The Serpent Passage

by Todd Allen Pitts

  “At this time of day, shouldn’t it be a little further down—closer to the horizon?”

  Betty looked at the sky and shrugged. “Don’t know what to say to that, Will.”

  They climbed further up the rocks, pushed aside the thick vegetation, and stepped into the shade of the tropical forest. “Look!” William said, pointing to the remnants of a trail overgrown by the jungle. “I bet this path leads back to the Cenote Azul.”

  Betty became distracted by a mango tree nearby; its branches were hanging low to the ground from the weight of the ripened fruit. She maneuvered around the rotting mangos on the ground and plucked a couple of plump reddish-green mangos from a branch. “Hungry?” she asked, tossing one to William.

  “Thanks,” he said, digging his fingers into the mango, the sweet juice squirting out. He tore it into two pieces and devoured the mango from the inside-out. Betty, on the other hand, ate her mango like an apple—peel and all.

  When they finished their snack, William wiped his hands on his shorts and clapped them together in an inspirational manner. “Okay, let’s get going,” he said, and began marching up the trail. Every step accompanied a twinge of pain from his injured feet, but he tuned it out. He had to get back before his mom found out he was missing. William knew his mom would be upset for what he did, but there had to be some merit for rescuing Betty. He figured he might even make the news, and imagined his story going viral on the internet. That would get his girlfriend’s attention back, he thought.

  “So where did you say you’re from?” Betty asked.

  William slapped the side of his head to ward off a pesky mosquito buzzing in his ear, and then he whacked at one biting his thigh. “Right now, we’re staying at my grandfather’s estate in Calderas, but I grew up mostly in California,” he said.

  “So your mom is Mexican?”

  “Yep, and half Mayan, too.”

  Betty picked up her pace and moved ahead of William, giving him a curious stare. “You don’t look Hispanic,” she said. “You have blonde hair and blue eyes.”

  “I know. Everyone says I’m my dad’s little clone,” he said with his voice cracking. “They say the only thing I got from my mom was her blood type.”

  “I’ll have to invite you and your folks over for dinner before you go back to the states. How long are you in town?” she asked.

  Their walk slowed until they came to a complete stop, looking all around, unable to find the continuation of the trail. They retraced their steps and discovered where a fallen tree had diverted them off course. After climbing over the tree trunk, they rested there for a moment before continuing on.

  “I’m not sure when… or if… we’re going back to the states,” William said with a mixture of sadness and frustration. “You see… my dad died last winter.”

  Betty put her arm around his shoulder. “Oh, I’m so sorry, William. How did he…”

  “A scuba accident,” he said, pulling away from her, blinking hard to keep his emotions locked down. “I can’t have my mom thinking the same of me. We have to get back.” He walked at an even faster pace up the trail.

  “I guess we’re neighbors then,” Betty said, changing the focus of the conversation. “We live right here in Bacalar now, but I’m from lots of places.”

  As Betty continued to chatter on about her life story, William replied with an occasional, “uh huh,” while focusing his attention on the trail ahead; he was more concerned about the lizards and snakes that darted by. In many places, the thick jungle vegetation obscured their path, and their progress slowed even more when they had to duck under and climb over fallen trees—a process that went on for a couple hours.

  William tapped on his watch, wondering why it displayed 9:10; it was still light as day.

  “When my folks heard that Burt and I were moving to Mexico, they let me have it—never liked the idea.” Betty bumped into William after he stopped suddenly.

  “What’s the matter?”

  “Be quiet,” he whispered, standing very still—gazing into the jungle ahead. Amidst the loud buzz of insects was a faint, rhythmic beat. “Do you hear that?”

  Betty tilted her head and cupped a hand behind her ear. “Like what?” she asked.

  “Like a drum beat,” he said. “Boom… k’boom… k’boom. Don’t you hear it?”

  She shook her head. “Your hearing must be better than mine.”

  “I think we’re getting close to the restaurant,” he said with a big smile.

