Sisimito I--Ox Witz Ha

by Henry W. Anderson

  CHAPTER TEN

  FIRST FLIGHT.

  Thursday, April 6, 1972

  It seemed to be miles away, the soft voice I heard calling as I lay wrapped about my naked self in the middle of my cage, my feet full of dried shit. I did not wish to awaken and face the reality of what had happened that night and what would happen to me, so I tried to block out the faint sound. But the voice was persistent and as it finally successfully penetrated the chaos that controlled my consciousness, I recognized Molly’s voice. I sat up into the deep darkness that surrounded me. It was still night and I couldn’t see anything, not even the entrance or exit of the cavern was discernible. That was good as no one could see me and no one would see that Molly had come to the cage. I heard the sound of rain and realized that it must be the rain clouds that were blocking the moonlight. I moved towards the stakes of my cage, but it was not until I could feel her breath against my face that I knew that she was there beside me.

  “Molly?” I whispered, unsure that my parched lips had uttered any sound.

  “Yes, it’s me,” she answered.

  I pushed out my hands between the bars and touched her. I had never before realized how important the human touch could be, how much we take for granted the warmth, the comradeship, the loss of hopelessness, the strength that comes from the human touch.

  “I have your machete and clothes … I could only find your pants.”

  “Give me the machete,” I urged, suddenly fully awakened. She passed it to me through the bars, still in the scabbard with its belt attached. I immediately buckled the belt about me then pulled out the machete. I started cutting at the hemp rope that bound my leg and sliced through it easily. Sisimito must not have used the machete as it was as sharp as when it was taken from me. After freeing myself, I cut the rope between three consecutive poles, both at the bottom and at the mid-level and, as I worked, I felt my strength flowing back into me. I tried to pull the stakes apart, but they did not move. “Help me. Help me pull them apart,” I urged. Her strength and mine, mine increased by having the sense of her body next to me, slowly worked at one stake and it moved upward and out of ground. I replaced my machete and, like a mouse, slipped out of my cage to freedom.

  “Here’s your pants,” she whispered.

  “Don’t talk. No time to dress. Just don’t lose it.”

  She held my hand and began leading me down the path to the creek. It was not necessary for her to guide me because I had memorized my prison in detail, but it was good to hold her hand. My eyes were becoming adjusted to the darkness and I was beginning to see shapes I recognized. I felt our tread levelling off and the cool feel of water on my feet as we crossed the creek, noiselessly. I wanted to stop to drink, I wanted to wash my feet, but I knew I couldn’t and I felt urgency in her hand that told me we could not stop. She led me across to the deeper shadows of the entrance, adjacent to her ledge. Pale beams of light were then, occasionally, breaking through the clouds and the rain had slowed to a drizzle. We held our bodies as close together as we could, shuffling against the wall as we approached the entrance to freedom. There was a definite sound. It was a faint but definite sound to our right. We turned and looked, holding our breath and holding our body motionless. There was nothing there. We started to inch our way further, keeping our eyes in the direction where we had heard the sound. It came again … a soft slithering whisper … a cold muted force that spread terror across our bodies as our skins rose. Two large red eyes were just in front of our faces and as the moon fought away the rain clouds, we could see the white ghostly teeth of the Bocotora clapansaya.

