The Lost City of the Monkey God

by Douglas Preston

Too soon we had to leave. We set off in single file, back to camp, again skirting the base of the pyramid. It was a route we had taken several times before without noticing anything special. But suddenly Lucian Read, in the back of the line, called out, “Hey! Some weird stones over here!” We returned to look, and all mayhem broke out. In a broad hollow area, just poking out of the ground, were the tops of dozens of extraordinary carved stone sculptures. The objects, glimpsed among leaves and vines, and carpeted with moss, took shape in the forest twilight. The first thing I saw was the snarling head of a jaguar sticking out of the forest floor, then the rim of a vessel decorated with a vulture’s head and more large stone jars carved with snakes; next to them was a cluster of objects that looked like thrones or tables, some with carvings along the rims and legs that, at first glance, appeared to be inscriptions or glyphs. They were all almost entirely buried, with only the tops visible, like stone icebergs. I was astounded. These sculptures were in beautiful condition and had probably been lying here undisturbed since they had been left centuries ago—until we stumbled across them. This was proof, if we needed it, that this valley had not been explored in modern times.