The Sirens of Oak Creek

by Robert Louis DeMayo

  Coatl examined the body of one of the dead. He was also covered in the orange powder. Dark bruises hinted that he’d been beaten with a mallet. His face was a gruesome mask of frozen terror.

  Yaotl’s soldiers all looked like they were in shock. They were each bloodied and bruised, and it was apparent they’d been in fights with either the Blue Men or each other.

  Yaotl glared at everyone around him.

  He shouted, “Teōnanācatl!” and within a minute a soldier was kneeling in front of him, holding a clay bowl above his head.

  He saw me watching from the shadows and called out, “Mushrooms—the flesh of the Gods!”

  He offered me some, and then laughed raucously when I refused.

  He stuffed several mushroom caps in his mouth and shredded them.

  “Do you know about these?” he asked, his pupils zeroing in on me. “They are wondrous—they carry you to where God is.”

  I slid back, toward the bear, and Yaotl jumped, noticing the beast for the first time. He laughed and stared at me anew.

  Yaotl was feeling benevolent and ordered for all the Blue Men to be fed, but no sooner had they eaten than he rounded them up again and sent them back into the tunnel.

  Maybe a dozen wretched souls slipped into the passageway that night. In the shadows it was hard to tell, and I never saw any of them again.

  All had wax in their ears, and no weapons.

  Before he turned away, Yaotl glared at Coatl and some of the other soldiers who had gathered around.

  He said, “Nine hell cycles of fifty-two years each,” and then he was gone, leaving them perplexed.

  I woke with a start, early the next morning, when I realized I was lying against the bear. There was little room in the small recess, and the beast had shifted toward me in the night.

  I felt no fear of the bear. The night had been cold, and I welcomed the warmth that radiated from the rich, silver fur. Its deep, earthy scent pulled me from the awful reality of our situation—if only for a moment.

  For most of that day we were left alone, and time seemed to stretch. I stayed in the small recess, always within a few feet of the bear who slept most of the time, his breathing becoming more labored.

  From the other end of the tunnel, in the dark chamber beyond, I could always hear the hammering of mallets and the howls of the men.

  It never stopped.

  Yaotl had the remaining soldiers and slaves transporting the treasure through the tunnel into the dark chamber.

  Around mid-day, Coatl entered the cave and perched himself where he could see me, and watch the men coming and going from the tunnel.

  He had a steaming bowl of food, and the scent of it floated toward me, causing my stomach to rumble. The bear lifted his head, too, and when he saw the Snake, he growled.

  Coatl stood nervously, but after a moment realized the bear didn’t have the energy to stand. He laughed, weakly, and then sat again.

  But his eyes didn’t leave the bear for a long time.

  Eventually, he tried to catch my eye, waving the bowl before me to torture me. But I simply retreated into my coldness, and this seemed to madden him.

  He suddenly glanced at his food as if it had lost its taste, and then dumped it in the dirt.

  When he was gone, the bear gazed at the pile of food, and so did I, but neither made a move to get it. The thought of eating it made me sick, like biting into something rotten would.

  The morning of my third day in the box canyon, I awoke when Coatl dragged the last remaining slave into the cave and threw him next to the sacrificial animals on the mound.

  The man was a wretch: His limbs were shredded with cuts and scrapes, his body covered with bruises, and his eyes were filled with fear and confusion.

  The last vestiges of his sanity had left him, and he shrieked like a wild creature until one of the men clubbed him unconscious.

  Coatl glared at the soldier, and then relaxed when he saw the unconscious slave was still breathing.

  He gave the soldier an evil smile. “You almost replaced him.”

  Later, the slave woke and watched me for a long time. But he didn’t try to speak, or even sit up.

  He remained like that for hours, until the hammering in the tunnel suddenly stopped.

  At this he looked up fearfully.

  Moments later, the soldiers emerged from the tunnel and grabbed the jaguar, the eagle, and the snake; as they disappeared into the passageway again the cat let out a roar that made me tremble.

  Then they returned for the slave.

  The man shrieked and fought, but it was a useless effort.

  Coatl seemed to enjoy the show. He was the only foreigner who hadn’t entered the tunnel at this point.

  But just before the slave was hauled into the tunnel, Coatl glanced at me, and an evil thought bled through his mind.

  His face twisted into a half-sided smirk as he commanded, “Halt!”

  The soldiers paused, and when he said, “Take her instead,” they dropped the slave and started in my direction.

  The soldiers had all but forgotten the bear, assuming it was near death.

  I backed against the wall, with nowhere to run or hide.

  One man reached forward for my bound hands.

  But suddenly the bear was between us, rising as much as the small space would allow.

  It swiped at the soldier, sending him crashing into the wall.

  The Snake screamed at his men. “Kill it!”

  Another man went down under a savage blow, but from behind a soldier buried his spear into the bear.

  The old grizzly roared in pain and agony.

  And then another spear sank home.

  “No!” I screamed as the bear collapsed.

  Coatl stepped over him and snatched my arm.

  Quickly, I pulled one of my hands from the loose ropes.

  With the shard of rock in my hand, I struck for his face.

  I cut him under his good eye, and he staggered backwards.

