Middleworld

by J; P Voelkel

  It was now or never.

  Adrenaline pumped through his veins as he fired his three darts in quick succession. At the same moment, Hermanjilio fired from the top of the pyramid.

  Yes! Yes!

  The two bodyguards staggered and then collapsed.

  No!

  Landa pulled Lola in front of him like a shield. One arm was around her throat; the other pointed a gun into her back. She looked half asleep, as if she was drugged, but she was swaying and making little moaning noises as her entire body tried to fight whatever he had given her.

  “Hold your fire!” Landa shouted. “Or I will kill the girl.”

  Max kept completely still.

  “And now, I will to count to three. Uno, dos, tres. If you do not step out with your hands up, your little friend is dead.”

  Max looked up at Hermanjilio but couldn’t see him. What should he do?

  He could make out Hermanjilio on the top step, blowgun at the ready.

  “Uno!”

  His mind raced. Each second seemed like eternity. If he didn’t come out, Landa was probably ruthless enough to shoot Lola in cold blood.

  “Dos!”

  But if he did come out, Landa might shoot him in cold blood.

  “Tres!”

  “Stop!” yelled Max. “Don’t shoot, I’m coming out.”

  “No … urgh,” groaned Lola as Landa choked her words by pulling his arm tighter around her windpipe.

  Max slowly stood up and put his hands in the air. As he emerged from the underbrush, he took in the whole scene for the first time.

  The brooding menace of the Black Pyramid.

  The two guards sprawled on the lower steps.

  Landa swiveling around to shoot him.

  Then he saw something out of the corner of his eye, something soaring into the sky behind Landa. So unexpected was the sight that it took his brain a moment to register what it was.

  A pineapple. It was a pineapple.

  It sailed through the air in a graceful arc. When it reached its high point, it seemed to hang there for several seconds like a little UFO, hovering in the moonlight. And then the pineapple started its downward trajectory, plummeting to earth with increasing speed.

  Landa became aware that Max was focused not on him but on something above him. He turned to look up, only to catch the pineapple squarely in the face. It exploded, sending pineapple chunks and juice in every direction. Landa staggered, and Lola groggily pushed him away.

  Now Hermanjilio had a clear target and, as Max watched, a silent dart embedded itself in Landa’s forehead. The Spaniard didn’t even have time to flick his cape before he crumpled to the ground.

  A loud whoop came from the jungle in the same direction as the pineapple.

  Max vaulted the log and ran toward Lola, who was slumped on the bottom step of the pyramid.

  Lady Coco leapt out of the trees and got to her first. “Lady Lola! Are you all right?”

  Lola groaned. She put her hands to her head. “I feel like I’ve been drinking Hermanjilio’s elixir,” she said.

  “Landa drugged you,” explained Max, “but it seems to be wearing off. Luckily for us, his sleeping potion isn’t as strong as ours.” A loud snore erupted from the Spaniard. “Anyway, he’s getting a taste of his own medicine now.”

  Lady Coco jumped up and down in excitement. “Did you see that?” she asked. “What a perfect shot! And I’ve had no military training, you know.”

  “It was incredible, Lady Coco,” said Max. “You saved my life.”

  Lady Coco smiled modestly, but her crossed eyes were shining with pride. “Did you hear that, son?” she asked, looking around for Lord 6-Dog. “I promised I’d make a good warrior—”

  “Enough talking!” came a booming voice from the pyramid.

  They looked up to see Hermanjilio making his way down. He seemed to be limping.

  “Are you hurt?” Max shouted up to him.

  “We will all be hurt,” Hermanjilio called down through cupped hands, “if we don’t get the Black Jaguar and get out of here.”

  “The Black Jaguar? Landa must have it,” said Max, running over to the count’s prone body. When he moved the Spaniard’s cape aside, he saw a large pouch hanging from his belt.

  Quickly, Max cut it free with his diver’s knife and opened it.

  A smell of rotting flesh filled his nostrils, just as it had when Landa had opened his case and showed the Black Jaguar to Uncle Ted in the hotel garden.

  “Found it!” called Max.

  He turned back to the group in triumph, but Lola and Lady Coco had no interest in Jaguar Stones. They were looking around and calling into the jungle.

