As soon as they spoke the words, Nick’s body seemed to double in weight. His hands turned into balloons and his head felt like it was the size of a pumpkin.
“Can’t breathe,” Angelo said, clutching his chest.
Carter, who looked like a badly-out-of-shape Oompa-Loompa, turned to Angelo and grunted. “Say their names before I have a heart attack.”
“Ahalpuh, Pus Demon, and Ahalgana, Jaundice Demon,” Angelo panted.
The demons disappeared.
Nick tried to catch his breath. His legs felt wobbly. But he had to keep going.
The next two demons were nothing but bones with ragged bits of flesh hanging off.
“We eat the flesh from your bones until your life is gone,” the demons said, and Nick suddenly felt weak. His arms and legs were quickly turning into sticks, the muscles and fat seeming to melt away like wax. He turned to see Carter’s face shrivel like an old woman’s.
“Name them,” Carter screeched in a voice that sounded nothing like him.
“Chamiabac, Bone Staff,” Angelo wheezed like a dying old man. “And Chamiaholom, Skull Staff.”
Nick stumbled forward and nearly fell. “Let’s get this over with,” he said. “I can’t take much more.”
“I feel like I got sucked through a vacuum cleaner and spit out through the dust bag,” Carter croaked.
The boys limped down the hall. At the next intersection, two ancient-looking hags flew down to meet them. The one on the left held what looked like a witch’s broom, while the one on the right clutched a knife nearly long enough to be called a sword.
The hags cackled. “We hide in the unswept areas of people’s houses and stab them to death.”
Almost before Nick felt a searing pain in his gut, Angelo shouted, “Ahalmez, the Sweepings Demon, and Ahaltocob, the Stabbing Demon.”
“Good one,” Nick said.
Angelo nodded weakly. “Only two more to go.”
“Look,” Carter said, pointing to the end of the tunnel.
The end of the passage seemed to be covered by some kind of hazy mist, but Nick thought he could just make out a room filled with treasures. A figure lay on a bed in the middle.
“I think that’s your mom,” Carter said.
Nick felt a burst of new energy. “Let’s get this done.” He patted Angelo on the shoulder. “You know, you may have been wrong about the aliens. But we couldn’t have made it this far without your research. Whatever kind of scientist you end up being, you’re gonna be a good one.”
“Thanks,” Angelo said. “Whatever my parents think, that means a lot.”
The last two demons were so small, Nick nearly missed them when they glided down from their pedestals. Their bright red bodies were no bigger than newborn babies—although their sharp horns and bony wings made it clear they were anything but human.
“Let me have it,” Nick said. “Let’s get this over with.”
The tiny demons looked at each other with something like amusement. “We’re not nearly as powerful as our brothers. In fact, we really don’t hurt much at all. As long as you don’t mind dying by coughing up blood.”
As soon as the word blood left the demons’ mouths, Nick felt a gush of liquid heat burst from his nose. Dark red liquid splashed on his shirt and pants. It was the worst nosebleed he’d ever had. His nostrils were running like a faucet.
Beside him, Angelo gave a great hacking cough.
“Name them,” Carter called. His voice was muffled and Nick saw red seeping through the fingers he had plastered over his mouth.
“I can’t,” Angelo gagged.
“What do you mean you can’t?” Nick turned to find Angelo staring at his monster notebook in horror. The page was covered with red. Angelo tried to wipe it away with the palm of his hand. But he coughed again and more blood gushed down on the paper, so thick the words underneath were unreadable.
Nick’s head began to sway. He looked at the floor and couldn’t believe how much blood there was. Had that all come from him? “Got. To. Try,” he whispered. The hallway was spinning around him.
Distantly, he heard Angelo try to speak. But the blood was too thick in his throat. All he managed to do was cough out something that sounded like grok.
“Wrong!” the demons sang together. “You lose.”
Suddenly the blood vanished, and Seven Death appeared before them, raising his arms. “You have chosen the false path and are forever banned from Xibalba.”
