Sisimito II--Xibalba

by Henry W. Anderson

  I chuckled then realized that Teul was very serious. “Look at it like this, Teul. We could all have already been dead. We now have a chance to live and you have a chance to all those future years of fucking.” He looked at me with a face I couldn’t interpret.

  “It’s time to rest, Chiac,” urged Kish, “and I need to look at that injury on your thigh.”

  “So, he calls you Chiac.”

  “Only when we’re alone. It’s only a scratch, Kish.”

  “I will decide that. Let me look at it, and take off the headdress.” I got up, threw the headdress into a corner, walked over to him and he examined the wound. “Do not take anything for granted in Xibalba, Chiac. When you are being prepared for your next trial, the servants will apply some poultice to the wound and the bruises. Now, rest. You have to be ready for tonight.” He indicated to a bowl and a pitcher on the table. “Eat and drink as much as you can. You too, Teul, and you should also rest as I don’t think you’ll be able to sleep tonight.”

  I slept most of the day, getting up only once to have more avocado and boiled squash and to drink the sweetened corn beverage, k’ah; also, to use the jar with the lid. When I awoke again, I stood up and stretched. Teul was asleep, curled up tightly on his mat. I supposed he was a bit cold as there was a slight cool dampness in the room. Kish was not with us, but there were two guards standing at the doorway, their backs to us. Beyond the guards, the open hall was only dimly lit and without a red hue so I knew it was evening, that Kish would soon return and I would face my next challenge. I didn’t know what I would do to survive the cold, if it were as cold as I had been told.

  The guards moved aside and two women entered the room. They were simply dressed, both in a plain off-white póót and a long wrap-around white úúk worn with an embroidered sash. They had their hair rolled and held in place with one black feather. They did not have on lej-xajäbs. One immediately went towards the piss and shit pot and took it out of the room. The other woman had brought a small basket and she walked over to me and started to loosen my wrap-around. I had taken off my machete and knife earlier and placed them on my mat, had tossed aside the collar, so she went to work immediately. I was already used to being stripped and oiled so I just stood there, assuming that’s what they were going to do as I was prepared for the second House of Trials. The woman took out ajar of oil and began the task of oiling my body. I had to kneel, eventually, being a bit taller than she was, so that she could do my shoulders, head, and hair. I looked over to Teul. He was seated cross legged on his mat, staring at me, slack-jawed. From the look on his face, I could hear him saying ‘Madafok!’ The woman indicated that I stand and I did. She took out another jar and applied an herbal paste to my wound. It burned, but I didn’t move or ask what it was. With expertise, she put on a full loincloth she took from the basket. That loincloth was different. It was more lengthy than usual and the fabric was not as soft as the ones I had used before. I hoped that Tóolok would not be too uncomfortable, but at the same time protected from the cold of the Ke’el Ja.

  The woman who had left returned with a clean pot and placed it in a corner. She looked at me then at the pot before joining the other woman. They gathered up the jars, my dirty wrap-around and collar, placed them in the basket and left.

  I looked back to Teul and grinned. “Why are you sitting so tightly cross legged. You look uncomfortable.”

  “Because I have a madafok tutuchci. How could you stand there and have those women rub you up and down and your toon just stayed there hanging? I just looked at the two of you and I couldn’t stop the tutuchci.”

  I chuckled. “I suppose I have gotten used to it. I went through that several times at Ox Witz Ha, and yesterday in the Council Place of the Lords. It’s all part of many of the ceremonies.” I laughed. “It wouldn’t be good for me to have a tutuchci during the preparation ceremonies, would it Teul? I have found out, and as you have already seen, being naked means nothing here. Look at you. Has anyone stared at you? No. And are you really uncomfortable?’

  “As you know, I don’t give a madafok about being naked, but I didn’t expect to be running down a road I know nothing about, then walking through a city I know nothing about, filled with people I know nothing about, thrown into prison for a reason I know nothing about, all in a place I know nothing about, and naked all the time. That is a bit extreme, even for me. There were times I was convinced I was dead or just madafok crazy. Before, whenever I thought about dying I always saw myself all dressed up and lying in a beautiful mahogany coffin, young and pretty women bawling around me, not laying naked on the ground in a place full of black rocks and fire. I always thought that part would come later on when Saint Peter pointed me away from the Pearly Gates and sent me to Hell.”

