The Haunted Key of Lima

Lila Kane shivered under the thin blankets of her bed, deliberately twirling the smooth key between her fingers. Another disagreement between her downstairs neighbors drowned out the sound of her radio. Her obsession with finding whatever her key unlocked kept her in a trance, blissfully ignoring her miserable conditions. This key—her key—consumed her thoughts. Years spent attempting to unlock the origins of her mystical companion are all that kept her sane in her dreary existence. 

Lila consumed every shred of information relevant to it, tv documentaries, interviews with experts, books, magazine articles. She learned until there was no learning left to learn. Today she would begin the final leg of her quest. Today she would head to the pyramids of Peru. 

Lila sipped the last delicate drops of her sweet tea and hurriedly packed her small backpack. Lila saved every spare dollar for three years in anticipation of this moment. She stepped into the airport lobby and rang up one ticket to Peru.

Please see Attendant.

Her excitement dampened as she slogged to the attendant.

“I’m sorry, ma’am. Your passport is expired.”

“No, look, I have 4 months left on it.” She held up her passport pointing at the expiration date.

The attendant gave her the deadpan look of someone who desperately needed a new job. “And you could re-enter America clear until the day it expires. Peru won’t let you enter without 6 months left on your passport. With a one-way ticket they may deny you entry regardless.”

Angry tears stung her eyes and blurred his vision. Every step back to her disheveled apartment felt heavier than the last. Her frustration boiled inside of her.  

Think, think, think. She squeezed the key tight, imprinting its shape on her palm. She breathed deeply, attempting to calm her thoughts. Her gaze swept over pictures displayed on her drab walls. Happy memories of her childhood stared back at her. She jolted upright. The cruise. Holy crap, I can cruise out of America without a passport!

She gently placed the key in its leather pouch and placed it beside her bed. She jumped into the air, landed in her chair and began typing, “Cruises to Peru.” 

“Buy unsold last-minute cabins half off!” This is too good to be true!

Five days later she stepped into the stateroom that would be her home until the ocean carried her to Peru. The travel time was less than ideal, but the accommodation was better than any she’d had in years. She watched soft red sunsets, slept in as she pleased and ate chef-prepared meals every day. 

One morning she awoke to the stateroom shaking violently. Loud crashes and the screams of frightened children echoed through the hallway. Lila attempted to stand but sudden lurching sent her crashing down into her nightstand. Shards of glass pierced her skin as she maneuvered herself onto her hands and knees. Warm blood poured from the gash on her forehead into the corner of her mouth. The metallic taste made her gag, and she spat forcefully wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. Bleeding and motion sick, she continued crawling toward the window. 

Enormous waves surged in the ocean and crashed against the ship. Lightning cracked and illuminated the horizon for an instant before the thunder roared. Waves of pain pounded in her head with each thunderous boom. Each time the brightness of lightning bolts filled the room her eyes desperately scanned the floor. 

She reached up and searched for her leather pouch. Her heart sank. Everything that had once sat upon her nightstand now lay scattered across the floor. Her fingers searched frantically in the dark. The boat lurched violently, first left then straight down. A familiar knot tied her stomach. Last night’s dinner spewed from her mouth. The acid burned her throat and nose. 

Ignoring post-vomit trembling, she wiped her chin and continued feeling for the key. Her fingers slipped through the war, slippery mess and over broken glass. She reached blindly under the bed. Lila inched forward and a stabbing pain tore into her knee. Her key!

She wiped the filth from her hand with her shirt. She rolled onto her back, clutching the key in her hands. Relief steadied her body as the only object she truly loved was back in her possession. 

The storm calmed down and the crew began putting everything back in order. Tension that thickened the air began to dissipate. Lila picked glass splinters from her hands and showered the vomit from her body. 

The captain came on the loudspeaker. “Due to severe storm damage to the port we regret to inform you all excursions to Peru are canceled. We truly apologize for any inconvenience. Full refunds will be issued to those who booked an excursion.”

Lila felt her heart quicken. No, no, no, no! This can’t be right! Years planning, researching, living in a shit hole to save money, expired passport, last minute trip to Peru on a fucking boat…after all that we aren’t going to stop at the one place I needed to go?!” 

Another obstacle. Another setback. Another failure. The key began to feel like a burden. Rage burned in her. Her passion for this quest consumed her mind. Obsession with finding what item the key unlocked had become the most important aspect of her life. And now that she was so close the opportunity was slipping through her fingers like sand. 

She grabbed the key and clenched her fist. No, I am not losing this. I am too close. 

She entered the ship's store and scanned the shelves. Perfect. Carolina reaper chips. She tore open the bag and immediately the smell made her eyes water. She shoved a handful into her mouth and forced herself to chew. Her eyes teared up. She gagged and recoiled. Seat began forming on her forehead. 

Oh God these are hot. What makes them hotter? Water! Water makes capsaicin worse. 

She grabbed a big bottle of water and gulped mouthfuls of the cool liquid down between bites. The heat intensified. Her clothing became wet with perspiration and her hair stuck to her face. The spice ignited a fiery, searing pain in her stomach. 

She reached into her backpack and pulled out her two-pack of epi pens. She uncapped the first one and jabbed it into her thigh. She winced for a second before the torment of the capsaicin pulled her mind away from the needle. Half way done. Don’t chicken out. She forced herself to down the remaining chips. They burned like fire from her tongue to her stomach. She gulped water, stoking the flame. She poured the remaining water down the back of her shirt. She uncapped the remaining epi pen and drove it into her thigh with a swift, forceful jab.