Nick pounded on the wall. “I have to get back in there.”
“I’m so sorry,” Angelo said. “I blew it.”
After Angelo had said the wrong name, One Death had returned them to the tunnel under the temple of the moon. But this time, no matter what they did with the mirrors, the door refused to open.
Nick turned around and punched his fist against a mirror, the metal ringing like a gong in the enclosed space. “We were so close. How could I have let us fail?”
“It’s not your fault, either of you,” Carter said. “Even if you’d remembered the name, there was no way to say it with your mouth full of blood. The whole thing was rigged. We’ll just have to find another way in.”
“There is no other way,” Angelo said. “We failed. I failed.”
Nick dropped to the ground and put his head in his hands. According to his watch, dawn was only an hour or two away. With it, his mother would be a monster forever, and his dad . . . He couldn’t even think about that.
“Maybe you could ask the ghosts that were talking to you before for some advice,” Carter suggested.
Nick looked up. “What did you say?”
“It’s not like the ghosts are going to tell you how to get in,” Angelo said.
Nick jumped to his feet. “Maybe they did. It says Death is the beginning on the door, and that’s the same thing I heard one of the voices say.”
“The beginning of a lot of trouble from what I can see,” Carter said.
“Shhh.” Nick held his finger up to his lips. He had to think. “The entrance to the underground says Death is the beginning. The beginning of what?”
“The path to Xibalba, I assume,” Angelo said.
“Right. The path my mom’s on right now. Which means I have to follow that same path.”
“Dude.” Carter grabbed him by the arm. “Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”
“Huh?” Nick had no idea what Carter was talking about.
“You can’t kill yourself,” Carter said. “No matter how bad things look.”
“Who said anything about killing myself?” Nick turned to Angelo. “Dr. Lopez said the Mayans believed there were three kinds of entrances to the underworld. Caves, tunnels, and . . .”
“Pools,” Angelo said.
“Exactly. The entrance from this pyramid was a cave leading to a tunnel. But what about the pyramid of the sun? How would they get to the underworld?”
Carter’s eyes lit up. “The pool with the waterfall we saw the first night!”
Nick pounded him on the shoulder. “Exactly. I saw a carving in that pyramid, and the voices there said something about the river of the dead. I’d bet anything that pool is connected to it. To get to my mom, all I have to do is dive into the pool and swim down the river of the dead.”
“This could be a problem,” Angelo said.
After sneaking down from the pyramid of the moon and past the camp, the three of them were crouched at the top of the pyramid of the sun. But between them and the temple with the entrance to the pyramid was an army of creatures that would give anyone nightmares for years. Not to mention some serious counseling bills.
There were at least three or four dozen skeletons, marching around and around the temple. They were wearing ragged pieces of metal and leather armor, and helmets with the remains of moldy feathers sticking out of the top. Even worse, they were all armed with wicked-looking spears.
Closer to the temple, there were eight or ten mummies. Nick thought they must have been executioners when they
were alive, because each of them carried an ax Nick wasn’t even sure he’d be able to lift. They didn’t appear to be as fast as the skeletons. But they were clearly much stronger.
Finally, several shadowy shapes were prowling around just inside the temple. Nick couldn’t see what they were. But they definitely weren’t anything good.
“Maybe I can sneak by them,” Nick whispered. It was still dark, but it wouldn’t be for long.
“Not a chance,” Angelo said. “Even with all the men in camp on our side, I don’t think we could fight our way through this army. Someone doesn’t want you inside.”
“I have to try,” Nick said. “Wouldn’t you guys if it was your mom?”
“I’ve got an idea,” Carter said. “Angelo, come with me. Nick, wait here until our signal, then run to the temple as fast as you can.”
“What’s your signal?” Nick asked.
Carter winked. “You’ll know it when you see it.”
Carter and Angelo dropped down a few steps and hurried around the north side of the pyramid. Nick peeked over the eastern hills. How long would it be before the sun came up?