  “What is it?” asked Max.

  Lady Coco looked distraught. “My son—where is he?”

  Max had a sinking feeling.

  “I heard something fall through the trees in all the shooting. …”

  Hermanjilio was getting impatient. “What are you doing?” he shouted down. “Bring me the Black Jaguar and let’s go.”

  “We have to look for Lord 6-Dog,” Max called to him. “We think he might be”—he saw Lady Coco’s anguished face—“hurt.”

  “Just hurry!” commanded Hermanjilio.

  “I’m too dizzy,” groaned Lola. “I’ll sit on the steps and wait for you.”

  So they left the Black Jaguar with her and went back into the trees to look for Lord 6-Dog. It was not an easy task. Very little moonlight filtered down to the forest floor, and the thick foliage made it difficult to search. They found a Red Sox cap hanging on a branch, but no sign of Lord 6-Dog.

  In the end, it was Lady Coco’s finely tuned nose that located the spot where her son had landed when Landa shot him out of the trees.

  They found his limp, blood-soaked body under a thorn-bush.

  Max put an ear to the brave monkey’s chest. Tears welled in his eyes.

  “Is he … dead?” whispered Lady Coco.

  Max held the monkey close and burrowed his ear into its fur. He could just make out a faint heartbeat.

  “No. He’s badly hurt, but he’s alive.”

  Max tenderly put the Red Sox cap back on Lord 6-Dog’s head. Then he carried the monkey’s limp body to the base of the pyramid.

  “Lola!” he called. “Lola! We found him! We’re going to need some of your rainforest remedies.”

  No answer. She wasn’t there. She must have felt better and gone up with Hermanjilio to show him the escape route.

  Max laid Lord 6-Dog out in the moonlight where he could take a proper look at his wounds. He’d been shot through the arm, and a second bullet had grazed his hip. It was bad, but not as bad as it had looked at first. Max took off his T-shirt and tore it into bandages while Lady Coco mopped her son’s brow with a banyan leaf.

  “Mama’s here, little dog,” she whispered in his ear.

  When they’d done all they could to tend Lord 6-Dog’s wounds, Max gathered up the injured monkey and began to stagger up the temple steps with him. It was surprising how much one howler monkey could weigh. Lady Coco tried to help, but it was slow going.

  “Lady Coco,” gasped Max, exhausted and only halfway up, “I think you need to get Hermanjilio. Ask him to come down and help me.”

  She hesitated. She didn’t want to leave Lord 6-Dog’s side.

  “He’ll be okay,” said Max.

  Lady Coco licked her son’s face tenderly, then bounded off up the temple steps. When she reached the top, she leaned over and waved before disappearing from view through the skull doorway.

  Max kept looking up hopefully, but no one appeared to help him.

  Eventually he hauled Lord 6-Dog up to the top by himself.

  He was breathing hard from the weight of the monkey and the steepness of the climb. He carried the monkey through the doorway and into the chamber of skulls. He was ready to give Hermanjilio a piece of his mind. How could he let his comrade-in-arms struggle all the way up on his own?

  Then Max’s resentment was repl
aced by a new feeling.

  It was called fear.

  Make that terror.

  The hairs on the back of his neck rose up.

  Something felt very wrong.

  As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he looked around the chamber. What was that dark shape on the floor? He gasped as he made out the inert body of Lady Coco, a blowgun dart sticking out of her back.

  Max had only one thought. He had to get out of there fast.

  Still carrying Lord 6-Dog, he lurched around to go back.

  As he did so, he caught sight of Hermanjilio’s arm swinging down with the glowing Black Jaguar in his hand.

  The stone hit Max hard on the side of his skull.

  His head exploded into stars, and he dropped to the ground unconscious.

  Chapter Twenty-five

  HUMAN SACRIFICE

  Max struggled, but he couldn’t move. He was pinned down to something. A hideous face leaned over and leered at him. She was the ugliest girl he’d ever seen. And as she smiled, he saw that she had fangs like a vampire bat.

  There was a sickly smell of incense. He could hear the abrasive scraping of a knife being sharpened.

  “Prepare to die, my little fool,” crowed the Maya vampire girl.

  She licked his face.