  I smiled. “Well, get used to it as I think that’s how you’ll be dressed, not dressed, for days to come, as long as we are in this place; until we win the ballgame.” He looked at me with uncertainty on his face. I smiled again. “Even if we remain here, Teul, you wouldn’t have much to worry about. You’re fit, muscular, young, almost handsome. The women, and most likely some of the men, would love you. You’d fetch a good price. You’d make a good slave and mat-mate for both men and women.”

  “Madafok to you, Chiac, or whatever your name is.”

  “I just want your grin to come back, Teul. You don’t do well without it. Nor do I. Now shut up for a while and stop cussing so much. I need to think about tonight.”

  “Stop cussing? I might as well be madafok dead.”

  “Shut up!”

  “Anything you say, Waach.” He spread himself out on the floor, legs astride, one with nature, tutuchci gone. I shook my head.

  I sat and began to review what I knew of survival in the cold. A couple years previously, a group of Limeys had come from England, or Scotland, I couldn’t remember for sure, but they had come to give us Survival Training. One of the courses was ‘Cold Weather Survival for Soldiers.’ I had questioned why we were doing that course as we wouldn’t be faced with that problem in the Tropics. The instructor, a Lieutenant Fuller, had replied that it was part of the overall course, but that was not the only reason. In the future, members of our army would be taken to England, or maybe it was Scotland, I couldn’t remember, for training. Also, there were mountainous regions in the tropics that had snow and blistering cold so it would be good for us to have a background in Cold Weather Survival. I did complete the course, but have not seen England, or Scotland, or a mountain in the Tropics filled with snow. Military promises.

  Fuller had stressed physical fitness. I could still remember his words, “The fitter a soldier is, the better he can cope with the cold, and the less likely he is to suffer from a cold weather injury.” Well, I was fit. He also spoke about clothes, that they should be dry, clean, used loosely and in layers so that the soldier did not overheat. Well, I didn’t have to worry about clothes overheating me. I didn’t have any. He also stressed hydration and nutritional requirements. I didn’t think I had to worry about that too much. I did remember him saying that exposure to cold increased urine output and that had to be replaced. I wouldn’t have any water, but I was only going to be in Cold House for one night. Fuller also advised against alcohol and nicotine. That wasn’t an issue, after all, there wouldn’t be any pubs around. He stressed maintaining discipline and keeping up morale. I didn’t think that would be difficult. I, somehow, always managed that. What I really was concerned about was heat loss and frostbite. I would just have to somehow prevent that from happening, hopefully remembering the instructions Fuller had given.

  Kish showed up at the door and spoke to one of the guards who immediately left. He walked in, the other guard remaining at the door with his back turned to us. “Are you ready, Waach, to enter the Ke’el Ja, the cold house of the white god Can-Tzicnal of the North?”

  “I am.”

  “Have you been prepared?”

  “I have, but I wear only my loincloth. I have no lej-xaj�
�bs.”

  “That is all you wear to Ke’el Ja. Now go and piss. Shit if you need to.”

  “I do …”

  “Go and piss or the very piss in your bladder will freeze. There are stories of the bones freezing within the body, rattling so much that they splinter while still inside you.”

  I saw Teul lift his eyebrows. “I have to ask again, are you sure that madafok is on our side?” Kish ignored him and started walking towards the pot. I followed, started to take out Tóolok then stopped. In the bottom of the pot was a sealed jar.

  “Take that jar and hide it in your loincloth,” said Kish, quietly, then go over to the water jar and wet the loincloth thoroughly. Once you have entered Ke’el Ja, stay as close to the door as you can. Take off your loincloth, break the seal of the jar, and cover as much of your body as you can with the thick oil. It comes all the way from the black lakes in the land of Zac-Cimi. Do not put a lot on your chest or at your joints. Put double on the soles of your feet.” I opened my mouth, but the glare that Kish gave me made me slam it shut. “Save some and soak your wet loincloth with it, then spread out the loincloth. The oil will help to protect you when you face the cold. The loincloth will stiffen. Hold it over you and it will protect you from the ice. It will be your to’bal-rib. Cold House is only one room, but there are two pathways you must travel. Take the one on the right, follow it and it will bring you back to the door, should you survive. You must not leave the path or you fail.”