Lila stumbled onto the pool deck forcing in short, ragged breaths and clutching her chest. Her weakening legs buckled and she tripped over chairs causing a scene. Other pool-goers stared aghast. Lifeguards rushed to her side. “Help me,” she whispered.

“Medical emergency, get the stretcher!” Lifeguards shoved spectators out of the way and rushed her to the infirmary. 

The small medical facility was already a chaotic mess and over capacity due to injuries from the morning’s storm. Her chest tightened and her pulse shot over 200 as the adrenaline did its job. Distracted doctors loomed over her while over-worked nurses administered drugs and drew blood.

“Call for a helicopter,” the doctor shouted, “she is having a myocardial infarction; we can’t treat this here.” 

He turned to Lila, “It’s okay. You’re going to be fine. We are arranging for you to get to a proper hospital where they can take better care of you, okay? You’re gonna be fine.”

The whir of helicopter blades terrified her. The wind and whirring of the blades coupled with straps tying her down created a feeling of helplessness which resulted in her pulse climbing higher.  

“Clot Buster,” the medic explained in heavily accented English. He put the bitter pill in her mouth and tipped a cup of water to her lips to help her to swallow. The searing pain of the Carolina reaper was renewed with the tiny sip of water and her breathing became ragged again.

Soon after admission to the hospital her sweating and shortness of breath normalized. Not long after that her pulse returned to normal. The fire in her stomach and raw burning in her mouth lingered as a reminder of the price she paid to get this far. 

The doctors were smart enough to realize she had not had a heart attack, and she was smart enough to leave out the part about the epi pens. 

The doctor spoke in English, “You did not have a heart attack,” he looked at her with narrow eyes. “There are cases of people dying due to severe reactions to foods. Why on earth did you keep eating? You could have died.” The doctor shook his head and headed to his next patient. She looked at her hospital gown and her soaked clothing. As soon as I disappear they will come looking for me. They know I have no legal right to stay in this country. 

She dug through the hospital bag and pulled out her pants, leather pouch still tucked securely in her pocket. Got it!

As the janitor passed by, she asked where the lost and found was. She ran her fingers through her hair, grabbed her backpack and bag of clothing and walked briskly to the lost and found. 

She carefully selected a new wardrobe—a pair of jeans, a plain shirt and a baseball cap. She even found a pair of sunglasses. Perfect. She tossed her old clothes into the linen bin and slipped out the door.  

She found herself in a large city with an obvious tourist population. Yes! English language signs touted day trips to nearby ruins on most street corners. She paused in front of one particularly interesting sign: Pyramids…

The ride to the pyramid was rough; the open-air van ran over uneven roads bouncing tourists up out of their seats. She silently corrected the tour guides’ historical inaccuracies as she clutched her leather pouch and planned her next moves.  Every bump in the ride brought her closer to her goal.

The ancient structure that stood before her was magnificent. This was not the pyramid she sought though. That pyramid was an hour away on foot. She broke away from the group and began her trek. The jungle air was thick and hot. The humidity slowed her body. She felt heavy and deprived of oxygen as she trudged forward. 

She grabbed the key, “almost there little one, almost there,” she whispered as if comforting a tired child nearing the end of a long journey. She swore she could feel it stir in her hand, a faint swirling pulse radiating gently through her fingers, urging her on. She dismissed the feeling as excitement. 

The imposing shadow of the pyramid loomed over her. This is it.  Exhilaration surged through her and heightened her senses. She trembled with excitement and ran her fingers over the pyramid’s stone wall. Whatever answers she needed, whatever secret this key kept locked away, the answer lay in the giant structure before her.

Eerie shadows filled the areas around her as nightfall crept in. Her excitement kept tiredness at bay. She bloodied her fingers moving mounds of dirt and stone. The key urged her on. She dropped and dug deeper ignoring the sharp stones that dug into her knees. She broke through. The inside of the pyramid looked unnatural as if the structure had swallowed itself. 

She trekked down the hall dimly lit by her cell phone until the key commanded her to stop. A small stone box sat perched on an elevated section of ground. It was covered in moss and several insects crawled across it. She knew immediately that this is what her key unlocked. A supernatural push to open the box forced its way into her mind. Her obsession burned in her now with new fervor. She clawed at the box ripping dirt and moss off the weathered stone and slapping away insects. 

Her heart pounded in her ears. The stone gleamed with an unnatural sheen. The box appeared ancient and menacing as if watching her.  Trembling, her fingers dug the key out of its pouch. Its gentle encouragement transformed into fierce, demanding urgency that pulled her into a hypnotic state. She put the key into the lock and turned. She felt a pop and heard a click. The air grew cold like ice. 

The key felt cold and lifeless in her hand. It slipped through her fingers and clanged on the floor. The chorus of chirping insects transformed to high pitched, chaotic shrieking and mingled with the frantic screams of jungle monkeys. Their futile cries warned of the evil about to be unleashed. She snapped out of her trance. The object of her fixation, years of searching, was finally about to pay off. 

A slight movement of the lid gave better illumination to the grooves of its edge. The ancient hieroglyphics formed fragmented words. Her lips mouthed the words of a long forgotten language. 

It took a moment for her to translate the words,” Prison…demon…souls…” Dread washed over her, suffocating her. 

The lid flew open, a black swirling apparition screamed and dissipated into the air. Her blood ran cold as the shadow tore through the air. Demonic wailing filled the pyramid and echoed into the forest. It dissipated out of sight but something terrible lingered. An unseen force twisted and ripped at reality until it began to break apart. 

Oh, God, what have I done?