The Locked Up Secrets

By Carlos B. Camacho

They had been dormant for centuries, until one day they were awoken from their deep slumber and came out of the granite walls that contained them when the seal was accidentally opened. A group of American hikers and adventurers visiting South America witnessed their escape and then they had to struggle for survival.

'.....Now, he looked up at the saffron sky in the west as he drank the cool beer. The dusk crimson light gave the glass he was drinking from a purplish hue and his eyes looked blood-shot. He scowled at a streak of bitter thought that had just cropped up and ran across his mind as he drank it all. Before moving to the United States, he had served in the Spanish Army for six years and did a two-year stint in Afghanistan....She had gone a few yards off the camp perimeter to take a leak when she felt the earth slightly shake under her feet as she heard the plants foliage nearby quiver. It was immediately followed by a long, deep groaning that rasped her ear. She got goose pimples....Using the machete as a lever, they tore off the slats from the two long joists that had been used as supports, only to discover that there was yet another hindrance standing in the way for them to fully explore the cavern. It was a strange metal gate blocking the access into the big cave in the huge granite rock. Written in both Spanish and English language, there was a warning sign attached to it; 'Pandora's Box. Extreme Danger. Do not trespass'; then in smaller letters down below; "At the behest of the Argentinean and US Armies do not open this gate. The local population or even the people of an entire nation might be exposed to unimaginable havoc".......'

• Language: English
• Publisher: Carlos Benito Camacho
• Release date: Apr 6, 2021
• ISBN: 9781386074014

Book preview

Carlos Benito Camacho

Chapter I

Every summer, Fernando and his friends used to go together on vacation, sometimes to a local region, sometimes faraway overseas. They were always looking for a rugged, winding trail to walk along, camping in the mountains or in the middle of a forest. Imbued with an inquisitive and archeological frame of mind, sometimes they ventured out into a forgotten, far-flung spot in search of something unknown, sifting through the traces of some ancient civilization.

Aside from doing trekking in wild regions, they also loved riding in kayaks on a dangerous rough river and doing parachute jumps. Physically, they were above average. Apparently, they had met and become friends at Fernando’s gym a couple of years before, and they had been hanging around together ever since. They were three couples in their late thirties from an Eastern US town; with a zest for life, they were young middle class people with many personal projects to concretize and objectives to achieve.

In the preceding summer, they had flown to Peru to visit Machu Picchu, the Peruvian jungle, and the Andean region of Bolivia, but this year, they traveled further down south in Latin America. Thus, they flew down to Argentina to visit the Iguazu Falls and then its Andean territory of the Northwest.

Argentina was a large country full of geographical and cultural contrasts, with urban centers reminiscent of European cities, and an exotic hinterland, which lured those foreigners with a zing for the untraveled and strange.

The Falls of Iguazu were wonderful and impressing but after three days on the border between Argentina and Brazil, walking the local, gentle paths in a national park, they were ready to take off and visit what they really loved; an off-the-beaten-track mountain region, especially if it was an unknown place to explore.

As soon as they had checked in at a downtown hotel in the city of Tucuman, on a Friday afternoon, they went out to visit Tony’s uncles, whose home was not far from there. Tony had been Fernando’s friend for a couple of years. Although he was born in Tucuman, Argentina, he did not know the region quite well, for he and his parents had immigrated into the United States when he was only ten years old. So, not only did Tony want to see his uncle and aunt, his father’s brother and sister-in-law, but he also wanted to get some information for his friends as to what were the best places to camp and do trekking.

It’s great to see you again, Antonio. It’s been such a long time since I last saw you! José Bianchini said, hugging Tony tightly.

You were so little when you left Argentina, and now look at you! his aunt said, slightly shaking her head, with tears rolling down her face.

Welcome to our home! Please, sit down. Make yourselves comfortable, Uncle José said to Tony’s friends.

After exchanging gifts, talking for a while and catching up over a cup of coffee, they had dinner on the backyard veranda. They ate empanadas and drank a glass of wine.

What are you exactly planning to do? Uncle José said.

We’re looking for the best spot to do mountain trekking, some unknown area, not frequented by people. You know, a place where there is a source of water, like a river or spring, where we can camp and spend the night before we set out on the hiking trail, Fernando said.

"There is this wonderful place called the ‘Portuguese ravine’. It lies parallel to another mountain hollow provincial Route 307 runs through. There’s a long trail that starts in a clearing in the jungle, at the edge of Tucuman plain, and then it leads up to a high ridge, twisting through the lush vegetation like a snake. It’s a part of a series of elevations that are the foothills of Aconquija Mountain range.

But nobody ever goes there. I’m quite sure the path must have gotten overgrown by vegetation after so many years. There are a lot of stories about it, Ernestina, Uncle José’s wife, said.

Don’t pay attention to her, Antonio. It’s a consolidated wide trail to walk along. We used to go there many years ago when I was a teenager at high school. It’s steep and rough but you are young and in good shape. The path is very long, ending up on the other side of the first row of high ridges, in a grassy plateau where a small community of Indian shepherds live. This place is about 120 kilometers southwest of the city. That would be about 80 miles in your system, José said.

Can you point that to me on the map and tell me how we get there? Sean asked, in English, with Tony doing the translation.

Let me see, his uncle said, putting on his reading glasses. It’s not there. This is a brand new map you’ve got. Wait a minute. I’m going to give you an old one where you can see it, he said, as he went inside the house looking for it.

It’s not on the new maps because it’s a God-forgotten place, Ernestina said, doddering, as she made the sign of the cross, rolling up her eyes heavenwards.

"Ask