Chapter Twenty-Two #2
Shit. Part of him didn’t want to know how this tale ended, and the other part … Nope, it didn’t want to know either.
But Angélica kept talking anyway. “Night had fallen and the full moon had risen by the time the three of them reached a temple as tall as the surrounding canopies. Next to it sat a smaller structure with an angry sun god carved into the head stone over the door.”
“Please let this have a happy ending,” Pedro said.
Bronko glanced back at him. “I expect bloodshed.”
“The traveler led them through the dark entrance under the angry sun god. After several twists and turns inside a tunnel heading down into the earth, they came upon a wall made of stone blocks.”
Quint groaned. “Damn it, woman. Why can’t your stories take place in faraway lands?”
“With pretty fairies who grant wishes,” Pedro added.
“Shut up and listen, peanut gallery.” She cleared her throat. “What the king initially thought was a dead end turned out to be a gate. The traveler raised a bone with strange carvings on it and blew into it.”
“Let me guess—the whistle of death,” Quint said.
She nodded. “The king watched as the wall split in two and opened wide, but the shadows beyond were too thick for their torchlight to pierce.
A great wind rushed from the dark, smelling of decay and feces, blowing out their torches.
In the dark, they heard the sound of many, many wings flapping.
Before they could turn and run, the bats were upon them, fluttering all around.
And then they were gone. But the three were not alone.
There was something else with them, rustling in the dark, chittering, huffing and hissing.
“The king raised his weapon, but he was grabbed and flung aside into the wall so hard he blacked out. When he awoke in the dark, all was silent. He felt his way along the floor and came upon a body that was cold to the touch and slick with blood. There was no breath. He dragged the body out into the night. Under the light of the full moon, he wept over his son. The traveler’s dagger was buried hilt-deep in the boy’s skull. ”
“Christ,” Quint said. “Must you be so detailed?”
“In this case, yes,” she answered solemnly. “You also need to know that the boy’s heart had been cut out and was missing.”
Bronko grunted. “That was the sacrificial offering?”
“Unfortunately, yes,” Angélica answered.
Quint sighed. “That story would give one of Shakespeare’s great tragedies a run for its money.”
“Where was the traveler?” Pedro asked.
“The king never found him again. He went back inside with a torch when daylight came, but there was no sign of the traveler, and the wall had closed up again, solid no matter how hard the king tried to break through it.
“Brokenhearted, the king tried to drag his son’s body through the jungle, but he was weak with grief and the boy was heavy, so he buried him inside a cave-like mound where the butterflies lived.”
“Holy hell,” Quint said. “The butterfly mound.”
“The king asked the gods to watch over his son, and then he climbed over the wall and walked back through the jungle, losing his way many times. After thirteen full moons, he finally found his way back home only to learn that an old enemy had conquered his kingdom and killed not only his wife and other children, but every member of his family. Enraged, he made plans to kill the new ruler, but the king was caught and stabbed many, many times. His enemies threw him into a pit and left him to die with other rotting bodies.”
Quint growled. “This story just keeps getting shittier.” Up ahead, he could see Structure I off to the side of the road. Across from it, the wall loomed, even more sinister in the dark thanks to Angélica’s story.
“Did the king actually die?” Pedro asked. “Or was he immortal?”
“He died.”
Bronko shook his head. “I knew there’d be death and bloodshed at the end.” His tone was flat yet harsh. “There always is.”
Quint frowned at the sicario’s backside, wondering not for the first time what horrors he’d witnessed during his time with the cartel.
Angélica blew out a breath. “Now, this is where things get weird.”
Quint scoffed. “Weirder.”
“Right. So, the night the king took his last breath in that pit of death, a baby was born in a nearby village.
A child who with time would grow into a young boy who was often sad, filled with vivid memories that would bring him to tears.
Memories of a past life where he was a king living in a beautiful temple with a loving wife and several smiling children.
One in particular—a son, who wanted to be just like his father, who had a strong desire to live forever.
“As this village boy aged, the memories became even clearer and stronger. By the time he was a man, he remembered everything, including what had happened to the loving son who’d joined his father on a quest to live forever.
But the one thing he could not remember, no matter how many times he meditated and asked the gods for help, was where to find the place in the jungle with a tall wall, a mound filled with butterflies, and a temple terrorized by the death-bat god. ”
“Oh, criminy,” Quint said, a sinking sensation heavy in his gut. “You’re talking about reincarnation.”
“Correct.” She cleared her throat. “That village boy—the one who used to be a king—well, he lived a long time, dying at a very old age. But he was always sad for the wife and children that he remembered from his last life.
“And on the day that boy died, a child was born in a nearby village—another boy, who was often sad, filled with memories of a beautiful temple, a loving wife, and smiling children whom he loved and would never see again.” She paused and looked around at each of them.
“Need I continue, or do you understand what happens next?”
“We get it,” Pedro said, following with a heavy sigh.
“Good.” She pointed ahead at where KuTu now waited for them next to Structure I. “That man standing there who we know as KuTu is the ancient king, Po Ki Tali, cursed with immortality at the cost of his oldest son’s life.”
