no more rifle shots. Cautiously, he raisedhis head to look at the knot of uniformed men where the sniper had been.
Rabar stepped forward, offering a hand. "Are you all right, Doctor?"
Craig ignored the hand and got up without help. "Quite, thank you." Hehad disliked Rabar from the moment of introduction; and now it was inhis mind that Rabar had stepped carefully away from him before thefirst bullet came.
As casually as he could, he walked to the aluminum ladder hung uponthe helicopter's side and hauled himself up. He stopped in the hatch,dignity forgotten, startled at the disparity of the three men alreadyin the ship.
Directly across the cabin sat a gaunt scarecrow of a man in a blackpriest's cassock. An oxygen mask dangled on his thin chest, suggestinga bloated crucifix. The long, swarthy face was pockmarked, dour andwithout animation at the moment, except for fierce black eyes thatburned steadily into Craig's own. Craig thought of a condor, perchednear some nearly ready meal. He was immediately ashamed of the thought.
Forward of the priest sat a brown Indian. His face mirrored dignifiedresignation to being carried in this hellish contraption to horribledeath, or worse.
Occupying the only seat on the hatch side was a tautly uniformed manwho eyed Craig coldly.
The priest spoke. His voice was deep and gently strong, caressing theSpanish syllables like a great soft bell. "We are abject, Doctor. Wehad tried very hard ... but there are fanatics."
"Eh?" said Craig. "Oh. Well, I am unhurt, as you can see."
"For which, thanks to the Almighty. Our humblest apologies. You speakSpanish exceptionally well, Doctor."
Wondering if there were a question behind the compliment, Craig said,"My mother was Mexican." He did not think it necessary to add that he'dgrown up near the border, and had once spent two years as an exchangeProfessor of Physics at the Mexican university.
The priest nodded once. "I see. It was thoughtful of your governmentto choose you. And more than kind of you to come. But, forgive me;the shooting has made me forget my manners. This—" indicating theuniformed man—"is General Noriega." He laid a hand on the shoulder ofthe Indian. "And this one prefers to answer to the name Dientes."
Craig looked at the brown face with interest. Archeology was one of hishobbies, and in this part of the world ... 'Dientes' was Spa