Trying to calm his nerves, he began to count by twos. “Two, four, six . . .” What was Carter’s plan? It wouldn’t be something crazy like dynamite, would it? Although now that he thought about it, he wished they actually had dynamite. Because that would definitely do some damage.
“Fourteen, sixteen, eighteen . . .” What if they panicked and took off? He could wait here until the sun came up, never realizing that there would be no signal. That was nuts. His friends would never abandon him.
He was up to 180, and thinking about going on his own, when a bloodcurdling scream split the air. Angelo jumped up from the east side of the pyramid and ran straight past the temple. Nick blinked, unable to believe what he was seeing. Angelo was waving his hands in the air, and he was wearing only his boxers.
“Awilix stole my clothes!” he screamed. “Somebody help me. The moon goddess is a clothes thief!”
Nick shook his head. This was an even crazier plan than dynamite.
But it seemed to be working. The skeletons and mummies immediately broke ranks and began to chase after Angelo, who zigzagged back and forth across the pyramid, drawing them farther and farther away from the temple.
At the same time, Carter jumped up from the north side of the pyramid and yelled at a nearby skeleton warrior, “Hey, you, your femur is showing!”
The guards that hadn’t chased after Angelo started toward Carter. Carter froze in place, and for a panicked moment, Nick thought they were going to catch him. At the last minute, Carter sprinted to his left and looped around the skeletons and mummies. He ran a complete circle around them, then started another.
Nick couldn’t understand what he was doing until one of the skeletons suddenly tripped and fell. Carter tightened his circle and another skeleton collided with a mummy.
Nick burst into surprised laughter. It was the yarn. Carter was wrapping the guards with layer after layer of yarn. Suddenly he realized the way was clear to the temple. Leaping to his feet, he raced across the top of the pyramid. A few of the guards spotted him halfway to the temple. But they were too late. He’d reach the entrance well before they did.
Sprinting like a halfback heading for the end zone, he charged around the temple and into the entrance. He was almost to the wall that opened into the underground passage when a pair of four-legged shapes slipped out of the shadows.
Nick skidded to a halt. Jaguars. “Good kitties,” he said softly, trying to edge around them. But the cats weren’t having any of it. They closed in on him from both sides. Where could he go? It was too late to turn back, and he couldn’t get past them to the underground entrance.
The only thing he could think of was pictures he’d seen of jaguars curled at the feet of Mayan kings. Holding out his hand and trying to keep his voice from trembling, he said, “I am of royal blood, and I command you to let me pass.”
It wasn’t working. The jaguars snarled and started toward him. He thought about saying he was the son of Awilix. But he couldn’t. Even though the Queen of the Night might have his mother’s body, she wasn’t his mom.
Instead, he tried shouting one more time, with as much authority as he could, “My mother is a direct descendant of your queen, and I am her son. In the name of my great-whatever grandmother, I command you to let me pass.”
Amazingly, it worked. The jaguars turned and stalked off. He didn’t have any time to celebrate though, because just then Carter shouted, “Hurry! They’re coming.”
Nick ran to the wall. He pushed on the tooth in the floor, shot though the doorway before it was completely open, and pushed the rock closed again. As the door slammed in place, he realized he’d forgotten to bring a light. He might be inside, but he couldn’t see a thing.
Now that he was inside, the question was how to get down to the pool. He tried to remember the way they’d gone the first time. But that night was mostly a blur. All he could remember was the voices asking if it was time.
Knowing he was going too slow, he held his hands out in front of him and took one step, then another. Something brushed against his foot and gave a metallic clink. He reached down and felt something soft and round. Carter’s yarn ball and needles. Jiménez must have hidden them here when Nick and his friends were unconscious.
Nick didn’t have any use for yarn. But if Carter’s things were here . . . He knelt on the floor, feeling around until his fingers brushed against the smooth nylon of a backpack. Quickly he unzipped the pockets and felt around inside. His hand closed on a metal cylinder. He pulled it out and pushed the button, and blessed light filled the tunnel.
