Sisimito II--Xibalba

by Henry W. Anderson

  “Well madafok,” I heard Rhys cuss in the semidarkness.

  “That’s my word, Rhys,” voiced Teul.

  “Shut up!”

  “Men. Report,” shouted Robertson.”

  “Choc!”

  “Choco!”

  “Teul!”

  “Rhys!”

  “Taat!”

  “Sarge!” I added between fits of coughing.

  “And who the fok is Sarge?” Rhys shouted.

  “Don’t know, Rhys,” responded the men.

  “Did you all hit your fokin heads or something?” I asked, snorting, sitting up, still trying to breathe, looking at them in the shadows.

  “Section!”

  “Rhys!”

  “Who is this half-drowned rat sitting before us? Is that our fokin Sarge?”

  “No!” they shouted.

  “Then who the fok is he?” bellowed Rhys.

  “He is the Ke’kchi … the soldier … and the Maya Warrior called Fuck!” they bellowed, and they all came over me, punching me and shouting Fuck! each time they hit me. I just sat and took it. Yes! I just sat and took it, getting all emotional. What else could I do? We had only just escaped death. Saved our asses. Emotional? Fok yes. At least for now.

  “Okay, men,” said Robertson, with urgency. “Enough for now. Time is something we may not have. We can continue the brouhaha later. We’ve got to get out of this kowil cave, or whatever it is. And I don’t think this battle is over yet. Sarge?”

  “Sit,” I ordered. They sat and formed a circle around me in the dim light, still grinning and smiling. That’s when I realized how much I loved them, how much I would suffer losing any of them. I no longer wanted to relive what had happened, one year ago, on the summit. I didn’t want to have to make decisions ensuring the success of our mission rather than the wellbeing of one of my men. Why couldn’t my life be simple? Why couldn’t have I just been a private taking orders?

  Rhys looked at me. “Now, what the fok are we going to do, Fuck?”

  “The rifles?” I asked.

  “All accounted for,” he answered. “Choc lost the shotgun, however. Machetes are still in our scabbards and we have our knives. We still have on our bergens and Taat his cuxtal.”

  “Robertson. Let’s get some headlights and recce this area. I’m not sure how deep in we are, but it shouldn’t be too deep as there’s still some light.” I looked up. “And we can stand easily. It’s a good thing underground rivers usually come out somewhere. Rhys, you remain here with one light and keep out of sight. Monitor the approach to where we are, should those fokas outside begin to advance. Get prone and use the light only if necessary. Shoot a round if you need our attention.”

  “Fuck!” he shouted, almost sounding amused.

  It would take me some time to get used to the men calling me Fuck rather than Sarge, and the name brought back intense memories. I vaguely remembered me shouting at Sisimito. There was nothing I could do about it; in fact, there was nothing I wanted to do about it.

  “Teul! Get a light. Take Choc’s place at the head. I’ll follow you. Choco, get a light too. You are at the rear. Let’s see how far this sand and rock shelf goes.”

  “Before you go,” said Rhys, “fill your water bottles. We don’t know what will happen. Medic! Light up the water so the men can fill up.” They stared at him as if he were deranged. “I know there’s water all around us. That’s here. We don’t know where we’ll end up. Do it!” I was also puzzled at Rhys’ order, but didn’t say anything. He looked at me and nodded. “Just reestablishing a bit of order, Sarge,” he muttered. “It’s protocol.”

  We climbed back down the short incline to the swiftly moving water and as we bent over, filling up the bottles, I noticed the fishes. “The fishes are pink,” I murmured. “They’re cave fishes. Blind. This river must go a long way underground. That may not be good.”

  “There’s a crayfish. The light seems to shine right through it,” added Teul.

  “And a yellow snail,” said Choc, apparently mystified. “I didn’t know animals lived in underground rivers. I always thought it would be too dark.”

  “Come on. We’ll do the biology lesson later. Ko’one’ex,” I ordered.

  “Fuck!” they bellowed. I shook my head.