  How foolish we were to think that Sisimito would leave his cave unguarded. In truth, I reflected, I had not even thought about it, wanting only to escape. I was not being the soldier I was. My training had somehow become muddled in the unnatural, evil, and enchanted world we were in, that terrifying and ugly jungle that had replaced mine. I thought of trying to remove my machete from its scabbard, but I knew that would be useless. Any movement and the jaws of the snake would be upon us. The moon came out in its full brilliance, for a short break, between heavy clouds. We watched the snake in absolute quiet, remaining motionless. The large evil head, the neck, and the upper part of its body was stretched towards us, straining away from its remaining coils which were a tumid mass of undigested xhom-bzans. The jaws of the Bocotora clapansaya was as close to us as its bloated body permitted. Yet, it was close enough that its forked tongue whipped out and lashed us across our faces and I felt welts rising as the sharp tongue slashed my skin. I edged Molly along and I saw the anger and hate increase in the eyes of the snake. Its throat swelled up, making loud hissing sounds I was sure were warnings to Sisimito and his animals. But I saw or heard nothing more, saw or heard no one else. I expected to have the mountain lion and the owl tear at my body, but they did not come. The snake frothed at its mouth in fury and frustration then spat out thick mucoid spittle across our faces and bodies, but we ignored the offensive discharge as we continued to move along the wall, watching it as it hurled its head at us, trying to reach us with its open jaws. But it couldn’t. I reflected on my training. When moving along a wall, the soldier should try to stay twelve to eighteen inches away as rubbing against the wall could alert the enemy. Well, my enemy had already been alerted and I was about to be eaten, so I was staying away from my enemy and against the wall. We continued to edge away and were soon able to run, quickly being hidden by the wet and dark jungle. Molly gave me my pants and I swung it around my neck as we raced deeper into the jungle. I tried to find a path, but in the darkness, I could find none; yet, we pushed on.

  We were travelling northerly, across the spur that formed the roof of Sisimito’s cavern. I was able to derive our general direction because of the position of the moon and I estimated that we had only about three hours until dawn. At times, we fell. Every so often, prickles and thorns tore at our bodies. We felt the pain, endured it, did not cry out. I listened for the sound of pursuers crashing through the jungle behind us and for outcries of alarm but heard none. As we continued, I saw the rear exit of the cave and I was extremely concerned as I feared that someone … something … some animal would be there even though I had not seen anyone use that exit before. We descended the spur and at its bottom found the same creek that flowed through the cave. It would have been easy to travel up creek for most of its bottom was sandy rather than rocky. I knew, however, that should we walk up the creek, the silt that we stirred up would flow down into the cave and tell Sisimito where we went. We crossed the creek and started climbing up a slope which had been made very slippery by the constant rain. Again, we fell, from time to time.

  I hoped that Sisimito would assume that we had taken the creek flowing away from the cavern, it being easier for us to walk on the creek bed rather than through the jungle and put his search there. Yet, there were his animals of the Kechelaj Jupuq. Also, I didn’t know if he had control over all the animals in his jungle. My mind was ravaged by questions, so I decided to shut them out and concentrate on getting away, as far as possible, from the cavern before morning arrived. I hadn’t thought much about Molly though, occasionally, I did look back at her. She was always right behind me. I was still naked, but I didn’t mull over my nakedness. My pants, soaked from the rain, the only article of clothing she had brought me, I still carried around my neck. I would not stop to put it on as we were fleeing and escape was the only thing on my mind. It was only the belt with my machete and scabbard, and the Green Scapular, that covered my bare body … exposed except for rain and mud. I was unaware of how she was dressed, but I was aware that she didn’t have on her wedding gown. Our greatest concern was our feet as they were bare and, even in the turmoil that surrounded us, in my consciousness, I kept hearing Anderson grumbling about that. Fortunately, there was a thick layer of soft litter and that helped to protect them.

  The climb was getting harder and we were becoming tired. Luckily, also, there was not much underbrush and we did not find much resis
tance to our walking, running at times. I was very grateful for that. Having to use the machete would have slowed us down and would have marked our trail; also, chopping in the dark would be dangerous.

  The rain stopped, suddenly, and the heavy clouds gave way to bright moonlight which helped us in our flight, allowing us to avoid slamming into tree trunks and low limbs. Swarms of mosquitoes and sand flies rose within the undergrowth, but I ignored them and simply ate those that flew into my mouth. Adding to our misery was that there had been no cooling from the rain and the jungle was hot and humid.

  We continued the strenuous uphill climb and I didn’t allow myself to consider any dangers other than the one we were running away from. I was always aware of my labored breathing as I climbed and, at times, I held my knees with my hands, my back arched over as I struggled uphill. I wondered how Molly was keeping up, but whenever I looked behind, she was always right there beside me, so close that I felt her hot breath against my naked skin.