With no time to lose, he raced along the hallway. Now it was all coming back to him. He turned down the staircase and leaped the steps three or four at a time, ducking his head to keep from hitting it on the low ceiling. Soon he could hear the rushing of water. He listened to see if he could hear any voices, but no one was speaking to Nick tonight.
Reaching the bottom of the stairs, he turned the corner and ran to the pool. He started to pull off his shirt, and the beam of his light hit the water. Something was moving there. He stepped closer and then jerked back in horror.
Scorpions. The pool was filled with huge scorpions—long, sharp stingers pointing out from their tails. That was impossible. Scorpions lived in the desert, not in the water. Angelo had said something about a river of scorpions. But had that been real or imaginary? He put the toe of his shoe near the water and a scorpion clattered over to it and plunged its stinger into the rubber sole. It felt real enough.
He tried to remember everything Angelo had told him about the Popol Vuh. The one thing all the tests seemed to have in common was that they were tricks—tests of will more than anything else. The demons hadn’t really made them bleed or swell up or lose their flesh. He just had to hope this test would be the same.
“Doesn’t matter if it’s real or not,” he said. After everything he’d been through, he wasn’t going to let this stop him. If they were imaginary, he’d be fine. If they were real, then, well, they’d just have to sting him. Quickly he stripped off his shoes, pants, and shirt.
He hoped the flashlight would work in the water. Again, if it didn’t, he’d figure something out. He inhaled deeply, sucking as much air into his lungs as possible. He didn’t know how long he’d have to be underwater. A scorpion climbed up onto the bank, and he kicked it back into the pool with the side of his bare foot—narrowly avoiding the stinger.
Another deep breath. Exhale. Inhale. Filling his lungs until he thought they would burst, he put his hands over his head and dove into the pool of churning scorpions. Instantly, the water grabbed him and pulled him down. He opened his eyes, but he couldn’t see anything except bubbles. The pull of the current grew stronger. Now he was going not just down, but sideways as well.
In the beam of his light, he saw a rocky outcropping coming directly toward him. He pushed off to keep from hi
tting his head and somersaulted into the current. Now he was out of control, rocks scraping his arms, back, and shoulders. He tried to figure out which way was up, but the river was too deep—the current too strong.
His chest began to burn and he blew some air out of his nose. How long had he been down here? He released another burst of used oxygen and his brain demanded he breathe. It was everything he could do not to open his mouth and suck in, the way his lungs were ordering him to. Just as he was about to gray out, the river tossed him to the surface. He coughed and gasped as oxygen surged through his body.
As the air cleared his brain, he looked around. There it was. The chamber. His mother. Fighting the current, he pulled himself to shore and climbed out.
He knew he didn’t have much time, so he hurried to the bed and reached out his hand. What had Jiménez told him he had to say?
“You came back,” a voice said from behind him. “After I banned you.”
Nick turned to find Seven Death glaring at him from across the river. “I found my own way,” he said.
“It’s too late,” the death god said, splitting into two men. “You already failed.”
Nick lunged toward his mom, but Seven Death split into all seven of his forms. Each of them moved to block Nick from his mother.
“How would you like to die?” asked one of them. “An arrow through the heart?”
Nick backed against the foot of the bed. He had to find a way to get to his mom. Then he remembered: the item of power. That was supposed to let him get past the demons.
But what was it?
“An ax to the throat?” another of the Seven Deaths said, stepping toward him.
Nick threw open a nearby chest, looking for anything that might be the item. Something personal that would have had great significance to the king’s aunt. A crown maybe, or jewels? He pawed through necklaces, but none of them seemed right.
“Or would you like me to rip your heart straight out of your chest?”
A collection of intricately carved figurines sat on a shelf near the bed. He touched each of them, but nothing happened. He saw a wooden rack covered with beautiful gowns and headdresses. Clothes probably meant a lot to a queen. He flipped through them all, making sure to touch each one. But none of them had any effect.
Curse of the Mummy's Uncle Page 15