  We walked single file, away from the turbulent river beside us, climbed once again over rocks, stepped onto a shelf jutting out, climbed a steep slope, all the time going deeper into the cave. Sotz’289 were everywhere, racing ahead and behind us, squeaking their annoyance at the lights, but I wasn’t concerned about them. Although there were some chikoops290 among

  them, they definitely weren’t the chikoops I had met at the cave behind the Hidden Valley Falls.

  The roots coming through the roof were not reaching the river or the shelf anymore and that meant either we were going deeper into the ground, or that the spur’s incline was increasing above, or both. The roots had saved our butts from drowning and would have offered cover if the packs followed us; that shield was going away.

  “Come look at this,” called Teul.

  The slope had eased and the passage opened around us onto a broad terrace marked with small dams that sectioned off dry pools. There were also limestone columns coming down from the ceiling and others going upward from the floor. Our focus, however, were on two large and impressive slate stelae that stood directly in front of us.

  “Madafoka!” exclaimed Choco. “That’s not natural. People lived here?”

  “They didn’t live here.” responded Taat. “Our people believe that the gods who give rain and make our corn grow lived in Xibalba,291 the city of the Underworld. The higher classes, people like you, Robertson, came here and cut themselves with obsidian292 blades to offer their blood to the gods.” Robertson looked at Taat, puzzled. Taat smiled and that was unusual for he rarely smiled. “Perhaps you could do that now, Robertson. We need all the help we can get.”

  Robertson chuckled, responding to Taat’s humor. “I don’t think so, Taat.”

  “Madafok!” exclaimed Teul.

  “Easy now,” I shouted, as the men surged forward. “No accidents.” We were soon at Teul’s side, looking where he was spotting the light. Tucked in a recess of the wall was a skeleton staring at us from two holes in its skull.

  “Mada, madafoka!” stammered Choco. “The bones are glistening. Looks like they’ve been covered by crystals.”

  “Kowil!” swore Robertson. “Must have been here a long time.”

  The skeleton lay prone, back down, chest up, embedded in the floor. The legs were apart and the left arm to one side. There was an obvious break in the skull as if it had been clubbed.293

  “Our Ancients sacrificed captives, sometimes even their own citizens, in the hope of appeasing the gods and to make our lands fertile,” Taat continued explaining.

  “How old do you think it is, Taat?” asked Robertson.

  “I don’t know, but he or she must be very old to be covered with crystals like that. This could be a burial site or where my people made human sacrifices. And please don’t refer to skeletons as ‘it’. They’re he or she.”

  “Sorry, Taat.”

  “Spot the light ahead, Teul,” I interjected. “We need to finish up here and get back to Rhys.” As the light lit up the distant chamber, we saw many ceramic pots, mugs, vases, plates, bowls, of different sizes, some intact and others smashed. Not far from them was another skull, its empty eye sockets staring at us. The top of the forehead looked flattened and some of the teeth in the upper jaw had been filed to look like fangs.

  “Its jaws are grinning,” observed Choco. “Dats how fi yu skelintan wahn luk afta yu peg owt,294 Teul.

  “Eerie,” shuddered Teul. “But why are some things smashed? Did that just happen over time?”

  “No. And you should be ashamed of yourself. You are Mopan Maya and you know little of your culture,” scolded Taat. “Harp and marimba is not enough.”

>   “Ouch!” teased Choco. “Teul again. Teul again.”

  “That was a long time ago. We don’t go around anymore smashing people in the head, or cutting out their hearts. Medic would have us by the u-ye’el-toons,” scoffed Teul.

  “If you don’t know your history, you have no ground to build on, Teul. Without the ground to build on, you are nothing. Anyway, our people believed that those gifts to the gods have life. The ones that they used ceremoniously, they smashed those to release the spirits. Don’t you feel how cold it is down here?” asked Taat.

  We all looked at him. “That’s because we’re underground,” suggested Robertson.

  “It’s the Mal Viento again; just like we felt at the creek and when we came out of the jungle towards this underground river.” No one said anything, even if they thought Taat was wrong. “And don’t touch anything. This place is sacred. The spirits of our ancestors live here. We should not go further.”