  They continued on for another hour until they came across a small cenote, about thirty feet in diameter, along the side of the trail.

  Betty jumped into the lake with a big splash, drinking from the cool water while swimming in place. After the crocodile incident, William took a moment to survey the area for any dangers. Drenched with sweat, and itching from the mosquito bites that he had endured along their hike, he also plunged into the refreshing lake.

  After satisfying his thirst, William climbed onto a rock and examined his feet; they throbbed with pain.

  “Doesn’t look too good, Will,” Betty said, noticing the cuts and blisters on the bottom of his feet.

  “Doesn’t feel too good either. How are yours?”

  “Oh, don’t worry about my footsies. They’re hard as a rock,” she said, lifting a foot out of the water in his direction. “I’ve been hoppin’ around these parts without shoes for some years now. But you… we’re gonna have to do something about your feet.”

  While William sat at the cenote’s edge with his feet soaking in the water, Betty went ashore and plucked several thick leaves from a nearby bush. She removed her shirt and walked topless over to the cenote. William’s eyes popped open, getting a good look at her figure. He turned away before she caught him staring. Betty grabbed a rock near the water’s edge and cut the bottom half of her shirt loose. She put the top half back on and tore the remaining pieces of fabric into thin strips. She sat beside William and snatched one of his feet from the water, putting it onto her lap. She laid a piece of the shirt over the bottom of his foot, followed by several layers of leaves, and secured them with strips of the torn-up shirt.

  As he watched Betty occupy herself with his other foot, William couldn’t help noticing what great shape she was in. Although slender, with a nice figure, she also had firm well-defined muscles. He recalled how she had kept up with him on their long hike, and she seemed to have even more stamina than he did.

  Betty finished wrapping his foot and looked up. William’s eyes jumped up to meet hers. “Everything okay?” she asked.

  “Er, uh,” he blushed, removing his foot from her lap. “You’re doing pretty well through all this, for a woman your age,” he said, trying to say something to excuse how he had been staring at her body.

  “A woman of my age?”

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean…”

  Betty laughed. “Don’t worry. I’ll take that as a compliment. How old are you?” she asked.

  William got up and walked around, trying out his makeshift shoes. “I’m… almost eighteen,” he said, lowering the pitch of his voice when he spoke.

  Betty smiled. “I remember when I used to say almost.” She stood and brushed the dirt from her shorts. “My next almost has a big four in front of it!”

  “No way!” William said. “I figured you were in your early thirties.”

  “Yeah, nice try,” she said with a raised eyebrow.

  “No really, you look great.” He found it hard to believe that she was even older than his mom.

  “Well, thank you for that. I guess it’s because I go swimming every day. It keeps me young,” Betty said, brushing back her hair in an exaggerated way, like she was pretending to be a model posing at a photo shoot.

  They snacked on some papayas they discovered near the cenote and resumed their journey up the jungle path. It occurred to William that he could no longer hear the drum beat that he had heard before, and he assumed that it meant the restaurant had already closed. He checked his
watch, which read 10:03. “You know my watch is way ahead for some reason. What time do you think it is?”

  Betty peered through the thick canopy of palm and mahogany trees overhead. “Hard to say… maybe four or five.”

  “That’s what I’d guess too,” William said. Yet he recalled that is was almost 4:00 when he first went after Betty. He had been with her for five or six hours, which would mean that his watch was correct. As they plodded forward, he contemplated the time issue with a perplexed expression frozen on his face, recalculating the hours again to try to make sense of it.

  A short distance ahead, the trail took on a groomed appearance. The jungle had been cut back, widening the path. Large rocks lined each side of the trail that extended far ahead. They stopped and hugged each other in celebration. William was certain that they would soon be back at the Cenote Azul.

  Although exhausted, the excitement of the improved trail quickened William’s pace. He marched on with renewed energy to reach the end of his adventure, with Betty whistling a happy tune beside him.