  Her breath was foul. Her tongue was rough and slimy. He pushed her away, but she kept coming back and licking him. He tried to scream, but she held her hairy black hand over his mouth.

  He was still struggling when he woke up.

  His head hurt. A monkey was licking his face.

  He tried to protest, but a paw was clamped over his mouth.

  “Make no noise,” said the monkey.

  A talking monkey!

  “If he hears thee, he will kill thee,” it whispered.

  Max had heard that voice before. He looked hard at the monkey. Its fur was matted with blood. It was wearing a baseball cap. It curled back its lips and attempted a reassuring smile, which made it look even more freakish.

  “I am Lord 6-Dog,” said the creature, “summoned from Xibalba to help thee. … Dost thou remember?”

  It sounded familiar. Crazy, but familiar.

  “I beg thy pardon if the ministrations of my tongue were offensive. It was the only way to rouse thee. Dost thou promise not to scream?”

  Max nodded.

  Lord 6-Dog removed his hand. Max considered screaming.

  “No, young lord,” said the monkey, wagging a hairy finger. “We have no time for games. We have to stop him.”

  “Stop who?” said Max thickly. He was having trouble getting his thoughts together. His fingers explored the huge lump on his head. It felt wet and sticky. The slightest touch sent pain shooting through his brain.

  Where was he?

  He looked around. The walls seemed to be made entirely of human skulls.

  That couldn’t be good.

  An eerie gray light flooded in through an open doorway. On the floor, he could make out the body of another monkey.

  Its name was Lady Coco.

  How did he know that?

  Trust the howlers, said a voice in his head.

  And then, in a flash, it all came back to him.

  “Lord 6-Dog,” he whispered, “are you all right? I was carrying you when … when …” His voice trailed off. He was about to say, when Hermanjilio hit me—but that couldn’t be right. Could it?

  “I am well enough, young lord,” said Lord 6-Dog. “The force of the blow knocked me to the floor and brought me to my senses. I feigned death, but I saw everything. Mother is sleeping; we can leave her for the moment. Come now, we must stop him. …”

  Lord 6-Dog helped Max to his feet.

  “Stop who?” said Max.

  “Tzelek!”

  “Tzelek? You mean Landa-slash-Tzelek?”

  “No, young lord, I mean Lord Hermanjilio-slash-Tzelek.”

  “What? I don’t get it,” said Max. “How did Tzelek get out of Landa and into Hermanjilio?”

  “It appears he was never in Landa. It is my belief that when Lord Hermanjilio opened the gateway at Itzamna for Mother and me, Tzelek sneaked through at the same time. He has been hiding inside Lord Hermanjilio ever since.”

  “But why didn’t we notice?”

  “It suited Tzelek’s purpose to lie low. Like a strangler fig, he lived in harmony with his host until he had taken what he wanted. He has used Lord Hermanjilio to bring him to the Pyramid of Ah Pukuh this night and give him the Black Jaguar. Unwittingly, we have all done his bidding.” Lord 6-Dog indicated the gray light beyond the doorway. “And now the rituals have begun.”

  The horror of the situation sank into Max’s throbbing brain.

  He crawled over to the doorway and peered out.

  He was not prepared for the shock of what he saw and he had to clap his own hand over his mouth to keep from crying out.

  Hermanjilio/Tzelek was dancing rhythmically around the sacrificial altar. The altar was a huge stone slab, supported at each corner by a column of human skulls. Set into the end facing Max was the body of a jaguar inlaid in black obsidian. On the headless shoulders of this beast, the Black Jaguar radiated its murky light. At its feet, the Red and Green Jaguars added their own glow. The air stank of rotting flesh mingled with pungent incense.

  In the center of this nightmare, lashed to the altar stone by her hands and feet, was Lola.

  She was dressed in a blue tunic, and her skin was daubed in blue paint. She seemed to be awake, but she was limp and lethargic. Her half-open eyes tried to follow Tzelek as he pranced around the altar, chanting. His dance was made all the more macabre by the strange half-limping, half-lurching gait caused by the twisted foot he dragged behind him. In one hand, he carried a small stone bowl. In the other hand, he brandished a long knife.