  I didn’t look up. “We have to go further, Taat.” I frowned, shaking my head. “You know, this is all interesting, but we’re wasting time. I can’t believe we’re standing here having a calm discussion and, not far behind us,

  there are rabid animals trying to kill us.” I rubbed my head in agitation. “We have to go ahead to see if this river comes out into the open.”

  “If you have to, Paal, you have to, but don’t touch anything. I’ll wait here should Rhys need me,” suggested Taat. I nodded.

  As we began walking deeper into the cave, we heard four reports of rifle fire.

  “That’s Rhys,” I shouted. I didn’t have to give an order for the men were already running back, Teul and Choco at the lead with the lights. I

  knew that they wouldn’t slow down even if I ordered them to so I just hoped that none of them broke an ankle or leg between the boulders, or worse, their necks.

  The noise of the rushing river was loud, but the squeaking of sotz’ and the noise from their flapping wings almost drowned it out as they swirled around us by the hundreds, their calm disturbed. Added to the frenzy of sound came the threatening roar of the batz and the thundering barks and grunts of the kitams and the hach-k’ek’ens, all with mysterious waves of infernal melodies resounding in the sacred cave.

  Rhys’ light was approaching us, bouncing off the walls as he ran, and I shouted at the men to stop. As he and Taat reached us, Rhys sat on a boulder trying to catch his breath so he could brief me. We stood looking at him, anxiously waiting.

  “They’re coming,” he said, still breathing hard. “All of them.”

  “What are we going to do, Sarge?” asked Robertson. “Time, we don’t have.”

  “No, we don’t,” exhorted Rhys. “They just came pouring round the bend under the spur, hach-k’ek’ens, kitams, batz, all swimming frantically. Some batz, there was one big hijueputa who seemed to be leading them, were riding the backs of the kitams. I took out that foka and three others. Then I ran to fok. ¡Ai yai yai! ¡Hijueputa! That was close.”

  “We’ll have to continue deeper into the cave. We have no choice,” I concluded, quickly.

  “They’re moving closer very fast and they’ll overtake us quickly. When I shot into them, they just kept on advancing. No hesitation.”

  “We keep going. As I said, most underground rivers come out at some point. We’ll just have to pray that this one does and that there’s always air.” I subconsciously raised my hand and touched Bas’ Green Scapular.

  “What happens if we have to get into the river? We’re too heavy,” warned Rhys, above the pandemonium of sounds that rapidly approached.

  “We’ll deal with that when we have to. Ko’one’ex! Now!”

  Teul and Choc took the lead and Rhys took the rear spotting his light ahead of him and on the ground around us so we could see where we were stepping while Teul and Choc gave warnings of upcoming obstacles. We entered the chamber once more, rushing past the crystal skeleton, pottery, and skull. As we ran, the lights showed other skeletons and more pottery. Suddenly, the shelf came up to a wall and there was only a rushing bubbling river from wall to wall.

  “Fok!” I cussed.

  “They’re coming,” trumpeted Rhys. “We don’t have any more time.” The rabid sounds of the packs were almost on us.

  “We’ll never be able to hold them off and even if we did and they turn back, they’ll wait for us outside,” declared Robertson. “They can simply set up a siege and it’s kowil for us.”

  “We take to the river,” I ordered. “Ka xi’ik teech utzil, Men.”

  “We’re too heavy, Fuck. We’re too heavy,” insisted Rhys.

  “Take off the boots and put them in the bergens then shoulder the bergens. If the river gets too deep and the current is too strong, get rid of the bergens. They’ll go downstream with us. Put your magazines in your shirt and keep the rifle strapped across your back. Secure your machete in its scabbard. If you’re still having trouble, get rid of everything. We’ll clasp each other arms and make one strong tight circle. That’s how we’ll go downstream. And why will that one tight circle be strong?” I shouted.

  “Because we are never stronger than when we are one” they all bellowed.

  We worked as quickly as possible. From the past, I heard Anderson telling me, “Take care of your feet,” but I had to ignore him. The boots were, indeed, too heavy on the feet and they’d pull us down. We stood up, ready. Suddenly, there was only the sound of the raging waters.