  After hiking another ten minutes or so, a paved road intersected the trail from their left. “A street!” William said, rushing to the man-made path. He stopped to examine the white road, reaching down to touch its unusual surface.

  “What’s the matter?” Betty asked, noticing his look of concern.

  “I’ve never seen a road this white before. It feels all… chalky,” he said, rubbing his fingers together. “Well, a road’s a road,” she said.

  The white path had two options to travel. After a moment of hesitation, William chose to continue in the same direction that they had been heading. A pleasant smile crossed his face as he thought about how he would soon be back at his grandfather’s estate, in his airconditioned room, soaking his feet in a tub of cool water, and sipping on an ice-cold soda.

  Upon rounding a bend in the trail, William’s happy mood dropped with the swiftness that venetian blinds shut out the light. Ahead of them was a horrific sight.

  “What the hell!” Betty said, throwing her hands up.

  “This… this can’t be real… can it? This must be some sort of bizarre tourist attraction, right?” William asked.

  Along the side of the paved trail, William stared at a long pole sticking out of the ground, with what appeared to be, the decapitated head of a man; blood dripped and splattered onto the road below. William reached up and touched the tongue protruding out of its mouth. He snapped his hand back as though it bit him. “It’s real,” he said with certainty. He staggered, feeling dizzy.

  “Are you okay?” Betty asked, grabbing his arm to support him.

  William took some deep breaths until the lightheaded feeling passed. “I’m fine. I don’t do too well with…” he looked up again, wincing, “rotting decapitated heads on sticks!” he said, fighting off the urge to throw up.

  Betty did a double-take at the trail ahead. “Oh, my God. William, look!” she said, pointing down the path; it was lined with dozens of heads on either side of the trail. William continued on, glancing up at the impaled heads above him, smelling the stench of rotting flesh in the air. The heads were of Mayan men; their foreheads sloped back, with scars and tattoos on their faces. Some had even sharpened teeth.

  Vultures pecked away at the flesh. One bird glanced down at them as they passed, and then plucked out an eyeball, gobbling it up.

  “Maybe this isn’t such a good idea,” Betty whispered. “I think we should go back.”

  “There’s something up there—in the clearing,” William said, pointing ahead. A huge red building was visible at the end of the trail through the foliage.

  Betty tugged at William’s arm. “Whoever did this probably lives over there. I don’t want to be added to this collection!”

  “We have to see what’s going on here. We have to notify the authorities about this!” William insisted.

  When they reached the end of the plaster road, William gawked at the structure ahead. “It’s a Mayan pyramid,” he said in a confused tone.

  “It’s painted all red! I say we leave,” Betty said, trying to pull him back.

  “Hold on. Let’s see if anyone is around.”

  While they crouched behind some brush outside the clearing, William surveyed the area. He felt stunned by the beauty of the large pyramid; it was painted in a striking dark red, a dramatic contrast to the white courtyard that sparkled in the sun’s glare. He could see part of another large building up a hill, with thick vegetation surrounding it.

  They waited for ten minutes, but no one showed up. A disturbed look began to cross William’s face as he studied the pyramid, noting its architecture. “I have a funny feeling that I’ve been here before,” he said.

  “What do you mean?”

  “That pyramid… the design of it… the doorways at the top.” He looked around the clearing. “There’s something really familiar about this place.”

  “I think you’d remember seeing painted Mayan ruins, William.”

  “I’m going up there—to the top of that pyramid. I need to check something.”

  “Are you insane?” Betty said, grabbing his arm.

  “I have to know for sure,” he said, pulling away. “I’ll run up there real quick and come right back. Just stay here, okay?”

  “Like I’m going anywhere,” she said, sinking deeper into the brush.

  William bolted from the cover of the jungle and sprinted to the pyramid, glancing around as he ran, half-expecting someone to chase after him. He reached the base of the pyramid and paused for a second, struck by the building’s perfection—not a single chipped or eroded stone—stuccoed and painted like… his eyes grew wide at the thought. He scrambled up the steep stairway. Upon reaching the top, he went to the entrance at the far right and looked up, mouth agape, staring in disbelief at the engraving on the three wooden support beams above the doorway. “That’s impossible,” he said.