Quint stopped, shaking his head in disbelief. “What?”
“You joke,” Pedro said, also stopping.
Bronko had paused too, his focus on KuTu.
“No joke. That is the story that KuTu told me while Quint went to get you guys. And the dagger KuTu found at the site last week is the one that killed his son and might have been used to carve out his heart. He is certain of that because he buried that dagger himself long, long ago before he left the place.”
“That’s how he knew where to find it,” Pedro whispered.
“This is bat-shit nuts,” Quint said.
“KuTu also saw the bone you claimed to have seen in Dr. Fernel’s tent,” she said to Quint. “He believes it was the same whistle of death that the traveler had carried on their journey and used the night KuTu’s son was sacrificed.”
Quint shook his head, overwhelmed. This couldn’t be real. Was he dreaming? He pinched himself.
“You’re not dreaming,” Angélica told him. “It all sounds crazy, but KuTu knows things about this place, and, honestly, I don’t know what to believe. I just know that we have to go get Dr. Fernel before he hurts himself one way or another.”
“So,” Quint said, “the immortality that cost him his son is actually just a continuous cycle of reincarnations?”
“That’s what he claims. He also believes that the traveler was stuck in the cycle of reincarnation before KuTu.
That the traveler disappeared from the bat-house because he passed the curse onto KuTu and was finally able to move to the next level of Xibalba, escaping the cycle of life and death once and for all. ”
Pedro groaned.
“When I asked him why he thought that, KuTu said that the traveler’s tales told on their journey to the site were filled with stories of very ancient times.
Of events that occurred long before KuTu’s people and the surrounding tribes inhabited the area.
The traveler knew things that KuTu believed he couldn’t if he were not from previous ages of the sun. ”
“You know, I could really use a couple of cervezas to make this story go down easier,” Pedro said.
“A six-pack for me,” Bronko told him.
“It gets better,” Angélica said. “KuTu is tired of living and wants to escape the reincarnation cycle. He believes that Dr. Fernel has the whistle of death because he learned about its power and wants to live forever. So, KuTu would like to complete the ritual required to pass on immortality.”
“This isn’t better, Angélica,” Quint said.
Pedro pointed at Quint. “I’m with him.”
“Just as the traveler did in the story, KuTu is willing to offer himself to Camazotz, which is who he suspects is partly responsible for his son’s death. However, the ritual cannot be completed without a human sacrifice.” She turned to Quint. “I told you what KuTu said.”
The demon must come, too.
We will need his sacrifice to save us all.
Quint gasped. Suddenly, the air seemed too thick to breathe. He bent over, trying to catch his breath. When Angélica touched his back, he held up his hand, shaking his head at her. “Give me … a second.”
“What did KuTu say?” Pedro asked.
“That Quint had to come with us, because his sacrifice was needed to save us all.”
“No!” Pedro sounded a little winded, too. “This is not happening. Quint’s life is not an option.”
“What if we don’t offer a sacrifice?” Bronko asked.
“Well, according to what KuTu has learned over the centuries while searching for answers in sacred texts and from many shaman, Camazotz will leave Xibalba and come to the surface with his bat army and rain terror on earth, same as he did at the end of the age of the First Sun, when he killed all of the people in the land.”
“In other words,” Quint said, back upright, but still feeling a bit lightheaded, “what you’re saying is that if we don’t catch Fernel before he starts the ritual, it’s game over for everybody unless I give up my heart?”
“Pretty much, yep.” She wrung her hands, frowning toward the wall. “But KuTu seems to think there is a chance that you can stop this, Quint, and he can still end his cycle of reincarnation.”
“Why him?” Bronko asked. “Why not Pedro or me or you?”
“Uhh.” She looked at Quint, taking his hand in hers and squeezing it. “Because KuTu believes that only a demon sent up from Xibalba has a chance at stopping Camazotz and his army of death.”
Pedro guffawed, frowning from Angélica to Quint. Then he snorted. “So, KuTu thinks big Bunyan is some kind of demon?”
“Basically, yeah.”
“Huh,” Bronko said, staring at Quint. “Shouldn’t he have horns or red glowing eyes?”
KuTu whistled, waving for them to follow as he headed for the wall.
Angélica blew out a breath and turned to Pedro. “Are you coming over the wall or heading back to camp?”
He took her by the shoulders and kissed her on the forehead. “It is silly for you to even ask, mi angelita.”
“What about you?” she asked Bronko.
He held up his pistol. “Armed and ready.”
“What do you say, Parker?” Angélica looked up at him. “You ready to save Dr. Fernel?”
And possibly give up his own life in exchange because the bastard wanted to live forever? Hell no. But to save everyone else? Well, there was no hesitation on that in his mind. “You think I can land an autograph from the great Maya bat god of Xibalba while we’re at it?”
“Most definitely. He might even carve it into your chest.”
He groaned. “That’s not funny, boss lady.”
“It might be if we make it out of this alive.” She grabbed his hand, tugging him along the road. “Come on, let’s go save the damned world.”