  A half-dozen soldiers stood behind him, as the Snake felt the cut and blood on his face.

  He backed away from me, uncertain.

  And when he noticed the men watching him, he nodded at the slave in the dirt.

  “Take him into the tunnel,” he said and stormed off.

  They hauled him away, and the slave’s screams echoed through the tunnel for a long time after that.

  I was left with a handful of soldiers. They’d each had their time in the dark chamber and looked fearfully at the tunnel. Soon they left for the box canyon, leaving me alone with the dying bear.

  I threw off the rope dangling from my wrist and hugged the bear, fighting back tears. It took in a painful breath, and when the bear exhaled, I felt its body slump and knew the great beast had died.

  I hadn’t moved when some time later the Snake approached me again.

  I was surprised to find I still gripped the stone shard tightly.

  He glimpsed it, and his hand reflexively moved to the fresh cut below his good eye.

  If only I had blinded him, I thought.

  The sun had long since passed over the western wall of the box canyon, and the shadows were thickening. Normally, this period when the day embraced the night would be filled with bird song, and the sporadic cries of coyotes. But on this night the box canyon, lay as still and quiet as the dead.

  I could see the Snake sensed the strange silence as well.

  And then from the tunnel a crazy chorus of screaming filled the chilled night air. It rose in crescendo—as if every man in the dark chamber was screaming at once—and then it suddenly stopped.

  Coatl stood there listening with a confused expression.

  I sat in the small cavity, leaning against the dead bear, and began chanting. Coatl turned away from the tunnel and leaned against the wall, watching me.

  I stared into his one good eye, no longer afraid.

  I fingered the stone shard, gripping it with the sharp edge facing out.

  Wit
h my other hand, I lifted one of the bear’s paws and grabbed a claw where the skin started and felt for the joint. Using the stone shard, I cut into the knuckle and separated the claw.

  Coatl’s eyes were full of a new fear as he watched.

  I continued to chant, and when I finished with the paw, I stood and grabbed the ancient claw necklace, lifting it off the peg.

  My eyes barely left the Snake as I tied each claw into the necklace.

  One of his men approached, saw me cutting off the claws on the next paw, and whispered something that sounded like a prayer, then slowly backed away.

  Outside, the full moon was just peeking over the rim of the horizon.

  Chapter Seventeen

  From the east, a luminous full moon crept over the horizon and lit up the silent canyons in a shiny grey hue. This was the moon of the long night; the cold moon; the moon that frigidly reminded one that the warm days of summer were far off, for only after its passing would the nights begin to shorten.

  The remaining soldiers who paced around the box canyon barely noticed it at first. They’d become anxious after their leader had vanished into a dark tunnel which now lay silent, and their eyes were constantly darting to the cave entrance.

  They had a fire burning by the exit chute, but none stood around it for warmth or comfort because it was still consuming the bodies of the last slaves.

  The acrid smoke from the burning bodies hung heavily in the box canyon, looking ghostly in the moonlight.

  Coatl was restless. Could his dark lord have failed in his mission? He had lurked into the cave just after dark, carrying a torch. In the flickering light his one white eye hideously glared.

  I stood and faced him.

  He took out his knife and fingered the sharp, obsidian blade, trying to scare me, but I spat on the dirt by his feet.

  Several times he leaned into the tunnel, but he did not dare set foot in it. Nor did he chance calling out the sinister lord’s name for fear of disturbing the heavy silence that lingered here.

  He glanced at me when he passed the chamber where the bear now lay dead. Harvesting the claws had been a difficult job, and I’d finished it covered in bear blood and hair.

  The other men crept in and looked me over, and I heard them whispering a word I’d come to recognize, “Witch”.

  Soon they began collecting their weapons and the few provisions left in the box canyon.

  Regardless of what riches may now have lain unguarded in the dark chamber, they didn’t want to go back into there. They were ready to flee, if only Coatl would give the word.

  I doubted they would leave me alive, but the thought didn’t bother me. It was as if I were another person, watching myself as a stranger. Seeing, but not feeling their actual pain.

  Outside, I could hear them arguing. The moonlight had begun to shine into the cave, slipping around the barbed bark of the junipers.

  I knew they would come for me.

  I didn’t care. I had known this would be the place of my death ever since I’d agreed to lead them here.

  I came from a long line of strong women, and I wouldn’t let them down.

  I would end this.

  I took the necklace of bear claws and placed it over my head, and then sat back and waited.

  Coatl and the remaining soldiers—nine of them—approached the cave. An owl screeched from somewhere nearby and they froze.

  And then suddenly, standing before them, was the grizzly bear.

  The moonlight reflected ghostlike off its silvery pelt, and it seemed bigger than before, taller, and more powerful. It roared, and its angry cry reverberated through the men, shaking them to the core.

  The bear rose up on his hind legs and towered before them.

  The men gawked, paralyzed with terror, until Coatl screamed, “What are you waiting for? Kill it!”

  They tried to encircle the bear, but its wrath would not be contained. One man got too close and the bear lunged at him and swatted him into the canyon wall.

  Another soldier threw his spear at the bear.

