The South American Jungle Guards Many Secrets...and a remarkable site nestled between two towering Andean peaks, hidden from human eyes for thousands years.Dig Deeper...through layers of rock and mystery, through centuries of dark, forgotten legends.Into Ancient Catacombs...where ingenious traps have been laid to ensnare the careless and unsuspecting; where earth-shattering discoveries -- and wealth beyond imagining -- could be the reward for those with the courage to face the terrible unknown.Something is Waitinghere where the perilous journey ends, in the cold, shrouded heart of a breathtaking necropolis; something created by Man, yet not humanly possible. Something wondrous. Something terrifying.
Showing 1-2 of the 2 most recent reviews
1 . Great read!
Posted September 06, 2009 by CS , Cold Spring, NYAlso my first book by James Rollins. Great plot, fast moving - a page turner.
2 . first rollins i read, i am addicted
Posted January 12, 2009 by missy , coloardo springsthis is the first James Rollins i read. It was a must read i couldn't put it down
June 30, 2004
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Excerpt from Excavation by James Rollins
There was no escape.
Crashing through the misty jungle, Francisco de Almagro had long given up all prayer of ever outrunning the hunters who dogged his trail. Panting, he crouched along the thin path and caught his breath. He wiped the sweat from his brow with his sleeve. He still wore his Dominican robe, black wool and silk, but it was stained and torn. His Incan captors had stripped him of all possessions, except for his robe and cross. The tribal shaman had warned the others not to touch these talismans from his "foreign" god, afraid of insulting this stranger's deity.
Though the heavy robes ill suited his flight through the dense, cloud-draped jungle of the upper Andes, the young friar still refused to shed his raiment. They had been blessed by Pope Clement when Francisco had first been ordained, and he would not part with them. But that did not mean he couldn't alter them to suit his situation better.
He grabbed the hem of his garment and ripped it to his thighs.
Once his legs were free, Francisco listened to the sounds of pursuit. Already the call of the Incan hunters grew louder, echoing along the mountain pass behind him. Even the screeching cries of the disturbed monkeys from the jungle canopy overhead could not mask the rising clamor of his captors. They would be upon him soon.
The young friar had only one hope leftý a chance at salvation not for himself, but for the world.
He kissed the torn edge of his robe and let it drop from his fingers. He must hurry.