  “I thought you said the oil and the loincloth would protect me,” I interrupted.

  “They will protect you, but not fully. You are being helped secretly in these trials, but helping you completely would raise suspicion. You are a Warrior and when you win, you must know that you have done the part expected of a Warrior.”

  “What kind of oil is it?”

  Kish shook his head. “It will help you. Must you always question?”

  “What happened, Waach? Think you might be allergic?” Teul was grinning. “By the way, that name suits you.”

  “Why, Teul?”

  “Because you like to wha-a-a-a-ck-off. But don’t worry. Don’t feel bad about it. Sometimes, that’s the way we soldiers have to take care of immediate needs.”

  I looked at him and my eyes watered. “Thank you, Teul. I needed that. Keep up the humor and the grin. It helps to keep me sane in this fokin insane place.”

  “Look who’s cussing now.” Teul looked at me with great emotions on his face. He walked over to me and hugged me. “Ka xi’ik teech utzil,” my friend. Tears were in his eyes. He wiped them and grinned. “And it’s not only because I want you to save my madafok ass. I want you to live so that we can save Molly and kill that piece of madafok called Sisimito … Mahanamtz.” He shook his head. “I’m really not used to all these madafok emotions.”

  I hugged him and kissed him on his forehead. “I will live, Teul. We are never stronger than when we are one!” I shouted.

  “Ixca junes maka ka metzev!” he responded, even louder, emotions cracking his cry.

  “Kinich Ahau leaves,” advised Kish, flatly. “Ko’one’ex.”

  I nodded, picked up the jar and stuffed it in my loincloth, making sure that Tóolok was not being crushed. I then soaked the loincloth with water after which Teul handed me my machete and knife and I strapped them on. “I am ready,” I said and walked to the door. I did not look back at Teul.

  I remained quiet, overcome with emotion, following Kish as he took the path to the right. Cold House, Ke’el Ja, was next to Dark House, Ee’hoch’e’en Ja, so it was in the deep recess of the cavern. Like the evening before, we walked slowly until we came to Ke’el Ja and faced its white door.

  RATTLING HOUSE OR COLD HOUSE

  KE’EL JA

  “We have arrived at Ke’el Ja and face the White Door that carries the glyph of the white god Can-Tzicnal of the North. Waach! Are you ready to enter Ke’el Ja?”

  “I am.”

  “May the gods be with you,” Kish said and opened the door. I stepped inside. Just before the door closed behind me, Kish murmured, “The oil will protect you when you face the cold. The oil will protect you when you face the cold.”

  I thought I would have been hit by a sudden blast of cold air and ice. That did not happen. I was standing on a small platform from which a stairway led downward. The room had a dim light-blue luminance and I saw relatively well. The room was not very wide, but deeper than Ee’hoch’e’en Ja. It stretched for about two hundred yards and I saw two pathways, the one on the right going forward from the bottom of the stairs, as Kish had said, and the other returning to it. I loosened the straps of my machete and knife then laid them down beside where I stood. I took out the jar from my loincloth and also placed it on the ground. I loosened and removed the loincloth then used my knife to cut away the seal from the jar. It contained more a gel than oil, and it reminded me of petroleum jelly. It was transparent, picking up the blue hue that surrounded me. I smelled it; unlike petroleum jelly which had no smell, the gel had a strong chemical odor like new plastic or PVC. I used about half of the gel on me, sparsely covering my chest but putting an extra amount on Tóolok as I was already having visions of the little fella getting frostbite and just breaking off. I unfolded the loincloth, which was much larger than I had thought, being about three feet by six feet. In the middle, a strap had been sewed on. When I had finished applying the gel, I spread out the loincloth as Kish had instructed me. There was still a little of the gel left for which I was glad should I need more later.