  Moving further inside, he studied the narrow chamber. Square openings along the back wall cast light in the shadowy corners where decorative animal masks were hanging.

  He heard Betty calling for him. As William exited the chamber, she had just reached the final steps at the top of the pyramid; a frightened look was affixed on her face. “What’s the matter?” he asked.

  “They’re coming!” she blurted. “I heard their drums down the trail.”

  He cocked his head to listen. “I hear them too.” He grabbed Betty’s arm, pulling her inside the chamber just as men poured into the courtyard below them.

  “I told you this was a stupid idea!” Betty said. “Now we’re really in a pickle.”

  “Quiet!” he whispered, and peeked around the entrance for a better view.

  More than a hundred men wearing loincloths and colorful feathered headdresses marched from the jungle’s edge into the courtyard. Moving in two separate columns, they formed a big circle in front of the pyramid. As they came to a stop, they each turned to face the center and aimed their spears skyward.

  “What’s happening?” Betty asked.

  He turned to her and slumped against the stone wall, letting out a big sigh. “I have been here before, Betty. I was here just a few days ago with my grandfather.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  A thumping noise drew his attention back outside, where he witnessed the warriors smacking the bottom of their spears against the hard plaster floor in unison, while at the same time chanting, “Chun… chun… chun.”

  Another group of men emerged from the jungle with exaggerated headdresses. Behind them, a dozen men wearing only a loincloth carried a litter supporting a man who was likely their leader, William assumed. He wore a feathered headdress of a jaguar’s head, and he was covered in jewelry that sparkled as he approached.

  The warriors continued to chant, “Chun… chun… chun…” They thumped their spears against the floor while the leader was carried to the center of the courtyard. After setting the litter down at the base of the pyramid steps,
a dozen warriors moved in, forming a semi-circle around the leader.

  “What do you mean you’ve been here before?” Betty asked.

  William turned to face her. “This place… these are the ruins of Dzibanché… not far from the Cenote Azul. We’re standing in the Temple of the Lintels.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous.”

  “The carvings on the support beams are the same,” he said, pointing at the ceiling near the entrance. “But these aren’t ruins anymore. There should be a freaking parking lot down there!”

  “How can that be?”

  “Betty, I have an idea about what’s happening here, but it’s gonna sound crazy.” He paused, becoming distracted by the events in the clearing.

  The leader stood atop his litter with his hands raised high. All the warriors dropped to one knee, their spears still aimed up. As they continued to chant, the leader reached into a basket at his feet and pulled out a severed head, holding it by the hair. He displayed it proudly, resulting in an immediate cheer from the warriors. The leader placed the head back in the basket like a precious gift, and he began to speak to his men.

  William looked back to Betty. “He’s saying something about an important victory.”

  “You speak Mayan?” Betty whispered.

  “A little… you know, from my mom. I spent lots of summers down here. It sounds like Yucatec-Maya.” He strained to listen. “But the accent is a little different.”

  Rowdy cheers, spears thumping, and boisterous chanting accompanied the leader’s long speech. When he finished his sermon, he gave a signal to one of his men, who blew into a large seashell that sounded like a low-pitched blast from a tuba. With the timing of a chorus line, the warriors stood and shifted their spears to their left hands before resuming their collective thump of spears against the floor.

  “What’s going on?” Betty asked.

  “The victory is somehow internal to this city. I heard l’aak’tsilil… family. Like a family conflict, maybe?”

  “Nice family.”

  A gap opened in the crowd, where a group of men were dragged in by the ropes tied around their necks. William felt sorry for the unfortunate captives, as they were whipped along their backs and legs to prod them forward. One of the captives seemed much shorter than the others… he was just a boy! William bit his lower lip, fighting back the urge to yell out when they hit him.