  “They’re here,” warned Rhys.

  Hundreds of chikoops and sotz’ flew frenziedly, but quietly, overhead as the hach-k’ek’ens, kitams, and batz walked slowly and determinedly towards us, their eyes blood red under the head lights, their teeth and tusks a ghostly white. Their bristles stood erect on their bodies, and froth and spit covered and flowed from their mouths. We reached for each other arms and formed the circle. “I love you all,” I cried out. “Ka xi’ik te’ex hatz’utzil!”

  “Ka xi’ik te’ex hatz’utzil!” my Maya brothers responded, loudly and with determination, Rhys and Robinson shouting, “Good luck!”

  “Ixca junes maka ka metzev. Ko’one’ex!” I bellowed and with one movement we were in the raging and dark waters.

  Our heads were above water, but I could not feel the river bed except when my feet collided painfully against the sharp edges of submerged limestone crags. Each time I hit one, I pushed upwards, the men doing the same as we tried to keep our circle together. The speed and noise of the river increased and water began washing into our faces and mouths. The lights were still working and at times I saw the faces of the men. They showed no fear, no terror, just a general acceptance of what was to come, as they held on tightly to their buddies.

  The river began sloping downwards, the ceiling getting lower. The pull of the river was becoming frantic and our circle began to spin, slow, then faster, and faster. I felt each man’s hold tighten as each of us reminded the other that we were still there, buddies, brothers, and that would be until the end, if it came, when it came. But the waters were insistent and I felt the circle begin to widen as our arms began to slip away. The foaming raging white waves were then reaching the ceiling and a tremendous pressure built around us as we were hurled deeper into the cave by the underground river. Then we were pulled downward, totally submerged, swirling, and toppling to the depths of a sinkhole. I felt my men slip away from me. I saw three lights swirling, getting further away from me. I reached out, but there was nothing except for the coldness of the river embracing me. I felt my body go slack as I was emerged into total darkness. I let my rifle slip away, I released my bergen, trying to make myself as light as possible. I suddenly felt all alone, so I felt for Bas’ Green Scapular. I held it in my hands, felt its warmth, and I watched as its emerald color began to flow out around me. My chest began to hurt, my heart pounding against it. Then I calmed. Bas was with me, both of us hurling downward into the deep recesses of Earth. I felt the waters begin to crush my body and, as I began to fade in
the glowing emerald waters, I said, “Tak sáamal, Molly. Ka xi’ik te’ex hatz’utzil. Tu láak’ k’iin … Ke’eleen.”295 Then the green waters slowly turned grey and I remembered when the savage waters of the Cockscomb Branch had overtaken me. I had thought of the words of a poem, Home is the sailor, home from the sea, and the hunter home from the hills,296 but the soldier … whatever will. Then all was black and I was no more.

  XIBALBA

  Illustration 14: The City of Xibalba.

  CHAPTER NINE

  DARK LANDS, DEATH LORDS, DARK HOUSE

  K’iin l - The Uinal of Xul

  Monday, April 30, 1973

  My world was black, and I didn’t know if I were alive or dead as I lay on my back on a rough and jagged surface. I immediately reached out, searching the darkness for the wooden bars of a cage. There were none. I felt about my body. I still wore my uniform and my socks, but they were torn and almost useless. There were no boots, no bergen, no jungle hat, no rifle, but I had my machete and knife in their scabbards. I was wet through and through, painful, bruised and cut, and exhausted. Loud thunder and lightning erupted in the far distance and as that crash dissipated, deadness rose around me. I immediately knew that, once again, I had been transported into the world of Sisimito and the world of my ancient people. But where? I didn’t know.

  I sat up, looking around in the pitch black. I saw nothing. There was the sound of flowing water, an occasional splash, and a mildly offensive smell like that of a lachreen.297 I sensed, more than felt, feathery particles falling on my skin and when I rubbed them between my fingers they powdered like ash. My eyes were a little irritated, but I decided not to rub them. I didn’t know where I was and it was too dark to move about, so I waited, as my training dictated. Then I almost jumped out of my skin.