  Each time he circled the altar, Tzelek slashed his own ears and collected the dripping blood in the bowl. When it was full, he stopped in front of the Black Jaguar and let out a piercing howl. Then he lifted the bowl with both hands and dribbled his blood onto the Black Jaguar. The pyramid started to vibrate, as if the whole structure was awakening. Tzelek cackled in delight.

  As Max watched in horror, the Black Jaguar opened its glittering mouth and roared. When the other Jaguar Stones roared in reply, Tzelek smiled like a proud mother.

  Glowing eyes flicked on in the black recesses of the skulls supporting the altar stone, and their jaws began to chant a dirge. Rings of light pulsed in waves out of the altar, getting bigger and bigger like ripples in a pond. They rolled across the top of the pyramid and over the edges. They flowed down the steps, vaporizing stray vegetation. When they reached the bottom, they consumed the sleeping bodies of Landa’s guards without leaving a trace of them.

  When the pyramid was as clear as the day it was built, a gray light shone out of the cracks between the stones. Behind the altar, a jagged black hole, a void of nothingness, shimmered like a supernatural heat haze, as if the fabric of the world had ripped apart.

  Tzelek dipped the tip of his knife into the bowl of blood and traced an incision line on Lola’s tunic above her heart. Still crouching at the doorway, Max was transfixed with horror. He nearly jumped out of his skin when Lord 6-Dog tapped him on the shoulder.

  “The time has come, young lord,” he whispered. “I will fell Tzelek with a dart. Thou shouldst be ready to pluck out the Black Jaguar from the altar.” Lord 6-Dog picked up Hermanjilio’s blowpipe from the floor of the chamber. It was twice as tall as he was. He loaded it with a dart, lifted it, and took aim. His injured arm buckled instantly from the weight and length of the blowpipe.

  “Blast this feeble body,” he muttered.

  Tzelek raised the knife high above his head. The obsidian blade glinted in the moonlight. Seconds before the knife was about to plunge into Lola’s chest, Lord 6-Dog gathered every ounce of his strength, lifted the blowpipe, and fired.

  The dart sped straight toward Tzelek’s neck.

  Max thought he would faint with relief.
He crouched like a runner on the starting blocks, ready to sprint to the altar the second the dart hit its target.

  Tzelek looked up and smirked.

  The dart stopped in midair, inches from his face, and burst into flames. It dropped harmlessly to the floor.

  Tzelek turned to Lord 6-Dog, hands on hips, and laughed.

  “Oh, puh-lease! You’ve had three baktuns to prepare for this moment, 6-Dog. Is that really the best you can do? But then, I see you have shrunk in stature since last we met. And you’ve given up shaving, too. I’m sure the ladies don’t find you quite as handsome this time around. You pathetic buffoon! You can’t stop me from killing this girl any more than you could stop me from killing your father.”

  Lord 6-Dog froze, his monkey eyes fixed on Tzelek.

  “Yes, you heard me!” crowed Tzelek. “I killed Punak Ha, your father! I would gladly have stood by his side at the ceremony, but it was you he wanted. It was always you. So I killed him. And I vowed that one day I would have more power than either of you.” Tzelek raised the knife again. “This is my day.”

  There was a bloodcurdling scream—like a dinosaur in pain, like a soul in torment—a roar that awakened every howler in the jungle, and Lord 6-Dog sprang across the platform as if he’d been shot from a cannon. He propelled himself high into the air and landed on Tzelek’s face. His tail wrapped around the neck while his paws gripped the head in a vise. A savage expression contorted his features as he sank his teeth deep into Tzelek’s nose.

  Tzelek screamed.

  This was Max’s chance. He raced across to the altar and grabbed the Black Jaguar. It writhed and jerked and snapped at his fingers. Pain shot through him, but he did not let go.

  He saw something flying at him.

  He was knocked to the ground by the body of Lord 6-Dog, which Tzelek had pulled off his face and flung at him.

  Before Max knew it, Tzelek had him by the throat. It was Hermanjilio’s nose and mouth that breathed their fury on him, but the rest of the face he did not recognize. The eyelids were hooded like an iguana’s, and Hermanjilio’s laughing brown eyes were black coals glowing red with evil. Max could feel his life being squeezed out as Tzelek’s icy-cold hands tightened their grip and once again his sharp nails pierced Max’s skin as they had done in the Star Chamber.