  The jungle began to thin out and we were, suddenly, walking through areas of tall grass and pine trees. From time to time, that gave way to precipitous ridges thinly covered with mosses and ferns, but thick enough for us to have footholds as we climbed. I inferred that we were on a ridge of mountains about three thousand feet above sea level. Dawn had already colored the Eastern vista with various hues of pink, blue, and orange when we reached the summit. I threw my naked self down in the tall grass, golden in the early morning light, exhausted. I placed my pants under my neck and watched the large yellow sun exploding at the horizon. Had the circumstances been different, it would have been a beautiful and exhilarating experience. Instead, I … we … were running for our lives in a world that had suddenly become unknown to us. Molly sat down heavily, leaning against an outcropping of granite. As the sun beams hit Molly, I could see through the thin pink cotton blouse she wore. She did not have on a brassiere and I thought I saw the sun enhance the pinkness around her nipples. I was about to look away when I noticed her arms and legs. She was bleeding all over from scratches, digs, and bites, anywhere that her blouse and very short blue jeans pants did not cover … and she was dirty. I would have to clean the wounds even though they were generally shallow, apply some jungle herbs, and hope that they didn’t become infected. I looked at my own body. I too was completely covered with scratches, digs, and bites, dirty, and bleeding. I would have to clean myself, as well, and apply medicinal herbs. But, at that time, I would do what Molly was doing. I would rest a little then resume our walk. With my right hand I held the handle of my unsheathed machete. With my left, I held on to the warmth of the Green Scapular. I did not intend to fall asleep, but I did … on that beautiful mountain … in that beautiful sunrise … among the golden grass of the summit.

  My sleep was shallow and troubled. I read and reacted to the troubled and torn pages of the unfinished book that was my life. I read about my life as an adult and then I was suddenly a child. I was an adolescent and then a baby … always searching … always not understanding. Bas was always there looking after me while I cried, and it was not only in my dreams that I cried. Then I was, once again, a baby and I heard the delightful sound of a baby’s rattle. I smiled. Bas was handing it to me. He was smiling. Then he lost his smile and fear covered his face. He was not afraid for himself; he had fear for me. The sound of the rattle was changing. It was not the sound I knew as I had laid in my hammock. My rattle, which was handed down child after child, was a dried gourd filled with bean seeds. Its sound was less harsh than that of the plastic or tin ones they sold in stores. I dreamt about the time I had bought a child’s rattle at the church bazaar for my little sister, Isabella. I remembered rattling it for her as she looked at it perplexed with her large black eyes. I supposed she preferred the natural sounds of the gourd and beans than the mechanical clatter the cheap toy made. I lost my baby sister in my sleep, but the strange harsh rattle persisted. I began to lighten in sleep and slowly awakened to my new and strange world. I did not move. Bas’ fear was still with me and it told me not to move. I opened my eyes slowly to stare up directly at the merciless sun. It was directly overhead as it was midday. I quickly closed my eyes, unable to stand the glare, immediately angry that I had slept so long.

  I was about to cuss when I heard the baby’s rattle once again. I frowned, keeping still. I kept my eyes closed, but turned my head slowly towards the noise, gradually opening them. The glare was still making it difficult for me to see, but, slowly, my eyes began to adapt. At first, all I saw was the tall golden grass that surrounded me, nothing else. Again, I heard the rattle, the one I had bought for my baby sister. My eyes continued to accommodate and my drowsy senses cleared. I was jolted but did not move a hair as I stared at the deep-yellow underside of a large kiaqxop,188 a cascabel, 189 switching its rattle angrily in the tall golden grasses. I remained motionless, my vision absolutely clear, as I watched the yellow belly with large orange mottled blotches on each side. The heavy-bodied snake was coiled and posed, ready to strike. I knew that tropical rattlesnakes were indeed dangerously poisonous, but not as aggressive as it was lead to believe. I also remembered, however, that I was in a land that I no longer recognized as my own.