  It stuck in its shoulder, but the bear continued its rampage undeterred. The soldier’s weapons seemed to have no effect on it.

  In two heart beats the bear killed as many men.

  When the bear´s gaze fell on Coatl, it charged straight at him.

  It stopped just a pace away and rose above the terrified man, roaring.

  Coatl hefted his spear but the bear was upon him already. With one mighty swipe of the paw the bear disemboweled the Aztec before he could even utter a scream.

  Coatl stood there in shock staring at his intestines dangling out of his abdomen.

  Chaos ensued. The men turned to flee, in vain. None escaped the beast´s wrath. In Itzel Canyon, terrible screams echoed off the walls, and faded into the West Fork below.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Soft morning sunshine was pouring over me, urging me to sleep longer. My body felt rested and warmed from the smooth rock beneath me. It was mid-day, and an old raven clucked by my head, hopping in place as it watched me.

  Other birds called out in the fresh morning air: A mountain bluebird twittered expectantly for its mate; a scrub jay bellowed its harsh screech, and from nearby, a red flash of color alerted me to the presence of a cardinal, who soon enchanted me with its long, clear, whistle, “Wheet, wheet, wheet…”

  Although the canyon was still gripped by winter, for a few hours each day the creatures who were at home here embraced the sun.

  As did I.

  My head swirled with dreams from the previous night, and I moved slowly, in a daydream if you will, as I sat up and took the first deep breath of the day.

  Scattered about the box canyon were the bodies of Yaotl’s soldiers. They’d been disfigured in the most horrible way. Their blood had pooled, and a small trickle of it had flowed down the box canyon and into the chute.

  I wondered briefly if any of them had gotten away.

  The Snake’s body was worst of all, his intestines spread out around him. From the smeared blood beneath it, it looked like he’d been dragged all over.

  A fleeting memory of his evil sneer crossed my mind and I spat on the ground.

  I glanced up at the sun, which only moments before had caressed me, and now seemed to mock me. The day had seemed so peaceful, but as I regained my senses, I knew I had work to do.

  So, I turned away from the sun, away from the box canyon littered with bloodied corpses, and headed back toward the cave.

  Creeping past the junipers, I peeked into the small chamber on the left, and saw the carcass of the bear, unchanged. On the wall behind it, the bear claw necklace hung from the peg.

  I crouched there for a few minutes, staring across the cave where the water dripped, and into the tunnel. I strained to hear with all my might, but no sounds emerged.

  I felt trapped, just as Coatl must have. I didn’t think I possessed the nerve to enter the tunnel—but I couldn’t walk away.

  I didn’t care what had happened in the dark chamber, but what if someone was still alive in there? Would they eventually escape and tell others?

  I had to make sure nobody discovered the tunnel again.

  My hesitation seemed to last an eternity, but eventually I stood and stepped outside. By the exit chute, embers from a fire were still smoking. I kindled a flame and made a torch out of some fabric that I ripped from the tunic of a dead soldier.

  With the torch, I entered the tunnel. Thanks to the Blue Men´s work, there was no need to crawl, or even crouch.

  After twenty paces I came to a mid-point where a clearing with a wooden framework had been made. A massive stone block had been set into the sandstone floor.

  I held the light over it and noticed a head-sized hole in the center, and when I knelt on the slab to peer into it, I heard a whoosh over my head and dove to the side. The torch dropped to the ground.

  The wooden framework was a trap, and my weight on the slab had triggered it. A log with a spike on the end had shot
out from the side and barely missed my head.

  Before I could take a good look at the trap my attention was drawn away by a low growl. It was close. My blood froze.

  Slowly I picked up the torch and looked around. All I could see was the exit back to the cave where the water dripped, and the tunnel leading to the forbidden place.

  And then I realized the growling was coming from the hole in the slab beneath me. I held the torch over the hole and what I saw made me suck in my breath. I had witnessed many horrors since leaving my pueblo, but none like this.

  The slab of rock I knelt on sealed a room, about as long and wide as a man, and at least that high. In the pit, I saw a man—the last slave I’d seen alive—and with him were the jaguar, the snake and the eagle.

  They had all been bound, but it appeared the snake basket had been tipped over, and the eagle had escaped. The snake was coiled and hissing; and the jaguar was growling with his yellow eyes flashing.

  There wasn’t much room in the pit, and they were almost touching each other. One of eagle’s wings looked broken, but it flapped the other wildly, creating chaos.

  The man was sweating and pale, and I thought he’d been bit by the snake.

  He saw my face through the hole and pleaded with me to help him. I didn’t need to understand his language to feel the anguish in his words.

  I looked down at the large capstone that covered the pit and realized that even with a half-dozen strong men, I wouldn´t be able to move it.

  I tried to communicate with him, but each time I held the light over the pit the eagle would begin beating his wing, and the jaguar started screeching. In the darkness, they may have come to some form of truce, or acceptance of their plight, but soon as visibility returned they attacked each other.

  And it was here that I almost broke. I suddenly felt useless, utterly unable to fight the great evil around me. I looked at the tunnel ahead of me and wondered if I had the courage to continue.

  The man below me pleaded, but he knew his fate was sealed. When I stood and moved the light away, he became silent.