  It was not long before the loincloth became stiff. I fastened my machete and knife around my waist, kissed Bas’ Green Scapular, and picked up the loincloth. It was light. I put my right arm through the strap and I had a to’bal-rib. I raised it, holding it above my head, and began my descent to the pathway. Every tread I descended, the cold increased and by the time I reached the ground, I was covered in koal seed and light-blue mist came from my mouth and nose as a burning in my chest began. I stepped away from the stairs and, immediately, freezing rain, hail, and a roaring and ferociously cold wind plunged towards me. The to’bal-rib was working, protecting my head and shoulders, but I had to keep it against the wind or it would have been torn away, probably taking my hand with it. My entire body began to get cold, especially my face, ears, hands and particularly my feet that walked on the frozen path. I tried to remember everything Fuller had taught me and began twitching and wrinkling the skin on my face, making faces. That would help to maintain the circulation in the skin. I wiggled and moved my ears, moved my feet continuously, wiggled my toes. I opened and closed my right hand about the strap and used my left hand to rub as many parts of my body as I could, keeping every part of my naked body as huddled in as I could. Whenever I placed my hand over Tóolok, I kept it there as long as I could. It was not difficult to cover him completely as he had sensibly completely disappeared, blanketed by his skin.

  I began to wonder if I would survive the trial, but angrily threw the thought away. My mental attitude was a key ingredient in coming through Ke’el Ja, or any survival situation. I had to maintain my will to live. I couldn’t allow the trauma I was facing to transform me, a confident and well-trained Warrior, into an indecisive, ineffective piece of shit with a questionable ability to survive. I had to treat the cold as an adversary as dangerous as a fierce and smart enemy soldier, as dangerous as Mahanamtz, his Kechelaj Komon, and his Kechelaj Jupuq.

  I took another step forward, beginning my walk along the path leading to the distant wall. Hail pounded powerfully against my to’bal-rib, but it held, the force of the impacting jagged balls of ice travelling down through my arms and throughout my body. I continued walking and although I was moving forward, the distant wall did not appear to be getting any closer.

  I kept moving, jumping, doing everything I could do to keep my core temperature stable, but as the minutes passed I knew that unless something changed I would not survive. A gust of wind almost tore the to’
bal-rib from my arm, but I was able to control it. I stood the to’bal-rib in front of me, keeping the wind off me as I listened to the cold wind buffeting against it like a hurricane. I began examining myself. My hands and feet were developing a greyish color and I felt a tingling, stinging sensation. My limbs were growing stiff quickly, feeling woody. I had to protect myself more from the howling wind, or somehow lessen its effect on me. I had to move, keep active. I raised my to’bal-rib, started moving again, but I knew my core temperature was falling. I wasn’t able to concentrate, I was getting confused. I stumbled, but did not fall. I tried to think of anything rather than the place where I was. I stumbled again. Fuller came back to me, “Once you start having the ‘umbles’, you are in fokin deep shit. The ‘umbles’ are stumbles, mumbles, fumbles, and grumbles. Those are very dangerous signs.” I was already walking unsteadily, but, at least, I was not muttering, talking unintelligibly, growling, groping, complaining, even though I had a fokin lot to complain about. I began feeling a growing warmth and became happy, deliriously happy, then Fuller came rushing back at me, reminding me that as hypothermia set in and the core temperature fell, the soldier developed sluggish thinking, irrational reasoning, and a false feeling of warmth could occur. I had to fokin move, keep fokin active.

  I started to shout, jump, move my to’bal-rib, but fatigue set in, immediately. I started to shiver and within a few moments it started to become more intense, more uncontrollable. Fuller had said that was the early stage of hypothermia. He had also told us that shivering caused the body to produce heat and that would help even a naked man in the cold, for a time, but shivering didn’t last forever. Also, shivering caused fatigue which in turn led to a further drop in body temperature. He had again warned that cold was an insidious enemy that numbed the mind and body and subdued the will to survive, that made the soldier forget the soldier’s ultimate goal … to survive. I kept on walking, beginning to feel dizzy, drowsy, unable to see properly, barely hearing the intense blasting wind. I felt I could go no more. My muscles were difficult to move, after each motion they felt frozen in place. My eyes were becoming dim amidst the light blue hue in the storm.