  The kiaqxop was about five feet in length and about that same distance away from me. The rattle began once again; the kiaqxop was warning me that it was there, ready to defend itself if it needed to. Its light olive-green body, boldly marked down the back with black and dark-brown diamond-shaped blotches, remained coiled and motionless. About a foot above the coiled mound was its head and, at times, the snake turned it, allowing me to plainly see the two wide and distinctive lines down either side of its neck. Occasionally, it opened its jaws wide, showing me its two very long fangs and its vibrating forked tongue as it tried to hold me with its eyes, snake eyes that always carried the full depth of evil within them.

  I was still a little disorientated, but that state was disappearing quickly as I faced that new danger. I could not allow myself to be bitten, for even with my knowledge of jungle remedies, it would be difficult for me to treat a poisonous snake bite. I would have to find a toom-pa’ap plant and I wasn’t sure if any grew at the location I was in. I knew how to use the roots of that shrub to make a poultice that was applied to snake bites. Of course, my military training taught me that anti-venom was the only real treatment, but then, they did not know the jungle medicines as I did. I had no anti-venom, anyhow, as our supply had been left with the bodies of my men. Remembering the broken and torn bodies of my men should have provoked a terrible trigger for despair, but I did not allow it. My men were soldiers as I was. Indeed, their deaths had just occurred, fresh in my mind, but, if I were to survive, I would have to stockpile that memory somewhere, in a faraway cache, to be released only when I could sit in safety and lament. At that time, I had to forget the men. I had to focus. I would not permit death from the bite of the Kiaqxop to overtake me, my light shut out in blindness, my limbs lying useless in paralysis beside me. I would not allow my breath to be taken from me as I suffocated, my chest unable to do its duty. My head would not lay flopping upon my shoulder, like a broken frond in the wind, as the kiaqxop’s poison made my neck muscles useless.

  As a child, I had seen a villager die from the bite of the kiaqxop and whenever I saw one of those snakes, I always remembered the look on the man’s face as he neared death. And there was pain … a lot of pain. I knew my jungle and I knew its life. To survive, even though I was then in Sisimito’s jungle, I would have to regard it as my own. Taat had always told me that as long as I did not threaten the kiaqxop, it would not attack. I began to move my body slowly away from it. With each movement I made, I saw its head dance a little, like a flower would in a light wind, and there was always the rattle. When I was about eight feet away from it I rolled away, quickly, without panic, making sure I did not cut myself upon my machete. I stood up and looked for the kiaqxop. It was no longer there. There was no tell-tail movement in the tall golden grass advancing on me or withdrawing f
rom me. Had I dreamed the snake was there, as I had dreamed of my baby sister’s rattle? I did not know. I walked back cautiously to where my pants were, taking the precaution to use the machete to feel for the snake among the tall grass, but the snake was gone. I picked them up and noted, gladly, that they were dry.

  I cussed myself for sleeping as I walked over to Molly, who was still asleep. The sun had burned areas of her exposed skin, but those could be treated with herbs. Her face was not badly burned, only some parts of her arms and legs as she lay curled up near the outcropping she had leaned against and fallen asleep on. I decided to examine my body. There were some patchy areas, mainly on my butt, but my Maya skin had protected me well. I was about to wake her then decided against it, let her rest a little longer. Once we started to walk, I didn’t know when we would sleep again. I put on my pants, realizing that it was the first time in three days that I had worn any cloths. When I was finished, I studied the field as it was essential that I made a complete assessment of our situation.

  Illustration 41: The Golden Grass on the Summit.

  (Actually, Cooma Cairn, Mountain Pine Ridge.)

  Illustration 42: Victoria Peak and the Cockscomb Range as seen from the Summit.

  From the summit where I stood, I was able to see all around me. I looked to the East where I hoped to see the Caribbean Sea. The glare was so strong that even if it were there, no blueness gave it away. There appeared to be a coastal plain, but nothing that suggested human habitation. To the northeast were mountains stretching from east to west that looked like the Cockscomb Range, the summits being of similar elevation as the one on which I stood. To the north were mountains and jungle as far as I could see. To the west, the glare was not as bad and I could tell that the mountains were getting lower and eventually flattened out into a plain some twenty or more miles away. If I were in the same jungle I started in, the maps I had studied named that flattened area the Vaca Plateau. To the south were high mountains running from the northeast to the southwest.